While Izuku wrote in his notebook—his pen moving in precise strokes as he sketched ideas and scribbled analyses—the classroom was unusually quiet. The sound of distant chatter and trays clattering in the hall was faint.
He was so focused he barely noticed Katsuki and his crew stomping back into the room from the cafeteria.
Their voices were loud, vulgar, and full of confidence as they swaggered in. Students nearby shifted aside automatically, making room for the self-declared king of the class.
"Look at Deku. Bet he's busy drawing heroes," one of the goons sneered with a laugh, peering over Izuku's shoulder.
Katsuki chuckled, that familiar cruel smirk curling on his lips. "Let's go surprise him," he said, grabbing a milk box off a nearby desk. His steps were slow, heavy, deliberate—like he already knew he could get away with anything.
He leaned over Izuku, his shadow covering the notebook.
"Yo, Deku."
Before Izuku could even glance up, Katsuki flicked the tab and dumped the entire milk box on his head.
The liquid drenched Izuku's hair, dripping down his face, shoulders, school uniform, soaking the pages of his notebook. His notes bled into muddy white smears.
The class burst into laughter. Some pointed. Some whispered. Some didn't even try to hide their amusement.
"Did you see his face?"
"Nice one, Bakugou!"
Izuku froze for a second, the cold liquid running down his neck. His notebook—his pride—ruined. He slowly turned his head upward, staring right at Katsuki. The humiliation flared into a hot spark behind his eyes.
' God, I'm gonna beat the shit out of this kid, ' he thought as he stood up, his voice quiet but his anger loud.
He grabbed Katsuki's arm before he could walk away.
"Oh, look at little old De—"
BAM.
Izuku's fist sank into Katsuki's jaw before the sentence could finish. The punch cracked through the air like a firecracker.
Katsuki stumbled back, shock overtaking his expression for the first time that day. He hit the floor, wide-eyed, the entire class freezing mid-laugh.
Gasps erupted.
"Whoa!"
"Did he just—?!"
Katsuki's goons didn't even hesitate. They rushed forward, fury and blind loyalty replacing their surprise.
"You're dead, nerd!"
Izuku brought his hands up, ready to block the first punch—
But—
"HEY! BREAK IT UP!"
A teacher stormed into the room, voice slicing through the chaos. The students scattered back to their desks, pretending innocence. Katsuki's cronies stopped mid-step, shooting Izuku hateful looks.
"You're dead meat," one spat, pointing at him.
The other dragged a thumb across his throat—an empty threat delivered with too much confidence.
Izuku didn't flinch. He just stared past them and locked eyes with Katsuki. Katsuki's expression twisted with a mix of shock and pure, burning rage.
Izuku's smirk was small, quiet, and for the first time—it wasn't fearful.
That single expression only pushed Katsuki further to the edge. He clenched his fists so tight sparks crackled between his fingers.
' You're dead, Deku...' he thought as he stood back up, jaw throbbing, and stomped to his seat.
Izuku sat down too, notebook still ruined, milk dripping onto the floor—but for the first time, the room wasn't laughing.
Izuku sighed as the bell rang, gathering his dripping clothes and leaving the classroom. Nobody stopped him—nobody apologized. They just watched him go, and that silence was louder than the earlier laughter.
He walked down the hallway, cold and sticky from the milk, slippers squeaking faintly against the polished floor. The air conditioner made the cold even worse, his wet shirt clinging to his skin.
By the time he reached the school office, the secretary looked up from her papers and blinked at him, surprised.
"What happened?" the teacher behind the counter asked, her voice firm but not unkind.
Izuku offered the same practiced, emotionless smile he always used. "Oh, nothing," he said casually, brushing off droplets from his face as if it really didn't matter.
The teacher narrowed her eyes, clearly not buying it. She'd seen that look before—kids trying to hide trouble. But she didn't push or question further. Maybe she knew arguing wouldn't change anything.
"Hold on. I'll find something in the lost-and-found." She handed him a neatly folded shirt and a pair of gym pants that were slightly too big.
Izuku changed in the bathroom quickly and shoved his wet clothes into a plastic bag. The smell of milk mixed with detergent was awful, but he tightened the bag and tossed it over his shoulder.
' I gotta get strong so I can beat the living crap out of that dumb Katsuki. Or wait until we reach U.A. and destroy him at everything Yeah… that'll be more satisfying.'
For a moment, the thought alone cooled the frustration in his chest.
When he got back to the classroom, everyone pretended nothing had happened. The teacher acted like he'd just taken too long in the restroom. Katsuki didn't even look at him—just clenched his fist every time Izuku moved.
School continued. Pages turned. Teachers talked. Students whispered behind hands.
Izuku managed it all, even though everything felt slightly off. This world was familiar yet new, a reality rewritten. He struggled for a few minutes with the subjects, but muscle memory—mental memory—took over. All the knowledge from before was still buried there. Math felt like déjà vu. Science felt like a memory playing again.
He answered questions. Took notes. Kept his head down.
When the final bell rang and school ended, Izuku didn't even pack his stuff.
A hand grabbed the back of his collar and yanked him hard.
"C'mere."
Another grabbed his arm, then another. Before he could react, he was dragged across the hallway like dead weight. His shoes scraped against the concrete and his backpack swung wildly off his shoulder.
"Seriously?" Izuku muttered, but he couldn't break free—their strength overpowered him. It didn't take long to realize they'd done this before. They knew where to grab and how to restrain him.
By the time they got behind the school building—the quiet, empty space with cracked pavement and weeds growing through the walls—Katsuki was waiting.
He stood there with his hands in his pockets, eyes burning with fury and humiliation from earlier.
The goons shoved Izuku forward roughly, pinning his arms.
"Thought I told you you were dead, Deku," one growled.
Izuku coughed, raising his head just enough to smirk. "You're nothing without your lackeys, Katsuki."
That stopped them.
Katsuki twitched, then smirked coldly. "Oh, you think so? Let him go."
They released him instantly and stepped back, forming a circle.
Katsuki cracked his knuckles and took a step forward. "I'm gonna—"
Izuku dropped to his knees.
"Hold on. Let me tie my shoelaces first."
He paused.
Katsuki blinked. Izuku glanced down… then realized he was still wearing school slippers.
But before Katsuki could react, Izuku scooped a handful of dirt and gravel and flung it into Katsuki's eyes.
"GAH—!"
He recoiled, covering his face.
Izuku didn't hesitate. He lunged and tackled him to the ground with a harsh thud.
"How's that sand taste!?" he yelled, pinning Katsuki by the collar.
And then he started punching.
BAM.
BAM.
BAM.
BAM.
BAM.
Each hit echoed off the school walls, fueled by built-up anger and months of humiliation. Katsuki writhed and cursed but Izuku didn't stop.
It only lasted seconds before Katsuki's crew rushed him. They yanked Izuku off and fists began raining down.
But Izuku didn't scream. He didn't cry. He laughed.
The more they hit him, the louder he laughed. It unnerved them. Even when Katsuki regained himself and joined the assault—kicking Izuku, punching him in the ribs—the laughter didn't stop.
"Shut up!" Katsuki shouted, voice cracking with rage.
He spat on Izuku, stomped his chest once more, then turned away. "Pathetic waste of space."
They left him there in the dirt, bruised and bleeding.
Izuku stared up at the gray afternoon sky, breathing hard. Every bone in his body hurt. His face stung with blood and dirt.
But a smile was carved across his face.
"Character development," he muttered through swollen lips.
TO BE CONTINUED