TheFanficGOD
patreon
MHA115- Class 1-A Showdown
🕑 Added 2025-05-20 16:26:17 +0000 UTCThere will be a second chapter!
--
Nejire took the apple and handed it to Eri, who inspected it before taking a small bite. She chewed, blinked, then took another.
Nejire gasped. “Verdict?”
Eri swallowed. “It’s good.”
Nejire threw her arms up. “Success!”
I got some more for myself, Nejire, and Mom, and we continued.
I checked my phone. “Class should be setting up the concert soon.”
Nejire’s eyes lit up. “Oh! You are ready, right?”
“I don’t half-ass things.”
She grinned. “Good. ‘Cause if you mess up, I will personally haunt you.”
Eri tilted her head. “You can haunt people?”
Nejire gasped. “Ohhh, you know what, I think I could! Just imagine, floating, glowing, all spooky…”
Eri blinked. “Like a ghost?”
“Exactly!”
Eri considered. “You would be a good ghost.”
Nejire placed a hand on her chest. “I am honored.”
We found the class near the stage, locked in a shouting match with Class 1-B. Not surprising. What was surprising was the absolute nonsense written on 1-B’s banner.
"Romeo, Juliet, and the Prisoner of Azkaban: The Return of the Kings."
I stopped walking. Blinked.
“…The fuck am I looking at?”
“Bullshit,” Kaminari said. “That is what you are looking at.”
Mina threw her arms up. “What even is this?! Is it a play? A crossover? A goddamn fever dream?!”
“Artistic brilliance,” Monoma said, smirking like he was about to deliver the most groundbreaking speech of the century. “A fusion of the greatest literary works, woven into a narrative only true intellectuals could comprehend.”
Bakugo scoffed. “So it is just a dumbass play.”
Monoma’s eye twitched. “It is not a mere play! It is an experience! A revolution in storytelling!”
Iida adjusted his glasses. “A disgrace to literature is what it is.”
“Blasphemy!” Monoma flailed dramatically. “You simply lack the vision to understand!”
Sero shook his head. “Bro, I think even the authors would lack the vision to understand.”
Kendo, arms crossed, looked like she was one word away from slapping Monoma into another timeline. “We voted for a normal play. This idiot suggested a ‘creative reimagining,’ and before we knew it, we had this.”
Yaoyorozu sighed. “Do you even have a script?”
Monoma grinned. “Oh, we are improvising.”
There was silence. Deep, uncomfortable silence.
“…You are what?” Jiro asked.
“Improvising!” Monoma said like it was the most normal thing in the world. “True art cannot be restrained by mere scripts!”
Todoroki blinked. “How do you improvise a play that doesn’t make sense to begin with?”
“With passion,” Monoma declared.
“Wow,” Kirishima muttered. “That is a terrible idea.”
Monoma narrowed his eyes. “And what, pray tell, is your contribution to the festival? Surely it pales in comparison to-”
“A live concert and dance performance,” I said.
Monoma paused. His smirk twitched.
Kendo immediately took the opportunity to cut in. “Yeah, and they actually practiced.”
Monoma’s jaw tightened. “A mere concert? Hah! How uninspired! How-"
“Better than whatever the hell this is,” Bakugo said.
“Oh, and you think-”
“Yeah,” Bakugo cut him off. “I do.”
Monoma clenched his fists. “You think you are so-”
I clapped my hands. “Alright, this is boring. Moving on.”
I walked past him toward the stage. The rest of 1-A followed, ignoring Monoma’s indignant sputtering.
Nejire spun toward me. “Okay, but real talk, I kinda wanna see how their play turns out.”
“It is gonna be a disaster,” I said.
“Exactly!” She beamed. “A beautiful, chaotic disaster.”
Eri tugged at my sleeve. “Is that man okay?”
“No,” I said.
She nodded. “Okay.”
The class gathered near the equipment. Jiro was already checking the sound system, plugging in her jacks to test the audio. Kaminari stretched, cracking his neck.
“Alright, we running one last practice?” he asked.
Jiro looked at me. “We need it?”
I scanned the setup. Everyone knew their cues by now. Bakugo wasn’t trying to fight his way out of it anymore. Todoroki still moved like a confused robot, but at least he was on beat. No point running it again.
“Nah,” I said. “Just don’t fuck up.”
Jiro nodded. “Cool.”
Yaoyorozu tapped her chin. “Perhaps we should-”
“Nope,” I said.
She sighed. “I suppose at this point, it is best to trust the process.”
Kirishima grinned. “We are gonna kill it.”
“That is the idea,” I said.
Mina bounced on her heels. “Ohhh, I am so excited! This is gonna be awesome!”
I turned to Eri. “You still good?”
She nodded, gripping her apple.
Nejire leaned down. “Okay, Eri, remember, the most important rule is to have fun.”
Eri blinked. “The most important?”
Nejire nodded. “Yes. And the second most important rule is to cheer super loud when Ryuu performs.”
Eri considered this very seriously, then nodded. “Okay.”
Nejire gasped. “Ohhh, you are such a good little sister.”
Eri tilted her head. “I am?”
“Yes,” Nejire said. “And it is my duty as your big sister to spoil you.”
Eri looked at me. “Is she my big sister now?”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
She nodded again. “Okay.”
Nejire clutched her chest. “I love her.”
I turned back to the stage. “Let’s go.”
The lights dimmed. The first electric hum of the guitar rang through the speakers.
Jiro stood center stage, mic in hand, fingers already moving on the strings. The sound system thrummed under her control. Kaminari took his place beside her, second guitar in hand, barely keeping his excitement contained. Tokoyami’s fingers curled around his bass, the deep reverberations mixing into the air. Yaoyorozu settled behind the keyboard, focused. Bakugo rolled his shoulders, drumsticks tapping against his knee.
The rest of the class took position, scattered across the stage, waiting for the cue.
I gripped Mina’s waist, fingers pressing lightly against the material of our costumes. She met my eyes, grinning.
The beat kicked in.
Bakugo’s drums crashed in sync with Kaminari’s opening riff. The rhythm locked in, pulsing through the ground. Jiro stepped forward, voice cutting through the static of the crowd.
I moved.
The bass rumbled beneath our feet, heavy and steady. Jiro’s voice cut through the static, the beat locking in, driving everything forward. Kaminari’s guitar snarled in behind her. Bakugo slammed into the drums like he was trying to break something. Probably was.
Mina grinned at me. "Ready?"
I flexed my grip on her waist. "Always."
The first chorus hit, and we moved. Not just steps… this wasn’t some stiff routine with forced smiles and lifeless motions. This was a fight, a push, a call and response to the sound crashing around us. We weren’t just dancing. We were throwing down.
Mina spun out of my grip, dropping low before springing back up, arms slicing through the air. I caught her wrist, yanked her into another turn, momentum snapping between us. The others followed.
Jiro leaned into it, fingers pressing into the guitar, dragging every note out like she was pulling them from the ground itself.
Mina grabbed my wrist, pulling me forward, and I twisted with her, our footwork matching the rapid-fire rhythm. I pushed off the stage, flipping over her. She caught my landing without hesitation, spinning right back into her next move.
Todoroki appeared out of nowhere, cutting through the air on a massive ice slide. He rode it down fast, hitting the ground, then shot right back up on a second incline, a massive V carved into the stage. At the peak of his ascent, flames burst out around him, igniting the sky in red and gold.
From the fire, Aoyama emerged, twisting midair, his laser firing straight up at the massive disco ball hovering above the stage. The beam split into a thousand colors, shattering across the festival grounds.
The entire class shifted.
Blades snapped out from beneath our shoes, the smooth steel catching the ice as Todoroki’s slide extended into a rink. The choreography didn’t stop instead the dance turned into something else entirely.
Uraraka floated patches of ice into the air. Some skated through them, twisting midair, while others sprinted forward, launching off like stepping stones. Sero shot tape at the rafters, swinging high before letting go, flipping before landing clean on a floating platform.
Kirishima dropped low, hands slicing through the air, the ice beneath him cracking before reforming. Ojiro spun mid-glide, tail whipping as he twisted between Shoji and Mineta, who barely caught himself before toppling over. Asui leapt, hands pressing against an ice pillar before kicking off, flipping as she landed on another floating platform.
The crowd roared as Kaminari twisted into a knee-slide, sending a pulse of electricity through the ice. The glow traveled outward in sharp veins, flickering beneath our feet like lightning trapped under glass. Jiro’s guitar wailed, fingers flying over the strings.
Yaoyorozu and Sato swung out wide, lifting Uraraka before spinning her back toward center stage. She landed lightly, arms outstretched, before sending another block of ice into the air, keeping the flow going.
Aoyama twisted mid-spin, his lasers splitting off the disco ball again, bursts of color flashing across the ice.
Todoroki pivoted, dragging fire behind him, the heat creating steam where it met the frozen floor. His hands shifted, carving the final movement. Ice rose, towering, shaping itself into jagged letters above the stage, Class 1-A.
Jiro hit the final note.
The music crashed to a close.
The stage stilled.
The moment held, ice, fire, light all frozen in place for half a breath.
The crowd went absolutely wild. The kind of wild that had people on their feet, screaming like they just witnessed a miracle. I smirked. Damn right they did. I choreographed a killing show.
Mina punched my arm. “Holy shit, that was sick!”
Jiro exhaled, tilting her head toward the crowd. “They liked it.”
Liked? 1-A just stole the whole damn festival.
Mina pumped a fist, still bouncing on her skates. “Hell yeah!”
Kaminari threw his arms up. “Bro, we killed that shit!”
Kirishima grinned. “Dude, we actually pulled it off.”
Kaminari wheezed. “I need five minutes. Or a new set of legs.”
Todoroki skated over, moving like he finally figured out how not to look like a malfunctioning android. “It worked.”
Yaoyorozu wiped her forehead. “Surprisingly well.”
The audience was still going. People weren’t just cheering, they were shouting, yelling out names, waving arms in the air. Some girl in the front row had her hands on her head like she just watched someone come back to life. A guy near the back was jumping in place, smacking his friend on the shoulder. Phones were up, flashes flickering through the crowd.
Kirishima slid up next to Bakugo, grinning. “Dude, you actually had fun, huh?”
Bakugo scoffed. “Tch. Like hell.”
“Then why are you still holding the drumsticks?”
Bakugo glanced down, scowled, and shoved them in his pocket. “Shut up.”
Monoma’s face, barely visible past the front row, looked like he was choking on his own soul.
I turned to the audience, catching sight of Eri perched on Nejire’s shoulders. Her grip on Nejire’s hair was tight. The red from the candied apple she’d been holding smeared at the corners of her mouth.
Nejire called out. “Eri, what do we say?”
Eri's hands curled into Nejire’s hair. “That was…really amazing.”
Jiro pulled the mic up. “One more?”
The crowd exploded again. Guess that meant yes.
I rolled my neck, I built this stage. Might as well die on it. Let them see what happens when the monster writes
Jiro grinned and leaned into the mic. “Now it’s solo show time… Ryuu Midoriya, the bastard responsible for making us dance.”
Comments
Marvin Baltes
A reasonable & perfectly executed sass from bakugo. We almost have to frame this
