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Blue Lock : The Spirit of The Greatest
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"A maid cafe!" Kaminari shouted, slamming his hands on his desk. "It's a classic! It's service! It's what the people want!"
"Too cliché," Jiro shot down, twirling one of her jacks. "Besides, who's going to be the maid? Bakugo?"
The mental image of Bakugo in a frilly dress sent a ripple of snickers through the room, only to be silenced by a small explosion from the blond's desk.
"I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"
"A haunted house!" Tokoyami suggested, Dark Shadow nodding vigorously behind him. "A revelry of darkness..."
"We did that in middle school," Ashido whined. "It's boring! We need something... POP! Something exciting! Something that says 'We are here!'"
"A skit?" Iida suggested, his hand chopping the air. "A dramatic reenactment of hero history to inspire the masses!"
"Boooooring!" the class chorused.
At the back of the room, the "Big 4" watched the chaos with varying levels of interest. Akaza was leaning back in his chair, watching the arguments like one might watch a nature documentary about noisy birds.
Rumi was balancing a pencil on her nose, clearly checking out of the conversation. Shoto was reading a book on structural engineering ( the real nerd), and Bakugo was fuming like always.
"They're so loud," Rumi mumbled, the pencil falling. "Can't we just... I don't know, fight Class B in a cage match? People would pay to see that."
"It's a cultural festival, Rumi," Akaza said, picking up the pencil and handing it back to her. "Not an underground fight club. We're supposed to make people happy, not send them to the hospital."
"Fighting makes me happy," she countered.
"Hey, Jiro!" Kaminari suddenly yelled, drawing the room's attention. "You have all those instruments in your room, right? You play, don't you?"
Jiro blushed, sinking into her collar. "I... well, yeah. A little. It's just a hobby..."
"We should do a band! A live performance! Music is the best way to hype a crowd!"
The idea caught fire. A live concert. It was loud, it was energetic, and it was something they could all contribute to.
"A band..." Ashido's eyes lit up. "And a dance team! We can do a huge dance number while the band plays!"
"And stage effects!" Kirishima added. "Lights! Smoke! Ice and fire!"
The class turned their eyes to the back of the room.
"Bakugo!" Sero called out. "You played drums in middle school, didn't you? I remember seeing you at the arcade once. You were a beast on the rhythm game!"
Bakugo scoffed, looking away. "Stupid extras. Why should I help you relieve your stress? We're here to be heroes, not a boy band."
"Is it because you're rusty?" Rumi called out, a sly grin on her face. "Scared you can't keep the beat anymore, Blasty?"
Bakugo's head snapped toward her, veins popping. "HAH?! I'M PERFECTION AT EVERYTHING I DO, RABBIT! I'LL PLAY THE DAMN DRUMS BETTER THAN ANY PRO YOU'VE EVER HEARD!"
He marched to the front of the room, grabbed a pair of drumsticks from Jiro's bag (which she hadn't even realized he knew was there), and hammered out a complex, aggressive, and perfectly timed solo on Iida's desk.
The class stared in shock.
"See?!" Bakugo roared, throwing the sticks down. "We're not just doing a concert. We're going to murder them with sound! We're going to be the best damn act U.A. has ever seen!"
"Okay, so Bakugo is drums," Momo noted on the board, smiling. "Jiro on bass and vocals. Tokoyami on guitar. Yaoyorozu on keys. We need one more..."
"I'll do it," Kaminari volunteered. "Electric guitar!"
The roles were quickly assigned. The band was set. The dance team was formed around Ashido and Hagakure. The stage crew, responsible for effects and construction, was led by Midoriya, Kirishima, and Sero.
"What about you two?" Ashido asked, looking at Akaza and Rumi. "Dance team? Stage crew?"
Rumi stood up, stretching. "Dance team. Obviously. I've got the moves."
"Great!" Ashido cheered. "But... uh... Rumi, the choreography is... pop. It's cute and energetic."
"I can do energetic," Rumi grinned, cracking her knuckles. "Just try to keep up."
Akaza stood up slowly. "I'll take stage crew. You'll need someone to move the heavy equipment."
"Perfect!" Midoriya said, smiling tentatively. "With your strength, Akaza-kun, we can build the stage in half the time!"
The planning was done. The U.A. School Festival was a go.
The Next Day - Preparation
The gym had been converted into a massive workshop. The sounds of saws, hammers, and music filled the air.
But there was one small problem. Or rather, one small person.
Eri was standing by the door, clutching her cat plushie, looking overwhelmed by the noise and the sheer number of people. She had been staying in Akaza's room, venturing out only when the common room was quiet. This... this was too much.
Akaza crouched down in front of her. "It's too loud in here for you, isn't it?"
Eri nodded, her red eyes wide.
"I can't leave you alone in the dorms," Akaza mused. Rumi was busy with dance practice, and he was needed for the heavy lifting. He scanned his mental list of people Eri trusted. It was a very short list. Himself. Rumi. And...
'Oh... yeah, there is him too.'
"Come on," he said, picking her up. "I know someone who likes quiet just as much as you do."
He walked her to the teacher's lounge. He knocked and entered. Aizawa was at his desk, buried under a mountain of paperwork, looking miserable.
"Sensei," Akaza said.
Aizawa looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "What is it, Asura? Did Bakugo blow up the gym?"
"Not yet. I need a favor." Akaza stepped forward, revealing Eri in his arms. "It's too loud for her at the prep site. She needs somewhere quiet. And she trusts you."
It was true. During the raid aftermath and the subsequent check-ups, Aizawa had been the one to neutralize her quirk when it flared up. He was the one who had spoken to her calmly, logically, without pity but with protection. To Eri, the man with the floating hair and the capture scarf was a safe point. A scary safe point, but safe nonetheless.
Aizawa looked at the little girl. His expression softened as he sighed, pushing his paperwork aside.
"Fine. She can stay here."
Akaza set Eri down. "Be good for Eraser, okay? I'll come get you for lunch."
Eri looked at Akaza, then at the tired man in black. She gave a small nod and walked over to Aizawa's desk.
Aizawa reached into his drawer and pulled out a small, foil-wrapped pouch. "Candy?"
Eri took it, inspecting it curiously. "Thank you." She sat down on a spare chair, pulled her legs up, and began to color in her book while enjoying the treat.
Aizawa watched her for a second, then looked at Akaza. "Go. Build your stage, and don't destroy my gym."
"Yes, sir."
Back in the gym, chaos was the order of the day.
"Five, six, seven, eight! Step, turn, jump!" Mina shouted, leading the dance team.
The girls moved in sync. Step. Turn. Jump.
And then there was Rumi.
Step. Turn. Backflip into a split kick.
"Whoa!" Uraraka yelped, ducking to avoid Rumi's heel.
"Rumi-chan!" Mina laughed/cried. "That's amazing, but it's not the choreography! It's a dance, not a fight scene!"
"It's boring without a little impact!" Rumi complained, bouncing back to her feet. "It needs more... pow! Like this!" She demonstrated a spinning aerial kick that generated a gust of wind.
"No 'pow'!" Mina insisted. "More 'pop'! Like... sparkle!"
"Sparkle is for Aoyama," Rumi grumbled, but she tried to tone it down.
Watching the fierce Rabbit Hero try to do a cutesy idol step was a source of endless entertainment for the rest of the class.
On the stage, the band was finding its groove. Or rather, Bakugo was beating them into a groove.
"TOO SLOW, DAMN IT!" Bakugo roared from behind the drum kit, his sticks a blur. "JIRO! YOUR BASS LINE IS DRAGGING! KEEP UP!"
"I'm on tempo, you explosion-brained metronome!" Jiro yelled back, though she was grinning. He was right. His aggressive, driving beat was pushing them to play harder, faster. It sounded... good. Really good.
In the construction zone, Akaza was a one-man industrial crane.
"Hey, Akaza," Kirishima called out, struggling to lift a steel beam with Sato. "Can you give us a hand with this?"
Akaza walked over. "Let go."
He grabbed the beam with one hand and lifted it effortlessly, balancing it on his shoulder.
"That is... so manly," Kirishima whispered, wiping a tear from his eye.
Izuku was working nearby, welding a joint. He watched Akaza work. The silence between them was still there, but they were working on the same structure. Building the same stage.
"Um... Akaza-kun?" Izuku asked tentatively.
Akaza paused, holding a massive wooden panel in place. "What?"
"Thanks... for helping. We couldn't do this so fast without you."
Akaza didn't look at him. He just secured the panel. "I want Eri to see it. That's all."
It wasn't a friendly conversation, but it was progress.
The days blurred into a montage of work. Bakugo screaming at his drums. Rumi arguing with Mina about the "combat applications" of jazz hands. Akaza silently moving mountains of equipment. Aizawa sitting in the faculty office, grading papers while Eri sat on his lap, watching videos of cats on his phone.
It was exhausting. It was chaotic. But for the first time since the dorms opened, the Heights Alliance felt as one.
The Day Before the Festival
The sun was setting on the final day of prep. The stage was built. The choreography was set (mostly). The songs were rehearsed.
The class collapsed in the common room, utterly spent.
"I can't feel my legs," Uraraka groaned from the floor. "My fingers are bleeding," Jiro said, looking at her calloused tips with pride. "I need sugar," Sato mumbled, heading zombie-like for the kitchen.
Rumi flopped onto the couch next to Akaza, resting her head on his shoulder. "I think I finally got that spin move down without trying to decapitate anyone."
"I'm proud of you," Akaza smirked, handing her a water bottle.
"Shut up. How's the kid?"
"She's good. Aizawa gave her a tutorial on how to use his capture weapon as a cat toy. She loved it."
"He's a softie," Rumi laughed.
"Hey, everyone!" Midoriya stood up, holding a cup of tea. He looked around the room, at the tired, happy faces of his classmates. At Bakugo, who was actually sitting with them, not yelling. Akaza and Rumi, who were part of the group, not isolated in their corner.
"We did it," Izuku said, smiling. "Tomorrow... we're going to blow everyone away!"
"YEAH!" the class cheered, tired but ready.
Meanwhile, in a quiet tea shop in the city...
The bell above the door chimed softly as a tall man in a fine suit entered. He had white hair, a perfectly groomed mustache, and an air of theatrical dignity.
"Welcome to Gold Tips Imperial," the barista said. "What can I get for you?"
"Ah, the aroma of refinement," the man declared, his voice smooth and projecting as if he were on a stage. "I shall have your finest blend. The Earl Grey, steeped for exactly three minutes. No more, no less."
"Of course, sir."
The man took his tea to a table by the window, where a small, red-haired woman was already waiting, tapping away on a laptop.
"Is the camera ready, La Brava?" the man asked, taking a sip. "Magnificent. Truly magnificent."
"It's ready, Gentle!" the woman, La Brava, chirped, her eyes shining with adoration. "The upload is scheduled! Your subscribers are waiting!"
"Excellent," Gentle Criminal said, setting the cup down. He adjusted his cravat, his expression turning serious. "The world is in a state of unease. Heroes are faltering. The Symbol is gone. The people need a distraction. They need... a statement."
He pulled out a map of the city. His gloved finger traced a line, stopping at a large, fortified location.
"U.A. High School," he whispered. "The fortress of heroes. The place where they are trying to raise the next generation of hope."
"It's heavily guarded, Gentle!" La Brava warned. "The security is tighter than ever after the villain attacks!"
"Precisely!" Gentle stood up, striking a pose that drew confused looks from the other patrons. "What better way to prove my point? To show the fragility of their security? To alarm the souls of the complacent? I, Gentle Criminal, shall infiltrate the U.A. School Festival!"
He swirled his cape.
"We shall film it all! The intrusion! The panic! The tea break in the principal's office! It will be my masterpiece! My legacy!"
"Oh, Gentle! You're so cool!" La Brava squealed.
Gentle smiled, a smile that was both arrogant and strangely desperate.
"Tomorrow, La Brava... tomorrow, the name Gentle Criminal will be on everyone's lips. We shall brew a storm... in a teacup."
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