Chapter Text
"No! My baby! Zuku! My baby is on fire!" Mei screamed.
The sound of her feet scurrying back and forth across the cluttered lab in search of the fire extinguisher was almost enough to distract Izuku from his calculations. That was another tally for the chart.
"Hurry up and grab the— oh never mind! I'll do it!"
He didn't bother look up from his work, nor did he even flinch at the small explosion and overwhelming wave of heat that followed, the amber flames licking at the edges of Mei's latest failed invention. He was used to this—both the explosions and Mei's theatrics.
"It's next to your desk," he reminded the pink haired girl, "where we always keep it." He didn't need to add that Power Loader had practically forced it to remain there due to how often she was blowing up the lab.
"Right!" She called, running back to her desk. Moments later the lab was filled with the sharp hiss of foam dousing the flames. "Well," he heard her sigh, "that's that sorted. Onto baby eight hundred and twenty three."
Izuku could've sworn she was on number eight two four...perhaps he miscounted somewhere? He chose not to ask. If he asked, she'd start an entire side conversation about naming conventions, and he didn't have time to get derailed. His equations were already starting to blur in front of his eyes.
"No, I missed one. This is eight hundred and twenty four," Mei corrected herself. Ah, so he was right. "God, that woulda been embarrassing, wouldn't it Zuku?"
Mei continued talking out loud as if Izuku was offering her some kind of response. Something about fire hazards and why the fire alarm hadn't gone off, he wasn't really paying atttention. After nearly two years in the same class, they'd gotten used to each other's mannerisms. She enjoyed the cadence of his mutterings whenever he was deep in thought, while he enjoyed her constant narration of ideas as they formed in her mind.
Their classmates had learned long ago not to question it.
"Is everything alright in here?" A new voice cut through the hum of the lab.
"All good in here Power Loader, sir," Mei chirped, saluting with zero remorse for the wreckage she'd just created.
"Another one of your inventions gone wrong, Hatsume?" Their homeroom teacher asked dryly and Izuku decided that this was a good time to opt out of their conversation.
He already knew what it was about—Mei's latest attempt at a quirk-erasing net. It was a solid idea in theory, a potential game-changer for Pro Heroes if it ever worked...but he was pretty sure Mei had fucked up somewhere in her planning stages. This was her twenty seventh attempt at making the contraption this month alone. At this point, he was starting to think she was more determined to brute-force a miracle than actually refine the design.
Not to mention that the only kind of 'quirk erasing' that existed was in quirks like Eraser Head's. Even the big companies like Detnerat and GearTech hadn't cracked that one yet. If they couldn't figure it out with their billion-yen budgets and entire research teams, he was pretty sure Mei wasn't going to pull it off, even with all of Nedzu's funding.
Besides, if they wanted to crack it they would probably need to study the erasure based quirks themselves, which would fall more into biotech and bio-engineering. The kind of equipment and knowledge you needed for that was far beyond what U.A. could offer.
"And how's your project coming along, Midoriya?"
Izuku closed his eyes, inhaling a strained breath in an attempt to calm his irritation at having been interrupted once again. He kept reminding himself that he was just tired and there was absolutely no need for him to go off at his teacher for his harmless question. He really needed a nap.
"It's fine," Izuku said simply, dropping his pen into the centre of his notebook. He'd finish it later.
Too many distractions.
"Woah, someone's in a bad mood," Mei teased, his eyes landing on the girl who was now draped over his workbench. Her arms came to rest on top of the half-finished support suit for a first-year that he'd agreed to modify the day before. She tapped her fingers against the material in a familiar, plotting rhythm. "Not sleep well?"
He shot her a flat look, the kind that said, You already know the answer to that.
And she did.
Mei had been in his dorm room until the crack of dawn, ranting about her final year project—something that wasn't even relevant yet given that they were still in their second year. Heck, they hadn't even been given the official project outline or criteria, but trust Mei to be one step ahead at all times.
That was the last time he let her 'study' with him for an English test the night before—which was the actual reason she'd come to him last night, to learn English. He was practically fluent, but still felt like he'd failed the test Present Mic had given them that morning. The voice hero was a pure sadist sometimes.
"Bummer," she pursed her lips, continuing to tap her fingers on his desk. He narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair as he watched the way she lingered, waiting for an opening. Tap. Tap. Tap. She wanted something.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She always did this when she wanted something.
Tap. Tap—
"Can I ask a small favour?"
He arched an eyebrow. "And by 'small' you mean...?"
"Can you look over my calculations?" She asked almost shyly, the words sounding like they were painful to say.
In her hands she now held out her notebook, #34. Her fingers tightened around the cover like it physically pained her to give it up and admit defeat. Mei was usually so confident in her work and was able to troubleshoot any and all issues herself. She rarely asked Izuku to double-check her work unless she was completely stuck. Which meant...
She was completely stuck.
His eyes widened in surprise, but he was quick to school his features. "Sure thing," he agreed, taking the notes from her. "It'll take me a few days though, I still have to finish my work—"
"Thank you so much!" She practically jumped over his desk to force him into a hug, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. "Get it back to me whenever you can! I owe you one!"
"It's honestly fine," he chuckled, awkwardly raising a hand to pat her on the back in a subtle attempt to get her off of him. While he was used to Mei and her lack of understanding of personal space, he still wasn't entirely used to so much...contact.
"Not at all," she denied, releasing the embrace to beam at him. "I'll take you for smoothies this weekend, yeah?"
Izuku rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched at the corners. "Fine," he muttered, "but you're filling out the application."
Even though all the students in dorms were permitted to leave campus whenever it suited them outside of school hours, they still had to fill out these long applications for their homeroom teacher to approve. Izuku hated doing it and found any and every reason to get Mei to fill it out for him.
Mei didn't protest as she began to pull off her gloves and retied her jumpsuit around her waist. "Alright, food. Let's go."
Izuku sighed, looking back down at the notebook of calculations he still needed to finish before he could continue his work that afternoon. "You go ahead. I just need—"
"Nope." Mei pulled his notebook away from him and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him out his seat before he could argue. "C'mon, Zuku. If I have to shower daily, you have to eat lunch."
Izuku didn't bother fighting it. He was used to this. Besides, she wasn't wrong, he had skipped breakfast. He hated eating first thing in the morning, it always made him feel queasy for the rest of the day.
They made their way toward the cafeteria, weaving through the halls as students filtered out of their classrooms and crowded the corridors. Izuku always hated how busy it got, the first years all so eager to finally be at U.A. that they barged their way through, while the third years acted like they owned the place and shoved everyone aside. God, it was always a battle of egos at this school, wasn't it?
They descended the stairs, Mei already on another one of her spiels about a new idea of hers—something about integrating kinetic energy absorption into impact-resistant hero gear.
Izuku hummed absentmindedly, half-listening as they waited in line and bought their food from Lunch Rush. When Mei got into one of her long rants about a project, it was almost impossible to silence her. There also wasn't much point in him offering suggestions at this stage since she was jumping from one project to another so quickly that he was sure a single idea from him would lead to the creation of 'baby #825' before the hour was up.
He wasn't in any position to judge her workaholic nature, he was well aware of that, but perhaps she did need to slow down...or maybe he just needed to not encourage how quickly she breezed through ideas. Either, or.
They sat at their usual table, a few of their fellow classmates filling the other chairs as they ate. It wasn't until Mei stopped talking that Izuku realised she was actually waiting for a response.
Well...shit.
"Sorry, what?" he blinked, looking up from his half eaten lunch.
Mei sighed, rolling her eyes fondly. "I said, what do you think? You're better at the numbers, so I figured you'd have an idea if it's feasible."
Izuku frowned, attempting to remember what he could about the project she was talking about. She'd mentioned it a few times before, her new ideas for impact-resistant gear, but he hadn't realised she'd already started working on it. He should've been paying better attention to her.
"It...could work, but you'd have to factor in the delay time between absorption and output." He picked up his chopsticks, gesturing as he spoke. "If the material takes too long to convert stored energy into usable force, then it's just glorified padding."
Mei lit up. "Ooh, you're right! Maybe if I—"
"Hatsume!"
The new voice that approached them came from one of the third year Hero Course students; a tall, dark haired guy that Izuku only somewhat remembered from...somewhere. It wasn't like Izuku really cared that much anyway, he kept his interactions with hero students to a minimum.
"Hey, Fujita!" Mei greeted cheerfully, completely unfazed by the sudden new presence. "What brings you to my humble corner of U.A.?"
Ah, so that was his name. Fujita.
Izuku nodded to himself, logging it away for the next time he'd have to interact with the boy, before turning back to his food. He wasn't entirely in the mood to eat, he never was when he felt this exhausted. Usually he'd just down an energy drink, scran a bag of cookies and be on his way.
"...but if that's what you want, he's the guy you wanna talk to," Mei said, her foot colliding with Izuku's shin to get his attention. His eyes snapped up to hers, jaw clamping shut to keep from cursing her out.
The fuck was that for?
Izuku felt Fujita giving him a once-over, his expression unreadable. "You're Midoriya, right?"
Izuku hesitated, unsure if he wanted to engage. He didn't bother with most Hero Course students if he didn't have to, and they didn't bother with him. That unspoken agreement had worked just fine so far.
But, Fujita's tone wasn't arrogant or demanding. It was neutral, almost cautious. He didn't have that usual swagger Izuku come to expect from the Hero Course, either. On top of that, he knew Izuku's name, which was a big step up from the renditions of 'that guy from the support course' he was used to hearing.
"Yeah," Izuku finally answered before pointing his chopsticks across the table at his friend. "Whatever she said—"
Mei landed another harsh kick to his shin, knocking the table this time from the force. He crused from the pain and shot her another glare, but she just grinned at him like she hadn't just tried to fracture his leg.
The third year shifted awkwardly, eyes dancing back and forth between Izuku and Mei as they conversed through glares, before clearing his throat. His expression looked vaguely uncomfortable, like he wasn't used to approaching Support Course students himself, and usually hero students didn't. Most of the time the they'd just put in their requests, which would then be handed down the grapevine until they ended up with a support student (or occasionally got sent off to an external company). The only times they ever approached support students directly was when they wanted someone in particular to handle their upgrades, adjustments, or whatever else it was they needed fixed.
Unfortunately for Izuku, he had become someone the other years wanted to approach, even more so after his internship the year prior with GearTech Industries - one the top support gear companies in Japan.
"I uh...I was hoping you could help me with some mods before graduation. My gauntlets have been wearing down too fast during heavy combat, and I was thinking of integrating a—"
Izuku held up a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Do you have the blueprints with you?"
The boy blinked. "Uh...no, but—"
"Bring them next time," Izuku said flatly. "I can't help you if I don't know the specs. If you want a consultation, we do that in the lab, not over lunch." He may not have been eating, but this was still his personal time.
Izuku felt Mei's glare narrow on him and he knew better than to anger her further. If he didn't help Fujita, she was likely to give him a lecture that he truly wasn't in the mood for.
The hero student frowned slightly, clearly not used to being dismissed so quickly, but after a beat, he nodded. "Alright. I'll get them."
"I'm free before school tomorrow, bring them by the lab and I'll have a look," Izuku conceded, pushing his tray away from himself. He wasn't in the mood.
"Okay, great. Thanks!"
With that, Fujita disappeared back to his friends, leaving Izuku to glare at Mei. She didn't seem to care, still grinning back at him. "See? You're getting popular, Zuku!"
Izuku groaned, rubbing his temples. "Don't start."
"I'm serious! Word's getting out!" she teased. "Maybe you'll start getting external commissions too!"
"I already have enough work," he muttered.
Mei just laughed. "C'mon, you love it. Now hurry up and eat before you pass out on me again, genius."
Lunch went by pretty quickly after that, their afternoon being spent in the Support Lab, as per usual. Maina had decided to join Mei in annoying Izuku as he modified the first year's gear, adding a few personal touches that he knew would help in the long run. He already had to throw out the student's list of suggestions that were, in his humble opinion, completely useless.
"This thing already has reinforced joints," Izuku muttered, adjusting the wiring inside the leg guard. "Adding an external shock absorber on top of that will just slow them down. Am I building a tank here, or what?"
Maina, leaning casually against his worktable with her arms crossed, shrugged at him. "Not if they compensate for the weight. If they're a good fighter, they'll adjust."
Izuku shot her an unimpressed look. "And if they were a good hero, they wouldn't need this much reinforcement in the first place."
Mei snorted from where she was preparing to weld a new support frame together. "He's got a point."
This student had specifically requested extra reinforcements for their suit, though conveniently forgot to mention that it was already decked out with top of the range shock absorption and carbon fiber plating. Izuku had spent half the morning staring at the blueprints wondering if they were trying to survive villain attacks or launch themselves into orbit.
"Yeah, yeah," Maina grumbled, rolling her eyes. "This is for a first year, remember? They probably don't have a handle on their quirk yet."
Mei and Izuku exchanged a glance, an entire conversation passing between them in mere seconds, before turning in perfect sync to fix Maina with identical looks of unimpressed judgment. It was the kind of deadpan stare that had gotten them sent to detention more than once. Apparently, it made people feel incredibly stupid and judged.
Yeah, like that wasn't the whole point of the look.
Maina groaned. "I hate you two sometimes."
Mei beamed at her before flicking down her mask and starting to weld her project. Izuku merely rolled his eyes, waving the screwdriver in his hand as he spoke, "Well, if you think the first years are going to magically learn to handle their quirks just because they've got a fancy set of armour, you're deluded."
"They're learning. I'm sure they won't need this kind of support when they go into their second year," she defended.
And undo all his hard work in their next suit 'upgrade'? How bothersome.
"I still don't think 'reinforcing every single joint' is going to make them better heroes." Izuku leant back, holding up the leg guard like it was some kind of artefact from a bygone era. "They should be focusing on their quirk control and working on that. Armour's secondary."
Mei snorted, flicking up her welding helmet so that they could hear her. "God, you sound like a purist."
"I'm just saying," Izuku shrugged, "gear is supposed to complement your abilities, not replace them. At some point, they'll need to learn to actually use their quirks, and not just rely on some crutch of extra padding to stop them from hurting themselves. Quirks can be damaging to the body too, you know."
Maina laughed, clearly not as concerned with the whole quirk-gear debate as Izuku was. To her, it was all about business. She'd made it clear from the day they first met that she was mostly interested in the money that came out of working with support gear. "Let them rely on whatever they want, man. More gear for them means more commissions for us."
"You should copyright that as a slogan," Mei remarked as she returned to her work.
Izuku rolled his eyes, tossing the leg guard onto the table with a clatter. "Yeah, great. Heroes completely dependent on their gear. What could go wrong?"
"So cynical," Maina shook her head. "I thought you loved heroes."
"I do," Izuku confirmed. The shelf in his dorm was stacked with figurines, and his notebooks were filled with analysis on his favourite heroes and their quirks: strengths, weaknesses, their applications, their costume, support gear, team skills, the whole shebang. But just because he loved heroes, that didn't mean he wasn't critical of them.
"Oh he's a total fanboy," Mei agreed, putting her work on pause, yet again, just to comment. Izuku waited for her to remove her helmet before launching a pen at her head.
"Like you don't curl up next to a Thirteen plush every night," he scoffed.
"Have you seen her gear!" A star struck look overcame Mei's face, eyes practically shimmering. "It's marvellous! What I wouldn't give to get my hands on some of her team's tech."
"I thought you preferred Ingenium, or...who's that hero with the nunchucks from Europe?" Maina asked, clicking her fingers like the name was on the tip of her tongue. "You know, the one who has those like bright green glasses things..."
"Velocity Viper," Izuku supplied.
"Yes! Velocity Viper!"
"Oh she's cool too," Mei agreed, deciding to roll her chair over to Izuku's bench since a conversation about gear was way more interesting than building a basic support frame. She adjusted her goggles around her neck, wiping the sweat from her brow. "Did you see the new magnetic nunchuck mods she unveiled last month? Absolute genius! A self-returning mechanism with kinetic charge-stores in the handles? I need to reverse-engineer that."
Izuku chuckled, though would be lying if he said he didn't have half sketched blueprints of his own version of the design in his dorm. "I'm pretty sure you'd need like three different patents and a death wish to even try," he remarked.
Well, she did have the death wish part down.
"Details," Mei said breezily, waving her hand.
Maina pursed her lips in thought, moving her weight onto a single hip. "Maybe we should just quit U.A. now and become tech pirates or something. Set up our own black market workshop."
"Sure," Izuku said dryly, reaching for the wrench sat across from him. "I'll pencil it in right after our ethics exam Thursday morning...oh wait, I've got a mental breakdown planned for five. Would Friday work?"
"Asshole," Maina shook her head at his sarcasm, while Mei snorted so hard she nearly dropped his notebook...that she had taken upon herself to have a peruse.
Yeah, that's fine. It wasn't like he was using it or anything.
His pink haired friend scoffed. "Please, Midoriya. You're already halfway there."
"Gee, thanks," he rolled his eyes, hands moving automatically as he spoke: tightening screws, recalibrating shock-dampeners, reinforcing frames without even needing to think about it too hard. If he was honest, he didn't actually mind working on the first year's gear, even if he had groaned and moaned about it to Mei for a little over an hour the night before.
Contrary to popular belief (and his less than enthusiastic attitude), he did actually like the Support Course. Tinkering with gear, solving problems, crafting designs that others relied on, it was as simple to him as breathing. He'd always been good at this kind of thing, even as a kid; fixing broken toys, pulling apart gadgets and gizmos just to see all the parts and test whether he could put them back together again. It was like solving puzzles, which was ironic considering he couldn't stand actual puzzles. He didn't have the patience for them.
"Wait, we don't actually have an ethics test Thursday, do we?" Maina asked, a worried look befalling her face.
Izuku hid his laugh in his sleeve as Mei answered, "No. Boy Genius over here is just being a sarcastic ass again."
"Who would I be if not myself?" He turned to her with a grin and that same pencil he had chucked at her was now being launched at his head. He muttered a curse as he began rubbing the spot where it had hit him. It was going to leave a mark for sure.
"Alright!" Power Loader's voice suddenly cut through the room, their conversation dying on their lips as Izuku, along with the rest of Class 2-H, turned their attention to the front.
Since when was he here? Izuku hadn't even noticed him come in.
"I know you're all busy with your projects and commissions at the moment," he began and Izuku got a sinking feeling in his gut. He had a feeling he knew where this was going and he already hated it. "But it's that time of year again. The U.A. Sports Festival is just around the corner!"
Of course it fucking was.
A collective groan echoed around the workshop, bouncing off the newly reinforced concrete walls — a feature that had only been installed after one particular incident the year prior. Izuku had been testing a prototype out and accidentally launched himself through one of the walls into a Business Course classroom and ended up embedded head-first in the teacher's desk. He was like dart in a dart board, arms pinned at his sides and legs hanging out the back. It didn't help that Mei had shouted 'bullseye' right before he passed out.
To this day, people still thought it was Mei's invention that had exploded, and Izuku was a little smug that no one had ever corrected them. Regardless, after that disaster (and after Principal Nedzu had stopped laughing), it was deemed safer for everyone to convert this corridor into Support Course classrooms only, and reinforce the walls.
Power Loader chuckled from where he stood at the front, completely unbothered by his class' outcry. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You're not the Hero Course. You're not exactly itching to get tackled into the dirt by people with super strength. Trust me, I get it." He placed a hand on his chest almost as though he was sympathising with the complaints being voiced. Izuku knew better than to believe him. Power Loader was still a Pro Hero after all, and his quirk literally specialised in being in the dirt. "But Principal Nedzu and I had a chat—"
Oh, actually fuck off did they.
"—and we agreed that if you're being asked to compete, you deserve a fair shot at showing off what you can do."
Izuku narrowed his eyes.
There was a beat of silence.
He did not like where this was going.
"Which is why," Power Loader continued, an almost wicked grin stretching across his face beneath his mask.
Izuku really didn't like where this was going.
"We've arranged extra training sessions for you all. Three times a week until the festival. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon."
Izuku's mouth fell open. Were they having him on?
"Plus a few minor adjustments to your regular PE lessons to help you work on your fitness."
No, Power Loader was definitely having him on. This had to be a joke.
The only reason Izuku even bothered showing up to their regular PE lessons was to avoid failing. Besides, Mr. Kubota didn't even care if they participated or not, as long as they weren't a liability.
Half the class visibly sagged as if their spines had all simultaneously been yanked out, Predator style. The other, more psychotic half all seemed actually excited by this idea. The nutters.
"This has to be illegal," Maina stated, looking just as outraged as Izuku felt.
"But I have so much work to do," Mei protested, dramatically throwing her hands in the air, then immediately perking up again. "But if there are investors watching, I need to get to the later rounds to show off my babies like last year! Yes! Let's do this! Ooh, this will be fun!"
Izuku's glare turned from Power Loader to Mei like a laser sight. Great, now she was going to force him to participate too. He knew exactly who to blame when he ended up face down in the dirt day in and day out.
"You'll thank me later," Power Loader said cheerfully, completely ignoring the growing chatter and complaints breaking out across the room. "We've got a few other teachers lending a hand too. Pros with experience training Support teams, some gear specialists, and even a few Hero Course veterans. Think of it as a chance to level up, like in your video games."
Izuku groaned, his excitement at the prospect of meeting new Pro Heroes crushed under the weight of three extra hours of physical exertion per week. And that was if these 'sessions' were only an hour long.
"I'd rather level up my heart rate straight into cardiac arrest," he muttered.
Mei snickered from her spot across his desk. "Cheer up, Zuku. Maybe you'll trip and knock yourself out."
"Don't give me hope." Or ideas.
"And before anyone thinks about skipping," Power Loader's voice was sharp as he scanned the room, eyes lingering suspiciously long on Izuku, "attendance is mandatory."
There were several louder groans at that.
"Why is he looking at me?" Izuku threw his arms out almost dramatically, wrench clanging back onto his desk. He slumped into his chair with a frown, acting as though he wasn't just planning a hundred and one ways to get out of the entire thing. Faking cardiac arrest was number fourteen.
"I mean..." Mei turned to him like it was obvious.
Cardiac arrest was now number seven.
"Gear is important, no doubt about it," Power Loader continued from the front, everyone quietening down once more, "but if you can't keep up with the people you're designing for, you're not going to understand what they need in the field. You're future engineers and innovators—being able to think on your feet, adapt under pressure, and hold your own physically is just as important as what you build."
Izuku sank lower into his chair, dragging his hands down his face in pure despair. He could already feel the stress migraine building behind his eyes.
This was going to suck.
"And on that note," Power Loader somehow sounded even more cheerful than before, "our first session starts tomorrow. So make sure you bring your gym kit. And before anyone even thinks about it: not having your kit isn't an excuse. I'll have spares, and I'll let you know now that they aren't washed."
Several students grimaced at that, probably disappointed that their 'no kit' excuse would no longer work. Forgetting your kit was so over done, if they wanted to make it work they should say it was destroyed by one of Mei's inventions or something, at least that would be realistic. Plus, Izuku knew it worked since he'd used that excuse for almost two months straight before Nedzu had caught him.
"Attendance will be taken," Power Loader continued mercilessly. "Participation will be noted. And if you don't show up, you'll be making up the sessions." Oh, so they were covering all of their bases. "And trust me, you don't want to see my idea of 'remedial training.'"
Izuku exchanged a desperate look with Mei, who just gave him a helpless shrug and a grin like she was already resigned to their fate. Given her prior enthusiasm, he wasn't surprised.
"Good talk!" Power Loader clapped his hands together, the sharp sound making a few students flinch. "Now, back to work. I'll be here if you have any questions or need any help."
As soon as he dismissed them, the room exploded into chatter. Complaints, groans, and frantic muttering filled the air like smoke. Izuku didn't move from his chair. He just let his forehead thunk down against his worktable with a dull thud.
"Tomorrow," he mumbled into the metal surface. "They're really making us start tomorrow."
That was nowhere near enough time for him to mentally prepare for such bullshit.
"Bright side," Mei chirped as she slid her face down to be in line with his on the desk, grinning wide enough that Izuku briefly debated throwing a screwdriver at her, "if you pass out during the warm up again, they'll have to let you sit out."
She always had to bring that up, didn't she? It was one time!
"You're not helping." He frowned, banging his forehead against the desk one more time in hopes that it would wake him up from whatever nightmare this shit show was.
"Helping is for people with hope," Mei said sagely, sitting back up.
"I'm telling you," Maina began, returning to Izuku's bench with one of her circuit boards balanced precariously on her palm, "if they bring in Cementoss, I'm out. I'm not doing obstacle courses where the walls punch back."
"Could be worse," Mei said, still far too enthusiastic about all this. "Midnight might be helping. You remember last year's flexibility drills?"
Maina grimaced like she was reliving it. "I still don't understand how she was physically able to get her leg there."
"Don't remind me." Izuku shuddered as he sat up to continue his work, reaching for his pliers.
He'd managed to wiggle out of the second half of Midnight's felxability class by claiming an old knee injury was acting up and that he was seriously struggling. He remembered saying something about being embarrassed that the class would have to see him mess up her stretches, or that he was insecure about it, or something like that. He couldn't remember exactly what he had said anymore since it had been so long, but it technically wasn't a total lie since he had slammed his knee into a gear rack. He just didn't mention that he'd done it the day before. On purpose. Just in case.
Thankfully, Midnight had taken pity on him and let him sit out the rest of the session. She'd apparently told the class that he was going to observe under the excuse of 'medical caution'.
If she helped on any of the days, he would be sure to use the same injury to his advantage.
Someone across the room — was his name Kuronuma? Maybe Kuroda? Izuku couldn't remember — groaned loudly, "If Vlad King shows up, I'm transferring schools."
"Come on," Mei laughed, picking up her gloves again to get back to work. "He's not that bad."
"The guy looks like he bench presses a bus for fun!" The same kid exclaimed. "You call that 'not that bad'?!" He air quoted.
"At least he's better than Ectoplasm," another student piped up. "Remember when he covered for Mr. Kubota last year and ran that stealth course? Teleported behind you every time you messed up."
"Nothing personal, kid," Maina deadpanned in a terrible impression of Ectoplasm's monotone voice, amusing a few of their classmates.
Izuku smirked faintly, tightening the last screw on the brace he was working on. He could probably get this first year's suit done in the next hour, assuming his friends stopped distracting him...which was unlikely.
"You're all assuming it's going to be normal training," Izuku said with a frown. "Nedzu's involved. It's going to be weird."
Izuku was all too familiar with their Principal's methods. He'd spent enough time trapped in the rodent's office to know his routines inside and out. He was sure they'd be on first name basis soon...assuming Nedzu even had a first name.
"Nedzu always makes it weird," Mei agreed, having heard enough about him from Izuku.
"I heard a rumour," Maina voice was now a whisper as she dropped her circuit board onto Izuku's cluttered bench, ignoring his half-hearted attempt to shove it off, "that a few years ago, Principal Nedzu had the Hero Course students fight wild animals for their final exam. Like, not even trained ones."
"Wait, what?" Izuku turned, eyes wide as he stopped his work for a moment to give her his full attention. That didn't sound right. Principal Nedzu almost definitely had a few screws loose, but he wouldn't endanger animals like that.
Maina shrugged. "Yeah, apparently they had to fight like, a bear, and a wild boar, and a pack of wolves. Someone said Nedzu thought it would be a good test of how well they handled stress, and apparently the boar was the most difficult one."
Mei's eyes were wide, mouth gaped. "That sounds crazy."
"That sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen," Izuku muttered, adding 'ask Nedzu about illegal wildlife battles' to his list of things to do. It wouldn't be long before he ended up back in the rodent's office anyway, so he wouldn't have to wait long before he got to tick that one off.
"Do you guys think Eraser Head's gonna be helping?" Maina asked after a moment of thought, her voice carrying a faint note of dread as she twirled one of Izuku's half finished gadgets between her fingers.
Izuku spared her a look, initially because he was worried she was about to break his stuff, but then he noticed the furrow in her brows. She was nervous. Was she scared of Eraser Head or something?
"Maybe," Mei shrugged without looking up from her welding. "He is one of the Hero Course teachers, and I think he graduated from here too. Why?"
"Cause if he does, I'm screwed," she practically whined, tossing Izuku's gadget back towards his desk. He caught it before it could clatter to the floor, scowling as he put it away in one of his drawers. It was just a prototype shock stabiliser and likely wouldn't have broken, but still. "He's totally going to expel me!"
"He's not going to expel you," Mei assured, waving her off like it was a stupid idea. "He only expels the Hero kids. We're in Support."
"I was the one who accidentally set his capture weapon on fire last year," Maina deadpanned.
That got the their attention, both of them recounting the incident that occurred near the end of their first year. It had caused such a scandal at the time that even the current first years knew about it.
Mei paused, lifting her welding mask just enough to look Maina dead in the eye. "Oh, yeah no, you're absolutely getting expelled."
"Mei!" Maina whined again, dragging out her name like a petulant child.
Izuku gave the brunette a slow, unimpressed blink. "Accidentally?" he repeated, voice dry as sandpaper.
"It was an accident!" Maina insisted, throwing her hands up defensively. "I didn't mean for the stabiliser to explode."
"You set his scarf on fire during an assembly," Izuku reminded her.
"It was barely a fire! He stomped it out in like two seconds!" She argued, like that somehow made it better.
"It was still on fire," Mei sing-songed, mask now shoved fully up so she could watch Maina suffer properly. Izuku nodded in agreement.
The brunette scowled at both of them. "It wasn't my fault! I forgot the stabiliser was in my pocket from labs and— look, I just figured I'd tweak the wiring a little during Nedzu's speech. I didn't think it'd spark like that!"
"Wait," Izuku shook his head, attempting to understand what had actually happened. "Hang on. So you found a stabiliser in your pocket, and decided to fix its wiring. During assembly. In the dark. While Mr. Ai—"
"I didn't know he was walking past!" She interrupted. "I thought I could do it quietly."
"But you short-circuited it." Izuku furrowed his brows. That was the only plausible explanation as to why it had sparked and exploded the way it did.
"And it sparked right onto Eraser Head's scarf," Mei added, both of them puzzling the pieces together.
"Plus it smelt like burnt polyester for the entire assembly." Izuku scrunched his nose up at the memory.
"And you set off the fire suppression system," Mei added once again. It was almost like the duo were reading off a list of crimes.
"Okay! I get it!" Maina snapped, folding her arms stubbornly across her chest. "Bad idea. Lesson learned. You don't have to go on."
"You're the one who brought it up," Izuku mumbled under his breath as he flipped around the almost finished costume, holding it up by the shoulders to assess. He pursed his lips in thought.
No. This wasn't right.
"This is missing something." He flipped it again, the front now facing the other way. "Mei."
Without even glancing over, Mei answered, "Secondary support struts."
"Thank you."
He dropped the costume back onto the bench before weaving through the cluttered workshop toward the bins lining the back wall. He sifted through them, fishing out a small frame piece and tossing it between his hands as he scanned the drawers for the right box of screws.
He should really just start keeping a junk drawer at his station. Walking across the lab every time he needed a different size screw was getting old fast.
"I doubt it'll even be that bad," Maina sounded rather optimistic when he returned to his bench, the brunette now sat in his chair and spinning lazily back and forth. "It's probably just some obstacle courses and basic fight training, or sparring or something."
"No, please, take a seat."
Maina flashed him a grin before turning back to Mei to continue their debate on what the next few weeks would look like. He resigned to standing, walking to the other side of his bench so that he had space to work.
"Aren't you guys overthinking this?" He eventually asked, having had enough of all the outrageous ideas they were coming up with. It had somehow become a debate between a tank of robotic sharks with lasers on their heads, and nail bombs. Somehow, the sharks with lasers was the tame idea.
"You're underthinking it," Maina disagreed, deadly serious. She pointed a finger at him. "All it takes is one mechanical shark and we're all screwed."
"Why is it always a mechanical shark?" Izuku shot her a look. She had some kind of obsession with them. At this point, he was surprised she hadn't tried to make them herself. "You know that's not a normal fixation, right?" Maybe they should get the school to have her checked.
"I'm telling you Izuku, you don't prepare for mechanical sharks," Maina's voice dropped to an ominous whisper, while Izuku's eyes widened in pure confusion. "You survive them."
Izuku opened his mouth, closed it again, then decided there simply weren't enough hours in the day to unpack whatever the hell that meant.
Before he could even figure out what on earth he was supposed to say to that, Mei spoke up instead, "aren't you even a little nervous, Zuku? You don't exactly work out, no offence."
Izuku barely looked up. "None taken. I fully plan on faking my own death before the training starts."
"And yet," a heavy hand slapped down on his shoulder, causing him to jump nearly three feet in the air, "you're still showing up to training with the rest of us."
Power Loader.
Izuku hand came up to grip his shirt, feeling how fast his heart was racing in his chest. Fucking hell. He almost went into real cardiac arrest! He took a deep breath, attempting to get his soul to return to his body.
The Pro didn't have to scare the bejesus out of him, fucking hell. That had to be some kind of child endangerment or something?
"I don't know what excuse you're cooking up in that overclocked brain of yours, Midoriya, but it's not gonna work. Everyone's expected to show up, and that includes you. Even if you fake your death."
"Would you believe me if I said I had sudden onset gym-induced paralysis?"
"No."
"An existential crisis triggered by the concept of 'competitive sports'?"
"No."
"A tragic— debilitating, debilitating allergy to group exercise?"
"Still, no."
"What about an acute form of post-traumatic stress? I did take a metal bar to the face once."
Power Loader laughed. "Nice try."
Izuku decided on one more hail Mary.
"What if I promise to speak with Hound dog about it—?"
"Hound Dog would probably make you run extra laps for the audacity."
Izuku let his head fall backward. "Shit."
Mei snickered.
"Two o'clock tomorrow. Gym Beta. Be there," Power Loader said, pointing a warning finger at him. "Or I drag you there myself."
Izuku had to accept defeat. "Fine." He'd just get out of the ones being run the following week instead. He could struggle through the first session. It would probably be the easiest one anyway. He could do that...maybe.
"Good," Power Loader smiled, satisfied. "And Midoriya? If you are going to speak with Hound Dog, perhaps instead of 'PTSD from a metal pole', you could try tackle the actual issues."
Izuku blinked, caught off guard. He opened his mouth to ask what the hell he meant by that when a loud crash echoed across the workshop, followed by frantic yelling. Power Loader was gone quickly, rushing off to help whoever had managed to cause such carnage.
"Looks like you're not getting out of this one, Midoriya," Maina teased, spinning his chair in a full circle.
If she messed with his chair settings, he was going to snap her circuit board in half.
"Actual issues?" Izuku parroted what his homeroom teacher had just said, ignoring Maina. "What does that even mean?"
"What doesn't it mean?" Mei teased, earning herself a pointed glare. "What? You avoid all your problems—"
"I don't avoid my problems," Izuku denied.
"Uh huh, sure," Mei nodded. "Whatever you say, Zuku."
"I won't look through your calculations if you're gonna be an ass," he half threatened.
Her eyes widened and she clutched at her chest in mock horror. "No, no, please, not the calculations!" She gasped dramatically, sarcasm dripping off of every word. Izuku chuckled despite himself. They both knew he was going to look through her work regardless of how much of an 'ass' she was.
"Right, get out my chair Maina." Izuku snapped his fingers, pointing upwards for emphasis. "I wanna get this done before the end of the day." With a loud sigh, Maina jumped out of his seat and took her work back to her own bench.
He got to work on adding the secondary support struts to the shoulders of the costume to help distribute the force of any heavy hits, but it was delicate work. He had to make sure the struts didn't add too much weight or restrict movement, while ensuring they were strong enough to actually do their job.
He carefully threaded a wire through the socket of the support, his brow furrowing in concentration. His hands were quick but precise, moving in a rhythmic dance as he worked.
The hours flew by faster than Izuku expected and, for the first time in a long time, there was only one explosion. To top it off, it wasn't even Mei's fault—something she proudly celebrated once the flames had been doused. She'd given Izuku a fist bump and sauntered her way over to the workshop wall where a homemade tally chart hung proudly between two fire extinguishers.
Grinning, she'd added a fresh tally under the 'Explosions (not Mei)' column, directly beside the much more crowded 'Explosions (Mei)' column and the one labelled 'Izuku did it'.
The last time Izuku had been forced to add a tally to his column had been about two weeks prior. He'd been testing some custom made spring-loaded grappling hook one of the third years had brought him. They'd practically begged Izuku to modify it for them so that it better suited their mobility-based quirk.
In hindsight, he really should have checked the build quality before agreeing since whoever made the thing had done a pretty shoddy job — loose wiring, stress fractures in the launch mechanism, terrible weight distribution. It was a disaster waiting to happen. He was surprised it hadn't exploded sooner.
Sure enough, the damned thing misfired and the hook was sent flying into a nearby stack of electronics (the same electronics Mei swore she was 'just about to' put away) and caused a domino effect that nearly decimated Izuku's entire work bench.
In his defence, he hadn't designed the damned thing. He was just the poor idiot who'd agreed to 'improve' it. Besides, was it even considered a proper field test if something didn't blow up at least once?
Power Loader had a few choice words to say about the situation, some of which were spent arguing that a 'field test' was supposed to be conducted in a field and not a lab, but like...tomato, tomato.
Izuku smiled at the memory as he tightened the last screw of the first year's gear. "Right," he slumped back into his seat, removing his gloves and slapping them down on the counter. "That's that done," he announced, standing up and stretching his sore back. "Which means I'm done for the day."
That suit had taken him far longer than he expected. It was almost embarrassing that he had needed to spend so long on some simple upgrades. He was getting rusty.
Maina made a noise of disbelief. "Izuku Midoriya, leaving the lab before midnight? Is the world ending?"
"I wish," he muttered, running a hand through his unruly curls. When was the last time he actually washed his hair? He'd make sure to have a shower at some point before tomorrow.
"I'm almost done," Mei called as she continued to use her soldering iron.
Izuku tidied away his bench as he waited for her to finish up, and soon the two were making their way back to their dorm, the sky darkening overhead as the campus street lamps flickered on above them. Damn, he hadn't even realised how late it was.
It was a peaceful walk, the kind Izuku rarely got to enjoy since he was usually rushing around campus. The breeze was cool against his skin, tugging at his loose curls. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, head tilting toward the sky as he released a soft sigh.
They passed a few other students milling about, as well as a couple Hero Course kids going on their nightly run. Izuku cringed at the mere thought of such a thing. He wouldn't be caught dead running for fun. Heck, he doubted he'd even do it if he was being chased. At that point, he'd be willing to cut his losses and accept defeat.
"So," Mei began suddenly, clicking her tongue a few times as though debating what to say. "Did you know Maina was the one who set Eraser Head's scarf on fire last year?"
"Oh my god, no!" Izuku gasped, whipping his head around to face her so fast he nearly threw himself off balance. "I was told it was that kid in 3-A with the firework quirk."
"No, cause same," Mei agreed, sounding just as scandalised. "I can't believe she didn't tell us sooner."
"I can't believe she thought messing with a stabiliser during assembly was a good idea," Izuku remarked, voice full of disbelief.
Mei snorted, rolling her eyes at his statement. "It's like she had to pick the most inconvenient time to mess with it. I can't believe she didn't get in more trouble though."
"He probably just gave her one of his deadpan looks," Izuku said, mimicking a flat, unimpressed expression. Mei laughed, smacking him on the arm.
"I can totally picture that. He'd just look at you with that blank stare, like 'I've seen war crimes, and this ranks below that.'" Mei agreed, mimicking the Class 2-A homeroom teacher's voice.
"Oh, was that supposed to be Eraser Head, was it?" Izuku laughed.
Mei grinned mischievously. "Course it was. It's all in the eyes, Zuku. He's got that 'I'm not mad, just disappointed' look down to an art."
Izuku put on his best deadpan face, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms like they'd seen the Erasure hero do numerous times in the corridors. "Grr, you kids never learn. Why do you have a gizmo in your pocket during a formal assembly?"
"A gizmo!" Mei cackled, clutching her stomach. "Oh, he would definitely call it a gizmo."
"Still, it's not as bad as that time Nedzu brought in that guest speaker and Tetsuo dropped a whole prototype drone on his foot."
"Oh, I remember that!" She gasped, clapping her hands together as she recounted the memory. "It was right after Power Loader gave that whole speech on workplace safety and shit, and then BAM! Down comes the death frisbee."
"It wasn't even aerodynamic," Izuku commented, shaking his head. "You can't cram a propulsion engine into a housing meant for stabiliser testing—it throws off the entire centre of gravity, which is probably why it fell so easily, and—"
"God, you're such a nerd sometimes," Mei interrupted.
"We're in support," he stated like it was obvious, "being nerds is basically our brand."
"Speak for yourself," Mei scoffed. "I'm a cool nerd."
"You tried to solder a sandwich last week."
"It was an experiment!" she protested, cheeks puffing out in mock indignation. "I wanted to see if I could heat the cheese evenly without a microwave. Science demands sacrifices."
"It set on fire."
"And I learned something!" she said brightly. "Namely, don't solder sandwiches."
"Wait, did you just say you heat your sandwiches up in the microwave?" He halted in his steps, head turning to stare at her with a look of pure criticism.
"Well how else am I supposed to melt the cheese?" she reasoned.
"Are you fucking deranged?"
She scoffed. "Coming from the guy who doesn't melt the cheese on his sandwiches."
He honestly had no idea how to even begin formulating a response to that.
"Wait, I just remembered," she said as they turned the corner, almost bumping into a group of first years loitering around one of the benches. "Did you ever end up finishing that smoke dispersion rig...thing that you were making?" She gestured her hands in front of her, as though she was trying to show him what she meant. "You know, the one you were testing with the chemical canisters from that failed riot-control module?"
Izuku blinked, thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. "Uh...kinda? I got it to work, but I haven't gone back to optimise it or calibrate the output properly or anything," he waved a dismissive hand. "It's sat in one of my drawers acting as a divider right now."
Which was true. After he'd made it on a whim a few weeks prior, he didn't actually know what to do with it, so settled for using it to separate his drills from his drill bits. He hadn't had a reason, nor the motivation, to keep refining it.
"Why?" He asked.
Mei shrugged one shoulder like it wasn't a big deal, but Izuku had known her long enough to know that nothing was ever casual when it came to her and tech.
"I was thinking of repurposing the dispersal valve. Yours don't choke like mine do when the pressure builds, and...I've got a new project that needs a stable smoke release," she spoke quickly, words blurring together as she clasped her hands together over her chest like a prayer. "I swear I won't gut the whole thing."
He narrowed his eyes at her, unimpressed, but she did have a point. When it came to dispersal systems and pressurised rigs, he was better at building them than her. That kind of precision work had basically been drilled into him at GearTech during his internship the year prior. He could practically do it in his sleep.
The smoke dispersion rig she was eyeing hadn't been his best project, but its valve system was one of his cleaner builds. It was efficient, responsive, and calibrated down to the millisecond, which meant no lag during release. Of course she'd want it. And since he'd already considered stripping it for parts, it made sense that he donate it to her project. It wouldn't exactly be a loss.
Still, the petty part of him liked the idea of making her suffer through making her own one. Then again...that would almost definitely result in another gas leak, and even with the upgraded air filtration system Nedzu had installed after the last time, it would delay everyone's work for days.
"Hmm..." He hummed, pretending to stroke his chin in thought. "By 'repurposing', do you mean like the time you 'borrowed' my prototype impact-dampening bracer plates and melted their polymer casing with a heat gun in an attempt to get them to fuse to your 'hover boots'?" He air quoted since the boots had done nothing more than spark and melt into two lumps that were now permanent features at the side of the lab.
"That was months ago!" she shot back. "And I left you a note when I borrowed them!"
"Yeah, a post-it you signed with the words 'thanks, Mei' and a heart."
"Exactly. Gratitude and love."
He snorted, shaking his head, but there was no real heat in it. "Fine. You can have it."
"Yes!" She cheered, jumping up and down with excitement, "Thank you so much, Zuku! You're a legend!"
"But," he interrupted her celebration, her scope lens eyes gleaming like twin searchlights as she waited for him to continue, "if it explodes, I'm not getting in shit with Power Loader, and I'm writing 'I told you so' on your gravestone."
She cackled, delighted, not even caring one bit about her insinuated death. "Oh, don't act like we aren't going to have side-by-side cremation plots when we go. We're in this for life, baby!"
Izuku laughed, faking a gasp. "How could I forget the plan for our matching tombstones?"
"Exactly," she beamed. "You know," she added, voice a bit softer now, "I'm not just stealing your stuff for fun. Your dispersal system is smart. Like, stupid smart. You could patent that if you wanted to. Probably sell it to half the Hero Course if you gave it a flashy name, probably some Pros too."
Izuku didn't respond immediately. He kept his eyes on the path ahead, shoulders tensing slightly. "Maybe," he said after a moment, voice quieter. "Or maybe it just ends up in another drawer like everything else."
Mei didn't push. She just bumped his arm again and grinned like she always did. "Well, in the meantime, I'll give it a good home. Smoke babies coming soon."
Izuku raised an eyebrow at her utterly sincere, and borderline manic, enthusiasm for poisonous gas clouds. "You've got issues, Mei."
"Pot. Kettle. Black."
Izuku frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"But Power Loader, I'd rather die than run around three times a week! Oh woe is me!" Mei mocked in her best Izuku impression, throwing the back of her hand to her forehead like a fainting maiden.
Izuku frowned.
"Is that supposed to be me?"
"Is that supposed to be me?" She did it again.
"Real funny Mei," Izuku rolled his eyes as they turned up the street leading to their building. Izuku dragged his feet at the thought of the training they were going to have to do the next day. "I still think it's a colossal waste of time," he muttered.
Mei sighed dramatically, tossing her bag onto one of the benches lining the street. Izuku stopped, turning to see why she had stopped when suddenly her hands were on his shoulders and shaking him back and forth with each word for emphasis. "Stop. Being. A. Little. Bitch."
"What the fuck," he frowned, attempting to shove her off but her grip on his shoulders tightened.
"Midoriya, you are the most dramatic person I know. Power Loader's not out to get you. He's just trying to make sure we don't embarrass ourselves at the Sports Festival."
Izuku opened his mouth to protest, but Mei steamrolled right over him.
"Seriously. It's not the end of the world. It's exercise. Worst case, you pull a muscle and throw up. Best case, you survive, prove you're not just some nerd stuck behind a workbench, and maybe even remember what the sun feels like."
He shot her a deadpan stare. "I am absolutely content with being 'just some nerd stuck behind a workbench'."
"Yeah, well, contentment isn't exactly ambition, Zuku," Mei said as she dropped her arms, her tone suddenly more pointed, despite her teasing. "And don't pretend like you don't care. You wouldn't build half the shit you do if you didn't want someone to notice eventually." She grabbed her bag off the bench, tossing it back over her shoulder. "So stop complaining. You're good at this stuff when you actually try, genius."
Izuku sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Okay, I get it. I'll try not to complain too much."
"That's the spirit," she grinned, clapping him hard on the back.
He stumbled a step forward and shot her a half-hearted glare as they continued their walk home. They could see their dorm from here, a few of their classmates milling about in the windows.
"Yeah, yeah. Plus Ultra or whatever," he grumbled, flashing a tired thumbs-up and a sarcastic smile.
Mei snorted. "That's the saddest 'Plus Ultra' I've ever heard."
"It's a Hero Course thing anyway," he shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets to fish out his keys.
"Maybe we should come up with our own motto then," she suggested as they climbed the steps, Izuku scanning their way inside. "Just for the Support Course."
"Like what, 'Barely Adequate'?"
"Now that I can get behind," she beamed as the dorm doors shut behind them.