The morning sun illuminated the glass structure of U.A. High, reflecting blinding light that seemed to salute the arrival of someone grand.
Fuse Yasushi stood there, gazing at the school gate with a thin smile full of satisfaction. U.A., the fortress of heroes, the number one school in Japan. The building was large, futuristic, and looked impressive—a perfect stage, he thought, and of course, very fitting for someone of his caliber.
This is where he would forge himself for the next three years. This was the mandatory "School Arc" in every shonen story.
And if canon proceeded as he knew from his past memories, this place would soon become a magnet for trouble.
Good. That meant he would get an earlier chance to beat up some villains, stop their evil plans before they even touched the school gate, and of course, reap all the praise.
His mind began to wander, creating future imaginations in his head.
He imagined himself floating in the air, defying gravity elegantly, surrounded by a glowing red magnetic aura.
Should I need a cape? he pondered, weighing it. No, capes are too cliché. Too Superman. Too... stupid if you think about it.
But then, he imagined a dark red fabric billowing behind his back as he landed in the midst of a cheering crowd. It added an undeniable dramatic effect.
Aesthetics are half the hero's job, right?
Maybe not too bad. Yeah, this needs to be seriously considered later. Costume design is crucial for future merchandise.
His imagination continued.
While flying among villains, Fuse only needed to move one finger—just one finger—and their weapons would float, their vehicles would halt, and people would be saved.
The civilians would adore him, looking with sparkling eyes full of admiration, tears of emotion streaming down their cheeks as they shouted his name.
"Oh, Fuse-sama! You saved us!"
Just imagining it was so beautiful! The sweetness of popularity was almost tangible on the tip of his tongue.
But he let out a long sigh, returning to reality.
He had to be patient.
Every legend has a grinding phase.
Now, he had to go through the boring stuff first with these NPCs—meaning, his classmates.
Fuse walked across the school courtyard, his footsteps steady and rhythmic. He ignored the other kids who were also new here, walking nervously or in groups whispering in awe.
He traversed the wide corridors, noting every architectural detail, memorizing the locations of security cameras and emergency exits—a habit of a strategic genius.
Then, he arrived there.
A gigantic door of unreasonable height, as if the school expected five-meter-tall giants to enter.
Written in bold letters: 1-A.
Fuse stood for a moment, straightening his uniform collar, and combing his red hair back with his fingers. Showtime for the debut, he thought.
He opened the door with a firm yet elegant push.
He expected silence. He expected all eyes on him with curiosity and intimidation. He expected the spotlight shining on him.
However, instead of a grand welcome, he faced bitter disappointment.
The commotion in the class stopped briefly when he opened the door, but it only lasted a fraction of a second.
In the corner, Kirishima was climbing a chair while air-guitaring enthusiastically, while Kaminari laughed beside him.
In front, Katsuki Bakugo sat with his feet propped up casually on the desk, wearing an expression like he was ready to kill anyone who breathed too loudly.
And in front of him, Iida was making stiff hand gestures like a malfunctioning robot, scolding Bakugo about respecting school furniture.
They glanced briefly at Fuse, then... resumed their activities.
Fuse's eyebrow twitched.
This is an insult, he thought sharply. This is an insult to the protagonist of this era. Very unprofessional.
Without losing his composure, he walked in. His steps calm, as if walking on a red carpet, not school floor. His target was the most strategic seat in the entire anime universe: the seat in the back row, right by the window.
The place where all protagonists sit while gazing at the sky and pondering the fate of the world.
As he passed Iida and Bakugo who were still arguing, he paused briefly. He looked at them with an annoyed gaze, like a prince seeing two peasants fighting over a radish.
"You two should stop babbling," Fuse's voice cut through Iida's rant, his tone flat but sharp. "You're like toddlers who lost their toys and keep whining in the middle of a supermarket. Your voices are ruining the aura of this class."
Iida and Bakugo turned simultaneously.
"I know a good place to buy a pacifier at a nearby department store," Fuse continued, snorting softly. "Do you want it? I can buy it as an introduction gift."
"What do you mean, damn it?!" Bakugo immediately stood, the chair screeching loudly as he approached Fuse. His face wrinkled in anger.
Iida glanced at Fuse, looking offended but closing his lips hesitantly, as if processing what kind of ethical violation just occurred.
"Of course, I'm talking about reality, Toddler," Fuse replied, his voice vibrating with a gentle mockery designed to provoke emotions. He pointed at Bakugo with his chin. "You look like a little explosion in the wrong place, too much gas, too little substance."
Then he turned to Iida. "And your friend, this walking typewriter, can only whine about table etiquette when we're about to learn to be heroes facing death. Pathetic priorities."
Fuse smirked crookedly. "I'm giving you a solution. A pacifier. It will help you focus on what's really important, which is shutting up and paying attention: To me, the real protagonist."
"Protagonist?" Bakugo laughed, a rough and cruel sound. "Don't make me laugh, Red Hair! There's only one protagonist here, and that's ME! You? You're just a walking NPC! Your face isn't even worth remembering, a C-class extra!"
"Ah, the bookworm wants to pick a fight with the delinquent," Kaminari commented, looking highly entertained by this morning drama. Kirishima just chuckled softly, though looking a bit worried.
Iida, who had been holding back for the sake of order, finally couldn't stay silent. He swung his hand in stiff, rhythmic motions that cut through the air.
"You!" Iida pointed at Bakugo. "Indeed, you shouldn't put your feet on the desk, it damages school property!" Then he turned his body toward Fuse with military speed. "And you, who just entered! Your attitude is truly inappropriate on the first day! U.A. is a respected institution, not an arena for insulting fellow comrades!"
Fuse ignored the lecture. He continued his steps and finally reached his seat by the window. He dropped himself gracefully, swiveling his chair slightly to face back at Iida and Bakugo standing close together.
For Fuse, they were just a pair of opening act clowns.
He crossed his legs at the knee, a relaxed but dismissive pose, placing his elbow on the armrest.
At that moment, the door opened again. Izuku Midoriya entered with a nervous face. Not long after, Tokoyami Fumikage also entered.
The bird-human looked at Fuse, then at the chaos in front, and chose to sit quietly in his seat without greeting, as if giving the stage to the protagonist to beat up that explosive kid.
An understanding friend, Fuse thought.
"The door's still open," Fuse said indifferently, pointing to the large door behind them with his thumb without turning. "You two can continue your theatrical argument outside. I need peace to plan world conquest... I mean, my hero career plan."
He stared straight into Iida's eyes. "And, for the robot who just spoke, my name is Fuse. Remember it well. I'm the only reason this class will be remembered in hero history."
Bakugo, whose patience was as thin as tissue, lunged forward. Small explosions burst in his palm, creating small smoke with a sweet scent of burnt caramel.
"You really asking to get beaten, huh?!"
"Don't blow up the class on the first day, dude!" Kirishima immediately jumped and held Bakugo by hugging both his arms from behind, restraining the raging youth.
Fuse didn't flinch. He just smiled mockingly, wider.
"You're really short-fused," Fuse commented casually. "Really fits your cheap quirk. Just exploding, no art, no class."
The word 'cheap' was like pouring gasoline into hellfire.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY QUIRK, YOU DAMN LOSER?!" Bakugo roared, veins in his neck bulging. The color in his eyes was like inverted, turning white pure and cold, while his pupils shrank to look like black holes wanting to swallow anything.
"THIS IS THE GREATEST QUIRK IN HISTORY! YOU WON'T GET OUT ALIVE IF I WERE A VILLAIN! I'LL KILL YOU!"
Fuse just snorted, his expression unchanged from the casual dismissive gaze. He even didn't move to dodge or set up a defensive stance. He just tilted his head slightly, as if observing a noisy insect.
"You'd really fit as a villain with that temperament. And again, I say your quirk is cheap," Fuse repeated with perfect articulation. "Do I need to spell it for you, Tod-dler? C-H-E-A-P."
The energy in the room tensed.
Some other students started looking panicked. Midoriya seemed to want to intervene but was too scared.
However, before Bakugo could launch an attack that would make the prestigious school pay for expensive furniture replacements, and perhaps hospital bills, a voice that sounded like dry sand and eternal fatigue filled the room, cutting the tension like a dull knife.
"If you're done auditioning for your kindergarten drama, can you shut up?"
The whole class froze.
There, at the door threshold, lay something that looked like a giant yellow cocoon.
From the cocoon's gap, emerged the face of a man who seemed to have not slept, or bathed, in the past week. His eyes red, hair black and messy.
That was their homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa.
…
"Quirk assessment test?!"
The exclamation burst simultaneously from the mouths of Class 1-A students.
Their voices shattered the silence of the field, full of confusion.
For them, this surprise was not pleasant at all—how could it be, right after the flower-adorned entrance ceremony and speeches, suddenly doing a test, especially a quirk assessment?
However, for Fuse Yasushi, this was just the first line of a script he had memorized by heart.
He stood a bit apart from the crowd, his posture relaxed but still exuding a thick aura of superiority. His eyebrow raised just at the right angle, mouth slightly open, showing perfectly designed shock. But behind his calm dark red eyes like an unruffled blood lake, he was laughing.
Of course, his mind whispered in a bored tone. Aizawa and his fetish for expelling students. Classic.
While Shota Aizawa, the man who looked like a walking corpse forced under sunlight, began talking about how irrational the hero world was, yapping about school freedom and injustice.
According to Fuse, the monologue was too long to listen to on an empty stomach.
Fuse let his eyes slide sideways.
His gaze landed on Katsuki Bakugo.
The pale blond-haired youth stood tense, as if his entire body was made of barbed wire electrified.
Initially, Bakugo's red eyes narrowed sharply, staring at Aizawa, assessing the shabby teacher. But suddenly shifted, his pupils narrowing like a predator scenting blood.
Bakugo's head jerked sideways.
And their eyes met.
Bakugo saw the calm on Fuse's face as a personal insult. His lips twitched, revealing his clenched teeth in a savage grin.
Without sound, his mouth formed one word:
"DIEEEE!"
Along with the silent threat, Bakugo's palm clenched. Small sparks popped there, crack-crack-boom, the sound of micro explosions like breaking bones. The sweet scent of burning nitroglycerin began to waft, blending with the hot air.
Seeing the threat, Fuse didn't even blink. Instead, the corner of his lips pulled upward, slowly, very slowly, forming a smile so arrogant, so belittling, it could crack a mirror.
With a motion deliberately slowed so Bakugo wouldn't miss a second of the insult, Fuse raised his hand. He curled his fingers, leaving his thumb up, then brought it to his mouth. He made a sucking motion on his thumb.
He made the gesture of a baby sucking a pacifier!
You're just a big baby who needs soothing.
The message was conveyed without a single letter spoken.
At that moment, Bakugo's blood boiled instantly. Veins on his temples bulged, pulsing with his heartbeat pumping pure rage.
"YOU...!"
Bakugo stepped forward, his foot stomping the ground hard, ready to launch himself and explode that smug face into flesh fragments.
However, before his third step landed, time seemed to freeze.
Aizawa, who had seemed indifferent to the world, suddenly stopped talking. His head turned slightly, his messy black hair covering part of his face, but one visible eye emitted an intimidation aura so thick it made the air feel heavy.
The whole class fell silent.
Their eyes shifted between the scary teacher, the explosive youth ready to kill, and the red-haired youth still smiling casually.
Izuku Midoriya, in the corner of the line, looked pale, his hands trembling in front of his chest.
Aizawa observed the dynamic in silence. His dry, red eyes from lack of sleep assessed the situation with cold efficiency.
"If you want to prove who's stronger between you two..." Aizawa finally spoke, his tone flat like an endless desert. He let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Save it for later. I don't have the energy to break up a toddler fight right now."
The word toddler made Fuse's eyes sparkle with amusement, as if Aizawa had just read his mind.
Bakugo stopped. His body still trembled from held adrenaline, but the aura emitted by Aizawa forced him to plant his feet in place. He hissed loudly, turning his face away roughly.
Aizawa turned his attention back to the class, as if the incident was just a minor disturbance like a passing fly.
"You must have done this in junior high," Aizawa said, his voice monotonous again. "Physical ability tests. 50-meter run, long jump, softball throw. But in regular schools, you were forbidden to use your quirks. This country is still bound by rigid bureaucracy; they don't count your talents in average statistics. That's not rational."
Aizawa reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a standard softball. He looked at Bakugo again, this time with a challenging gaze.
"Bakugo," he called. "You ranked first in yesterday's practical exam, right?"
Hearing his name called as rank one, Bakugo's scratched ego recovered a bit. He straightened his back. The corner of his lips grinned, and he glanced at Fuse. His look said clearly: Hear that, Loser? I'm number one.
Fuse, seeing that look, froze briefly in a flat expression. Then, with annoying calm, he returned the smile. His lips moved without sound, forming a sentence clearly readable by Bakugo:
"A toddler bragging because his dad praised him."
Bakugo's jaw tightened until the sound of grinding teeth was heard. He was about to step again, but Aizawa continued, cutting his intent.
"In junior high, during the ball throw test, what was your best distance?"
Bakugo was forced to shift his focus. He answered sharply, still carrying his remaining annoyance. "67 meters."
"Now try it with your quirk," Aizawa ordered, tossing the ball toward Bakugo.
Bakugo caught the ball with one hand, quick and precise. He walked to the white circle drawn on the ground.
He stood inside the circle, facing away from the class. He rotated his shoulders, stretching his arm muscles. The sound of his joints cracking was clear in the field's silence.
At this moment, in Bakugo's mind, the ball was no longer just a ball.
The ball was Fuse's face!
The ball was the belittling gaze he had just received!
He channeled all his hatred, all his ego, into his palm.
Instantly, the sweat on his palm began to react, heating up, ready to explode.
He swung his arm back, his body arching like a bow drawn to the maximum, then released it with one explosive snap.
"DIEEEE!!!"
BOOOOM!!
A massive explosion occurred right as the ball left his hand. The shockwave swept the dust around him, blowing the hair of the watching students.
The ball shot into the sky, propelled by terrifying explosive force, leaving a trail of black smoke splitting the blue sky.
The ball kept flying, farther and smaller, until finally disappearing from view.
A few moments later, the measuring device in Aizawa's hand beeped.
With a bored face, Aizawa turned the device's screen toward the students. Red digital numbers glowed there: 705.2 m.
Silence blanketed the field briefly, before breaking into sounds of awe.
"705 meters..." Denki Kaminari, the youth with yellow hair and a dumb face, stared at the number with bulging eyes. His mouth agape. "Seriously? That's over half a kilometer!"
"That's insane! What kind of power is that?" Sero exclaimed.
At this moment, amid the mass admiration, a long and clear whistle cut through the air.
Fuse Yasushi stood with his hands in his pants pockets, looking at the number as if seeing an elementary school math test score.
"Whew~"
He smiled, then spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear, especially the bomb thrower.
"That's a good score... for a toddler's size."
Silence fell again, this time heavier and more ominous.
Bakugo's shoulders, still smoking from the explosion residue, tensed rigidly.
Slowly, he turned. His face was no longer human-like; it was the face of a demon just risen from hell!
The color in his eyes vanished, replaced by pure white cold, while his pupils shrank to look like black holes.
"YOU... BASTARD!!!"
Without warning, Bakugo charged, launching with the help of explosions in his palms facing backward, propelling his body forward.
"I'LL KILL YOU RIGHT NOW!!"
The distance between them closed in an instant. Bakugo's right hand raised, palm open, wild sparks dancing there, ready to explode Fuse's face into ash. The heat from the explosion could already be felt scorching Fuse's skin.
However, Fuse didn't move.
He didn't raise his hand to defend. He didn't retreat. He didn't even activate his magnetic field.
He just closed his eyes calmly. As if enjoying a gentle sea breeze, not facing death coming at high speed.
One...
Two...
Fuse opened his eyes.
The scene in front of him had changed. No explosion hit his face. No pain.
Katsuki Bakugo stopped abruptly in mid-air, his body rigid as if wrapped by a giant python. White cloths made of steel fiber and nanocarbon wrapped tightly around his body, binding his arms, silencing his explosions.
At the end of the cloth, Shota Aizawa stood. His black hair now floated upward, defying gravity. His eyes, previously tired, now wide open, glowing red, emitting the power of Erasure that erased anyone's quirk he gazed upon.
"What the hell is this cloth?! It's so hard!" Bakugo struggled, but the binding tightened. He tried to explode his hands, but only thin smoke came out. "Why can't I use my quirk?!"
"Because I erased it," Aizawa said coldly, his voice containing a threat that shrank guts. "Stop acting like a child. Just wasting time."
Fuse, standing right in front of Bakugo—so close he could see the beads of angry sweat on his forehead—smiled thinly.
He glanced at Aizawa briefly, nodding slightly as thanks, then looked back at the helpless Bakugo in front of him.
"That was an interesting performance," Fuse said softly.
He leaned his body forward a bit. Their faces now only inches apart.
Fuse could smell the strong scent of smoke and nitroglycerin from Bakugo's body. He stared straight into those red eyes full of rage, eyes that promised revenge a thousandfold. Then, with a very soft voice, Fuse uttered one word:
"Clown."
…
A/N: This time I'm uploading one more chapter... umm, I don't know if I can do it again tomorrow. Anyway, tomorrow I'll start getting busy. But I'll try to make time to write a little. Thanks for waiting!
By the way, I have a Patreon account. My initial intention was to upload faster there... but it seems too soon to do that, hehe. But feel free to stop by, maybe you'd like to take a look :3
https://www.pâtreon.com/Junxt
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