Chapter 459 - 2-5

Chapter 2: A Blotched Draft

Hans lay down on the couch, sighing as a loose activation of his noble phantasm healed him. He was glowing slightly blue in the process, tainting the dark living room with ethereal wisps of azure light. Said light, however, interfered with the screen of the computer slightly.

"Why does writing even come with a fog effect?" Hans said, irritatingly waving his hand in front of the screen.

He looked down at the activation of his noble phantasm. A power that allowed him to aid the target to achieve their ideal self through his words.

…Maybe just writing the word healthy for himself was a bit too vague. Still, he yawned and stretched on the couch. Today had been a long day.

The little match girl was struggling for the light switch, while the elder tree watched from the corner in her flowerpot, slightly dejected. The snow queen, however, was not so uncaring about their situation.

"You couldn't even pass a hero exam." She said, looking at some of Hans's ripped shirts on the floor. The mermaid hovering around Hans's neck chose that moment to swim through the air and lunge at the snow queen, who absentmindedly batted the small creature away.

"Well, I never pretended to be competent." Hans sighed, scratching at one of the burns on his back. "At least I got a good poke at some of the brats."

"Speaking of which, was that really necessary?" the snow queen said, "I mean, why do you even care?"

"Why did I save that hero in the alleyway?" Hans asked himself. "I do a lot of things. I mean, I wrote you…"

"Damn you…" the snow queen said, gritting her teeth. "Stop avoiding talking about yourself by insulting the person in front of you!"

Hans took off his glasses and cleaned it on his simple, white shirt. He brushed some blue locks of hair out of the way of his equally blue eyes before putting the old fashioned design on once more.

"Honestly, I don't see a reason for changing." Hans said. "The world is filled with hypocrisy. Demonic and incomprehensible women. Like Kiara. The upper class. The lower class. Authors that have to work and write for hours and hours just to get some brea-"

"I get your point." The snow queen said, "But why does this keep coming back to you distancing yourself from everybody else? I literally live in a frozen castle and even I know that it's unhealthy!"

"Don't you get it?" Hans said. "The author turns to the pen when the world doesn't go his way. I've accepted that I'm unsociable and rather insufferable. Why, if you ask Charles, he would say that I was the worst houseguest he had ever had."

"Charles Dickens has been dead for hundreds of years."

"Haven't I been dead for hundreds of years as well?" Hans said.

"And you're doing it again!"

"Either way," Hans said, "I have resigned myself to my fate. At least this time I wasn't summoned on a mission to save the world… or in a computer on the moon or something."

"Anyways why'd you antagonize your future classmates…" the snow queen sighed, exasperated.

"Future classmates?" Hans said, smirking at his own creation. "I got dead last on the exams. I mean, they were literally races."

The lights chose that moment to turn on. Hans blinked furiously, the sudden lights causing some amount of discomfort.

"Did you finally reach the light switch?" Hans said, looking back at the doorway. What met his eyes was not the sight of the little girl that always made him feel guilty. It was…

"Hey, mom." Hans said, "You heard all that, didn't you."

He sighed. Damn his rank D territory creation. If he had any sort of actual ability as a mage, he wouldn't be surprised by stuff like this.

"Last place on the exam?" his mother said, walking into the room. "Did you do that badly?"

Hans raised a single leg. "The course was like, two kilometers. And lined with robots. How many steps do you think I'll need to reach the end?"

In contrast to Hans's gaunt and short figure, his mom, in this life, was actually fairly tall. She lived a life that Hans dreaded, filled with calls of deadlines and an omnipresent pressure to do well.

If there were two people that he could never disrespect, it was his parents. Though almost never present, they did work hard for his sake.

"Failing a hero exam is nothing!" his father said, grinning despite the bags under his eyes. "I remember when I dreamed of being a hero. Then, my quirk came in, and-"

"Yes, yes." Hans groaned. "You've told me this story tons of times. At least work on an introduction if you're going to keep persisting on rambling it out."

"Well, you can always write me one, can you not? Anne, what do you think? How many… reads does Hans have again?"

His mother crossed her arms, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Alfred. You don't remember the novel that our son published?"

"That was rushed work at best." Hans interjected. "And I regret my decision about publishing that series."

"Well, at least nobody will know you wrote it." Alfred said, chuckling. "Giving you that writer's name basically gave you a pseudonym."

"Nobody remembers who wrote the Little Mermaid or the Little Match Girl." Hans said, grunting. "They're all too busy watching videos of All Might or something. Who needs fairytales when more exciting stories are being published by the day?"

The little match girl shuffled over to Hans and grabbed his legs. Then, she looked at him like she was having an existential crisis. His mother tustled the blonde hair of the nameless little girl, making her look up and give a weak smile.

"Well, at least Disney is doing remakes again." Anne said, now turning her gaze to Hans. "Why are you so defensive of fairytales anyways? Is it just because of your quirk? If you want, we could go see-"

"No." Hans stuttered. "They ruined m-those stories! They were never meant to be cheerful tales! But just to give their movie a neat and happy ending, Disney-"

"Why'd you have to mention Disney again?" Alfred whispered, glaring at his wife. Anne glared back.

"-they even gave the Tin Soldier a happy ending! I mean, why did they even bother to credit me? The-"

Eventually, the snow queen had to freeze Hans's mouth shut.

…

The Essay was something that was spreading across the UA faculty like wildfire. Many shunned its cynical and supposedly shallow arguments.

"What hero would recommend such a student?" Present Mic said loudly, scratching his strangely styled hair gently. "I mean, who is this Hans Christian Anderson kid again?"

Nedzu began to cackle. "He's the one who wrote the fate series light novels a couple of years ago."

"Wait… a couple of years ago… that means that-"

"Yes. Hans Christian Anderson wrote an entire book series when he was ten years old."

The room was silent for a moment.

"Wait, isn't there some other writer with that same name?" Midnight, of all people, said.

"Yes." Nedzu said, his rattling teacup now carefully placed besides the manuscript of an essay that Hans had written. "The fairytale author Hans Christian Anderson. Also, I never really took you for a fairytale reading type, Midnight."

"…This is growing stranger and stranger." Aizawa said. "His quirk, too, concerns these tales. You can identify them one by one."

"The little match girl. The little mermaid. I… wanna… say… Thumbelina?" Snipe grunted, his stoic mask not hiding his confusion.

"What a strange series of… coincidences…" Nedzu smirked. "I approve of him."

"What?" the teachers yelled.

"Such an immature brat has no place in the hero industry." Aizawa snarled. "It's for his own good that we reject him."

"No, no." Nedzu said, smiling. "He wrote the essay in order to be rejected, and instead, replaced the essay with the boldest, most scathing truths that he could contend about the hero industry. Now, tell me, do any of you actually act as heroes just to save people?"

"Of course I… do?" Snipe shouted, before hesitating. He remembered his childhood, and how he had always wanted to take his slingshot, crossbow, and later BB-gun to greater heights just to prove that flashy elemental or mutant quirks weren't the only powers that could make a hero.

Everybody stared at the ground. Clearly Snipe wasn't alone in his reminiscing.

Nedzu grinned. "Don't worry. Even if we're all upstanding citizens, it's understandable that we're also selfish. But it's because we like our current lives, and its this adherence to the status quo that inspires us to give our lives in order to protect our status quo, so that a world that we want, a world where we can profit and improve our living situation, could exist as well."

"That's… that's… from the essay." Midnight said, slowly sitting down in shock.

"It's still ridiculous." Aizawa said, crossing his arms. "Many people still become heroes in order to inspire change, or out of the innate goodness of their heart."

"Ah, but this essay also covers how to inspire people to act… with a cause that they can rally behind. It could be advocating for disadvantageous quirks, or using saving people as a way of self fulfillment."

"What about All Might, dude?" Present Mic shouted enthusiastically. "All Might is the symbol of peace! Surely, he would represent a hero that exhibits altruism!"

"Still, now that we look at it, it's not a terrible essay." Snipe said. "Cynical as it was, it still had its points. 'Sides, he did save that most recent victim of the Hero Killer."

"The combat hero Iceblade." Aizawa muttered dully. "Though his rankings are relatively low, he's still very popular in his area. I've had the… inconvenience of running into somebody of his… personality."

"Oh, Nichin-san isn't that bad. He's just a bit loud, like me!" Present Mic said, patting Aizawa on the back and grinning. "Besides, isn't it good that he's alive? Without that kid's healing quirk, he would have bled out."

"All in favor of allowing him in?"

"Wait, where's Vlad King?"

"He's helping Cementoss with the blueprints of the regular exam's mock city."

"Ah. Anyways…"

In the end, there were two agreements, one disagreement, and one neutral.

"But… he did score last on the practical." Aizawa argued, looking into the harsh eyes of the applicant staring up at him through a photo. "How are we going to explain that? We email the ones who recommended each student the scores of those on the practical."

"Just let Iceblade add in a note." Nedzu said. "I'm sure nobody will disagree. Except for you, of course, Aizawa-kun."

…

Toshinori Yagi thumbed through the essay, his skinny face growing darker and sadder with each passing word. A hand wrinkled the photocopied essay as he read the word Altruism for the last time.

"I'll prove to you… Anderson-san… that a real hero does exist!" he said, trying to inflate some positivity back into himself.

His walkie talkie blared. "All Might, we have a situation ten-forty two near Mustafu Bridge…"

A police siren sounded in the distance. Putting away the papers into one of the hidden pockets on his costume, Toshinori bulked up again, jumped off of the rooftop of the All Might agency, and with a jovial laugh, waved at the passersby.

Yet still, a hint of doubt remained in his mind.

Why was he a hero? Maybe… It was to prove something.

…

Chizome Akaguro stalked the streets, his footsteps silent, yet his breaths were long and heavy.

His latest victim had… survived. Aided by an unnamed brat with a healing quirk. Underneath the raincoat that he wore despite the uncomfortably stifling humid air of March, he gripped the seasoned guard of his katana in an iron fist.

"Why…" he thought. "Why does the world oppose my revolution so?"

He had checked the forums. And seen the comments. Although some had joined him in believing his creed of heroes, many others merely scoffed in disbelief or fear. Additionally, none had joined him in his noble crusade, and had taken the act of cleansing society into their own hands like himself.

"And if today couldn't get any worse…" A deep voice groaned, the rustling of a plastic bag meeting Stain's ears.

"A villain?" Stain thought. His days as Stendhal were behind him, but he still was more than glad to eliminate society of its most baseless forms of garbage.

So, what was this? A body disposal? A deal gone wrong? Katana in his hands, Stain crept to the roof of the building, jumping from rusty fire escape to windowsill, and then to a hole in the wall that once hosted a brick, before finally stopping his parkour and peeking over the ledge.

…A small, blue-haired boy was carrying a grocery bag. Inside it, a brown liquid leaked from the plastic bag. With what was left of his nose, Stain sniffed out the scent of coffee.

So it was just a student.

But as Stain looked at the student, he noticed several odd… creatures hovering around. Several things that only his faraway childhood contained.

"You noticed them too, huh?" the boy below said. "Stendhal. Or… do you prefer Stain?"

Stain remained silent.

"You insult his name, by the way." The boy said, scratching his head. "Stendhal was a French author, you know? He's not just some cool name you got off the internet."

Stain's self esteem took a blow.

"His work focused on realism and thorough analysis of his characters, but you now take his name and… commit such irrational acts."

"Irrational? Irrational?"

Stain leapt down from the building and rolled onto the asphalt streets, katana flashing in the street lamps.

"How dare you, a foul mouthed brat, call my acts of necessary evil irrational?"

The boy stared unflinchingly into Stain's eyes.

"It's simple. Because it is."

Stain's grip tightened on his katana, and he resolved to scare the attitude out of the kid. Severe sass or not, he still didn't deserve to die.

A blade flashed through the air and stopped inches before the boy's eyeballs.

"A blonde man with portal gates tried to do the exact same thing as you once." He said, smirking. "But now that you've reacted in such a way, I know that I've struck a nerve. Like that blonde man, I insulted him, his ideals, his way of life, his actions, and the results that he obtained. And now I shall do the same to you."

"And why would you do such a thing?" Stain snarled. "I have slain tens of heroes with this blade, and with this very same blade, I shall slay many more."

"Because I fear death less than my silence." The blue-haired boy said. "To stop me from speaking and writing what I really think would be to let my soul die a silent and ignoble death. If I do not speak now, I shall regret it for the rest of my life. Thus, I speak."

"Then, why is it irrational?" Stain barked, though with a significantly less amount of anger. His tone leaned on one of confusion.

"The title of hero is not deserved by many. On that, you are correct." The boy said, sighing. "The true definition of hero has been lost, and none can lay claim to the title."

Once again, a red rage took over Stain's gaze.

"How dare you insult-"

"All Might, right?" he said. "Truth be told, we don't really know a lot about All Might's backstory. All we know is his efficiency in dealing with the villain threat."

Stain listened to this wimpy retort, raised his sword, and… sheathed it. Because… he didn't even know All Might's name, much less his motivations.

"But even if we don't know his motivation, that doesn't matter. The real problem isn't with the heroes anyways."

"Then where is it?" Stain said. "And if another vague statement comes out of your tongue, I shall remove it."

"Then take it." The boy said. "I will still have my hands to write. And these annoying creatures to speak for me.

As Hans spoke, a small barrier of roots and ice slowly peeked out of his collar and pants. The cold was very uncomfortable, but it would be worth surviving.

"But either way, Hero Killer… Stendhal… I will finish my statement. You seek to address the wrong side of the problem. Society is the one that creates both Heroes and Villains. And you're digging yourself an even deeper grave just by acting."

"What's your point? The fact that society is as it is currently with false heroes is the reason that Villains run as rampant as they do now. With no true Heroes besides All Might, the Villains will continue to spread like a disease. You cannot cure a disease with a single white blood cell, you need many to purge every single one of those diseased cells."

"Your stupid analogies aside, your utter hypocrisy will mean your downfall. True heroes? What a load of bad writing. Instead of living in those delusions you're so fond of, try to take a look for just one second at the real world."

"What are you babbling on about?"

"By killing those heroes, you're proving society's point. They won't care about your villainous motivations or your reasonings behind the killings. To them, you're just a villain. You're just a villain speaking out against society because you couldn't make it in the real world and went insane, no matter what really happened. Society has brainwashed them into not thinking about this kind of politically sensitive topics where villains might be right! In the end, you're nothing but a murderer putting on a show for the media."

The boy took a deep breath. One of the humanoids floating behind him patted him on the back.

"Also, the numbers, you fool! Look at the numbers! Crime rates have gone up so badly in this area that street sweepers are having a hard time cleaning these streets! What, you killed like twenty five heroes? Are you really going to be able to solve twenty five heroes' worth of crime by yourself? Not to mention the fact that your actions have actually inspired more copycats to go and attack the heroes and commit crimes."

"I'll do a better job than those fakes!"

"Well, the situations speak for themselves! I tripped on the trash and broke my can of coffee because of it! People are suffering because some local scumbags took your words as a rallying cry and started to go rob people! If you left those bad excuses for heroes alive, life would at least function as well as it had before you started to act. Society cannot handle your supposedly perfect vision of an idea hero society simply because it can't afford to go through with the change."

"And what of it? If I work towards a brighter future, I do not care what is sacrificed! And should those fakes not die for their crimes?" Stain snarled, his arms flailing and grasping for the infuriating child in front of him. "Advertisements. Movies. All time wasted when they could be working for a-"

"But would that solve the problem?" the boy said, looking downwards at Stain's crushed figure. The thumb was still pressing him hard into the streets, but Stain did not reach for his blade. Awkward position or not, uncomfortable argument or not, he still had to hear the boy to the end.

"Like it or not, whether or not they're using their fame for purposes that you don't approve of, these heroes stop some crimes and are admired by society. And because of this, and your senseless actions, more and more of these… mercenary, fame-farming heroes are going to crop up! You've turned them into martyrs! Every single one you kill is a call for action against you! Besides, If you've graduated high school, which you probably haven't, you would have heard of this. Supply and demand! The less heroes there are, the more that will try to work and take their place!"

"And how would I reduce evil? How can I stop the creation of these false heroes?" Stain yelled desperately. The answer he sought was so close, and it resided in this young looking teenager… of all people.

"But nooo…" Hans continued, ignoring Stain's pleas. "You have to subscribe to terrible internet theories about fake heroes and how there needs to be more genuinity in this industry. Does it really even matter what you're doing when all that you've done is made things worse? Just do the right thing for once! Start a soup kitchen or something! Just do something useful with your hypocritical, insignificant life and throw away that dumpster fire of an argument that you have."

With that, the boy walked away, and Stain just… stood there.

What had he achieved with his actions?

What had he done?

Was what he was doing… totally wrong to begin with?

"Damn UA… accepting my terrible test results…" the boy muttered while walking away. "And my coffee is ruined too… This grocery run was a failure."

One of the creatures following the boy giggled.

"Oh, shut up, you." The deep voice said, though not in a completely annoyed manner. "Perhaps it was the work of fate that I would encounter that unbearable hypocrite."

As the sounds of the light pattering of footsteps faded away, Stain continued to think. Think like never before. Though the child's arguments were rather disorganized, they did make a point.

Try as he would, society didn't listen to Stain. Listening to ordinary civilians discuss his ideals in public did tell him that they thought he was insane, but he didn't take it seriously. He had thought that they were completely brainwashed by the propaganda of the false heroes.

But the fact was that nobody was listening to him. Nobody took him seriously. Only other villains, but they did use him as an excuse to commit more violence.

And thus, Stain was lost. He was left with a lot of questions

But… What did that kid say about himself? Just do the right thing… UA application…

That kid was in UA?

"Whoever you are… blue haired child… you hold the vision and the conviction to change this corrupt society. You may be strong, but you do not yet have the power to root out the evils of society from its roots."

"My arguments may be wrong. My solution may be wrong. But of one thing I am certain…"

Stain's eyes flashed red, and despite his injuries, his figure stood even taller and prouder.

"I shall continue on this doomed path of mine to pave the way for yours… "

Stain walked away into the night. He would potentially become just Stendhal again. A vigilante, trying to make the neighborhood safer. And if he came across a corrupt hero? Well, he would be just like the other criminal scum.

But more words would need to be exchanged. Though the child had outlined problems with Stain's ideals, there was no proposed answer.

There was one final test for the child, however. If this child truly wanted to bring change to society, Stain would have to ask him…

What was his idea of a hero?

…

Hans sneezed.

"Why do I have the feeling that somebody just misinterpreted what I said in a horrible, life-changing way?"

The little match girl patted his shoulder.

Chapter 3: The Start of Something Truly Tragic

Minoru Mineta looked at the results of the hero test on the screen. He was thirty sixth, and he should be admitted! His dreams of being a hero and finally getting laid should be on track!

…But why did the holographic disc say that he had failed?

He looked up UA's website, before going through the several tabs, skipping the great brochures about what the programs at UA offered, and the various good things they had done for society, and headed straight for the admissions page.

On top of the scores on the Hero Test, there was a rather moderately sized orange box. Mineta's eyes narrowed as he read, hands tightening around his Mt. Lady figurine.

"Due to a modified recommended exam, this year, UA will be taking five reccomended students instead of four."

Mineta's knuckles grew white. The figure in his hands bent ominously.

"My spot was stolen by a fucking elitist!" he shouted, slamming a fist down. The pedestal of the figurine impacted his desk and snapped off, ricocheting off the artificial wood and making a dent in the drywall.

After gently putting down what remained of Mt. Lady, Mineta staggered to his bed and collapsed, face down on his pillow.

Now he could never be a cool hero! He was stuck in general education! He couldn't show his stuff at the Sports Festival and maybe get a hot babe to go out with him!

"Wait a minute… The Sports Festival…" He sat up, eyes narrowed. Turning back to his computer, he looked up the rules for General Education promotion. If he managed to beat out that elitist bastard admitted on special conditions… Then he would be able to replace them!

"I'm coming for you, whoever you are!" Mineta shouted, turning his attention back to the website. He went to the tab that showcased the resume of the Recommended students.

"Todoroki Shoto… Son of Endeavor… Probably not him."

"Hans Christian Anderson… Saved pro hero Iceblade's life…"

"Setsuna Tokage… Splitting quirk? Weird."

"Juzo Honenuki… Looks intimidating…"

"Yaoyorozu Momo… "

"Wait… that Yaoyorozu?" Mineta said, thinking back to the various products his mother used with that name on it. Typing up yet another name on his search bar, the name of a fortune 500 company came up.

He had spotted the elitist who took his spot. The tall girl whose smile was frozen within the picture of her profile on the UA website.

"Normally, since you look pretty hot, I'll give you a pass…" Mintea growled, his right hand now tightening over his Midnight figure. "However, you've blocked my path to my master plan! And for that…"

His eyes gleamed, filled with a foreign passion previously unknown to him. Despite being envious of several people and their riajuu status, he had never truly felt… spiteful.

"I'm going to surpass you!"

…

"While it is unknown why this has occurred, in the past four months, the Hero killer has gotten progressively more active. Instead of targeting heroes, it has become more of an indiscriminate assault, along with much less of a showy aspect or his usual rhetoric of fake and real heroes. And as the Hero Killer Stain murders yet another hero, Suzuki, I think that we've entered another era of his M.O."

"Thank you for your time. We have been speaking Ito Sanazuki, crime analyst, thank you for your time."

"Thank you for having me."

Hans munched into his bowl of cereal. Beside him, the little match girl waved her spirit hands through the colorful marshmallows and the dull, slightly crusty corn flakes, unable to pick it up.

"Give it up already." the snow queen said, watching the exchange with a look of abject boredom. "You try to do this everyday. We're cursed by the things that killed us. I can't hold a conversation with any toddlers, because somehow crying kids made me disappear. You can't pick up food because you, well…"

"And what of me?" Hans said, looking up at the figure. "I died of liver-"

"You're different from us."

"I am and was a real person, yes."

"Stop having philosophical debates with your summons and eat your breakfast, Hans." his mother snapped, before her tone softened. "Do you have your uniform on yet?"

"Regretfully, yes." Hans said, looking down at the weirdly elaborate UA school uniforms. What were the green collars supposed to do, establish them as part of the main cast? It was, if anything, lazy storytelling.

"Anyways, you'll be going to a hero course. You have to watch out. Don't stress your quirk too much. If you need to leave your summons at home to stop your headache, then do it. I'll take Hestia to work if she bothers you too much." Anne said, picking up the spirit that was desperately trying to get at the marshmallows.

"She doesn't have a name, mom." Hans said. "Your supposed 'Hestia' was a girl that-"

"I don't want to hear her gloomy backstory ever again." she said, sighing and tustling the little girl's hair. "I swear, why did your namesake write such gloomy stories?"

"Yeah…" Hans said, looking at the unopened envelopes of unpaid bills. "I wonder why."

Rent, treatment for his grandfather's liver cancer (which did not bode well for Hans's own future due to genetic inheritance), electricity, water, food, and the hefty tuition to UA, albeit supplemented by a scholarship due to his healing quirk.

"I could drop out of UA, you know, mom." Hans said, looking back at his mother, who was already in the middle of a work-related email. "If it really costs too much, we can-"

"Du kan gøre meget godt i denne verden, Hans." his mother said, suddenly blurting out the sentence in Danish. ("You can do a lot of good in this world, Hans.")

"Desuden betaler Helte mere i Japan end I Danmark. Jeg er dog ked af at vi flyttede herover i det hele taget." Anne said, sighing. ("Besides, Heroes pay more in Japan than in Denmark. I'm sorry about moving us here in the first place, though." )

"Jeg skriver bare nogle flere bøger." Hans said, ("I can just write more books.")

His mind flashed back to the mother of his previous life, who had been impoverished for all of her life.

"Jeg setter tilskrivningsfrister for migselv. Jeg sælger bøger så at dig og far kan leve et godt liv." ("I'll set deadlines for myself. I'll sell enough books to make sure you and dad can live a nice life.")

"You're still in school. Don't think about work just yet." Anne said, returning to slightly awkward Japanese, rustling Hans's blue hair. She then turned, tone now slightly hesitant.

"But if you could, well… Your grandfather isn't doing very well. If we could just get enough for…"

"Yeah, yeah." Hans said dully. "I'll look into it. But I suppose that with the workload of the Hero course, that wouldn't really be an option, would it?"

One by one, his spirits returned to his head. The little match girl made one last grab at the cereal. The ice queen dissolved with a quiet sigh. The elder tree mother shrank back into her pot, before the pot itself disappeared. His mind filled up with the cacophony of the fairytales interacting with each other in boredom, along with several attempts at backseat driving.

"Let's take the train this time." the snow queen grumbled.

"No, no! Let's walk! I really want to stretch my legs" the tree said.

"You have no legs to stretch! Did you forget about the admissions test already?"

Hans sighed and headed for the bus.

…

Surprisingly, Hans was the earliest to arrive at the classroom. After slipping under the main flow of the crowd with his relatively short stature, his creations managed to scout out the classroom relatively quickly.

Hans looked at the door handle. The door handle stared back.

"Am I really going to be studying to be a hero?" he muttered, outstretched hand now paused in midair. It honestly felt a little redundant. Even if he hadn't done much other than write and drink coffee at Chaldea, at least he sort of participated in the singularities.

"It's exciting, isn't it?" somebody shouted from right behind him. Hans nearly tripped into the door handle.

After narrowly avoiding losing an eye, he looked back to see a person smiling enthusiastically. The person then proceeded to slam two blocky fists together, making the sound of wood hitting wood.

"Is that supposed to intimidate me or something?" Hans thought, further appraising the figure.

They were taller than Hans, though that wasn't very hard to achieve. In fact, if there was one person that was shorter than him in the Hero course, Hans would be eating his shoes in disbelief. Their hair was also freshly dyed red, though to be perfectly honest, Hans wouldn't really know that it was hair dye if it wasn't for the splotches of red on the boy's fingers.

And in this shounen manga-like world, they probably were not the protagonist.

"After all of our hard work, we can finally work to become heroes!"

"Ah, yes." Hans said sarcastically. "We're working so we can work in a class of underpaid prestige, in which, once we become obsolete or crippled, will be replaced almost instantly."

There was a brief moment of silence, before Hans pushed open the doors to the classroom and reached upwards for the light switch with a low grunt of effort.

"Different tuition numbers. Still the same desks and chairs. Why did my parents even bother…" Hans muttered.

"That's… that's not very manly of you." the teenager stuttered, his confident personal clearly unsure as to how to act. "You're at UA! You get to be a hero like you've always dreamed you could be! Where's your sense of wonder?"

"I've already been one." Hans wanted to say. "And I got paid nothing."

"I'm not the one that's going to be a hero here." Hans said, gesturing to his twig-like arms. "I'm here to heal you guys so you can keep being my meat shields."

"A healing quirk, huh? That's pretty manly! My name's Kirishima, by the way. And you?"

"Hans Christian Anderson." Hans said, hoisting himself onto a chair and staring glumly at the whiteboard.

"You from Germany?"

"Denmark." Hans said, his expression souring a tad bit.

"My quirk is hardening, if you haven't noticed! And if you can just keep healing me as I go in and take the hits, man, we could make a pretty manly duo!" Kirishima pumped his fist up at the word 'manly' like it was some sort of mental trigger.

Hans looked at the overenthusiastic redhead and sighed inwardly. Then, he actually sighed because he had no obligations to keep Kirishima happy.

"What's wrong dude?" Kirishima asked, "Does that… not sound like a manly idea?"

"If you can find one person less 'manly' than me, then please go ahead and do so." Hans said, smiling sarcastically. "I would like to shake their hand."

Kirishima's frown deepened, and Mineta sneezed in the 1-C classrooms.

Hans, in the meanwhile, got the Elder Tree Mother out of his mind and manifested her as a potted plant, putting it in the corner closest to a window.

…

The conversation continued on for several minutes, during which new members of the class entered the room, looked at the two, and sat around the two currently in an "intense" debate. At the later stages, it had just turned into a psychoanalysis.

"Your cheerful persona is a positive outlook to have." Hans said, staring into Kirishima's dark eyes. "However, you still do not truly believe that you can live up to your own standards. You regretted something in the past, and now you're trying to atone for a self perceived fault."

"Hey, I don't know what you're talking about!" Kirishima tried to deflect the statement, looking to the side and rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're vehemently trying to deny it, because that period of self doubt must have had a huge impact on you. Because you found your role model or something." Hans said, noticing the dye on Kirishima's hands once more. "Thus, you dyed your hair to emulate your role model and-"

"H-how do you know this?"

"I notice things." Hans said, turning to look at the clock. "It's what I do."

As Kirishima contemplated his existence, somebody else walked into the room.

"Hello there, everybody! I hope we can get along this y-"

Yaoyorozu noticed Hans, and went silent.

"Well?" Hans said, raising an eyebrow. "You look like you haven't changed at all."

"It's even harder to change a community." Yaoyorozu said. "Pro Heroes usually stop two thousand five hundred and eighty one crime cases a year on average, and even if I sold my whole mansion, the impact that it would have on the part of the population that is desperate enough to commit crimes would be negligible."

"To be perfectly honest, I don't know the first thing about helping a community." Hans said, smiling. "I was just annoyed when you said that those giant robots wouldn't cost much. Also… UA can literally make empty cities. If that isn't a significant difference, then I don't know what is."

"Those robots create much more benefits than they cost!" Yaoyorozu argued. "They are used for training the next generation of heroes, who stop two thousand and-"

"Yeah, yeah. We get it. They stop crimes. But UA has multiple fake cities and buildings on site with working electricity. I'd think that these resources could be better utilized elsewhere. But, of course, they have to take away taxpayer money in order to create a market for heroes, and to create a market for heroes…"

The room went silent.

"Truly. A mad banquet of darkness." a bird headed student said. "Perhaps the true shadow of humanity lies not in its villains, but in its leaders."

"Exactly." Hans said, looking at said student with a hint of amusement on his face. "Do I get a raven as a classmate? What's next, an ugly duckling? Was this class going to turn into a gathering of his fairytales?"

"You understand the world as I do." the bird-headed student said, without a hint of surprise in his voice.

"I do, but I'm not so over dramatic about everything." Hans said, looking back at Yaoyorozu, whose brain still hadn't rebooted. "Nice to meet you, by the way."

"I'm Tokoyami. Fumikage. Nice to meet y-."

"Oh, my god! Will you people just shut the fuck up!"

Everybody turned to see a spiky haired blonde teenager slam their palm onto the desk and scream like there was no tomorrow. Hans nearly fell from his chair, before looking up to see…

It was…

"What the fuck are you looking at, extra?" Bakugo Katsuki said, gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes at Hans. "Stop bitching about what Heroes should be and be quiet like an extra should be."

This person was so…

"You keep talking about giving villains shit, by the way. That isn't going to work. As long as you crush them, they won't do their shit again. Which means that we should just do our fucking jobs as UA students!"

Filled with so many character defects!

The aggression, the mean-spiritedness, the superiority complex, along with the very obvious surface level issues of 'main character syndrome'.

There were so many targets. So many potential insults. It was like finding a document filled with thousands of words the hour before a deadline was to ask for said manuscripts.

"Hey… Hey!" the teenager said, slowly walking up to Hans, who finally focused his eyes back on the angry teenager.

"What were you looking at… you extra?" Several menacing explosions were set off right in front of Hans's face, making the unremovable burns all over his body pulse. Hans, however, just stared back into his eyes.

"I was looking at your various complexes."

"What did you say you little shit?"

"How dare you speak to a classmate like that?" a tall boy said, finally intervening in the various loud arguments. As the two introduced themselves and proceeded to argue about school conduct, Hans settled back and began to ruminate over what issue to address first when talking to the now named Bakugo Katsuki.

That wonderful train of thought was interrupted by yet another new arrival. A green-haired boy wearing red shoes.

Red… shoes.

Hans could already see the footless, crawling ghost out of a horror movie that was the manifestation of the girl that was the main character of The Red Shoes enacting her vengeance on the piece of attire. Mentally repressing the normally dormant spirit, Hans settled in to watch yet… another shouting tournament.

"This really is a shounen world." Hans muttered. "Terrible worldbuilding and weak character interaction."

A certain student with two-toned hair, and another one with earphone jacks definitely heard that.

"Speaking of which, why did I get put behind the tall girl?" Hans said, slightly irritated. "It's almost like they assigned these seats via random chance and didn't consider anything other than student number. Where does this school even put their budget?"

At the word budget, Yaoyorozu twitched.

"I swear." Yaoyorozu said, turning around. Her normally smiling face was strained into a neutral expression. "You were sent here by the gods just to torment me."

"We were all born with a purpose." Hans said, replying to a remark that was supposed to get him to stop talking. "Mine is to irritate as many people as possible."

Just then, his abysmal rank of territory creation informed him of something large and… yellow outside the door, right behind the boy wearing red shoes and a girl that was enthusiastically mimicking punches.

"Can you look outside the door, by the way?" Hans said, slightly nervously. "I think some sort of worm thing just slid outside our door. Normally, I'd assume that this is a villian, but since this is UA, the budget-"

"Oh, all right!" Yaoyorozu said, swerving around and leaning out to see the doorway. "See, there's noth- oh my god. There's actually a yellow caterpillar outside the doorway."

"It took you that long to notice me." a deep, tired voice said. There was the sound of a zipper, before out of the yellow cocoon emerged a tired and dark butterfly. The man slouched into the room, walking past the shell-shocked students that were standing in the doorway.

"This is the hero course. You all will have to be more alert." the hobo said, leaning on the teacher's desk and muttering out an extremely charismatic speech.

"You were only there for about ten seconds, and you were literally lying on the ground. How do you expect people to see you?" Hans thought. "Why must this school be filled with overdramatic edgelords?"

"Anyways, change into your gym uniform and head to the track fields. We're doing a quirk assessment test today."

Hans sighed. Why was it always tests with these schools? Dragging his feet behind his taller and more athletic classmates, he took one last look at the potted plant he had put in the corner of the room. Despite talking about attentiveness as a hero, their teacher did not live up to their own words and hadn't noticed the non-classroom standard potted plant.

"Hypocrites, hypocrites. Why can I spot you everywhere I look?" Hans took a last look back through the now-empty classroom. "Alle de kvajpander bliver min anden død." ("All these idiots will be the cause of my second death.")

…

"Director. The next set is ready."

"Alright." a sensual voice said, grinning at the peon. "Take me there…"

"Ye-yeah." The stage manager gulped, looking at the voluptuous woman wanting to act in the remake of The Little Mermaid herself as director. He had to say, she fit the role perfectly.

"Miss Sessyoin. I'm so glad to work with you." another actor said, walking up and shaking her hand. Kiara could tell, however, that his gaze was not on her eyes.

"Likewise." she said, her voice deep and mature. Several of the workers on set began to stare. Again, she didn't mind. She was an incarnation of humanity's lust, after all.

"Director. You must, once more, consider your costume choices." the costume designer said. "Again, this is a K-rated movie, and since it isn't in the animated medium…"

"Alright, alright." Kiara said, looking at the subordinate who dared to defy her. "I guess we'll put production on hold today. We'll run the costumes through the sewing machines again."

"Thank you for your understanding, ma'am." The young woman walked away, muttering about adjustments and modifications already.

"Bodhisattva, what should we do with her?" her drivers said, as they drove out of Disney's studios. They were wonderful servants, brainwashed and joining her cult.

"Get her fired." Kiara said. "Use whatever means necessary."

"I hope you enjoy what I'm doing to your fairytales… Hans…" Licking her lips, she imagined the infuriated look on the parents who would inevitably take their children to watch a new, more… salacious remake of The Little Mermaid.

For some reason, she had been reborn into this new and interesting world. Though the humans were different, their minds were still the same. So easily malleable.

And her plot… had just begun. Looking at a little soldier standing on the hood of her car as an ornament, she thought about her next target.

The Steadfast Tin Soldier… now how could such a stoic tale be corrupted?

Hans's fairtyales could only belong to her. Twisting the tales in the mind of the public wouldn't be enough to keep her as the sole reader, but changing their real meaning and keeping the core of the story to herself gave her some satisfaction.

She had wanted to become the little mermaid, the pinnacle of his masterpiece. It pained her heart to twist the childish yet pessimistic tale into something tainted by her impure desires.

Still, if Hans truly was in this world, then this would undoubtedly be the best way to get his attention.

"Now… About that statue of Hans…"

"We'll steal it." the driver said immediately, "My lady… We'll do anything for you. But, is there any reason we need to risk fellow believers to steal a statue?"

"That man is very, very important to me." Kiara sighed dreamily.

"Of course." the driver said, knuckles white against the driver's wheel. The jealousy in his body language was as obvious as could be, yet Kiara paid no attention.

…

On the way to UA's athletics field, Hans felt a wave of goosebumps pass over his body. It was almost like somebody walked on his grave, or was stabbing a doll of him with pins… or something.

Chapter 4: Assessments are just shorter Deadlines

Honestly, Hans should've known better than to hope for anything but races in UA's curriculum. First, there was the recommendation exam. Now? There was this… obvious track field that he was standing in.

He looked down at his uniform. His legs were a gigantic, walking 'A' that was dwarfed by the other uniforms cleverly showing the letters 'U' and 'A' in an effort to promote school spirit.

"These uniforms are… kind of ugly." he muttered, looking down at the logo. "It's like I'm a walking billboard. Did they seriously just make us wear the school name?"

"What do you mean school name?" Kaminari said, raising an eyebrow at Hans. Then, he looked down at his own uniform.

"Oh. UA. I get it now."

"Stop fawning over your uniforms and get on with our exercise." Aizawa droned on, "This is the hero course."

"Yes. We know. We all found the classroom." Hans said dryly, looking at the irritatingly apathetic teacher. The cold glare that Aizawa had was making Hans slightly jealous, to be perfectly honest.

But it wasn't a totally cold glare. In his eyes were still a tiny hint of fear. There was a tiny hint of joy, too, along with a hint of sadness.

Hans narrowed his eyes, then smirked. He had almost gotten down Aizawa's backstory.

"Do you think that your attitude is really fitting for the hero course?" Aizawa said. "As sidekicks and in the hero industry, you will have to follow those superior to you in order to better assist in arrests. It's irrational to-"

At this point, Hans had toned out the conversation. As Aizawa rambled on about whatever irrationality this… pro hero was talking about… He realized one thing.

Aizawa was only being this harsh to scare people off of the hero track. There were very little second year UA students because of said scare tactic. The vague statements about practicality and the rush for preparation meant that because of his own lack of strength or preparation, it had cost Aizawa something.

As Bakugo threw the ball with a violent exclamation, Hans looked at the "impressive" score of seven hundred meters in "shock".

While he couldn't do that even as a servant, even the Phantom of the Opera could do something more impressive. That something was nothing related to physical ability (and, instead, was the ability to charm a female servant with a mismatched deck and 2 star servant stats), but still…

The resulting jubilation about finally being able to cut loose, however, made Hans a little more concerned, though he wasn't that afraid of it. In many a times of him initially going onto the streets and roasting those who stood above him (literally), he had been faced with several violent threats by either surly heteromorphs or egomaniacs with slightly more impressive quirks.

Them going "all out" wasn't exactly terrifying or particularly dangerous, in comparison to all the mobs he fought in Chaldea.

"The person that places last on this exam… Would be expelled."

Oh, great. And he had just paid the tuition to this school, too. Hans sighed. Why did hypocrites have to follow him everywhere he went?

Thus, as they all gathered in order to participate in- you guessed it- a short distance sprint, Hans looked at all the other hero students giving it their all, looked up at the sweltering sun, and sighed.

The mock gun fired.

As Tokoyami, the person who sat besides Hans, ran for it without using his sentient quirk, Hans decided to walk deliberately slowly across the track.

The whole class stared nervously at the diminutive child casually stroll across the tracks that they had so fervently ran across.

"Student number seventeen." Aizawa said, glaring at Hans. "What was that?"

"I was completing the test." Hans said, looking at Aizawa, still standing in the middle of the track.

"You think this is a joke, you little shit?" Bakugo roared, his hands crackling like firecrackers. As other students backed away, Hans sat down and looked straight at Bakugo.

"I'm last in this test anyways." Hans said, smirking. "Also, rationally…"

Aizawa glared at Hans, who stared back into Aizawa's silently fuming eyes before returning to his rant.

"...If I'm already going to be placed last on this test, why would I still try to waste my effort on this dash?"

"It's fifty fucking meters. If your weak ass can't run fifty fucking meters, then you might as well get out, extra."

"There you go again. Flaunting your physical and genetic superiority over us hereditary peasants." Hans said. "If you weren't born with that fancy explosion quirk, where would you be now?"

"Much better than your useless ass, even with your two-bit quirk." Bakugo said, scoffing. "Now stop fucking wasting time and move on!"

"Why should I?"

"Anderson. Move on with the race, or you're expelled." Aizawa said. The class immediately began to murmur once more.

"Fine, fine." Hans said. "Damn races… You all don't have any patience at all, do you?"

As Hans finally walked past the finish line, the little timer chirped out his score. "Sixty two seconds."

"Was I the slowest examinee in history for this test?" Hans said, turning around to ask Aizawa, who just ignored him. "Fine, then. Don't answer."

…

Next, was the grip strength test.

Hans looked at Thumbelina's gigantic hand, which could not get a good grip on the narrow bar.

"Well, this was an oversight." He said, sighing.

The machine was promptly crushed, with Thumbelina bending the bar in half.

"Damn problem child…" Aizawa muttered.

"Didn't you just go on a tirade about why hero school resources should be conserved?" Yaoyorozu said, twisting the vice in her grip to better clamp down on the bar.

"Didn't you just mention how cheap this equipment was?" Hans said in response.

Yaoyorozu staggered like she was hurt physically.

"That's right." she said, her voice hollow. "I did say that."

…

Hans slid over an ice covering of the sand pit. The Ice queen drew some eyeballs and raised brows as she popped out of Hans's mind and froze the pit absentmindedly.

Aizawa looked at the frozen ice pit, eyebrows twitching..

"Can anybody defrost this?"

Todoroki looked at the pit of ice, then at his left side, and said nothing.

…

Hans firmly stood in place during the repeated side steps.

"Score: Zero!" a camera chirped cheerfully.

"Anderson, stop being irrational." Aizawa growled. "This is a test meant to bring out your best, and to establish parameters for your training as a H-"

Anderson stepped once to the left, then once to the right.

Aizawa sighed and tallied down a one on his scoresheet.

…

Dark Shadow hurled the ball forwards, the long, whiplike bird creature sending the sphere far into the distance. Hans had to adjust his slightly sweaty glasses to see where the ball landed.

"Two hundred and fifty meters!" the annoying scorekeeper robot said.

"Alright, Hans. You're up."

Hans walked into the chalk circle. He looked up at the cloud passing the sun. Shade cascaded down from the heavens as sunlight retreated, leaving a bit of coldness in its wake.

Hans decided that… It was a good time for a nap. After all, they had stood in the sun for about five minutes, waiting for Uraraka's ball to come down from her score of infinity, so they could afford to wait for this cloud to float by.

Looking at the baseball, Hans sighed, put down the ball, and withdrew… another fairytale from his head. In his outstretched palms were several ducklings. They quacked and bickered with each other upon their summoning, some pecking their neighbors while others screeched loudly. Amongst them was a very, very ugly duckling. It was a pale gray, and its feathers were rather wrinkled.

Hans cleared his throat to address the baby animals, and they all ceased their random activities to stare their beady little eyes into Hans's eyes.

Hans placed the ducklings on the ground. The slightly larger-than-normal ducks looked at Hans, and then the ball.

"Carry this as far as you can go."

The ducks collectively nodded as many in the crowd of students looked at the animals with a confused expression on their face.

The slightly less uglier ducklings pushed the ball onto the pale gray duckling's back, before the group of animals began to waddle forwards slowly. The rather heavy ball was taking a toll on the creatures, but they were growing larger by the second.

As Hans lay down on the dirt and watched his small army of animals waddle forth, he thought that there might be a quirk introducing blurb playing if this were a shounen anime.

…'

Aizawa tapped his foot and looked at the small child that was peacefully sleeping in the shade of a rather long cloud passing overhead. His hero class had all sat down, and began to converse with one another. One slightly turtle-like student had even called over some birds and was chirping quietly to them.

Bakugo, however, stood and glared at the blue haired child, while the other problem child in his class, Midoriya, was still a nervous wreck, pacing and muttering about his results.

The blue-haired child sat at a rather below average sixteen out of twenty on the placements, but this test was about to raise that score. Aizawa looked at the slowly rising numbers as the ducks (why did it have to be ducks, of all things?) waddled forwards to the other end of the field.

Yawning underneath his bandages, Aizawa considered sitting down as well, but decided against it. He still had his image as a teacher to maintain.

Aizawa, instead, decided to try to analyze the student that was Hans Christian Anderson, an incredibly cynical student with an ironic quirk that didn't coincide with his personality at all: one about fairy tales.

That was, possibly, a summon of the Ugly Duckling that carried the ball away. Not to mention the other summons from before.

Was this some sort of allegory? Some sort of statement that he was trying to make? Why were the summons only from fairy tales?

For a moment, Aizawa pondered this fact. He had seen the gigantic hand that appeared during the grip strength test, and had seen its power. Why would Anderson summon such a mundane group of ducks instead of a… more efficient method? He knew that Anderson was anything but irrational, holding the most realistic view of heroism out of the whole class.

…Was he trying to make a statement?

His mind shot back to Shirakumo, and his constant regrets about his own inability to jump in and do something about that gigantic villain. If only he had acted earlier…

But Shirakumo is dead now. And it was all because of his incompetence.

But this kid. Had the audacity… to suggest that they could relax in the hero course?

Does he want to die? Like all the others?

Aizawa's stalwart expression did not falter, but his emotions were twisting like a raging storm.

…

Hans opened his eyes, noting with slight irritation the sweat that was slowly sliding down his forehead. After a bit of deliberation between getting up or continuing to pretend to sleep just to irritate wannabe heroes, he got up.

It wouldn't do to antagonize everybody.

He yawned and ruffled his hair, surveying the class. One blonde looked seething mad. Another one was smiling like he had told a good joke. Tokoyami was brooding cheerfully, while Yaoyorozu was still glaring at him, her eyes telling him that she was no doubt thinking about some sort of socioeconomic theory to continue to argue with him.

Looking at Yaoyorozu and Bakugo, he gave a smug smirk. The best he could manage. Predictably, it pissed them off. Then, he turned to the teacher.

"What was my score?"

"...Still undetermined." Aizawa muttered blandly, though with a flatness born of habit, not of boredom. "How long can your ducks exist for?"

"Theoretically?"

"Yes."

"About fifteen years, which is the average lifespan for a duck. Then, they'll create the next generation and the ball will continue to be carried forward.

"...So does your quirk just create ducks?" the green haired kid constantly having a panic attack asked.

"They're still fake ducks. They just act like real ducks."

"Then what's the difference? Can you still feel them draining your energy? How do your summons work, by the way? Is there a quota?"

Hans felt a bit of irritation well up inside him. Did the kid have any social awareness? Hans was well aware that he just pissed off half the class, but to be perfectly honest, he was well aware of the consequences of doing so.

That kid just didn't have a filter.

Somebody, though, did the yelling for him.

"Shut the fuck up, Deku!"

…That gratitude was immediately erased when he realized that it was Bakugo who shouted that.

"Bakugo, back off. Midoriya, it's your turn to throw the ball."

The perfectly normal kid walked up to the ballpit… and threw the ball normally. Hans raised an eyebrow. He felt like he was missing a narratively important moment, and it did not stick well with him as an author.

"But my quirk… I was using it."

"You fucking idiots! Deku doesn't have a quirk! He must have cheated in the entrance exam, because there's no way he actually got in." Bakugo said, crossing his arms and smirking.

"Are you not aware of what he accomplished in the entrance exam?"

As Aizawa mumbled to Midoriya, Hans came to a sinking realization.

Non-standard hair color…

The boy looked at the distance with a steely expression…

Almost unrelenting determination…

Then, Midoriya wound back his arm, twisted his body… and threw. A sonic boom emanated throughout the track field, blowing Hans back into the examinee behind him. Regaining his footing after a hand helped him up, he collapsed to his knees.

"And uncontrollable power at the start of the series." Hans mumbled out loud.

Oh fuck. Hans really was in a shounen anime. And the protagonist was useless.

Hans foresaw a couple of power buffs to the protagonist in the future. Still, as a side character in this newly established shounen genre, he faced an even greater challenge:

Surviving.

…

At the finish line of the long distance run, Bakugo looked back at the pathetic extras still struggling to finish the race.

He wasn't alone at the finish line, though.

Ponytail had pulled a fucking scooter out of her stomach and finished the race before him, and Four-Eyes had a shitty speed quirk. Bakugo looked down at his slightly shaking hands, tired from making all the explosions to change directions rapidly in the curved track. Despite what excuses he could make in his mind, he was still pissed off.

Meanwhile, he looked at that blue haired little shit that was walking down the race track… and paused.

That little shit HAD made it past a hero test. It was probably his weird fucking quirk about storybook characters or some shit that let him pass, but…

"If you weren't born with that fancy explosion quirk, where would you be now?"

Instead of being given a stupid ass weak body like that blue haired kid, Bakugo had always been stronger and faster than the other kids. His bones were even tougher, and his skin was more resistant to fire.

(What if he was like Deku… and didn't get his quirk at four? Would he still be here? What if Deku got his explosion quirk instead? Would he be more useful?)

That kid, though… Bakugo narrowed his eyes, and looked. Even though there was no fire in this test, the kid's arms were patched with angry red spots that were probably burns. He had seen a lot of those in his… very misguided youth.

"What the fuck…" Bakugo muttered. "Is wrong with this kid?"

Across different dimensions and even inside a computer, several nuns, summoners, and storybook incarnates simultaneously sneezed.

…

Hans ended up thirteenth in the rankings. Even if he was dead last in a couple of tests, he did manage to get optimal results in most of the other tests. Ball throw? Infinite. Grip strength? Machine was destroyed. Long jump? He walked past the sand pit. Seated toe touch and situps were pretty easy as well, with many of his humanoid summons assisting him.

Sadly, however, there was still the matter of expulsions. Midoriya quivered in his boots at his last place result, but Hans knew that they probably weren't going to expel the protagonist.

"Nobody will be expelled." Aizawa said dully. "It was a rational deception to draw out the upper limits of your quirks."

Hans smirked at the expressions of his classmates and Yaoyorozu's self assured expression. If only they knew that there were only ten second year students that remained in Aizawa's class last year.

Hans began to walk off of the accursed track fields. His legs were sore from walking the whole length of the long distance run, and he regretted his choices made in petty spite.

This whole world was hypocritical, including him. Why didn't he just lie down and get expelled, if he was so against the system of heroics?

Sadly, he already knew the answer. Because his own pettiness just couldn't resist.

…

A week ago…

…

Walking out onto the rooftop of his apartment complex in a loose ensemble of red and black gear, all the while carrying a large, black bow, weird sword-like arrows, and two curved swords, Spinner grinned. Overall, he looked like an anime cosplayer reject.

It had only been a week since he had been recommended the Fate series. And ever since he had been told to read the story from a 4chan message chain arguing about Stain's ideals, he had never put down the computer until he finished it.

"A true hero saves everybody…" Spinner said, smiling. "Even the villains… Hans Christian Anderson, honored author, you are truly wise. You have opened my eyes to a new tru-"

Then, out of nowhere, a movie poster attacked him. The last thing he saw was a demonic drawing of the little mermaid pouncing on him, opening its jaws within the picture frame, and putting down on his face.

That night, Spinner nursed several bite marks on his reptilian skin. Going out to do a true hero's work would have to wait a couple of hours.

Inside a plastic bag, the demonic movie poster thrashed.

Chapter 5: Generic Filler Episode

School was just as boring as he imagined. What actually was the problem was authorship.

One would think that writing a light novel inspired by Counter Guardian Emiya and his story with trying but failing to kill his younger self, then finally returning to shoot an ancient babylonian king in the head before death would find a suitable audience.

However, he encountered one of his greater enemies, never before known to him: Cancel culture.

Because of the themes of irrational heroism and "high schooler suddenly awakens power", after the first couple sets of books were sold, it was canceled by the media as a bad influence.

It was also another reason for why he thought so badly of this government, and why he kept on sprouting socioeconomic theories about why the government was making heroism into a profitable business.

Instead of draining society through crime, the government was draining society by wasting money on hero merch and creating artificial conflict between the powerful and the oppressed.

Hans wondered if there was a society out there that would fight for these supposedly oppressed people but actually just commit more crimes for a megacorporation to actually take over the world.

Using a stupid front like "liberating quirk usage to end villiany and prejudice" or something.

Anyways, back to the topic at hand.

The business of webnovels was difficult. It relied on daily updates, and people tend to donate more if you post daily, or even more than once daily. Either that or you needed to post chapters of such incredible length as to give actual novels a run for their money, though that was a lot less popular because when you stopped updating that quickly, you would lose attention.

Hans was not a speedy author, however. Most of his experiences extended to short stories, so even writing light novels pushed his capabilities.

Still, for money, he would persevere.

Even if he was paid 1,500 yen per thousand words, cancer treatment for one year cost about twenty million yen, which was nearly double his father's salary. Since both his parents worked the same job and pulled about twenty seven million yen every year, the cancer treatment would leave them with seven million yen.

Along with school bills of 1.5 million yen just for UA, rent, living costs, amongst other costs for ease of life(namely coffee)...

Hans was going to have to pay for UA on his own, at least. Still, the numbers were neat enough between the tuition cost and money paid per thousand words.

He would have to write a hundred thousand words per year. While staying in school and doing well enough in school to warrant the scholarship that allowed him to keep the annual tuition at 1.5 million yen.

It was going to be difficult. It was even harder, considering the fact that he hadn't been taught the things that UA wanted to teach him. Thankfully, he knew English and Japanese well enough thanks to the other authors that resided in Chaldea, so during language classes, he was stealthily tapping away at his tablet.

Being pro heroes, his teachers obviously noticed the tapping.

"Already distracted during the third day of school, Listener?"

Hans looked up into the terrible hairstyle that Present Mic had.

"Aah!" he yelped, looking at the strange, pillar-like monster in the fibers. Oh, wait, it was only hair.

"Oh, it's just you, teacher." Hans said in English.

"Yes. Of course it's me, wait-"

Present Mic paused and listened to the unaccented English.

"How are you this good at English?"

"...Natural talent?" Hans shrugged nervously, making his tablet disappear behind his back. Behind him, Midoriya looked at where the construct was suspiciously before taking out a slightly burnt notebook.

"Now. Whether you're good at English or not, you still have to listen in class. Hand over your tablet." Present Mic said, looking at Hans as sternly as somebody wearing shoulder pants could.

"Of course I was listening." Hans lied, holding out his now empty hands. The little mermaid yawned and got out of his backpack, looked at the situation, and then began to giggle. A silent glare from Hans silenced it.

"...You were typing on something, right?" Present Mic said, slowly pacing around Hans.

"Of course not." Hans said quickly. Then, noticing that he had repeated dialogue headers, he winced. Doing stuff like that always showed a distracted author was writing that piece…

He was going to have to proofread his work.

"Well, what was the last grammar point I went over?"

Hans looked at the whiteboard and a Kaminari that was still frantically copying down the fourth sentence.

"We were talking about apostrophe usage, weren't we?" Hans said.

As Present Mic looked back at his own slides to make sure Hans was correct, he sat back down. His cheek rested on his hands as he thought of another way to keep getting words in.

His lunch break was going to have to be sacrificed. For the second time this year.

…He had been caught in Japanese class last time.

…

Hans's eyes glazed over the two thousand words he had gotten in. Fate/Grand Order was a hassle to write, but it at least had a story that dragged on, and it was one that required little to no brainstorming on his part. He had been there for most of the journey, anyways.

In front of him, an empty plate of veggie sticks sat, their crumbs slowly cooling. One half-eaten stick remained wedged in the little cup of ranch sauce that came with it.

"I knew you were distracted during English class." Yaoyorozu Momo said from behind him with a distinctly smug aura.

Hans shrugged. "Prove it."

The tablet disappeared once more, right in front of Yaoyorozu's eyes. Her eyebrows began to twitch.

"How could you… Such…"

"Now, the rich could never understand the struggles of the proletariat." In the distance, Uraraka nodded, pausing her conversation with a certain green-haired child and turning to look at the burgeoning debate, nibbling on a bit of mochi. Iida and Midoriya turned as well.

"You view my writing as a mere distraction? No! I'm working to pay for my own tuition." Hans said. "Unlike you, whose lunches are prepared by five star chefs, mine… is too, since Lunch Rush is a five star chef."

There was an awkward silence amongst the tables surrounding Hans's

"Wow." Kaminari whispered. "No wonder the food tastes so good."

"However, I have to work for every coin that passes through my fingertips. And you? You've probably just sold your furniture on ebay whenever you've needed money. That or asked daddy dearest for the monetary value of a small country, which would undoubtedly be given without a second thought. Such is the life of the rich."

Yaoyorozu's mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"Now, I don't enjoy constantly bantering with you." Hans turned, grinning. He really did enjoy annoying rich people. "But just know this. Every word here? Is worth 1.5 yen."

His tablet appeared and began to scroll on its own, showcasing all two thousand characters.

"What?" Uraraka yelped, tripping over several stools and benches. "Money? Where?"

Hans made his tablet disappear again and backed away, hugging himself protectively. Uraraka's neck creaked, before she turned her head unnaturally to stare at Hans, who could feel greed emanating from her shadow.

"Hans."

"Back, demon, back!" Hans reflexively yelped. He tried to run for the exit, but tripped over a bench. Uraraka's blank expression. His breath quickened, before he took another look and… relaxed.

This wasn't the worst he'd faced.

Faced with Hans's nonchalance, Uraraka suddenly stumbled and blushed.

"What was I doing?" she muttered.

Hans reached up and patted her on the shoulder. "Poverty hits hard. We should know. But this… really isn't worth your time. Building a fanbase takes time and way too much effort. Trust me, that's hell you're walking into."

"Wait! I understood that reference!" somebody yelled in the background. "What was the blue-haired kid's name again?"

"I think… Hans Andersen?"

"Actually?"

"...What's the big deal?"

"Isn't he that author guy?"

"The fairytale author? Like from the new Disney remakes?"

Hans's blood boiled. The thought of those horrid movies was almost enough to send the one who said that a glare the likes of which even Bakugo would have respected.

"No, the one who wrote Fate/Unlimited Blade Works."

"I might search him up later. That is a cool title."

"It's also weird how the red archer knows the name of the timeline he came from." Hans thought.

"So your brother's the Ingenium… and Hans is an author?" Izuku said, scratching his head.

Compared to those, being All Might's disciple was… actually still pretty impressive. Still, all of his classmates were ahead of him, either in heroics or real life.

He would have to work harder.

(If only he had actually tried working out before he was promised a quirk…)

…

"Is he here yet?"

"No, you idiot. Nobody's entered the classroom."

"His quirk could be invisibility!"

"No, somebody's already got that."

"…What if that is Hans?"

Hans immediately ducked behind a wall. He knew that saying what he did in UA would do something to expose his identity.

He thought back to the horror stories of internet authors getting kidnapped into little black rooms with nothing but computers, water, and bread, and were told to write their crappy harem slice of life stories.

…Now that he thought about it, those were probably lies. Nobody would want to read that kind of story that much. Then again, thinking about the stats on those stories, he was getting a little bit nervous.

Was he secretly writing in a community of degenerates? Then again, it wasn't really a secret. The degenerates had no intentions of hiding.

He looked at a clock that hung in the hallways. It was almost time for class to start. Still, the students had no intention of leaving. Hans hovered around the corner, debating on whether or not to just take the tardy marking to avoid this situation.

Just then, a terrible, yet beautiful voice echoed throughout the hallways. Accompanied by an explosion, somebody began to shout.

"Fuck off, you extras!"

Bakugo's catchphrase startled the crowd into slowly leaving.

"Who the hell does that guy think he is, calling us extras?" a slightly muscular student said. With red, pointy hair and weird red bands lacing down his arms, he was probably a hero course reject.

"Do you want to fight him, though?"

"I heard he was number one in the entrance exam…"

As the various students filed out into the hallways leading to their own classrooms, Hans ducked his head and slowly strolled to 1-A's door.

"…Det her kommer til at give mig en migrene inden året er omme."

"What did that kid say?" the passing students said, walking past their intended target.

"...Something about a migraine?"

"I don't know. I don't speak swedish."

Hans's eye twitched. It was Danish, damn it!

…

That day, they had a new class, it turns out.

"The new course you all have been enrolled in is called hero studies." Aizawa droned.

Hans looked at the schedule. Yes, he could read. He already knew that it was called hero studies.

"The classes will be two hours long. Pro Heroes like me will come to give a lecture on what heroism will be about. For that class, you will be doing…"

He got out a ream of paper and slammed it onto the desk in front of him.

"Paperwork."

An uncharacteristic grin graced Aizawa's face.

Everybody, even the impassive Todoroki, looked at the sizable stack of paperwork they were going to have to do in two hours and…

Expressed disbelief in various ways.

The ream of paper was split into five, before they were passed back. Yaoyorozu roughly tossed the stack of stapled sheets onto Hans's desk, knocking over some carefully arranged pencils.

Hans looked at the ponytail obscuring his vision and sighed. Despite the totally logical nature of his arguments, the girl in front of him still bore a certain hostility towards him. Maybe it was the cynical tone of all of his speeches…

He shrugged. He rolled down his sleeves, looked at his thin and eternally slightly burnt arms, then at the still-sizeable ream of paper in front of him, and took it with both of his hands. The paper felt freshly printed, still slightly warm, with the faint scent of ink drifting through the air.

Hans put the ream of paper down, and summoned the ice queen. Very, very cold ethereal hands slapped Hans on the head, as if scolding him for his laziness, before lifting the paper and handing it to Midoriya.

Midoriya looked at the slightly frosty paper, and then at Hans. Hans, feeling the gaze, turned and brought a finger up to his lips.

Midoriya looked incredibly nervous.

…

"Wait a minute…" Hans said, narrowing his eyes. "This is paperwork that Aizawa-sensei was supposed to fill out. Quirk information forms? Student profiles? Middle school test scores? If this were an anime, this class would probably be filler or just straight out cut from the storyboard."

"Truly, a mad banquet of darkness." Tokoyami muttered. However, nobody else deigned to complain about the mountain of forms to be signed and the future joint pain that they would experience.

"More like a lazy banquet of sleep deprivation." Hans muttered, preparing to just activate his version of "rapid casting" (which was just writing or typing really fast) and blitzing through the paperwork.

He already had borderline carpal tunnels. He really didn't want to do this… But looking at the mountain and mountains of paperwork, he sighed and activated his skills.

As Midoriya got out his notebook from behind Hans and started to chronicle his suddenly drastically increased writing speed, Hans's paperwork began to fly into the air and smoke slightly from the speed that the pen was dragged across the paper.

Bakugo looked up from his paperwork, looked at Hans's slightly blurring form, and gritted his teeth. His already rather sloppy handwriting grew almost illegible as he tried to compete with the servant skill. An impossible feat, but impressive in his attempt.

"Damn you… Aizawa sensei…" Hans muttered, looking at the pile of paperwork now slowly floating to the floor. Yaoyorozu turned and looked at his blurring hands with jealousy, looking down at her own, still rather large, paperwork pile.

"Tch…" Yaoyorozu growled, turning back to her own paperwork with a new ferocity. The little mermaid emerged from Hans's nape and floated down to the papers on the floor, picking them up and slowly stacking them on a safe corner of Hans's desk.

"I'm sure that this has some sort of deeper meaning, like the entrance exam!" Iida said enthusiastically, somehow not that bothered by the paperwork.

"Shut the fuck up. This is just Aizawa's damn busy work." Bakugo said, causing Iida to send an affronted look at the person in the back seat, before slowly zoning into a lecture.

"As heroes, we must take responsibility for our potential paperwork in the future-"

Kaminari's eyes drooped, before he began to drool on the stack in front of him. Clearly, Iida had a second quirk: inducing sleep. Maybe he was related to Midnight, though considering their very different temperament, probably not.

"-Additionally, even if the teacher does give us work to do, as students of this prestigious institution, we shouldn't complain about the nature of work-"

Bakugo's eyes began to twitch.

"Aizawa sensei is working hard enough to educate us, so we should reciprocate his efforts-"

Finally, Hans arrived at the last page. With shaking hands, he slowly brought a page of Aizawa's insurance contract up to his eyes.

He looked at the piles of messy paperwork that lay on his desk, and then at Aizawa sleeping at the front of the classroom.

Resolutely, he got a match out of nowhere. With a snap of his fingers, it caught light. Iida spotted the match and leapt out of his seat, knocking over Tokoyami's paperwork stack in his flying leap. Kaminari sat up mid-snore and looked at the flying Iida in surprise.

"Nooo!" he shouted. "Andersen-san, let go of the match!"

"Sure." Hans said, smiling.

Hans let the match go.

Surprisingly, Bakugo began to laugh as the page went up in flames.

…

Hans walked into the grocery store, hands still shaking and slightly swollen. He had been the only one to finish the forms that day. Most other people had to take them home to finish. The familiar smell of cheap bentos and strangely flavored snacks invaded his sense of smell, but he ignored it in favor of walking towards the minifridge. Opening up the glass cabinet, he reached for a chilly can of coffee.

As his fingers closed around the cheap little can of heaven, he sighed as his joint pain was slightly eased.

"You know, I could have just made some ice for you." the snow queen muttered in his mind.

"That's illegal." Hans said, drawing some strange glances. Hans turned, glared at a nervous kid trying to smuggle out gummy worms, and pointed at the shelf.

"Come on, dude." the kid moaned. "I was going to get away with it, too! My storage quirk can-"

"Yes. That's illegal, as well as stupid." Hans said.

As the kid was slowly swarmed by the store employees, Hans walked to the cashier and bought the can of coffee.

"Is it really healthy for a kid your age to keep chugging coffee?" The high schooler manning the counter said, leaning over the cash register to look at Hans's blue hair.

"I'm a high schooler." Hans said, slamming his student ID on the counter. Seeing the prominent "UA" symbol on the card, the high schooler shrank back and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry, dude. Well, good luck on whatever you need that coffee for."

Hans took a deep breath, sighed…

And was immediately tackled by a movie poster. A hauntingly familiar face peeked up at him, Hans going momentarily stiff before starting to kick at the paper. The paper sprouted fangs, turning pitch black, before biting down on his sneakers.

Hans stood up and held up his foot.

"This isn't that threatening…" he said, thinking about why the hell he just saw Kiara's face in the demonic poster.

"It's probably one of those Harry Potter boggart scenarios… showing what we fear the most…"

Then, another chillingly familiar set of clothes jumped down from the top of the building, holding two equally familiar swords. With a hauntingly determined and chunni expression, the green-skinned man descended from the heavens and stabbed the sword into the pavement.

Hans looked at the Emiya cosplayer and sighed.

He knew that writing that novel would have consequences.

"Thanks for the help, I guess, cosplayer. The poster really wasn't threatening at all, though."

"No problem, citizen." the lizard Emiya cosplayer said.

Behind the cosplayer, another familiar figure rose. This time, wearing a red bandana and holding a jagged katana.

"There's somebody behind you." Hans said.

The lizard turned and looked Stain in the face. There was a pause, before the lizard threw his swords at the Hero Killer. The imitation of the married blades flew over Stain's head and stabbed into something that was in the dark alley behind Stain.

"What, is my visage so scary to you?" Stain said dramatically, unsheathing another katana. "For the perpetration of a society without heroes, vigilante… you must die."

Hans scoffed at the cheap attempt at seeming intimidating.

"I wasn't afraid of you." the lizard said. "Look behind you."

"Your cheap tricks won't fool me, you-"

"No, seriously, you idiot." Hans said, looking behind Stain and at a dark blob in the alleyway. "Look behind you."

Stain turned, and saw it.

Several severed movie posters swirled around what looked like a floating dress. The two swords that Spinner threw hadn't missed their target. They were stabbed straight into the hem of the dress.

With shuffling and rustling, the creature dragged itself out of the shadows. What was revealed by the light was the lower half of a little girl, made entirely out of growling movie posters gnashing their fangs together.

Creepy giggling echoed out in the street before the grocery store as it stood up. The blades fell to the ground, clattering loudly.

Hans scratched his head. Was this supposed to be a ripoff of Nursery Rhyme?

As the two vigilantes charged the ambiguous construct, Hans simply left.

"Shouldn't we help them?" the ice queen whispered.

"It's probably just some random villain." Hans shrugged. "The cosplayer and the idiot can handle that."

…

In the distance, Kiara frowned at the failed summoning of another servant."This is getting annoying."