Two days.
Two damn days, give or take, for most of my injuries to patch up enough to call it "basic recovery."
I couldn't decide if that was good news or a red flag. Even with Recovery Girl's Quirk speeding things along, this pace felt borderline insane. Then again, maybe not - Izuku bounced back in just one day, moving around like normal despite some stiffness. Compared to that, my two days to hit 60% healed was sluggish as hell. When she checked me out, she straight-up said my body - immune system, healing factor, all of it - was weaker than average. Point blank: scars and serious damage were in my future, and someday her Quirk might not cut it anymore.
Plain and simple, if I take a bad enough hit down the line with this frail-ass frame, death's a lock. No dodging that.
Eh, whatever. I don't give a shit. My gig in this world's just steering the real protagonist - Midoriya Izuku - down his chosen path. Long as he doesn't veer off, keeps that hero spirit locked in, I've got zero reason to fuss over myself. My one goal? Rewrite this garbage plot I've been sick of since day one.
The only thing that really bothered me was Himiko being sulking with me, like... blaming me for not being able to protect myself. And it took a few days of doing all sorts of healthy things for her to calm down a little. Part of it was because she was on her period, so she flatly refused to do it - even though her eyes were a little reluctant.
Meh, it's okay. Taking care of her own wounds and my girlfriend's "women's problems" weren't that big of a deal.
The fact that I was quite burned made her even more hostile towards Bakugo, to the point where she almost broke into his house to get revenge, which is enough to show how crazy she was...
…
Morning rolled around. After whipping up breakfast and lunch for Toga - complete with her warm, clingy hug like some good-luck charm - I headed to U.A. earlier than usual. Partly 'cause two days bedridden in the med bay had me wired to wake up at dawn, partly to dodge anyone on the way to class. The check-ins, the concern - I know they mean well, but to me, it's all just… extra noise I don't need.
The press was swarming the gates like flies, right on cue after the anonymous dirt I'd leaked set off a chain reaction. Camera flashes popped off nonstop, so bright I didn't even bother looking up. A few reporters spotted me, shouting over each other, shoving mics and lenses in my face like rude assholes: "Onodera Ryuga! Thoughts on your match with Bakugo?" "Did Bakugo go overboard with his power?" "Is this a sign Katsuki's got violent tendencies?"
I didn't bite - not a word, not a glance. Body still ached too much to play their game, and anyway, those questions were traps. They wanted me to fan the flames, milk the "insider" angle for hot gossip, but not one of 'em gave a damn about how wrecked I was - obvious as it was. I kept walking, ignoring the circus, not caring one bit.
Stepping into the classroom, the vibe went from chill to dead quiet, weird as hell. Most of 'em knew why the reporters were camped outside - my handiwork - and their eyes flicked between me and Bakugo like they were bracing for a shitstorm. No one said it out loud, but I felt it.
Bakugo slouched at his usual spot, same pissed-off scowl begging for a punch, but the cocky "I'm the king" edge was gone. Instead, his glare had this shaky mix - some anxiety, some rage, mostly this restless unease he couldn't hide, no matter how hard he tried to play it cool.
Plan's rolling. Good. Now I just wait.
"Onodera-san…" A familiar voice cut through the silence.
Uraraka stepped up, worry all over her face. "You okay? I mean… the reporters and everything…"
"I'm fine," I cut her off, flashing the softest grin I could muster. "Still breathing, still moving - that's enough."
"But - " She started, only for Asui to tug her back with a subtle head shake. Guess it wasn't just her - half the class could tell I wasn't in the mood to talk. Their looks were… I don't even know. Awkward pity? Didn't matter - no one lingered on it.
Aizawa - fully recovered now - and Midnight walked in, kicking off announcements about the Sports Festival results. The room's tension flipped to focus mode fast, but like always, I tuned out the fluff. Only the critical stuff deserved my attention.
Thanks to my meddling, Izuku snagged third place instead of flaming out hard. Surprising, honestly - should've been higher with that performance. Whatever. Doesn't matter. I'd shifted something, at least.
Now the real shit: the upcoming hero internships. Mandatory for everyone, invited or not. Big shots with tons of offers didn't need explaining, but even the nobodies like me got pros willing to take us on - specialists in rescue, patrol, support, or straight-up combat. You pick from a list unless you've got offers, then you've got more options. Everyone had to lock in a hero name before starting - permanent, stuck with you forever. One week on the job, two days to choose your agency. Plenty of time.
Like naming a game account - serious business, tough to change. We'd all get a chance to brainstorm and pitch it to the class, so everyone was prepping hard.
Fifteen minutes later, names started rolling out: Deku, Red Riot, Shoto, "Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight" (swear to God, that's some next-level cringe), Uravity… Hearing their reasons, you could tell each one had their own drive to be a hero.
Then it was my turn. I admitted I suck at this stuff, and when I dropped my hero name, the room went… confused as hell.
"M."
That's it. One stylized letter, two R's mashed together, no frills.
"That's it, Onodera-kun?" Izuku, Ochako, and a bunch of others gawked, shock written all over 'em. "What's it mean?"
"Material Modification," I said, straight-up in English. "Short for my Quirk. Could stand for other stuff too - like Mummy."
Dead silence hit the room again, tension snapping back. Oh, right - I'm basically a walking bandage roll right now. "Not funny? Thought a context joke would land…" I tried lightening the mood, but no one laughed - not even a cough. Just weird stares, a mix of bafflement and secondhand embarrassment, like my sense of humor was from another planet.
"Alright, no questions, let's call it done." I shrugged, heading to my seat, brushing off the "want to say something but won't" vibes around me.
Aizawa cleared his throat, reeling everyone back in. "Hero names are settled - now onto internship picks. This is your shot to learn from pros firsthand, so choose wisely. Agency lists are hitting your desks now. Two days to decide."
I grabbed my list, skimming it fast. Tons of names - big shots to nobodies I'd never heard of. Didn't care much, though. My goal's shifted off Izuku for now - onto something personal.
Stop Stain in Hosu, and that time paradox knot might just untangle. Soon.
…
Internship day hit.
Aizawa stood at the train station with 1-A, making sure we all got to our gigs safe. He laid it out: bring your hero costumes, but don't wear 'em in public unless you're on duty, don't lose 'em, and keep your shit together. Wished us luck and a smooth trip.
I lingered at the platform, watching trains stretch into the distance. The class buzzed - some hyped, some nervous. Uraraka yapped nonstop to Asui about what she expected, while Bakugo stood tight-lipped, glaring like he wanted to torch the world.
I glanced at Izuku - someone I should've stuck closer to, but I'd let him face this one solo. Maybe he felt my stare; as I turned away, he caught my eye and flashed that awkward, earnest smile of his.
Boarding with Tenya, Izuku piped up, telling him he and Ochako were there if he needed to talk - friends ready to shoulder his load. Tenya, true to form, said he'd take 'em up on it, but behind that mask, I saw it: raw, burning hatred he couldn't hide.
No shit - Stain nearly sent his brother to the afterlife.
Sensing the heavy vibe, Tenya spoke first, swallowing his real feelings to keep me from digging. "Onodera-kun…" he started after a pause. "What do you think about interning with pros?"
"Same as everyone," I said, staring out the window. "Chance to learn, see how this hero world ticks."
"Do you think… being a hero sometimes means delivering justice for the unforgivable?"
I stopped, catching the edge in his voice. He was probing - my picking Hosu with him was sus as hell. But for a guy with a head and heart blazing like coals, talking it out wasn't a big deal.
"You're thinking about the guy who hit your brother, right?"
He flinched but didn't deny it - surprised me he didn't push back. "Yeah. He… he hurt Tensei, and I… I can't just sit still."
"Personal revenge?" I cut straight, no fluff.
He didn't answer, but his clenched fist said it all.
"Killing one criminal won't thin their ranks. Let emotions drive you, and they'll trip you up - fatal mistakes. Screw up like that, and it's not just you - everyone around you, your family, they'll pay for that pretty move too."
He bowed his head, chewing on my words.
"…But that's just sanctimonious bullshit," I added. "Play it smart enough, no one'll blame you. They'll spin it as 'tragic accident - hero intern vs. Hero Killer.' Twist perception, lead the public by the nose - tons of heroes do it. Why do you think the press swarmed U.A. the other day?"
The air in the car got thicker after that. Tenya stared, eyes wide with shock and a flicker of confusion. No clue what he was thinking, but it hit him - good or bad, I didn't care much.
"I… didn't expect that from you, Onodera-kun," he said, voice hesitant.
"This world doesn't run on textbook ideals, Tenya," I replied, gaze fixed out the window at the passing buildings. "Every move's got a price tag. Want real justice? You've gotta straddle that line between good and evil, black and white. But be ready to carry the fallout. Don't worry - this time, I've got your back. Our little secret. If you don't wanna owe me, I'll need a favor later… a big one."
The train rumbled on, tension simmering. Tenya didn't push back, just sat there processing. Hosu was coming up fast, and with it, a chance to flip the script. Stain, Bakugo's reckoning, Izuku's path - my moves were lining up, and I wasn't stopping now.