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The Weight of Leadership
The walk to U.A. the next morning felt different. The crisp autumn air carried a new charge, a buzz that wasn't just from the city waking up. It was the buzz of anticipation, of a world now aware that its Symbol of Peace was walking the halls of a high school. Kenjiro's body still hummed with the pleasant ache of yesterday's training, but his mind was clear, focused. The camaraderie from the ramen shop had settled something in him. He belonged here.
He turned the corner onto the main boulevard leading to U.A. and stopped dead.
The street in front of the academy's famed main gate was a seething mass of humanity and flashing lights. Reporters, journalists, camera crews—a media circus of staggering proportions—were packed against the imposing, high-tech security barrier that encircled the campus. Microphones were thrust like spears toward the gate, and a cacophony of shouted questions created an indecipherable roar.
"—first comment on his teaching style?"
"—true he's retired from active duty?"
"—can you confirm the rumors of a successor?"
"—just one picture, please!"
The infamous U.A. Barrier, a seamless wall of advanced alloys and energy fields, held firm, its surface humming with a low, impenetrable energy. A few harried-looking school officials stood just inside, politely but firmly shaking their heads.
Kenjiro blinked, then a slow grin spread across his face. So this is what All Might's star power looks like up close. He took a deep breath and began to weave his way through the throng. It was like swimming upstream. A microphone nearly poked him in the eye.
"Hey, kid! You a student? What's All Might like as a teacher? Is he as loud in person?"
Kenjiro just shook his head, offering a non-committal shrug as he sidestepped another reporter. "No comment. Sorry." He finally reached the gate, which scanned his student ID with a soft beep and slid open just enough for him to slip through before snapping shut again, cutting off the renewed frenzy of shouts. The sudden silence on the U.A. side was deafening.
He made his way to Class 1-A, the noise of the press fading behind him. The classroom was already abuzz with the news.
"Did you see them out there?" Kaminari was saying, leaning out a window. "It's insane! They're like piranhas!"
"It is a gross violation of the school's privacy," Iida declared, chopping his hand through the air with even more vigor than usual. "They have no right to storm our campus simply because a new faculty member has been announced!"
"A 'new faculty member'?" Jiro raised an eyebrow. "Iida, it's All Might. The piranhas were inevitable."
The door slid open and Aizawa-sensei shuffled in, looking more exhausted than ever, as if the media frenzy outside had personally drained his will to live. He didn't bother with greetings.
"Settle down," he mumbled, slumping against the podium. "We have business to attend to. Now that you've had a taste of combat training, it's time to establish some order within this class itself. You need to pick a class president."
A wave of excitement immediately replaced the chatter about the press. This was something tangible, something normal.
"I wanna be class prez!" Kirishima announced.
"Ooh, me too!" Mina added.
"It is a position of great responsibility, requiring diligence and a firm moral compass!" Iida stated, his hand shooting into the air.
Aizawa sighed, clearly wanting to be anywhere else. "I don't care how you do it. Just do it quickly." With that, he zipped himself up inside his bright yellow sleeping bag and slid under the podium, effectively ending his participation.
A quick vote was decided upon. Slips of paper were passed out. Kenjiro pondered for a moment. Who would be best? Iida was practically born for the job, but he could be… a lot. Yaoyorozu was brilliant and level-headed. He scribbled a name and passed his paper forward.
Moments later, the results were tallied.
"The class president is…" Iida began, his voice filled with solemn import. He looked at the paper, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "…Kenjiro Ito."
Kenjiro blinked. What? He'd voted for Yaoyorozu. A quick glance around the room showed several nods of approval. Kirishima gave him a thumbs-up.
"And the vice president," Iida continued, a hint of disappointment in his tone that he quickly masked, "is Momo Yaoyorozu."
Yaoyorozu looked pleasantly surprised. "I am honored."
"Wait, how did I…?" Kenjiro started, but was cut off by a round of applause, led enthusiastically by Kirishima.
"You were awesome yesterday, man!" Kaminari said. "Cool under pressure!"
"And you stopped Iida from having a meltdown," Jiro added with a slight smirk.
"Your leadership in the exercise was exemplary," Tokoyami intoned.
Iida marched over to Kenjiro's desk, his expression deadly serious. "I will admit, I had hoped for the position myself. However, the class has spoken! I expect you to fulfill your duties with the utmost seriousness!" He bowed sharply. "You have my full support, President!"
Kenjiro was speechless. He'd never been a leader before. He was the guy who observed, who blended in, who worked alone. This was… new.
The morning classes flew by. Modern Hero Art History with Midnight was a whirlwind of dramatic anecdotes about past heroes, her whip cracking for emphasis. Math was a slog of quirk-related equations, and English with Present Mic was a loud, chaotic dive into hero slang. Kenjiro took diligent notes, his mind half on the lessons, half on his new role. He'd need to organize class duties, liaise with teachers, and keep Bakugo from blowing up the room. No pressure.
Lunch was a welcome break. The cafeteria buzzed with energy, students from all years mingling in a chaotic symphony of trays and chatter. Kenjiro joined Toru, Ojiro, Kirishima, and Mina at a table, Yaoyorozu sliding in with her meticulously arranged tray.
"Class prez, huh?" Kirishima grinned, punching Kenjiro's shoulder. "Manly choice! You're gonna rock it."
Toru's gloves danced. "Yeah, you're like, super cool under pressure! And Momo's basically a genius, so you're set!"
Yaoyorozu smiled, stirring her tea. "I'm happy to assist, Ito-san. We'll need to coordinate class schedules and address any issues. Perhaps a weekly meeting?"
Kenjiro nodded, impressed by her efficiency. "Sounds good. Let's start with keeping everyone alive during training."
Mina laughed, her horns bouncing. "Good luck with Bakugo. Dude's a walking bomb."
As they ate, Kenjiro's eyes drifted to Midoriya, who sat with Uraraka and Iida a few tables over. The green-haired boy was animated, gesturing as he talked, his bandaged arm not slowing him down. Bakugo sat alone, his tray untouched, his scowl a barrier no one dared breach.
Before Kenjiro could comment, a piercing siren shattered the cafeteria's hum. Students froze, trays clattering, as red lights flashed overhead. A robotic voice blared, "INTRUDER ALERT. ALL STUDENTS EVACUATE TO DESIGNATED AREAS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL."
Panic erupted. Students surged toward the exits, shoving and shouting, their training forgotten in the chaos. Kenjiro stood, his quirk humming, scanning for the nearest exit. The crowd was a mess—first-years tripping over each other, upperclassmen yelling for order.
Iida was already moving, his engines revving as he pushed through to a window overlooking the front gates. "It's the press!" he shouted, turning to Kenjiro. "They've breached the barrier somehow! It's causing the alarm!"
Kenjiro's eyes narrowed. The reporters? That didn't add up. The U.A. Barrier was military-grade; no pushy journalist could crack it. But the panic was real, and it was spreading. He caught Yaoyorozu's eye—she was trying to calm students nearby, her voice steady but drowned out.
Kenjiro needed a better view. He needed to be seen.
He backed against the lockers, took a breath, and pushed.
The world slowed to a crawl. The screaming became a deep, distorted drone. The panicked students were now moving through syrup, their terrified expressions frozen. Kenjiro moved through them like a ghost, his feet barely touching the ground. He ran along the wall, his body parallel to the floor, bypassing the stuck crowd entirely.
He reached the main junction where the hallway met the central stairwell—the heart of the chaotic evacuation. A large digital display board, usually showing school announcements, was flashing the emergency evacuation route.
Time snapped back to normal.
Kenjiro landed squarely on top of the display board, perched high above the crowd. He cupped his hands around his mouth, and with a force that cut through the panic, he yelled.
"EVERYONE, STOP!"
His voice, amplified by his position and the sheer authority he forced into it, echoed through the hallway. Hundreds of faces snapped up to look at him.
"IT'S JUST THE PRESS!" he roared, pointing a finger toward the main entrance. "THEY TRIGGERED THE OUTER SENSORS! THERE IS NO VILLAIN ATTACK! NOW, STOP SHOVING AND WALK. CALMLY. TO THE EVACUATION POINTS. YOU'RE HEROES IN TRAINING, ACT LIKE IT!"
Slowly, the panic ebbed. Upperclassmen took charge, directing younger students into orderly lines. The chaotic surge became a controlled evacuation, students filing out with nervous glances but no more shoving.
Kenjiro dropped down, landing lightly beside Iida, who was organizing a group of first-years. "Nice call," Kenjiro said, catching his breath. "How'd the press get through the barrier?"
Iida's expression was grim. "I don't know. The gate looked... disintegrated. That's not normal."
Kenjiro frowned, his mind racing. Disintegrated?
Meanwhile, In the faculty room, the atmosphere was tense. Aizawa stood with Midnight, Present Mic, and Principal Nezu, staring at a monitor showing the damaged U.A. Barrier. Most of its panels were reduced to ash, a jagged hole where the gate once stood.
"Reporters don't do this," Aizawa said, his voice low. "This is deliberate."
Midnight's whip twitched in her hand. "Could an ordinary journalist have a quirk like that? Disintegration's not exactly common."
Present Mic shook his head, his usual energy subdued. "No way, yo. This is next-level. Someone wanted in."
Principal Nezu, perched on a chair, his small paws clasped, spoke softly but with weight. "I concur. This was no mere breach by the press. An element of evil orchestrated this infiltration. The question is why." His beady eyes gleamed with calculation. "Was this a test? A distraction? Or perhaps... a declaration of war?"
The teachers exchanged glances, the gravity of his words sinking in. Aizawa's scarf tightened around his shoulders. "We need to secure the campus. Now."
Give me your stones if you want to live