[Third Person POV]
"Okay everyone, now get back to it," Aizawa said with complete indifference, his voice as flat as a dry chalkboard. He gave the class a lazy thumbs-up as though dismissing a minor inconvenience.
"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" the students shouted in a single, panicked chorus, their voices cracking with fear. Their earlier excitement had been completely erased, replaced by wide-eyed dread.
Aizawa's expression barely twitched, but then a slow, eerie grin stretched across his face. His eyes glowed an ominous, blood-red hue.
"If you don't," he said, his tone sinking into a dangerous growl, "you'll learn who it is that you really need to fear."
A collective shiver rolled through the group. 'He's so scary!!' they all thought in perfect, terrified unison, trembling as the weight of his presence pressed down on them.
At the very center of the training field stood Baymax—big, round, and impossibly harmless—his blank digital face blinking cheerfully. He tilted his head and began to drum his padded fingers against his thigh in a whimsical rhythm, as if the terrifying display hadn't happened at all.
Off to the side, Kota continued to stare at Tony and Melissa with narrowed, skeptical eyes. His small fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "No quirkless person can do what you two just did," he blurted, his voice shaking with both disbelief and stubborn defiance. "You're clearly lying!"
Tony gave a slow shake of his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"That's technically the point," he replied calmly, though his words carried an unmistakable edge of pride. "We're doing what no one else can. The things we accomplish—hell, even people with quirks can't pull them off. Using nothing but our own brains, we've passed and surpassed the threshold of what's considered normal."
Melissa stepped forward, her confident stride matching the warm glow in her eyes. "We're practically trying to show people that anything is possible," she added, her voice soft yet powerful. "Anyone could be a hero." She smiled brightly and rested a gentle hand over her heart. "All you need is to have your heart and mind in the right place."
With a graceful crouch, Melissa lowered herself to Kota's level and patted his head, her sincerity shining through every movement. "I get it," she said kindly. "You've probably seen things that made you lose trust in heroes. But you shouldn't think that all of them are bad."
She gave a playful wink, the corners of her lips curling upward. "And if you really believe every hero out there is lackluster," she continued, "then maybe that's the universe telling you to become the hero this world needs."
Kota froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. For a heartbeat he simply stared at her, words lost somewhere in the storm of his thoughts. Then, without warning, a faint blush crept across his cheeks, his face turning crimson. Her encouraging smile only made the heat spread faster.
From behind, Tony's jaw tightened. He noticed the flush immediately, and irritation flashed across his face . He stepped forward with a sharp click of his boots and tilted his chin up in challenge. "Hey now," he said with a half-snarl, "aren't you blushing a little bit too hard, you brat? Don't go getting any funny ideas about my girl."
"Tony!!" Melissa snapped, her playful glare aimed squarely at him. "Seriously?" She looked both exasperated and amused, as though she couldn't believe he would pick a fight with a child.
Kota's blush deepened into a crimson scowl. A tick mark practically appeared on his forehead as he stomped a foot and shot Tony a glare. "Mind your own business, you— you quirkless hero wannabe!"
"Huh?!" Tony leaned forward, his eyes narrowing into a mock-intimidating glare. "Sounds to me like somebody needs a quick lesson in manners, you little snot-nosed sprinkler."
"Sprinkler?!" Kota sputtered, trembling with barely contained rage. He whipped his head toward Melissa and jabbed a finger at Tony.
"Why the hell are you even with this jerk!? Clearly you could do way better than that! "
Melissa pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed with exaggerated weariness, though a mischievous spark danced in her eyes.
"Honestly," she said in a theatrical whisper, "I've thought about that myself once or twice…"
Tony turned his head slowly, eyes narrowing to icy slits. His eyelid twitched as he leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a warning murmur. "Friendly reminder," he said with a mischievous grin, "thanks to Peter's enhanced senses, he'd probably feel the exact second Stark's heart stopped beating."
Melissa went completely rigid. It was as if her body had turned to stone mid-breath. Her eyes went wide and glassy, watering until tears pooled at the corners. Her cheeks puffed slightly while her lips trembled.
Then, with a faint metallic hum, a war hammer began to materialize in her palm, forming piece by piece from her suit.
"What's with the hammer?" Tony asked, taking an instinctive step back. His usual cocky grin faltered into a wary smile as the weapon hummed threateningly in Melissa's grip.
"I'll show you, you fu@#cking ba$%#rd!!" Melissa shouted, her voice cracking with a mix of rage and heartbreak. Tears streaked down her cheeks as she leapt forward, swinging the glowing war hammer in a wild arc that cut through the air with a thunderous whoosh.
Tony ducked with a sharp yelp, barely avoiding the first swing. The hammer crashed into the ground where he'd been standing, sending a spray of dirt and tiny pebbles into the air. "Whoa! Whoa—hey, hey, easy there, sweetheart!" he blurted, weaving backward as she came at him again.
Melissa didn't answer. She just kept charging, crying and swinging in a relentless frenzy. The hammer sliced through the air again, each swing accompanied by a crackling ripple of energy from her suit.
Tony spun on his heel and bolted. "Okay, okay—conversation later, running now!" he shouted over his shoulder, sprinting across the training field with Melissa hot on his heels.
Students scattered in every direction as Melissa stormed past, her hammer carving bright streaks of light with every furious swing. Tony zigzagged around the training grounds, narrowly avoiding each strike.
Aizawa let out a long, tired breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as his scarf began to levitate around him. With a flick of his wrists, the capture weapon shot forward and wrapped around Melissa in a practiced motion.
But instead of stopping her cold—as it usually did—Aizawa's eyes widened when the momentum shifted. His boots slid across the dirt, leaving a jagged trail as Melissa's sheer determination yanked him forward.
"Wait—what the—?" he muttered, planting his heels into the ground, Melissa dragging him several feet with each furious stride.
"Stop it, you two!" Aizawa barked, his voice finally rising above the chaos. "Stop wasting time and get back to training!"
"Not before I kill him first!!" Melissa shouted back without missing a step, her hammer whistling dangerously close to Tony's head.
Tony threw a desperate glance over his shoulder, his face pale but his mouth still full of snark. "See? This is why we need safe words in relationships!"
The chase continued for another chaotic minute, Melissa's furious cries echoing across the field while Tony dodged like a man running for his life. Aizawa, still tethered to Melissa, looked like an unwilling participant in some bizarre three-legged race. The other students watched with slack-jawed amazement, a few of them pulling out their phones despite the danger.
---
By late afternoon, the chaos of the morning had faded into an exhausted lull. The sun cast a warm golden glow across the training grounds as everyone limped toward the outdoor tables, bandages covering arms, shoulders, and knees. Baymax hovered patiently among them, his soft voice offering cheerful diagnostics as he patched up bruises and minor burns left from the day's sparring.
As the smell of food began to drift from the cooking area, the girls found themselves drawn to an unexpected sight. Tony and Bakugo stood side by side at the prep table, each handling a knife with surprising speed and precision. Their movements were quick, clean, and strangely elegant—like seasoned chefs rather than explosive hotheads and tech geniuses.
"Whoa!" Uraraka said, leaning forward in disbelief. "I didn't take you guys to be so skilled with a knife. Especially you, Tony, after the performance you gave yesterday."
Tony flicked a piece of diced onion neatly into a bowl, barely sparing her a glance.
"Like you said, it was just a performance," he said with a casual scoff. "Of course I know how to use a knife. Cooking is easy—it's all just thermal-based science and application."
Inwardly, he added with a quiet sigh, 'Not to mention I was poor once.'
Bakugo snorted from beside him without looking up. "Freakin' nerd…" he muttered under his breath.
Tony's lips twitched dangerously, the blade in his hand pausing mid-cut as he visibly resisted the urge to stab the air in Bakugo's direction.
Todoroki stood beneath a brick stove while igniting a controlled flame from his palm, glanced over with mild curiosity. "Do you base everything you do on science?" he asked in his usual calm monotone.
"Not everything," Tony replied, pushing the diced vegetables into a neat pile. "That would suck the joy out of life. Only when it matters—or when it makes things easier to understand." He wiped the knife clean with a single practiced swipe of his finger, brushing away the stubborn bits clinging to the blade.
Sero, who had just set a pot of water to boil, turned toward Tony with a grin. "Okay, I've been trying to ignore this, but I just can't anymore. What's up with that ridiculous apron?"
Tony's smirk widened as he finally stepped back to reveal the full design. The apron was printed with the image of a heavily muscled torso, complete with exaggerated abs and bold lettering across the chest that read:
Daddy's Kitchen – Where the Magic Happens.
A collective groan rippled across the group.
"I was honestly trying my hardest to ignore it," Uraraka admitted, covering her face with her hands.
Tony raised two fingers in a carefree peace sign. "What can I say? I have great taste. I asked Momo to make it for me!"
Across the table, Momo let out a long, weary sigh as she set down a stack of neatly folded napkins. "I'm starting to regret it already," she muttered under her breath, though a faint smile betrayed her amusement.
Bakugo rolled his eyes and flicked a slice of carrot into the pan with unnecessary force.
"Idiots," he grumbled—but even he couldn't completely hide the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
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