I let out a heavy sigh, resigned to the fact that arguing with Recovery Girl in my current condition was a losing battle. My body felt like it had been run over by a truck, and if I tried to push my luck and bolt, she'd probably strap me to the bed or knock me out with something stronger. But sitting here doing nothing? That wasn't an option either - not when every plan I'd painstakingly put together was teetering on the edge of collapse.
After a moment of stewing in my own frustration, I decided to switch tactics. I looked up at her, keeping my voice slow and measured, like I was finally seeing reason.
"You're right. I guess I do need a little more rest. But I have to be in class by noon - no ifs, ands, or buts about it."
She studied me for a second, probably weighing whether I was bullshitting her again. But the stubborn set of my jaw and the fire in my eyes must've convinced her I wasn't messing around. She didn't feel like dragging out the fight either - she just sighed, told me to rest up properly and not push myself too hard, and left it at that. I'd bet good money she was already planning to tear into Aizawa later for letting us kids run ourselves ragged like this.
…
About an hour or two ticked by - hard to tell exactly when you're stuck staring at a sterile ceiling with no clock in sight. Once Recovery Girl was satisfied I wasn't about to make a break for it, she shuffled out of the infirmary, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the faint hum of the overhead lights.
"Alright," I muttered to myself, voice barely above a whisper. "As long as I don't let on that I'm weaker than usual, everything'll be fine."
The second she was gone, I seized my chance. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the dull ache that rippled through my muscles, and hauled myself upright. Moving slow and deliberate, I threw on my U.A. uniform, making sure every button was in place, every crease smoothed out. I gave myself a once-over in the small mirror by the door - pale, sure, but nothing too obvious. Right as I turned to slip out, the door creaked open, and a familiar figure burst in, all frantic energy and wide-eyed worry.
Midoriya Izuku practically tripped over himself rushing to my side, his voice cracking with concern. "Onodera-kun! I heard you passed out at the gate! Are you okay?"
I flashed him a weak grin, forcing a casual vibe despite the way my head was still spinning. "No big deal, man. Just overtrained a bit. Chill out, comrade - no need to lose your shit over it."
He didn't look entirely sold - those big green eyes of his were still swimming with doubt—but he wasn't the type to pester me when I clearly didn't want it. "If you're not feeling well, just rest. I'll tell Aizawa-sensei you need the day off."
I shook my head, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a little more force than I meant to. "Thanks bro, but I've got some stuff to check on in class today. Plus…" I trailed off, my gaze sharpening as a cold knot tightened in my gut. "I've got a bad feeling something's about to go down."
Izuku's face scrunched up in confusion, but he nodded anyway, like he was trying to process it without pushing for more. He didn't have the full story - hell, he didn't even have half of it - but my determination shut down any protests he might've had. Quietly, he fell into step beside me, helping me hobble back to class for the next lesson, his arm hovering awkwardly like he wasn't sure if I'd snap at him for offering too much support.
…
The rest of the morning classes dragged on, each one more mind-numbingly dull than the last. I zoned out through most of it, my brain too busy churning over what might be coming to care about quadratic equations or whatever the hell we were supposed to be learning. Then, at 12:50, Aizawa-sensei strode in and dropped a bombshell that snapped me right back to attention: the whole class was heading to the U.S.J. for rescue training.
In the original timeline, it was just him, All Might, and Number 13 handling the gig. But this time, thanks to me spilling everything I knew to All Might about the League of Villains, there was a chance more heroes would be tagging along. I couldn't be sure how much my meddling had shifted things - whether it'd be enough to change the outcome - but it was a start.
We got the go-ahead to pick out hero gear tailored for rescue training. My usual outfit was way too damn elaborate for this kind of thing - fancy tuxedo vibes that looked cool as hell but were a pain to move in - so I ditched the jacket, opting for just the pants and a tucked-in standard shirt. Simple, functional, and a lot less likely to get me tangled up in a crisis.
Ochako and Izuku caught sight of me in my stripped-down getup and exchanged a quick, puzzled glance before wandering over. Ochako tilted her head, her brows knitting together with concern. "Uh, Onodera-kun, you sure that's the best outfit for rescue training?"
Izuku nodded, chiming in with his usual earnest worry. "Yeah, it seems kinda… off for what we might have to deal with."
I shrugged, keeping my tone light and unbothered. "That vest is too hot and stiff, even if the fabric's top-tier. I'm not dragging it around just to sweat my ass off. You're in the school gym uniform, right, Midoriya?"
"Yeah," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "My suit got ruined after that last incident. The support company's still fixing it, so I'm stuck waiting."
The bus ride to the U.S.J. was a noisy blur, but I couldn't shake the gnawing unease clawing at my insides. Knowing what was barreling toward us weighed heavier than a sack of bricks, but I couldn't spill too much - not without tipping off the wrong people or sounding like a paranoid lunatic.
Ida took charge as we boarded, barking orders to get everyone lined up in neat little rows. I ended up wedged between Hagakure Touru and Mineta Minoru, the latter of whom was leering at the invisible girl next to me with a sleazy grin that made my skin crawl. "Hey, Onodera," he whispered, leaning in way too close for comfort. "What d'ya think Hagakure looks like under that hero gear?"
I swear to God, I'd never had someone hit me with a question that crude and shameless before. It was tactless, creepy as hell, and just… gross. Sure, I could be an asshole when I wanted to, but that was reserved for enemies—people I'd already written off as trash. Regular folks? I wouldn't waste my breath on shit like that.
So instead of dignifying his perv fantasy with a straight answer, I flipped it back on him with a twist, shooting him a glare that drained the color from his face. "Uh… Hagakure-san, I'm still kinda fuzzy on this... Your invisibility, is it just your body letting light through, or does it work on your clothes too?" I asked, playing dumb even though I damn well knew her Quirk left her 90% naked aside from gloves and boots.
She didn't catch the edge in my voice, just giggled, thinking I was genuinely stumped. "No need to be shy, Onodera-kun! It's just my body that's fully invisible. To keep my Quirk clear for fighting or rescue, my hero outfit's as basic as it gets. Just these gloves and shoes."
Her response was breezy, no trace of embarrassment, which only made Mineta's face go from ghost-white to beet-red in record time. I flicked him a sidelong look "Happy now, you little creep?" letting him know I'd just handed him the answer he'd been fishing for without feeding his delusions.
"Got it. Thanks for clearing that up, Hagakure," I said with a quick grin, letting her turn back to chatting with the others.
The bus rumbled on, and the conversation shifted to everyone's Quirks. Tsuyu, blunt as a sledgehammer, swiveled toward Midoriya and dropped her usual no-filter observation. "Midoriya-san, your Quirk's a lot like All Might's, right?"
Predictably, he freaked out, stammering some half-assed denial that it wasn't really like that. That sparked the whole bus into a frenzy, everyone started yapping about their Quirks, trading details like it was a damn show-and-tell. Kirishima flexed about his Hardening, Aoyama bragged up his Navel Laser, and the chatter bounced around like wildfire.
No dodging it for me either, but instead of just talking, I gave 'em a demo. I turned my arm to tungsten - dull metallic sheen rippling over my skin - then shifted it back, clamping my mouth shut after that. I wasn't at full strength, and I sure as hell wasn't about to flaunt the rest of my Quirk yet. Transforming shit with a touch was a trump card I'd keep tucked away until I had no choice but to play it.
Seeing me pull off one trick and then go silent, the others got curious. No one pressed me, though, probably because they could still see the exhaustion etched into my face like a neon sign. "Wow, Onodera, your Quirk's badass!" Kirishima piped up, eyes lighting up like a kid at a comic convention. "Turning metal's gotta look dope in a fight!"
"Thanks, Kirishima," I said, cracking a small smile. "Yours isn't half bad either. That hardening seems way tougher and more useful than this crap."
He let out a loud, goofy laugh, scratching the back of his head all flustered from the compliment. The conversation rolled on favorite heroes, and why they wanted to be one. Everyone had their own story, each one brimming with passion and grit that was honestly pretty damn inspiring. Me? I stayed quiet, soaking it all in, my mind grinding away on the storm I knew was coming.
As the bus pulled closer to the U.S.J., that bad feeling sharpened into a razor's edge. I had no clue if my tweaks to the timeline would be enough to derail the chaos ahead. The only thing I was dead certain of? I wasn't letting anyone get screwed over or die like they did in the original story. I'd sworn to myself I'd flip this shitty ending upside down, no matter what it took.
The bus rolled to a stop at the U.S.J.'s massive gate, and we all piled out. Seeing the sprawling training center laid out before us sent a shiver racing down my spine. It was uncanny, every detail matched the manga and anime I'd burned into my brain: the building's sleek design, the sprawling layout, all of it like a live-action rerun staring me in the face.
Number 13, the rescue pro, stood waiting at the entrance alongside Aizawa-sensei. Just like I'd suspected, it wasn't just the two of them this time. All Might was out of commission, holed up in the break room, probably nursing the aftereffects of overusing what little was left of One For All, but more heroes had shown up, including some heavy hitters I hadn't counted on. Endeavor's towering frame loomed nearby, flames flickering faintly at his shoulders, and Hawks leaned casually against a wall, wings tucked but ready to spring.
Class 1-A lost their collective minds over the big names, especially Endeavor and Hawks. The excitement buzzing through the group gave me a flicker of relief—my plan was working, at least so far. More firepower meant better odds. But that ease didn't stick around. Something still felt wrong, a nagging itch creeping into the back of my skull.
"Alright, everyone, focus!" Aizawa's sharp voice cut through the chatter, snapping us back to reality. "This is rescue training, treat it seriously. First, listen to Number 13's briefing."
Number 13 launched into an explanation of the U.S.J. and why rescue skills were a cornerstone of hero work, their calm voice laying out the basics. But I couldn't focus on the words. My eyes kept darting around, scanning the place, the main door, the surrounding zones, every shadow that might hide trouble. That unease was screaming now, loud and insistent.
And then, there it was...
A strange, flickering light pulsed in the center of the flood simulation zone, followed by a pitch-black warp gate tearing open right in front of us. My heart slammed against my ribcage as familiar silhouettes stepped through. The League of Villains, right on schedule, just like I'd predicted.
No time to think. I shouted, voice raw and urgent: "Aizawa-sensei! We've got company!"
The words echoed through the U.S.J, jerking everyone's attention toward me. Heroes and classmates whipped around, faces tightening with confusion and a rising tide of tension.
Aizawa-sensei, ever sharp and on edge, spun toward the center in an instant. He clocked the threat and reacted like a damn lightning bolt. "All students, fall back now!" he barked, his tone hard and unyielding. "Hawks, guard the exit! Number 13, get the kids to safety! Move it!"
"Don't stray too far—hold a defensive line!" Hawks added, his wings flaring wide as he shot toward the entrance, ready to cut down anything that got too close.
I froze for a split second, forcing myself to steady my breathing and figure out the next move. Shigaraki Tomura sauntered out of the gate, that creepy hand mask plastered over his face, radiating a sick kind of glee. Behind him lumbered the Nomu - freakish, towering, and every bit as nightmarish as I'd remembered - followed by dozens of lowlife goons spilling in like a swarm of rats. The chaos was about to erupt, and Shigaraki was loving every second of it.
"Who the hell are these guys?!" Bakugo roared, leaping to his feet, all fire and fury like usual.
"Bad guys, dipshit—obvious much?" I snapped back, yanking everyone's focus my way. "This isn't part of the drill. We're getting fucked for real!"
Fear flashed across my classmates' faces, raw and unfiltered, but I didn't let it fester. I zeroed in on getting them out of the line of fire before shit hit the fan. "Ochako, Tsuyu, you and Midoriya haul the others to a safe spot," I said fast, my eyes flicking between them. "Ida, you've gotta jet out of here now and sound the alarm at school. I'll stay back—hold these bastards off as long as I can!"
"Don't do anything reckless, Ryuga!" Aizawa's icy voice sliced through my plan, stopping me cold. "This isn't a student's job. Stick with the group and stay safe—move it!"
I grit my teeth, torn between arguing and following orders. He was right—this wasn't my fight, not technically. But every instinct screamed at me to act, to throw myself into the fray and keep this disaster from spiraling out of control. Still, Aizawa's glare pinned me in place, and I knew pushing back now would only waste time we didn't have. Reluctantly, I nodded, falling in line with the others as we scrambled to regroup and brace for whatever came next.