The restaurant Yaoyorozu had reserved turned out to be way fancier than anyone expected.
"Uh," Kaminari said, staring at the chandelier. "Are we sure we can afford this?"
"My family has an account here," Yaoyorozu said casually, like that was a normal thing to say. "Order whatever you'd like."
"I'm getting the most expensive thing on the menu," Ashido announced immediately.
"That's rude!" Iida's hand chops were emphatic.
"That's smart," Kaminari corrected. "I'm doing the same thing."
Arthur sat between Kirishima and Sero, watching his classmates argue about appetizers with the kind of intensity usually reserved for villain fights. Todoroki had actually shown up, sitting quietly at the end of the table, looking like he regretted every life choice that led him here.
"Dude," Kirishima leaned over to Arthur. "You know you're famous now, right? Like, actually famous."
"I won a school tournament."
"A school tournament that twenty million people watched on TV!" Sero pulled out his phone. "Look, you're trending on social media. 'Untouchable First Year.' 'Ice King Defeated.' 'Who Is Arthur Himura?'"
Arthur glanced at the screen and immediately regretted it. There were already compilation videos of his fights, slow-motion analyses of his techniques, and for some reason, a disturbing number of people arguing about whether his hair was naturally that color.
"Please tell me you're not reading the comments," Arthur said.
"Oh, I'm absolutely reading the comments," Sero grinned. "Someone called you 'illegally pretty for a fifteen-year-old.' Another person said you move like 'a murder cat.' There's already fan art."
"I hate everything about this conversation."
"There's one of you and Todoroki dramatically facing off with lightning effects and—"
Arthur snatched the phone away. "No."
"GIVE IT BACK!"
"No."
"That's my property!"
"You're using it to cause me emotional distress. That's a crime."
"That's not how crimes work!" Sero lunged for the phone, and Arthur held it over his head, which led to an undignified scramble that ended with Kirishima laughing so hard he couldn't breathe.
"You two are children," Yaoyorozu said, but she was smiling.
"Children who won the Sports Festival," Kaminari pointed out.
"Arthur won the Sports Festival," Jirou corrected. "The rest of us got our asses kicked."
"I didn't get my ass kicked!" Bakugo snarled from down the table. "I was ROBBED!"
"You were paralyzed," Tokoyami said calmly.
"THAT'S BEING ROBBED!"
"That's being defeated," Arthur said, finally returning Sero's phone. "There's a difference."
"I'LL SHOW YOU DEFEATED—"
"Bakugo," Kirishima interrupted, "maybe don't threaten the champion in a fancy restaurant?"
"I'LL THREATEN WHOEVER I WANT!"
A waiter appeared with remarkable timing, probably sensing the chaos. "Are we ready to order?"
"YES!" multiple voices shouted simultaneously.
The ordering process was complete anarchy. Ashido ordered three appetizers and two desserts. Kaminari tried to order alcohol and was immediately shut down by both Iida and the waiter. Bakugo ordered the spiciest thing on the menu and dared anyone to judge him. Todoroki ordered cold soba with the intensity of someone making a life-or-death decision.
"Arthur, what are you getting?" Uraraka asked from across the table.
"The salmon looks good."
"That's so boring!" Ashido protested. "You just won the Sports Festival! Order something exciting!"
"The salmon is exciting. To me."
"You're the least fun champion ever."
"I'll try to be more entertaining next time I fight for my life."
"See, that's the spirit!"
The food arrived in waves, and the conversation devolved into the comfortable chaos of teenagers with no adult supervision. Kaminari tried to steal food off Jirou's plate and got stabbed with a fork. Ashido convinced Aoyama to make his laser sparkle for "ambiance," which brought them a warning from management.
Arthur found himself actually relaxing, the tension from the tournament finally releasing. This was nice. Weird, but nice.
"Hey," Midoriya said quietly, sliding into the empty seat beside Arthur. His arm was out of the sling but still bandaged. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"During your fight with Todoroki, you told him to use his fire. Why? It would have made him stronger, harder to beat."
Arthur considered his answer. "Because winning a tournament by fighting someone at half-strength isn't really winning. It's just... sad."
"But you still won."
"I know. That's what makes it sad."
Midoriya absorbed that, scribbling in his ever-present notebook. "You think differently than most people. More like a tactician than a fighter."
"Fighting is tactics. People who don't understand that lose."
"Is that why you're so good? Just tactics?"
"That and practice. A lot of practice."
"How much practice are we talking?"
Five hundred years, Arthur thought. But let's not open that box.
"Enough to get good at reading patterns."
Before Midoriya could probe further, Ashido stood up, chopsticks raised like a sword. "ATTENTION! I propose a toast!"
"You can't toast with chopsticks," Sero said.
"Watch me! To Arthur, our championship winner! And to the rest of us, who tried really hard and got destroyed!"
"That's depressing," Kaminari said.
"It's honest!"
"To Arthur!" everyone chorused, raising their various utensils and drinks.
Arthur raised his water glass, feeling absurdly touched by the gesture. "To Class 1-A. You all fought well."
"Even though we lost!" Ashido added cheerfully.
"Even though you lost," Arthur confirmed.
"This is the worst toast ever," Jirou muttered, but she was smiling.
The dinner continued with more chaos, more laughter, more terrible jokes. At some point, Bakugo and Todoroki started having what could generously be called a conversation, though it mostly consisted of Bakugo yelling and Todoroki responding in monosyllables.
"I'M GOING TO BEAT YOU NEXT TIME!"
"Okay."
"DON'T JUST SAY OKAY!"
"What should I say?"
"SOMETHING WITH MORE EMOTION!"
"Okay, but with feeling."
Kirishima had to physically restrain Bakugo from climbing over the table.
Arthur caught Todoroki's eye across the chaos, and the dual-quirked student had the ghost of a smile on his face. Progress.
The next day, returning to school was surreal.
"ARTHUR!" a first-year girl from general studies screamed as he walked past. "CAN I HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH?"
Arthur blinked. "What?"
"YOU'RE SO COOL! PLEASE!"
Before he could respond, five more students appeared, all shouting questions and requests. Arthur backed up, genuinely panicked by the attention.
"I don't have a pen," he said desperately.
"I DO!" multiple voices offered.
"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Bakugo's explosion scattered the crowd. "HE DOESN'T HAVE TIME FOR YOU EXTRAS!"
The students fled. Arthur looked at Bakugo with genuine gratitude.
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me. You look pathetic when you're panicking."
"I wasn't panicking."
"You were absolutely panicking."
They walked to class together in companionable silence, which was immediately shattered when they opened the door.
The classroom was packed. Not with 1-A students, but with people from other classes, all crowded around desks, talking, pointing, taking photos.
"WHAT IS HAPPENING?" Iida's voice cut through the chaos. "THIS IS NOT YOUR CLASSROOM! LEAVE IMMEDIATELY!"
"We just wanted to see the champion!" someone from 1-B protested.
"Yeah! And Todoroki! And Bakugo!"
"I DIDN'T EVEN PLACE!" Bakugo roared.
"You were chained to a podium! That's iconic!"
"THAT'S NOT ICONIC, THAT'S HUMILIATING!"
Aizawa appeared in the doorway, looking even more exhausted than usual. His bandages were finally off, revealing healing scars from the USJ.
"Everyone who isn't in Class 1-A," he said quietly, "leave. Now."
His tone was dead calm, which somehow made it more terrifying. The crowd dispersed instantly.
"Sit down," Aizawa told his actual students. "We need to talk about the festival aftermath."
Everyone scrambled to their seats. Aizawa looked at them with his usual expression of chronic disappointment.
"First, congratulations. You all performed well, especially considering the USJ incident was only two weeks ago. The pro heroes watching were impressed."
"Really?" Uraraka looked hopeful.
"Yes. You'll all receive internship offers based on your performance. We'll discuss those later." Aizawa's gaze landed on Arthur. "Himura, you received five thousand offers. That's the highest in the school's history."
The class went silent.
"That's insane!" Kaminari burst out.
"Todoroki received four thousand one tweanty three and Bakugo received three thousand five hundred and fifty six, most of which specifically mentioned his 'raw power and anger issues needing refinement.'"
"I DON'T HAVE ANGER ISSUES!"
"You're currently screaming about not having anger issues."
Bakugo slumped in his seat, fuming silently.
"The point is," Aizawa continued, "the festival put you all on the map. Agencies are watching. Villains are watching. The media is watching. Your actions reflect on U.A., so don't do anything stupid."
"Define stupid," Kaminari said.
"You're the definition, Kaminari."
"BURNED!"
"That includes you, Ashido."
"I WASN'T EVEN GOING TO DO ANYTHING!"
"Yet."
Aizawa pulled out a sleeping bag. "Internships start next week. Choose your agencies carefully. Class dismissed. Try not to destroy anything on your way out."
He climbed into the sleeping bag and was snoring within seconds.
"Is he okay?" Hagakure asked.
"That's just Tuesday for him," Jirou replied.
Lunch was even more chaotic than usual. Every table in the cafeteria was talking about the festival, analyzing fights, arguing about rankings.
Arthur tried to eat in peace, but people kept stopping by their table to congratulate him, ask questions, or just stare awkwardly.
"This is your life now," Yaoyorozu said sympathetically. "Being famous means constant attention."
"I don't want attention. I want lunch."
"Should have thought about that before winning so dramatically," Kaminari said, mouth full of rice.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," Iida scolded.
"Don't tell me how to live my life."
A student from Class 1-B approached their table, and Arthur recognized Monoma, the blonde who'd been talking trash before the festival.
"Well, well," Monoma's smile was fake and condescending. "If it isn't Class 1-A, basking in their victory. Must be nice, having one competent member carry the entire class."
"Excuse me?" Yaoyorozu's tone could have frozen water.
"Oh, I'm just saying what everyone's thinking! Arthur won. The rest of you were just background characters. Supporting cast in his story."
"That's not true," Midoriya said firmly. "We all fought hard."
"And you all lost. Spectacularly." Monoma's smile widened. "Face it, without Arthur, Class 1-A is just—"
Arthur stood up, and something in his expression made Monoma take a step back.
"If you're finished," Arthur said quietly, "leave. My classmates deserve respect, not your insecure grandstanding."
"I'm not insecure-"
"You are. You're desperately trying to tear others down because you're afraid of being left behind. It's obvious and sad."
Monoma's face went red. Before he could respond, a girl with orange hair appeared and physically dragged him away, apologizing profusely.
"Sorry about him! He's got issues! We're working on it!"
Arthur sat back down to find his entire table staring at him.
"That was awesome," Sero said.
"That was mean," Uraraka added.
"That was accurate," Tokoyami corrected.
"I was just stating facts."
"Ice cold facts," Jirou said appreciatively. "You destroyed him without even raising your voice."
"It's a skill."
"TEACH ME THAT SKILL!" Ashido demanded.
"No."
"Why not?!"
"Because you'd abuse it immediately."
"I WOULD NOT- okay yeah I would."
The rest of lunch passed with more banter, more jokes, more of the comfortable chaos Arthur was starting to enjoy. It was different from Camelot's formal meals, the carefully observed etiquette and political maneuvering. This was just... friends being friends.
After school, Arthur headed to the training grounds, intending to work on his technique now that the festival pressure was off.
He wasn't alone.
Bakugo was already there, blasting training dummies with single-minded intensity. His movements were sharper than before, more controlled, like he'd been analyzing his festival losses obsessively.
"You're training?" Arthur asked, genuinely surprised.
"I'M ALWAYS TRAINING!" Bakugo roared, then seemed to catch himself. "I mean... yeah. Obviously."
"Want company?"
Bakugo looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"
"Because training alone is boring."
"You're just going to show off how much better you are."
"Probably. But you'll learn something."
"I DON'T NEED YOUR—" Bakugo stopped, took a breath. "Fine. Whatever. Just don't patronize me."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
They trained together, and it was actually productive. Bakugo was volatile, aggressive, but he listened when Arthur pointed out inefficiencies in his technique. And Arthur had to admit, the blonde's combat instincts were sharp. Rough, undisciplined, but sharp.
"Your explosion timing is off," Arthur said after watching a combo. "You're telegraphing the big ones."
"I'M NOT TELEGRAPHING ANYTHING!"
"You pull your arm back before releasing. It's obvious."
"THAT'S HOW EXPLOSIONS WORK!"
"Then change how they work. Try releasing from different positions. Make it unpredictable."
Bakugo looked like he wanted to argue, then grudgingly tried it. The next explosion came from an unexpected angle, and even Arthur had to admit it was effective.
"Better," Arthur acknowledged.
"OBVIOUSLY IT'S BETTER, I DID IT!"
"Your humility is inspiring."
"SHUT UP!"
They trained until the sun started setting, and Arthur found himself actually enjoying it. Bakugo was exhausting to be around, but he was genuine. No politics, no hidden agendas, just pure aggressive honesty.
"Why do you train so much?" Bakugo asked during a water break, voice uncharacteristically quiet.
"Because I need to be stronger."
"You're already the strongest in our year. Probably stronger than most second-years."
"That's not strong enough."
"For what?"
Arthur thought about the League of Villains, about the Nomu, about the war he knew was coming.
"For what's ahead."
Bakugo studied him, then nodded. "Yeah. I get that."
They returned to training, and Arthur felt something shift. Not friendship, exactly. But understanding. Recognition between two people who refused to accept their limits.
Different motivations, Arthur thought, watching Bakugo perfect his new technique. But same drive. That's worth something.
As darkness fell and they finally called it quits, Arthur checked his phone and found fifty-three messages in the class group chat.
Most were memes about the festival. Several were Kaminari's terrible jokes. One was Bakugo yelling at everyone to stop texting him.
Arthur smiled slightly and pocketed the phone.
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