"Please, do you have any words about All Might?!" A reporter screamed, her voice sharp and eager as she shoved a microphone in the face of a passing student. The student barely reacted, walking past her without a second glance, clearly unbothered by the swarm of reporters outside U.A. High. The air was thick with their presence, all desperate for a scrap of information about the legendary hero.
The school entrance had become a battleground, every corner occupied by reporters, each one hunting for the latest scoop on All Might. His mere presence at U.A. was enough to send the media into a frenzy. All Might—once a student here—now a teacher? That was the kind of news that could break headlines across the nation.
Shoda couldn't be bothered. As the crowd of microphones and cameras closed in, he simply yawned loudly, his eyes scanning the sea of reporters with the practiced ease of someone who had learned quickly how to navigate through chaos. His eyes, sharp and focused, allowed him to dodge each microphone and camera with effortless precision.
With his hands in his pockets, he maneuvered through the throng, stepping around the reporters and swerving past their desperate attempts to get him to talk. He barely acknowledged them, letting out a soft sigh. "What an annoying bunch," he muttered under his breath.
The voice that responded to him wasn't a reporter. It was a familiar one. "Yeah, the media's always slobbering over anything to do with All Might," came the dry response. Shoda glanced to his side, spotting Juzo Honenuki from his class, his arms in his pockets as well and his expression one of quiet disdain.
Shoda smirked, slowing his pace as he fell in step with Honenuki. "Exactly," he said with a shrug. "They're like dogs fighting over scraps. All Might this, All Might that."
Honenuki rolled his eyes, giving a side glance at Shoda as they continued walking through the crowded path. "I expected more hero-related activities at a hero school," he continued, his voice carrying a hint of frustration as he changed the topic of the conversation. "But so far, it's been all regular schoolwork. We're on the third day and still nothing but normal classes."
Shoda couldn't help but agree. He'd been hoping for something more. Something that would feel like actual training. But so far, it had been disappointingly mundane.
"Yeah, it's a bit underwhelming," Shoda admitted, running a hand through his hair as they walked. "Class 1-A already did their thing, but us? Nothing. It's like we're just waiting for something to happen." Honenuki added, Shoda had started to see why Monoma hated Class 1-A so much.
He knew that U.A.'s famous U.S.J. incident was just around the corner. Whether it would be this week or next, he didn't know, but he was ready for something to break the monotony. He was deciding whether or not to figure out a way to alert the school about it, but then again. That'd be impossible, every way led to him getting questioned. Even just writing an anonymous note, they would figure out it was him.
"Guess we'll just have to keep waiting," Shoda sighed yet again, glancing over at Honenuki, who looked about as enthusiastic as he felt.
"Yeah, no kidding," Honenuki muttered, his eyes falling behind him as he scanned the crowd of reporters as if they were ants. "I might just join them and see where my career as a reporters takes me" He joked, earning a laugh from Shoda.
The two of them moved through the crowded hallway, the sound of their footsteps following them. As they entered the classroom, Shoda glanced around, his mind swirling with confusion. Where was everyone? Had they missed something?
The mental connection between him and Honenuki was instant.
'Did we fuck up?'
Shoda's eyes flicked to his classmate, and for a split second, their silent exchange said everything. They both had that same feeling—a mix of confusion.
Had they misread the schedule? Was something supposed to happen today?
But then, as if on cue, Shoda's eyes landed on the large board that dominated the front of the classroom. His heart skipped for just a second when he saw the message written in bold, capitalized letters:
"MEET IN TRAINING GROUND **** AND WEAR GYM CLOTHES!"
The words were a punch to the gut. Training ground.
As Shoda absorbed the message, his gaze flicked back to Honenuki, and just as he expected, he saw the faintest smirk tug at the corners of his classmate's lips. "Finally!" Honenuki exclaimed, the excitement in his voice impossible to mask.
Shoda couldn't help but mirror the smirk, his lips curling slightly as his pulse quickened with anticipation. His heart started to race with a feeling of exhilaration, one he hadn't experienced in the past few days of mundane classes.
"Yeah," Shoda muttered under his breath, his tone quiet but laced with a sense of readiness, "Finally."
With a shared glance, they both turned and exited the classroom.
-
-
-
-
A heavy atmosphere hung in the air as Vlad King stood before the class; his muscular frame was a powerful figure against the battered backdrop of the training grounds. The rubble and the half-destroyed structures around the class gave the impression of a battlefield. Shoda could feel the tension in the air; for the first time, things were serious.
The instructor's gaze was firm, his presence demanding attention. As the words left his mouth, they felt as sharp and direct as a bullet.
"Next Monday, we will be heading to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, a training facility built by my colleague, the Space Hero Thirteen. Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal, but this year is different. This time, we will be working with Class 1-A."
Shoda's eyes snapped wide open, the words reverberating in his mind like an unexpected punch to the face. Class 1-A? That wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't in the script. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
A cold shiver ran down his spine. The ripple in the story was too big to ignore. 'What the fuck? There's already a change in the story? Dammit!' Shoda thought, his body momentarily tense with frustration. He clenched his fist tightly at his side, the muscles in his arm straining with the effort to control the surge of anger rising within him. This wasn't how he envisioned things going down. He wasn't ready.
"Class 1-A," Vlad King continued, "had their training exercise yesterday. And now, it's your turn."
The tension in the air thickened as he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of his expectations.
"I do not teach like Eraser Head," Vlad King said, a hint of disdain lacing his words. "His methods break people down, show them why they aren't fit to be heroes, and force them to rise up through that adversity. I'm not here to tear you down. I believe you must earn the right to be a hero."
The ground beneath them seemed to shift with every word he spoke, and Shoda found himself hanging on every syllable, trying to absorb the depth of what their teacher was saying. He was still too caught up in the unexpected turn of events, but he had to block it out for now. He wanted to learn. No...He needed to.
It wasn't going to be easy. Shoda understood fully what Vlad King was saying. It wasn't about proving you were the strongest or the fastest; it was about earning your place, proving you were worthy of the title of hero. Shoda understood, but he knew better than to be a weak hero.
Shigaraki, All-for-one, the guy that can create muscles more and more, it didn't end, they were all powerful, so the way Shoda took in Vlad King words was that he had to be so strong, he could overpower anyone. No matter what happens.
"To be a hero means more than power," Vlad King's voice rumbled, and Shoda could feel the weight in his words. "It's about self-sacrifice, about assessing situations with your mind as much as your body. It's about making sure that, no matter what, you protect others. A hero's job isn't to destroy; it's to save."
Vlad King's gaze swept over the class, locking eyes with each of them before continuing.
"Over the next few days, you'll fight each other. You'll use your quirks, your surroundings, and your mind to subdue your opponent. But remember this: every time you strike, every punch or kick, that's a flaw. A true hero doesn't fight for the sake of fighting. A true hero fights to protect."
Vlad King's voice softened, but his words were no less potent.
"You'll be judged by your actions. By how well you can subdue and how well you control your strength. Even villains were once civilians. Remember that."
The air seemed to grow heavier with the weight of his final statement, and Shoda's mind took it all in. Protect. Control. Overpower. It wasn't enough to be powerful, he had to prove he could wield that power with responsibility. He had to show he was worthy of the title of hero. He couldn't only focus on becoming strong, he also had to focus on being a hero.
"And finally," Vlad King added, his voice cutting through the tension like a sword, "you'll need to select a class president and vice-president. You have ten minutes." He finished his speech as he turned around, and went to go sit in a chair.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy, as the class hesitated. Uncertainty filled the air, with no one daring to step forward, no one bold enough to seize the mantle. Shoda, however, barely registered the tension. His mind was elsewhere, tangled in the shift of the story.
Then, a single voice shattered the hesitation.
"I believe Shoda should be the president," Kendo announced, her voice unwavering as she raised her hand high. The speech between him and Mei Hatsume played in her head.
Heads turned, all eyes locking onto her. Even Shoda, pulled from his thoughts, blinked at her in surprise. She didn't falter; her expression was filled with confidence as if this was the most obvious choice in the world.
A beat of silence. Then another voice spoke up.
"I also believe he should be class president." Kuroiro's tone was as serious as ever, his dark eyes fixed on Shoda like he had already analyzed every possible outcome. Though the truth was, he thought Shoda was a chill guy.
Monoma practically sputtered, his disbelief breaking through the tension. "Woah, woah, woah! We haven't even decided how we're electing a class president! How are we just throwing out names?!" His usual theatrics were on full display, his hands gesturing wildly in the air.
Shoda's confusion deepened. Him? Class president? It didn't make sense. He had never considered himself a leader. If anything, he was more of a background player, someone who observed, adapted, and moved accordingly.
So why were two people—people he had barely interacted with—so sure about him?
"Yeah, let's calm down," Shoda finally said, hands raised slightly in a disarming gesture. "I mean, you guys don't even know if I want to do it."
All eyes were on him now. He could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on him.
Most of Class 1-B already had an image of Shoda: the guy who could talk to anyone but kept his own thoughts close. Outgoing yet reserved, social yet distant. But was that really the trait of a leader?
Shishida's voice was low, steady. "Do you?"
Shoda's gaze shifted to him, studying the beastly looking student for a moment. That was the real question.
Did he want to be class president?
He placed a thoughtful hand on his chin, his mind working through the possibilities. Class president... There were definite advantages. More freedom around U.A., which meant more access to training facilities, an edge he could use. On the downside, there'd be responsibilities. Paperwork, organizing things, dealing with classmates. A hassle, sure, but the pros far outweighed the cons.
Finally, he spoke.
"I wouldn't mind."
His words weren't loud, but they carried weight. The tension in the room seemed to shift, and for a brief second, he missed the way Kendo's lips curled into a satisfied smile.
"It seems the heavens have decided on who should be our class president," Ibara, a gentle-looking girl that had thorns for hair, declared, her tone calm. A few classmates sweat-dropped at her dramatic phrasing, but no one objected.
Because, when it came down to it, they all knew Shoda. Even if they weren't close, his presence was something they all knew about.
Monoma threw his hands up in defeat. "Wow, I mean, I don't even know what to say. I guess you're class president then." His exaggerated sigh of resignation drew a few chuckles from the class, breaking the last bit of tension.
Just like that, it was decided by all but himself.
Nirengeki Shoda, Class 1-B's President.
"Who should be vice-class president then?"
Sen Kaibara's voice cut through the murmurs. He stood with an easy confidence, dark brown shaggy hair falling over sharp black eyes. He was a good-looking guy—one of those people who naturally drew attention without trying.
Before anyone could even process the question, Kendo's hand shot up.
"If you guys wouldn't mind, I'd like to be vice-president," she declared, her voice steady and confident. "I was class president throughout junior high, so I have experience in the matter."
She didn't say it as a boast, just a fact. Her posture, the way she spoke radiated a gentle authority, the kind that made people listen.
A brief silence passed as the class exchanged glances. No one had a reason to argue. It made perfect sense.
One by one, nods of agreement followed. Even Monoma, who had been vocal before, simply shrugged. This time, he didn't care about the vice-president position.
And just like that, the leadership of Class 1-B was decided.
'That was easier than I expected… I guess Class 1-A just likes to be dramatic about everything,' Shoda mused, a small smirk playing on his lips. But as the thought settled, so did the weight of his new position.
Class President.
The words carried more weight than he had initially realized. It wasn't just a title now, it was a responsibility. He was now the one his classmates would look to, the one expected to lead, to stand at the front when things got tough or when confusion arose.
Unknown to them all, there was another reason Shoda accepted this role.
The U.S.J.
He knew what was coming. Knew that when hell broke loose, panic would spread like wildfire. Class 1-A would barely scrape by with their lives, and Class 1-B? They weren't even supposed to be there in the original story.
But now they were.
And that meant everything was different.
Shoda clenched his fists at his sides. Leadership wasn't just about keeping order in a classroom. It was about keeping them alive. When fear threatened to shatter their resolve, it would be his job to hold them together. To make sure they didn't just survive but that they fought back.
With enough courage, strategy, and sheer will, he would make sure Class 1-B would rise above the upcoming event.
A shift happened within him. His usual laid-back demeanor was replaced by something steadier, firmer. He had to be a little more serious now.
With newfound resolve, he took a slow step forward, then another. The eyes of his classmates followed him, an unspoken acknowledgment passing through them.
He reached Vlad King, the air between them charged with anticipation. The pro hero met his gaze, nodding in approval; he didn't disagree with this.
Shoda didn't hesitate. "We're ready to start."
Vlad King studied him for a brief moment before rising to his full height. With a commanding presence, he turned to the class, his voice booming through the training ground.
"Let's begin."
-
-
-
-
Shoda smirked, enjoying Monoma's reaction as he casually took another bite of his food. "C'mon, Monoma, you can admit it. You wanted the title, didn't you?" His tone was playful, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he watched the other boy flail his arms dramatically.
Monoma huffed, crossing his arms. "Tch, don't flatter yourself. I just think it's suspicious that everyone agreed so fast! No objections, no arguments—just like that?!" He snapped his fingers for emphasis before narrowing his eyes. "Almost like you planned it."
Shoda let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Trust me, if I planned it, I would've at least made it look cooler." He gestured vaguely as if imagining a grand speech or a dramatic election.
Kendo chuckled beside him, chewing on her food as she listened. "I think they just saw potential, Monoma. Shoda's got a way of carrying himself, people trust that."
Monoma scoffed, stabbing his fork into his tray with unnecessary force. "Whatever. Just don't mess up. A weak leader reflects poorly on the rest of us. And I don't want Class 1-A's leader to be someone better than you." Despite his sharp words, there was a hidden layer of begrudging acceptance. In a way, he was saying he was worried about Shoda.
Across from them, Kuroiro let out a low chuckle. "Darkness looms over responsibility. Be careful not to let it consume you, President." His voice carried its usual eerie weight, but his smirk betrayed the fact that he was just messing with Shoda.
Awase snorted. "Man, it's only been a few hours, and people are already calling him President.'"
Shoda shrugged, taking another bite. "Hey, might as well embrace it."
As the chatter of his classmates continued around him, Shoda absentmindedly tapped his fingers against his tray, his mind running through everything he had learned today.
Subduing the enemy.
It wasn't about overwhelming power or brute strength, it was about control, precision, and strategy. He had always known that, but today, it had finally clicked. His quirk was so much more difficult to handle under pressure. And now he knew the full scale of that.
First, his quirk.
He had always assumed that once he triggered a second impact, the force was set, but that wasn't the case. He could control the strength, choosing whether to make it a light push or a devastating blow. That meant his quirk wasn't just about impact, it was about adaptability. If he pushed his training, refined this ability, he could become even more unpredictable in battle.
Second, awareness.
Without support gear, tracking what he touched was a struggle, but he realized that when he held an object entirely, like a rock, he could mentally pinpoint and choose where the second impact would land. That meant his quirk wasn't just about reflex—it was about focus. If he trained his mind to recall his movements instinctively, he wouldn't even need assistance—he would just know.
And then, there was the biggest revelation of them all.
Close combat.
It was his weakness. He hated fighting up close because he wasn't strong in that area. The unpredictability, the risk, the lack of control. But that hesitation would only hold him back. If he wanted to be a hero, he needed a way to handle it. Not overpower his opponent, not out-punch them—but to defend himself.
That's when it hit him.
Nun-chucks. Or something similar. A weapon that allowed him to keep his distance while maintaining control over movement. A weapon that would turn his weakness into an asset. If he mastered it, he wouldn't just be avoiding danger—He'd be the danger.
Wait, say that again?
Never mind that. The thought made him smirk.
Ideas. So many ideas to discuss with Mei.
His fingers stopped tapping, his focus returning to the present. His path was becoming clearer.
And that thrilled him. He was aware of his weakness in himself. But now he was aware of his potential.
RINGGGGGGGGGG
The harsh, metallic tone of the alarm rang through the speakers, its sharp sound cutting through the cafeteria like a knife.
"There has been a Security Level 3 breach. Please, all students evacuate in an orderly fashion."
The calm yet unsettlingly cold AI voice echoed over the speakers, sending a shiver through the students. For a heartbeat, everything froze. Every student paused, their meals halfway to their mouths, eyes wide with shock. Then, in the next instant, panic spread like wildfire.
Chaos.
Tables were overturned, trays and utensils clattered to the ground, and students scrambled to get out, shoving, pushing, some even pulling others in a desperate bid for safety. U.A. had never had a breach like this. The air felt thick with fear, the once-casual chatter replaced by frantic shouts and cries for answers.
Shoda, his mind still sharp and clear, shook himself from his brief reverie. He had forgotten about this little event.
Kendo, sitting beside him, immediately shot to her feet. "What does Security Level 3 mean!?" she shouted to a student who was sprinting past them with a panicked look in his eyes.
"It means someone infiltrated the building!" the student yelled back, not bothering to stop as he darted through the exit.
Kendo turned to her classmates, her eyes sharp as they all exchanged worried glances. Everyone in the room was packing, they didn't know what to do next.
Should they join the frantic mob of students fleeing the cafeteria? Or should they stay here and wait for orders? The class buzzed with confusion, but no one dared to make a move. Because they didn't know what was happening, they couldn't react. The rush of adrenaline hadn't yet arrived, so the decision was harder to make.
But then, their gaze shifted to Shoda.
He stood in the center of them, calm, unshaken even with everything unfolding around him. His expression was serious, his stance tall. There wasn't a trace of fear in his eyes, no sign of panic. He was ignoring everything.
For a moment, it seemed as if time itself had slowed down for Shoda as his classmates observed him, waiting for him to make the next move. Being class president already was showing its rewards.
Shoda already knew what was happening. He had connected the dots. He had forgotten about this little event.
A deep, simmering frustration built within Shoda's chest. The plans of Shigaraki and his League of Villains were unfolding right where he stood, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it—not yet, anyway. What made it worse was the thought of Shigaraki sneaking in and stealing U.A.'s files.
Shoda closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting everything digest. As he opened them, a calm fury appeared in his eyes. His voice, when he spoke, was as normal as ever. "Kendo, do you think you're strong enough to throw me somewhere?" he asked, his eyes fixed on her. He didn't even glance at the mess around them.
Kendo looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Yes, depending on how far you need me to throw you," she answered. The tension that hung in the air was momentarily broken, but only just.
Shoda was disappointed in how U.A. students were handling this, and he was going to make sure everyone knew just how disappointed he was. At first, he was going to let things play out like they do, but not anymore. Not only that, he had to show off, of course.
Inside the chaos, at the same time somewhere else, three students found themselves struggling in the stampede of people rushing to evacuate.
"Midoriya, what should we do?" Uraraka's voice cracked through the noise, fear lacing her words. Her small frame was being pushed and jostled by the crowd.
"I-I don't know!" Midoriya stammered, his face pale with worry as the frantic mass of students crushed against him.
But it was Iida, his eyes scanning the situation, who noticed something. His gaze shifted toward the window, a group of reporters, all gathered and vying for attention.
A plan popped up in his head.
"URARAK, MAKE ME FLY—"
Before Iida could finish, a loud explosion shattered the air, followed by the metallic screech of something being forcibly thrown. A metal tray—large and heavy—plunged into the wall above the exit sign with a deafening bang. Everyone momentarily halted as they turned toward the noise, their eyes wide with surprise.
And then, as though following the first explosion's cue, another tray came crashing into the wall. A foot or more away from it.
A figure shot through the air a second later, soaring above the crowd, landing with precision on top of the trays as though he had planned it. His landing was flawless, yet his expression, when he stood up, was one of annoyance, his face twisted in quiet disappointment.
The cafeteria fell into silence, the reality of the situation sinking in. Shoda's presence was now undeniable in the entirety of the room.
Shoda's words sliced through the panic like a knife. There was no hesitation in his voice, no stutter. Just cold, hard clarity. "Are we serious? This is how you guys react when something happens? If most of you used your brain, maybe even your eyes, you'd see that it was the reporters who broke in." His gaze was unflinching, the sharpness of his words cutting through the hysteria that had seized the room. He motioned his head toward the windows.
The students around him froze, the realization hitting them like a ton of bricks. They looked out the window to see that he was right. The fear that had gripped them, the chaos they'd allowed, had been built entirely on their ignorance. The reporters had infiltrated, creating a stir where there was none to begin with. They all felt utterly stupid.
Shoda's eyes swept over the sea of startled faces, his expression unshaken. "Now everyone," he continued, his voice smooth but carrying an edge, "why don't we act like actual people and stop shoving everything around us? Evacuate accordingly."
With that, he jumped off the trays, landing lightly on the ground, his hands sliding casually into his pockets. The room seemed to part for him, students stepping aside in a mix of admiration and respect. The weight of his words hung in the air as he strode past them, his pace unhurried but confident. He was a force of calm in the middle of the storm.
As Shoda made his way back to his class, the murmurs of students fell silent. No one would forget the way he'd taken control of the situation. In that moment, he had established something: authority. And as he walked, a quiet smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth.
'I felt like a fucking badass doing that,' he thought, a rush of pride swelling within him. His eyes flit over to Class 1-A as they watched him walk away, their expressions frozen in a mix of awe and disbelief.
In that moment, Shoda realized something important: he was aura farming. But then also he realized that the idea of gaining respect, admiration, and maybe even a bit of fear from Class 1-A thrilled him more than he expected.