Despite Izuku swearing to Tomura he wouldn't read anything the media says, Izuku found himself paralyzed and rooted before every screen. Shame and devastation smothered him as each headline, each viral meme, each venomous interview picked him apart. The voices that used to shower him with pride and support now cut deep with barbed words. And as if the world's betrayal were not enough, most of those he'd called friends drifted away in the silence, ghosts that hurt more than explicit hatred.
All except a precious few who refused to abandon him: Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, and Uraraka Ochako remained, their loyalty a faint heartbeat amid the deafening uproar.
—
Third POV
A tweet by Izuku's hate group exploded onto the school's social page.
"There is an intruder among the top 100 students, one of you is an omega, prancing around playing pretend."
The accusation hit like a match tossed onto gasoline, sending the already roiling discord into a new frenzy.
Gossip and suspicion tore through UA like wildfire. Every classroom, every hallway, and every extracurricular buzzed with speculation and scorn.
Friendships withstood the onslaught only in rare cases. Todoroki, Bakugo, and Uraraka stayed steadfast, their loyalty rooted in reasons deeper than social approval, but the rest of the school turned, and those in the hate group fumed at being denied the twisted satisfaction of further torment.
In the cafeteria, the air was stifling with judgment. Katsuki Bakugo's fury simmered as he watched the gossipers, his patience for the sheer cowardice and hypocrisy in the room running out fast. His gaze locked onto the ringleaders, the same group who'd fueled the hate. Rage erupted, white hot and uncontainable, as he stalked over.
He caught their voices, cruel, taunting, reveling in their failed plot to blackmail Izuku.
Their words sliced the air, "That bitch didn't even let us reap the benefits from blackmailing him."
Another sneered, "Guess he didn't have any more beds to—" That was as far as they got.
Katsuki's self-control evaporated in a white-hot flash of fury. With no warning, he whipped his metal cafeteria tray into the ringleader's face, the metallic clang echoing like gunfire through the stunned silence.
Bone and cartilage crunched grotesquely beneath the force, the boy crumpling backward in shock and agony. Katsuki barely paused, rage drove him to swing again, tray meeting cheek, then jaw, then temple, until the echoing strikes were joined by screams.
The circle of students fell away as chaos erupted. Blood splattered in vivid arcs across the tabletop and floor, the sharp scent slicing through the room. One aggressor choked on a broken tooth, another tried to crawl away, hands smeared in blood.
No quirk would save them from this explosive fury from Katsuki.
Katsuki's fists joined the assault, knuckles splitting open, red streaking down to his wrist a vivid, violent warning. The lunchroom was locked in horrified silence for a long moment, everyone paralyzed by the brutality that had just unfolded.
"You dared..." Teachers rushed to restrain him, but he didn't yield easily.
Bakugo's words cut through the air, sharp and toxic as venom. Rage radiated from him in waves, sizzling with barely restrained violence.
A heavy cloak of alpha pheromones filled the cafeteria, a suffocating, electric charge of dominance and fury. The atmosphere tightened until it was almost painful, every student caught in its grip. Even the other alphas in the room stiffened, instinctively recognizing the power of Bakugo's authority and volatility, aware that his threat carried the weight of brutal promise.
The hate group shrank beneath his gaze, cocky defiance gutted and replaced by stark terror. Their bravado disintegrated; faces drained of color, shoulders hunched, eyes wild as they scanned the room for someone, anyone willing to intervene. The edge of their fear tainted the air, their posturing reduced to desperate trembling and frenzied whispers for mercy.
Yet while hate ran rampant, Izuku's true allies made their stand.
Uraraka
The Deku Squad turned away from Izuku with cold indifference, shunning their once-beloved friend. Uraraka stared in disbelief, her heart twisting as she realized just how shallow her classmates could be. Her voice trembled when she spoke, but beneath the wavering tone lay a deep, unyielding conviction.
Pushing herself upright from her chair, Uraraka lifted her chin defiantly. Her hands balled into tight fists at her sides as she faced her classmates, her eyes blazing with the raw, mingled fury and pain of betrayal.
"How could any of you abandon Izuku like this?" she demanded, her words slicing through the murmurs.
Iida stared at me before speaking in a matter-of-fact tone.
"An omega is—"
"Just because he's an omega? He's been a better friend and a better hero than any of you!" Her voice grew stronger, carrying across the cafeteria as she stood alone against the tide, unwavering in her loyalty even as tears threatened to fall.
She scoffed, "How could you be so shallow?"
"Iida, he saved your life when—"
"Shut up!"
"What! Are you ashamed of, Izuku saving you now because he's an omega?"
He glared.
"And Momo, Jiro, Asui didn't he encourage when he at your lowest. Battling with your depression, facing backlash from the public—"
"Just leave Uraraka!" Jiro yelled pushing me away.
I begrudgingly swallowed my anger and walked away.
Todoroki
Even after the explosive events in the cafeteria, the relentless tide of gossip kept rolling. Whispers slithered through the corridors, eager and vicious students driven by jealousy, resentment, or simple boredom warped every detail of Izuku's story to suit their own bitter narratives. It grated on Todoroki's nerves, the persistent venom of their words coiling in his chest.
Unable to listen any longer, Todoroki finally snapped. Abandoning any pretense of subtlety, he strode directly toward a group muffling their laughter as they shared yet another nasty rumor. His eyes were cold steel as he spoke, making no effort to lower his voice.
"If you're going to gossip about Izuku, at least have the courage to say it to my face," he challenged, the simmering indignation in his tone silencing their laughter at once.
Todoroki wielded the force of his intellect like a scalpel, his words soft but relentless. Leaning against the wall, arms folded, he met each insult and slur with cold, precise retorts.
"You call him unworthy," Todoroki intoned, his voice like ice, quiet but edged with unmistakable steel.
"Yet he's bested everyone in combat and intellectually. Omega or not, Izuku's proved himself again and again, so let me ask. Have you really earned the right to judge him?"
He loomed closer towards the group of nobodies.
He turned a cool, appraising glare on the loudest heckler. "And you! What's your rank now? Somewhere below two hundred, huh?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes.
"I—" Todoroki cut them off.
He continued. "Before you run your mouth, you might want to ask yourself if you can afford those opinions."
He let the silence settle, their discomfort hanging thick in the air.
"I don't see any agencies scrambling for you. No one's lining up to offer you sponsorships. No civilians fawning over your heroics or begging you to join their cause. Meanwhile, Izuku's been scouted, recognized, and trusted where it matters. If you want to trash someone's achievements, at least have a single one of your own."
Todoroki's frustration pressed outward, his presence heavy and oppressive, his scent a palpable warning effectively choking out the last remnants of childish mockery.
Under his measured gaze, sneers faltered and doubts crept in. His logic pushed through the uproar, icy clarity challenging the crowd's malice, bit by bit melting their certainty.
Amidst all the turmoil and suspicion, the unwavering glow of loyalty refused to dim. In that storm of division and betrayal, those loyal to Izuku blazed all the brighter, holding his name above the rising flood of scorn, determined that he would not be lost to the darkness of their prejudice.