Chapter Text
Two weeks into U.A. Academy and Class 1-A already looks like a group of war survivors.
Even though the academy racing program runs just four days a week. since the weekends are spent celebrating races, Formula endorsement activities, Family visits and over all rest for the driving class.
Those 4 days consisted of what felt like 7 days of training day and night
Simulation drills.
Telemetry breakdowns.
Physical conditioning.
Strategy evaluations.
Repeat until psychological collapse.
Most students stopped pretending this place was a normal school around day four, Katsuki personally stopped feeling human after the eighth consecutive simulator session.
The academy circuit haunts his dreams now.
And surprisingly so does Todoroki Shouto. Which is objectively worse.
The strategy wing buzzes with exhausted movement around him as Class 1-A drags themselves toward morning briefing. Coffee cups outnumber functioning braincells at least three to one.
Kaminari’s currently asleep face first on the table Jirou pokes him with a pen.
No response.
“Think he died?” Sero asks “Hopefully,” Jirou says “Wow.”
“Check for a pulse if you care that much.”
Midoriya sits nearby surrounded by enough color-coded telemetry notes to qualify as a criminal offense. He’s muttering sector timing analysis under his breath while Iida tries unsuccessfully to convince him to sleep more than four hours a night “You cannot optimize reaction time through self-destruction!” “But statistically-”
“No statistics!”
Across the room, Ashido’s taking selfies with Hagakure while Kirishima flexes in the background for absolutely no reason, Yaoyorozu calmly drinks tea like she exists in an entirely different, wealthier universe than the rest of them.
And Todoroki-
Katsuki notices her automatically now, that realization feels vaguely threatening.
She sits near the windows like usual, one leg crossed beneath herself while scrolling through telemetry data on a tablet. Black academy compression jacket zipped halfway up. Hair tied back lazily today instead of neatly letting the red and the white mixed Slightly.
Katsuki knows, somehow, that means she’s tired, which is insane information for him to possess about another human being.
Somewhere over the last two weeks:
Kirishima became physically incapable of leaving Katsuki alone,
Kaminari developed a dangerous caffeine addiction,
Midoriya evolved into a sentient telemetry database,
and Todoroki somehow became a permanent fixture in Katsuki’s peripheral vision.
“Bakugou,” Kirishima says suddenly, dropping into the seat beside him, “you’re staring again.”
“I’m literally not.”
“You literally are.”
Across the room, Todoroki looks up briefly, directly at him. Katsuki immediately looks away like he’s avoiding sniper fire, Kirishima’s grin turns dangerous “Oh, wow.”
“Shut up.”
Before Kirishima can become more insufferable, Aizawa walks into the room carrying four coffees and the expression of a man moments away from legally abandoning society.
The room quiets automatically. Mostly out of fear.
“Good,” Aizawa says. “Some of you are still conscious.” Kaminari lifts a weak thumbs up from the table without raising his head Aizawa ignores him “Today’s evaluations will focus on media preparedness.”
Silence.
“Oh absolutely fuck no,” Katsuki says immediately, Aizawa points at him “Excellent example.” “The hell does that mean?”
“It means sponsors would rather set money on fire than hand you a microphone.” Several students laugh.
Traitors.
The massive projection screens flicker alive behind Aizawa, displaying professional race interviews, podium ceremonies, sponsorship campaigns, and media press conferences.
Every image feels polished enough to make Katsuki nauseous seeing an awful amount of Enji Todoroki “Modern motorsport is public-facing,” Aizawa says. “Drivers are brands before they’re champions.”
“That’s depressing,” Jirou mutters, “Correct.” Yaoyorozu folds her hands neatly on the desk.
“Public image affects sponsorship opportunities, academy promotion, and long-term contracts,” she explains quietly. “Especially for junior prospects.” Kaminari finally raises his head slightly “So basically we’re being taught how to become emotionally marketable.”
“Yes,” Aizawa says “That’s somehow worse.”
Across the room, Todoroki hasn’t reacted once. Of course she hasn’t.
“She already knows all this stuff,” Ashido whispers loudly. “She’s basically famous already.” “That’s gotta suck,” Uraraka says softly. “Hm?” Ashido glances toward her. Uraraka shrugs slightly “Everybody already thinks they know who she is.”
Katsuki’s eyes flick toward Todoroki automatically again.
She’s still looking at her tablet. But her grip tightens slightly around the edge of it.
Weird.
Aizawa clicks the remote again.
“Today you’ll rotate through: live interview simulations, sponsor response training, media crisis management and public press exercises.” Midoriya’s hand shoots into the air instantly “What kind of media crisis?” Aizawa stares at him blankly. “Sometimes drivers cheat on their partners publicly.” The room stills “Sometimes they insult sponsors.” Katsuki scoffs.
Weak.
“Sometimes they crash into yachts.” “…Plural?” Sero asks carefully.
“Unfortunately.”
Kaminari looks horrified.
“How do you crash into a yacht?”
“Rich people find a way,” Jirou says.
Then:
“Todoroki.”
The room shifts instantly. Katsuki already knows what’s coming.
“Demonstration interview.”
Of course.
Several academy media staff move immediately around the mock interview stage near the front of the room. Cameras reposition. Lights adjust. Sponsor banners flicker across digital screens.
Real sponsors too.
Katsuki recognizes at least three major manufacturers from the logos alone.
Oh.
So this actually matters. Interesting.
Todoroki stands smoothly.
And there it is again.
That shift.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But Katsuki sees it immediately now after two weeks of accidentally memorizing her.
Her posture changes first.
Then her expression.
Then her entire presence settles into something polished and untouchable.
Like armor sliding into place.
Weirdly, Katsuki hates it on sight.
The interviewer smiles brightly once cameras go live.
“Thank you for joining us today, Todoroki-san. Excited to begin your first year at U.A. Academy?”
“Yes,” Shouto says smoothly.
Perfect tone.
Perfect eye contact.
Perfect little smile.
Not real, Katsuki knows that now.
And somehow that bothers him more than it should.
“With your family legacy, many fans already consider you a future Formula One driver. Does that expectation create pressure?” half-second pause “It motivates me to improve.”
Again:
perfect. Too perfect.
One of the sponsor representatives near the back nods approvingly. “Excellent composure,” he murmurs quietly to another executive. “Very marketable.”
Something sharp twists unpleasantly in Katsuki’s stomach.
Marketable? Like she’s a product.
The interviewer continues smiling. “Your brother Touya’s Formula Three season generated enormous attention this year. Has his success influenced your approach to racing?”
Tiny pause again, smaller this time.
“Every driver approaches competition differently.”
Polished.
Controlled.
Empty.
Katsuki suddenly remembers her sitting cross-legged in the common room at one in the morning laughing quietly at his physics joke.
This girl doesn’t even feel like the same person.
“She’s kinda scary on camera,” Kaminari whispers.
“She’s trained,” Yaoyorozu says quietly.
“No,” Uraraka says softly from nearby.
The class glances toward her “She looks tired.”
Interesting.
The interview continues another several minutes without a single mistake.
No awkwardness.
No stumbles.
No humanity either.
The second cameras cut-
The smile disappears instantly.
Like somebody unplugged it.
And for one brief second, before Todoroki realizes nobody’s filming anymore she looks exhausted.
Then the expression vanishes.
Weird.
Aizawa’s eyes sweep across the room.
“Bakugou.”
Katsuki immediately scowls.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Find somebody else.”
“No.”
The class looks thrilled by his suffering.
Traitors.
Katsuki stomps toward the mock interview setup while several media students visibly prepare for violence.
Reasonable.
The lights feel aggressive immediately, the interviewer smiles nervously. “Welcome, Bakugou-san. What separates you from other academy drivers?”
“I’m faster.” Aizawa closes his eyes briefly, the interviewer laughs weakly “...Right, but what qualities make you unique as a competitor?”
“I win more.”
“Oh my god,” Jirou mutters “Please never change,” Kirishima says emotionally.
The interviewer keeps trying anyway “What inspires you most about professional racing?”
“The part where I beat people.”
One of the sponsor reps actually chokes on coffee, Kaminari’s crying laughing into Sero’s shoulder now.
“This is catastrophic.”
Tokoyami nods solemnly.
“The explosive rage within him rejects artificial diplomacy.”
“...Thank you, Tokoyami,” Yaoyorozu says carefully.
Eventually the interview mercifully ends before Katsuki accidentally starts international incidents.
The next rotations begin immediately.
Ashido becomes terrifyingly good on camera within minutes.
Kirishima somehow turns every answer inspirational.
Yaoyorozu handles media flawlessly, but unlike Todoroki, hers feels natural. Warm.
Midoriya overexplains everything until interview timers cut him off repeatedly.
Tokoyami speaks like an ancient curse “The darkness of ambition consumes all racers eventually.” The media students look afraid to make eye contact with him.
Uraraka starts nervous, then gradually relaxes into something genuinely charming.
Kaminari flirts with a media intern and gets threatened by Jirou at the exact same time.
And through all of it-
Katsuki keeps noticing Todoroki.
Not Ice Princess Todoroki.
The real one.
The one rubbing at the back of her neck between interviews when nobody’s watching.
The one going quieter every time another camera turns on.
The one who looks more comfortable arguing with him than talking to sponsors.
Weird.
Late afternoon drags into the final exercise:
paired mock interviews.
One interviewer.
One driver.
Aizawa glances at the roster once.
Then:
“Bakugou. Todoroki.”
Of fucking course.
The room immediately straightens with interest, even the media students look excited now.
Todoroki settles across from him beneath the studio lights.
And instantly-
that polished expression returns again.
Katsuki hates it.
The question sheet sits in his hands untouched generic sponsor garbage.
Favorite circuits.
Future goals.
Brand ambitions.
Boring.
Katsuki stares at the paper for several seconds.
Then tosses it aside completely.
Aizawa narrows his eyes from the back wall. “Bakugou-"
“What’s the worst part about racing famous?”
Silence crashes through the room.
Even the cameras seem quieter somehow.
For the first time all day, Todoroki actually looks caught off guard.
Not polished.
Not media-trained.
Just surprised.
Katsuki doesn’t really know why he asked. Maybe because every answer today sounded rehearsed.
Maybe because the common room version of her feels more real now. Maybe because hearing sponsor reps call her marketable made something ugly twist in his chest.
Todoroki looks at him quietly for a long moment.
“People decide who you are before you speak.”
No polish.
No practiced cadence.
Just honesty.
The room stays silent.
Even Aizawa doesn’t interrupt.
And Katsuki-
Yeah. He gets that.
More than he wants to.
Todoroki glances briefly toward the cameras before looking back at him “...That was a bad interview question,” she says quietly. Katsuki grins before he can stop himself “Yeah?”
“Yes. Sponsors would hate you.” “Good.”
And very slightly-
So quickly most people probably miss it-
Todoroki smiles for real.
Not the camera smile.
Not the practiced one.
A real one.
Small.
Crooked.
Tired.
But real.
Katsuki’s chest does something deeply stupid.