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The First Ripples
The chatter in the locker room was a mix of exhilaration and exhaustion. The metallic scent of sweat and the faint, clean smell of industrial soap filled the air. Kenjiro pulled his U.A. uniform jacket on, the fabric crisp and new, feeling the pleasant ache in his muscles from Aizawa's "logical ruse."
"Man, I thought I was a goner for sure," a red-haired boy—Kirishima—said, running a hand through his spiky hair. "When he said 'expulsion,' my heart just about stopped!"
"You performed admirably, Kirishima!" Iida chopped the air with his hand, his movements still precise even after the grueling tests. "Your hardening quirk is quite formidable!"
"Thanks, man! Yours too! Those engines are no joke!"
Kenjiro tuned out the general chatter, his focus on lacing his shoes. His mind was replaying the tests, analyzing his own performance. The equipment failures were a concern—he needed better control, more finesse. Brute forcing every test wasn't sustainable. He also couldn't stop thinking about Midoriya. The raw, self-destructive power, followed by that moment of brilliant, desperate control. And Bakugo's reaction...
A sudden, violent crash echoed through the locker room, followed by the sound of a locker door being slammed shut.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT, DEKU?!"
All conversation died. Every head turned toward the back of the room. Bakugo had Midoriya pinned against a row of lockers, one hand fisted in the smaller boy's shirt, the other sparking dangerously near his face.
"K-Kacchan, I—" Midoriya stammered, eyes wide with fear.
"Don't you 'Kacchan' me, you shitty nerd!" Bakugo snarled, his voice a low, venomous growl. "You've been lying to me this whole time! Playing the helpless, Quirkless loser! When did you get it? Huh?!"
"I didn't—it's not like that—"
"Don't give me that! You think you can look down on me? You think you're better than me now?!" Bakugo's voice rose to a shout, the explosions in his palm popping louder. "I'll kill you!"
This wasn't posturing. This was pure, unadulterated rage. Kenjiro was moving before he even consciously decided to. So was Iida.
"Bakugo! Unhand him immediately!" Iida demanded, marching forward. "This is completely unacceptable behavior!"
"Stay out of this, four-eyes!" Bakugo snapped, not even looking away from Midoriya.
Kenjiro didn't say a word. He simply placed himself between Bakugo and Iida, his hand closing around Bakugo's wrist. He didn't squeeze hard, but his grip was like iron, stopping the sparking hand from moving any closer to Midoriya's face.
Time seemed to slow for Kenjiro. He saw the minute twitch in Bakugo's shoulder a fraction of a second before the blonde tried to wrench his arm free. Kenjiro adjusted his grip effortlessly, his own movements a blur to everyone else.
"Let. Go." Bakugo ground out, his red eyes finally tearing away from Midoriya to glare at Kenjiro with murderous intent.
"This is over, Bakugo," Kenjiro said, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. "Let him go. Now."
For a tense second, it looked like Bakugo might explode literally and figuratively. His whole body trembled with suppressed fury. He looked from Kenjiro's unwavering gaze to Iida's stern expression, to the rest of the class who were now watching, their faces a mixture of shock and disapproval.
With a final, disgusted sound, he shoved Midoriya away and yanked his wrist from Kenjiro's grasp. "This isn't over, Deku," he spat, shouldering his way past everyone and storming out of the locker room, leaving a tense silence in his wake.
Midoriya slid down the lockers, breathing heavily. "Th-thank you," he mumbled, not looking at anyone.
"Are you quite alright, Midoriya?" Iida asked, offering a hand to help him up.
"Yeah... I'm fine."
Kirishima shook his head. "Whoa. That guy's got some serious issues."
"What was that about?" another boy with blonde hair and electric sparks at his fingertips asked.
Kenjiro didn't answer. He just watched the door Bakugo had exited through, a frown on his face. This was more than just rivalry. This was something deeply personal and toxic. It was a problem. And problems in a hero course had a way of blowing up.
The incident cast a pall over the rest of the day. By the time the final bell rang, everyone seemed eager to leave. Kenjiro met up with Toru and Mashirao at the school gates.
"Well, that was... a day," Toru said, her gloves gesturing wildly. "Our teacher is terrifying, we've got a human bomb in our class, and the green guy who punched the robot might actually break himself in half one day. Welcome to U.A.!"
"Mr. Aizawa's methods are unorthodox, but his point was valid," Mashirao said thoughtfully. "We cannot afford to hold back. And Bakugo's behavior... that is concerning."
"Concerning? He's a lunatic!" Toru exclaimed. "Did you see him on the field? He was going to fry Midoriya!"
"I saw," Kenjiro said quietly. "We need to keep an eye on that."
They walked in silence for a moment, the weight of the day settling on them.
"So," Toru said, changing the subject. "What did you think of everyone else? The spikey hair girl is crazy smart. And the half-hot, half-cold guy barely broke a sweat."
"Todoroki," Kenjiro supplied. "Yeah. He's powerful. A lot of powerful people here."
"It is... humbling," Mashirao admitted. "But it is also motivating. We will have to push ourselves harder than ever."
"That's for sure," Kenjiro agreed. As they reached the station and went their separate ways, Kenjiro's mind was already racing, not about the schoolwork, but about the people. The dynamics, the conflicts, the potential. U.A. wasn't just a school; it was a powder keg of powerful personalities. And he had a feeling their homeroom teacher had just thrown a lit match into the middle of it.
The next morning, the atmosphere in Class 1-A was noticeably different. The initial excitement had been replaced by a wary tension. Students kept glancing at Bakugo, who sat slouched in his seat with a permanent scowl, and at Midoriya, who looked like he wanted to vanish into the floor.
Aizawa, wrapped once more in his yellow sleeping bag, didn't seem to notice or care. He conducted the homeroom period with the same bored monotone, going over schedules and expectations without acknowledging the previous day's events.
Their first real class was Modern Hero Art History with Midnight. It was followed by Mathematics. Then English with Present Mic, whose loud, exuberant teaching style was a jarring contrast to Aizawa's lethargy.
Kenjiro found himself enjoying the academic challenge. The classes were advanced, the discussions stimulating. It was a different kind of workout for his mind, and he relished it.
Lunch was a spectacle. The cafeteria was massive, offering a staggering variety of meals, many designed with specific nutritional needs for developing quirks in mind. Kenjiro, Toru, and Mashirao found a table together, soon joined by a few others.
Uraraka sat down with a tray piled high with food, her eyes sparkling. "It's all so good! And so much of it!"
Iida joined them, his tray arranged with geometric precision. "Proper nutrition is vital for peak performance! We must fuel our bodies efficiently!"
Kirishima slid in next to Kenjiro. "Hey, man. That was pretty manly, what you did yesterday. Standing up to Bakugo like that."
Kenjiro shrugged. "Someone had to."
"Iida and you were both on it. It was awesome." Kirishima grinned. "Name's Eijiro Kirishima, by the way. Hardening." He tapped his forearm, and it shifted to a jagged, stone-like texture.
"Kenjiro Ito. Acceleration."
"Nice to officially meet you! So, who's your favorite hero? Mine's Crimson Riot, obviously. Dude was the Peak of manliness!"
The conversation flowed easily after that, the ice broken. They were just a group of kids, after all, bonded by the shared insanity of their situation.
Their final class of the day was Foundational Hero Studies. A buzz of anticipation ran through the room. This was it—the class everyone was waiting for.
The door slid open with a dramatic force.
"I AM... COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!"
All Might stood in the doorway, his massive frame filling the space, his iconic smile beaming. He wore his classic golden-age costume, the blue and red fabric straining over his powerful muscles.
A wave of pure awe swept through the classroom. Jaws dropped. Even Bakugo looked momentarily stunned. This was All Might. The Symbol of Peace. Their teacher.
"WELCOME TO THE MOST IMPORTANT CLASS AT U.A. HIGH! FOUNDATIONAL HERO STUDIES!" He struck a pose. "IN THIS CLASS, YOU WILL LEARN THE BASICS OF BEING A HERO! AND WE'LL START WITH THIS!"
He held up a small card. "BATTLE TRAINING! AND TO GO WITH THAT..." A section of the wall slid open, revealing numbered cases. "...ARE THESE! COSTUMES BASED ON YOUR QUIRK REGISTRATION FORMS AND YOUR OWN REQUESTS! NOW, SUIT UP AND MEET ME AT TRAINING GROUND BETA!"
The class erupted into excitement, the tension of the morning forgotten. This was what they had all dreamed of.
The locker room was a chaos of excitement as everyone opened their cases. Kenjiro unlatched his, his breath catching slightly.
Inside, folded neatly, was his design. A full-body suit of a deep, navy blue, almost black, with lightning-bolt patterns in a vibrant electric blue running along the arms, legs, and torso. The material was sleek and flexible. The mask was a simple, streamlined affair that covered the top half of his face, with a built-in comms unit and a tinted visor designed to protect his eyes from wind pressure. The boots were his own design, heavily reinforced with a special heat-resistant and friction-absorbent alloy on the soles.
It was perfect. Functional, streamlined, and it looked fast.
He changed quickly, the suit fitting like a second skin. He flexed his hands, the material moving with him without restriction. He could feel the quality, the thought that had gone into it.
He stepped out into the designated meeting area where the others were gathering. The variety was astounding. Iida was in a full suit of armor. Bakugo's costume was all jagged edges and grenade-like gauntlets. Yaoyorozu's was Something.. Toru's was... just a pair of gloves and boots. He made a mental note to talk to her about that later.
All Might beamed at them. "LOOKING SPECTACULAR, NEW GENERATION OF HEROES! NOW, THE TRIAL OF BATTLE IS A KEY PART OF HEROISM! TODAY, WE'LL BE CONDUCTING INDOOR COMBAT TRAINING! YOU'LL BE SPLIT INTO TEAMS OF HEROES AND VILLAINS AND FACE OFF IN TWO-ON-TWO BATTLES!"
He explained the rules: The villain team would hide a nuclear weapon (a large, paper-mache prop) somewhere in a multi-story building. The hero team would have to either capture the villains with capture tape or secure the weapon within the time limit. The villains would win if they protected the weapon or captured the heroes.
"The first teams will be..." All Might reached into a box and pulled out two balls. "THE HERO TEAM... TEAM A! IZUKU MIDORIYA AND OCHACO URARAKA!"
Midoriya paled. Uraraka looked determined.
"AND THEIR OPPONENTS..." All Might reached in again. "THE VILLAIN TEAM... TEAM D! KATSUKI BAKUGO AND TENYA IIDA!"
A deadly silence fell over the group. Kenjiro's eyes narrowed. This was either a horrible coincidence or a brutally clever test by All Might. He watched as Bakugo's face split into a vicious grin, his eyes locking onto Midoriya with predatory intensity. Midoriya looked like he was going to be sick.
Iida, to his credit, immediately began strategizing, adjusting his glasses. "A formidable matchup! We must devise a plan to counter Uraraka's zero-gravity and Midoriya's... unknown capabilities!"
Bakugo ignored him, his focus entirely on his prey. "Finally," he whispered, the word dripping with menace.
All Might, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents, boomed, "VILLAINS, ENTER THE BUILDING AND PREPARE! HEROES, STAND BY! LET'S SEE WHAT YOU'RE MADE OF, YOUNG HEROES!"
As Team D disappeared into the building, Kenjiro crossed his arms, a sense of foreboding settling in his stomach. This wasn't just battle training. This was a grudge match. And he had a front-row seat to watch it explode.