"WHERE IS MY HAIRSPRAY?!" Mina shrieked, running down the hallway with one shoe on. "Does this tie look straight?" Iida asked a plant in the corner, his glasses fogging up from stress. "I need more sugar," Sato mumbled, vibrating with caffeine and nerves.
In the midst of the chaos, Akaza stood on his room's balcony, looking out over the campus. His black hero costume was gone, replaced by a simple, dark turtleneck and gray trousers. He looked less like a weapon and more like… a student. Or perhaps a young father.
His gaze wasn't on the festival grounds, though. It was fixed on the distant perimeter of the school.
His Compass Wave picked up a disturbance. Two signatures. One was faint, anxious. The other was strangely… theatrical.
Gentle Criminal, Akaza thought, his eyes narrowing slightly.
He had seen the videos. The man was a joke to most. He was a D-list villain chasing internet fame with petty crimes and a camcorder. But Akaza knew more. He saw the way Gentle moved, the way he spoke. There was no bloodlust. No malice. Just a desperate need to be seen.
Akaza's fingers twitched. It would be so easy. He could use Tempest, cross the distance in a heartbeat, and crush the man into the pavement before he even finished pouring his tea. He could end the threat instantly.
But he did not move.
He stopped. He felt another signature moving to intercept. Green lightning crackling in the distance.
Izuku.
Akaza paused, listening to the faint echoes of the confrontation starting miles away. He thought about Muscular. He thought of Overhaul. Men who were rot, who needed to be put down.
Gentle isn't THAT bad, Akaza thought, leaning back against the wall. He's just lost. He has a good heart, buried under layers of regret and ego. Dude doesn't deserve to be broken. He deserves to be stopped, sure. But not by me, rather someone more 'heroic'.
He looked at the green sparks fading into the distance.
"Handle it, Midoriya," he whispered.
He turned away from the edge and walked back into the room. Rumi was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting her stage outfit, which was a flashy, punk-rock ensemble that showed off her scars and her muscles.
"You ready, superstar?" Akaza asked, a soft smile touching his lips.
"Born ready," Rumi grinned, snapping a fingerless glove onto her hand. "We're gonna blow the roof off this place. Where's the kid?"
"Right here."
Eri stepped out from the bathroom. She was wearing a new outfit Momo and Uraraka had picked out for her: a cute plaid skirt, a warm coat with cat ears on the hood, and shiny little boots. She was clutching her cat plushie tightly.
"Do I... look okay?" she whispered.
Akaza knelt down, bringing himself to her eye level. He fixed her collar gently. "You look perfect, Eri."
"You look adorable!" Rumi squealed, resisting the urge to hug her too hard and ruin the outfit. "You're gonna be the cutest thing at the festival! Aside from me, of course."
Eri giggled, a small, shy sound.
"Let's go," Akaza said, standing up and offering his hand. "We've got a festival to see."
****
The U.A. campus had been transformed. The solemn, fortress-like atmosphere was gone, replaced by a riot of color and sound. Stall after stall lined the pathways, selling everything from takoyaki to handmade support gear. Students from General Studies, Support, and Business courses were shouting, laughing, and hawking their wares.
It was loud. It was crowded. It felt alive.
Eri gripped Akaza's hand tightly. She flinched at every sudden burst of laughter from a nearby group.
"It's okay," Akaza murmured. He shifted his stance, creating a physical barrier between her and the crowd. "I'm right here. No one gets close unless you want them to."
He walked with a slow pace, carving a path through the throng. People saw him and instinctively moved aside. It wasn't out of fear, exactly, but out of a subconscious recognition of an apex predator walking among sheep. (Too corny?)
"Look," Akaza said, pointing to a stall run by the Support Course. "Robots."
Eri peeked out from behind his leg. A small, clanking robot was dancing on a table, waving glowing sticks. Her eyes widened.
"It's... dancing," she whispered.
"Want to see closer?"
She nodded. They spent ten minutes watching the robots. Then they moved to the food stalls.
"Candy apples!" a student shouted. "Get your candy apples here!"
Akaza bought one. He knelt down and handed it to Eri.
"It's an apple," he explained. "But dipped in sugar."
Eri stared at it. She took a tentative lick. Her eyes lit up, sparkling like rubies.
"Sweet!"
"Sweeter than the crepes?"
She thought about it seriously. "Different sweet. Crunchy sweet."
She took a bite, the crunch audible, and a smear of red candy coated her cheek. Akaza chuckled, wiping it away with his thumb. For a moment, the shadows of the Yakuza, the pain of the experiments, the weight of the world, all vanished. There was just a little girl and a candy apple.
They wandered through the exhibits. They saw a Class 1-B play that was surprisingly high-production (and involved Monoma getting hit by a dragon, which Akaza enjoyed immensely). They watched the Beauty Pageant, where Nejire Hado was flying around looking like a fairy.
"She flies like me," Rumi had said earlier, watching Nejire practice. "But less kicking."
Akaza watched Eri. She was absorbing everything. The colors, the smiles, the sheer joy of people living without fear. This was what he had fought for. This was what he had killed for. And seeing the wonder on her face... it was worth every drop of blood on his hands.
"Akaza-san?"
He turned. Mirio Togata was standing there, wearing a casual outfit, a bright smile on his face. But his eyes were soft, sad, and incredibly grateful.
"Togata," Akaza nodded.
Mirio looked down at Eri, who was busy trying to win a goldfish game (and failing adorably).
"She looks... happy," Mirio said, his voice thick. "Really happy."
"She is," Akaza said.
"Thank you," Mirio whispered. "I... I couldn't save her back then. In the alley. I let go. But you... you didn't."
"Someone had to," Akaza replied simply. He didn't look at Mirio. He kept his eyes on Eri. "You're a good hero, Mirio. You inspire people. You bring light. But sometimes... the light isn't enough. Sometimes you need a monster to fight the monsters."
Mirio looked at him, really looked at him. He saw the burden Akaza carried, the cold acceptance of his role.
"Maybe," Mirio said. "But looking at you now... you don't look like a monster to me. You just look like a guardian."
Akaza didn't respond, but his shoulders relaxed slightly.
"IT'S TIME!" Present Mic's voice boomed over the speakers. "GET YOURSELVES TO THE GYM! CLASS 1-A IS ABOUT TO BLOW YOUR MINDS!"
The crowd moved toward the gymnasium. Akaza picked Eri up, settling her on his shoulders so she could see over the sea of heads.
"Ready to see Rumi dance?" he asked.
"Yes!" Eri cheered, holding onto his head for balance. "And Mr. Boom-Boom drums!"
They found a spot near the back, where it wasn't too crowded, but the view was perfect. The lights in the gym dimmed. The crowd hushed.
Then, a spotlight hit the stage.
"ONE! TWO! ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR!"
Bakugo screamed the count-in and then slammed his sticks down.
BOOM.
The drums kicked in, a thunderous, driving rhythm that shook the floor. The bass followed, Jiro's fingers flying. Then the guitars and keys. It was loud. It was aggressive. It was pure rock and roll.
The curtain dropped.
Class 1-A was transformed. They weren't students anymore. They were rock stars.
"Let's go!" Jiro yelled into the mic, her voice raw and powerful.
The song, "Hero Too," exploded.
And there was Rumi.
She was front and center of the dance team, wearing a punk-style outfit with neon accents.
Her movements were sharp, powerful, and full of wild energy. She spun, she leaped, she backflipped. She was a blur of motion and joy.
"She's amazing!" Eri shouted over the music, her eyes glued to the stage.
Akaza watched her. He watched Rumi living her best life, shining under the lights. He watched Bakugo, shirtless and sweating, beating the drums with a feral grin, channeling all his rage into rhythm. He watched Shoto and Momo creating dazzling ice and sparkle effects that filled the air with magic.
And then he looked at the crowd. He saw the other students cheering. He saw the smiles. He saw the fear of the last few months evaporating, chased away by the sheer volume of Class 1-A's spirit.
Just as the song reached its climax, the gym doors burst open. A disheveled, sweaty Izuku Midoriya slipped in, carrying a bag of rope. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were shining. He had made it in time.
Akaza caught his eye across the darkened gym.
Izuku froze. He expected a glare. He expected judgment.
But Akaza just gave him a single, slow nod.
You did your job. Now enjoy the show.
Izuku's shoulders slumped in relief. He smiled, a wobbly, tearful thing, and turned to watch his friends.
The song ended with a massive crescendo. Bakugo smashed the cymbals. Shoto unleashed a final burst of ice that glittered like diamonds in the spotlights. Rumi struck a final pose, chest heaving, fist in the air.
The silence lasted for a heartbeat.
Then the gym erupted.
The cheers were deafening. "Encore! Encore!"
Eri was clapping so hard her hands hurt. She was bouncing on Akaza's shoulders.
"That was... that was..." she struggled for the words.
"Fun?" Akaza supplied.
"Yes!" she beamed, a smile so bright it rivaled the spotlights. "So much fun!"
As the applause washed over them, Akaza felt a strange sensation in his chest. It wasn't the cold thrill of battle. It wasn't the burning heat of rage. It was warm. It was steady.
It was happiness.
He looked at Rumi on stage, who was waving at him and Eri, blowing kisses. He looked at Eri, laughing on his shoulders. He looked at his class, basking in their success.
The world was still dangerous. There were still villains in the shadows. But right here, right now, in this loud gym... everything was perfect.
"Yeah," Akaza whispered, his voice lost in the cheers. "It really was."
---XXXX---
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