Red in Different Shades

30. Terpsichorean

The bell rang, signaling the start of homeroom, and Niwa watched as the last stragglers stumbled into their seats. As Aizawa-sensei extracted himself from his sleeping bag up at the front, she let her gaze drift. 

The air buzzed with the second-semester exhaustion. The novelty of being back in classes had worn off with Bakugou and Midoriya finally back from house arrest. But it seemed there was also a fresher layer of tension threading through the classroom.

Their perpetually tired homeroom teacher surveyed the room, his eyes as unyielding as always. "About the hero wok-studies that are like a more serious version of the internships, where you go to where pro heroes work and help them... " He paused. "We talked about them at our faculty meeting yesterday, and almost all the teachers, including the principal, though you shouldn't do them."

The class erupted in noisy disbelief, everyone talking over each other, complaints flying.

Kirishima leaned forward in his seat, looking heartbroken. "Even after we had that big meeting about it?"

Meeting. Niwa rolled her eyes. If you could call that total ass kicking a meeting.

She still couldn't get over how Mirio had wiped the floor with her whole class, like it was nothing. She could admit his strength was impressive. Annoyingly precise, too, like he'd mapped out every move three steps ahead. But still, it grated on her nerves.

In the seat directly in front of the spikey redhead, Kaminari heaved a sigh, fingers idly twisting the end of Ojiro's tail. "But thinking about why we ended up in the dorms, I guess that makes sense." His voice sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

Niwa watched, mildly entertained, as Ojiro just let Kaminari play with his tail like a bored toddler with a stress ball. But the peace didn't last. Behind her, Bakugou shot out of his seat, practically spitting fire. "Serves you right!"

Niwa couldn't help the smirk creeping across her face, slouching back in her chair with a soft, jabbing mutter, "You wouldn't have been allowed either way. So petty."

She felt the intensity of his glare even before she turned around, catching his narrowed eyes and the irritated twitch of his lip. Before he could snap something back, though, Aizawa's voice cut through the chaos, continuing as if Bakugou's outburst wasn't even a minor inconvenience.

"But," he continued, ignoring the general chaos, "some think we wont be able to raise strong heroes with our current policies, so we came to the decision that first years will only be allowed to go to agencies with a good track record of accepting work study students."

A fresh wave of chatter filled the room, and Niwa found herself tapping her fingers on her desk as the news sank in. An agency with a good reputation, huh? 

Well, that probably counted out Mirko. Surprisingly, Niwa wasn't as cut up about that as she might have been. Mirko had been all speed, instinct and adrenaline, and Niwa couldn't help the thrill she'd felt back then. But... Niwa knew there were other things she could work on. Other things that she needed to work on.

"Damn it!" Bakugou snarled, slamming a fist on his desk, muscles taut as a live wire. She ignored the boy and thought of the offers from the Sports Festival, most of which she hadn't really considered since they'd arrived. Maybe one of those would meet the new requirement.

An anxious energy crept into her thoughts. She crossed her arms tightly, her mind working through each of the agencies that she could remember. As the day wore on, a tension in her chest felt like it was tightening against her ribs, a restless, pulsing beat that matched the tapping of her fingers on her desk. She barely noticed she was doing it until Bakugou kicked the back of her chair and muttered, "Quit it already."