⸺CHAPTER 2⸺
"Trial by Timetable"
Date: Tuesday, April 1st, 2025
Time: 10:02 a.m.
Place: U.A High School Dormitory -> Classroom 1-A
I stood in Room 3C, frozen, like someone had hit pause on my brain. The suitcase at the foot of the bed wasn't mine—scuffed leather, a sticker of a grinning hero peeling at the edges. The notebooks on the desk, filled with cramped handwriting and doodles of jackets, weren't mine either. Even the pen—a matte blue clicker with teeth marks like someone chewed it during a math test—felt alien. Yet here I was, Kai Bagley, Quirkless fraud posing as a "mind-reader" in UA High's Hero Course, wearing a blazer that smelled of starch and someone else's life. Trapped between Mineta, a walking HR violation, and Bakugou, a human Molotov cocktail. Welcome to hell, Luke, I thought, my old name a ghost in my head.
I clutched the folded timetable Aizawa had shoved into my hand after the campus tour. It was creased. "Alright, let's see what fresh nightmare we're walking into," I muttered, spreading it out on the desk. The paper crinkled under my fingers, the print sharp and official, like it was judging me.
UA High School — Class 1-A Schedule
Tuesday, April 1st
10:30–11:45: Hero Ethics with Midnight
12:00–13:00: Quirk Application Theory (Aizawa)
13:00–14:00: Lunch
14:00–15:45: Foundational Combat Training
16:00–17:30: Elective Period (select 2: Costume Design, Rescue Simulation, Quirk Strategy, General Studies: History)
"Hero Ethics with Midnight," I read, voice flat. The name sounded like the alias of Batman in this world, not a teacher's. What, is he gonna quiz us on morality while breaking legs? My stomach growled, a sharp pang that reminded me I hadn't eaten since… well, since Luke Horstead died in that elevator. Great start, Kai... Starve before you get expelled.
Time: 10:26 a.m.
Place: Classroom 1-A
I was second-to-last to arrive, the classroom door creaking like it resented being touched. The room was a kaleidoscope of chaos—students sprawled across desks, their Quirks practically screaming for attention. A guy with spiky red hair was laughing too loud; a girl with the darkest shade for hair was braiding them absentmindedly. I spotted an open desk near Midoriya, the broccoli head, who turned and gave me a smile so earnest it could've powered a small village. Behind him, Kaminari flashed double thumbs-up, like we were starring in a buddy cop flick. "Yo, Bagley!" he stage-whispered. "Midnight's intense. Don't stare at the outfit too long."
Solid advice, spark plug. I slid into the desk, the wood warm from whoever sat there last. It smelled faintly of coconut—shampoo, maybe? I tried not to dwell on it. The chair squeaked as I leaned back, letting Kai's muscle memory guide this short body's slouch into something that looked effortlessly cool. Act like you belong, Luke. Or Kai. Whatever...
Midoriya leaned over, his green eyes wide with that intern energy I knew from my old life—eager, overthinking, probably allergic to chill. "Are you nervous?" he asked, like he was interviewing me for a podcast. "First day's a lot, right?"
I blinked, letting my face stay neutral. "Nervous? Nah. Just… scoping things out." Scoping out how NOT to get kicked out of a superhero school for fraud, not like he'd know what I'm talking about... It's his brain that's the biggest problem. Too curious. And for me?— Too dangerous.
He nodded, chewing his lip like he was decoding my words. Kid's gonna sprain his brain. Before I could say more, not like i really was... The door swung open, and the air shifted—like someone turned up the heat and the drama.
Midnight strode in, all black latex and thigh-high boots, a crimson whip coiled at her hip like a sleeping snake. Her heels clacked against the tile, sharp as gunfire. She tossed her hair, and half the class froze. Mineta, somewhere behind me, made a sound like a deflating balloon. Yeaaaaaa. Nothing like Midnight as in Batman. I thought... That's Midnight as in Mid-Night... Ugh— nevermind.
"Good morning, darlings," Midnight purred, her voice a mix of velvet and menace. "I'm your Hero Ethics instructor. And no—" her eyes flicked to Kaminari, who was grinning like an idiot—"I don't offer private lessons" . Ethics instructor... Ethics. Did they make the same mistake like as they did with my application?— Cause that sentence and her 'outfit' is NOT ethical.
The class laughed, a nervous ripple. I didn't. I was too busy wondering if this was a prank or if UA just let cosplayers teach. She turned to the whiteboard, writing in bold strokes: WHAT MAKES A HERO? (besides the costume). My brain tacked on: And besides the Quirk, you prejudiced bastard.
"Being a Pro Hero isn't just punching villains," she said, pacing like a panther. Now that... I can agree with! "It's about image, impact, intention. Why do people look to you? Why do they trustyou?" Her whip tapped the board, punctuating each word. I scribbled in Kai's— my notebook: Image. Impact. Intention. Then, below: Fake all three and you won't don't die. I'd assume...
She spun, pointing her whip at random. "One word! Why do heroes matter?"
"Hope!" Uraraka chirped, bright as a cereal ad.
"Justice," said a guy with half-red, half-white hair, his voice cool and clipped.
"Victory," Bakugou growled, like he'd personally fight the dictionary.
"Style," Kaminari mumbled, earning a glare from Iida.
I swallowed a laugh, my pen scratching the page. Midnight's gaze landed on me, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. "Bagley? Your turn."
My throat tightened. Don't choke. I leaned back, keeping my face blank, calm settling over me like a borrowed jacket. "Responsibility" I said, voice steady. Dammit! Spider-Man memories just had to take over, huh?
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Responsibility?"
"Knowing what you're doing. And why." Like I'm doing right now. Totally. To stay alive and enrolled is totally my main responsibility.
A beat of silence. Her smile twitched—intrigued, maybe amused. "Bold choice," she said, turning back to the board. Midoriya stared at me like I'd just solved world hunger. Kaminari whispered, "Bro, you psychic or what?"
I shrugged, closing my notebook. "Forgot my quirk already?" I said lazily...Just a guy who's good at guessing and better at faking. A bit of empathy always present. I know how people think. How else would I have sorted out the clothing of most budget and dumbass clients who wouldn't put even a sliver of descriptions as to what they wanted... Luke Horstead had charmed clients with less— Kai Bagley could handle a classroom. As long as I stay in the actual classroom.
Time:12:02 p.m.
Place: Training Hall 3C
The training hall smelled like rubber mats and regret, its high ceiling echoing with the hum of fluorescent lights. Aizawa stood in the center, scarf twitching like it had a personal vendetta. "Quirk Application Theory," he said, voice dry as old leather. "You're here to learn control, not to break yourselves—or each other." His eyes flicked to Midoriya, who turned red. "Some of you need to focus on precision." Then to me. "Others need to know their limits."
Limits? Try 100% limits 24/7, teach. I held his gaze, my face a mask of indifference. Don't call me out. Not yet.
"Pair up," Aizawa said. "One attacks, one observes. Note their Quirk's strengths and weaknesses. Switch after five minutes."
Midoriya raised a hand, hesitant. "Sir, what if a Quirk's… hard to see?"
Aizawa didn't blink. "Use your head, not just your eyes." His gaze hit me again, sharp as a needle. He knows he's referring to me. Or he suspects. My stomach twisted, but I kept still.
"Bagley, you're with Jirou," he said.
A girl with short purple hair and headphone jacks dangling from her earlobes gave a lazy wave. She had a vibe like she'd argue about vinyl records and win. Not the worst partner.
We moved to a corner of the hall, watching Sero fling tape from his elbows at Kaminari, who dodged like he was allergic to office supplies. Jirou smirked. "Alright, 'mind-reader,' what am I thinking?"
I kept my tone flat. "That I'm full of it."
She blinked, then laughed, a low, rough sound. "Not bad."
"What's your Quirk's edge?" I asked, pen poised over Kai's notebook, tapping the back end gently on the top end.
She twirled a headphone jack. "Sound waves. I can hear vibrations—people, objects, even underground. I can amp it up to mess with eardrums. Not flashy, but it gets the job done."
I nodded, jotting fake notes. Smart. Subtle. Then, casually: "Your left foot's turned in. Throws your balance off in close quarters."
She froze, glancing down. "You… noticed that?"
"Just a vibe," I said, shrugging. Thank you, Luke's years of watching models trip on runways. My shoots weren't ruined for nothing I guess. Inside, my heart was doing sprints. Keep it together, Kai.
Time:1:01 p.m.
Place: UA Cafeteria
The cafeteria was a sensory overload—steel tables crammed with students, glass walls catching flashes of Quirks like a psychedelic light show. It smelled of miso, fried rice, and something faintly like burnt rubber—probably someone's Quirk gone wrong. I grabbed a tray: curry, rice, a sad scoop of pickled radish. This food looks like it's apologizing for existing. I followed Kaminari to a table where Kirishima, a red-haired guy built like a friendly brick, and Sato, a quiet kid with a sugar obsession, were already digging in.
"You eat like you're plotting something," Kaminari said, eyeing my methodical chewing.
I looked up, a rice grain stuck to my lip. "Says the guy who looks like he short-circuits his own brain daily... — That why your mind is mostly empty ?". Clean, a cheeky reference to my quirk. Maybe I should've been an actor instead as Lucas.
Sato choked on his miso, coughing. Kirishima grinned, all teeth. "Yo, he's got you there, Denki."
Kaminari clutched his chest, mock-wounded. "Harsh, Bagley. You reading my thoughts or just my soul?"
I spooned curry, deadpan. "Your soul's an open book. It's mostly static."
Kirishima laughed, loud and warm. "Man, you're kinda scary. You really read minds?"
I chewed, letting the pause hang. "I know you're wondering if I'm messing with you right now."
His eyes widened. "Dude. That's freaky."
Dumbass had it written on his face, but I'll take it. I kept eating, letting their chatter wash over me. Uraraka joined us, her tray clattering. "Kai, you're so chill! How do you not freak out on day one?"
Because freaking out gets me expelled. I shrugged. "Just… taking it in." Like a guy drowning takes in water.
Sato leaned in, quiet. "Your Quirk's subtle, huh? Bet it's great for strategy."
Kid, you have no idea. I nodded, vague. "Yeah, something like that." I steered the talk away, asking about their Quirks. Kirishima hardened his skin like stone; Sato got strong from sugar. Kaminari bragged about electricity but admitted he "goes dumb" if he overdoes it. Great. I'm surrounded by walking disasters.
Bakugou stormed past, tray slamming onto a nearby table. His glare caught mine, promising violence. Note to self: lock the dorm door tonight. Don't wanna know what'll happen otherwise...
Time: 2:02 p.m.
Place: Foundational Combat Hall
The combat hall was a cavern of echoes, rubber mats scuffed from years of hero dreams. At least not mine. Aizawa had called this "application under stress," not a fight. Translation: get tossed around until you hate yourself. We were in trios: me, Tokoyami (bird-headed guy with a vibe like he wrote poetry at midnight), and Hagakure (invisible, which was great for my paranoia). I can't see that girl, and I can't even assume from her expressions either. Great. Just great, my kryptonite.
Our task: secure a target—a foam dummy—from a "villain" (a training bot). Tokoyami's Dark Shadow, a shadowy bird-thing, did the heavy lifting, snatching the dummy like a hawk grabbing a toy. I stood back, pointing vaguely, tossing out lines to sound useful: "Wait—three seconds, then move." "She's circling left." "He's twitching—go low."
It worked. We won. Tokoyami turned, his red eyes glinting. "Your words are cryptic, like whispers from the abyss."
I nodded, solemn. "And you fight like a gothic fever dream." . He really speaks like I have my quirk— The only abyss is what I get actually trying to read minds... And I can't, hence the abyss.
He bowed slightly, like we'd just signed a pact. Weirdest respect I've ever earned. Hagakure's voice piped up—disembodied, creepy. "Kai, you're so cool! Did you know where the bot was going?"
"Just a hunch," I said, heart pounding. Hunch, my ass. I watched its treads. Aizawa was scribbling notes, his gaze flicking to me. Does he see through the lie? I kept moving, letting Kai's instincts carry me, praying I looked like I belonged.
Time:5:33 p.m.
Place: UA Dorm Common Room—— 1-A's Dorm Lounge.
The day ended like a tire losing air—slow, inevitable. I sank into a dorm couch, the fabric scratchy, the room alive with Class 1-A's chaos. Iida was pitching a documentary night, waving his arms like a traffic cop. Bakugou threatened to "blow the damn TV to hell" if anyone picked a rom-com. Mineta kept suggesting movies that belonged in a locked drawer. This guy's gonna get me in trouble just by existing.
I stayed quiet, watching. Uraraka's laugh was bright, like sunlight through a window. Todoroki sipped tea, his face blank but his eyes sharp. Kirishima was already planning a 6 a.m. gym session, hyping up Sero like they were starting a fitness cult. These kids are too much. My body ached—combat training had left bruises I didn't want to check. My mind was worse, spinning with the weight of the lie. Quirkless. Surrounded by heroes. One slip, and I'm done.
Kaminari flopped next to me, soda in hand. "You're weird, Bagley," he said, grinning. "Like, cool weird."
I raised an eyebrow. "Takes one to know one, spark plug."
He laughed, and for the first time, I let myself smile back—just a little. Maybe I can do this. One day at a time. But Luke's voice lingered: Don't get comfortable, Kai. Lies don't last.
But maybe...Just maybe— This one could.