The third week at UA already had a rhythm.
It wasn't the chaotic pace of the first day nor the overflowing energy of the second. It was steadier, the rhythm of twenty people who had started to understand the space they shared and who no longer walked through the classroom with the caution of people in unknown territory.
Mineta noticed it in the small details. How Kirishima and Kaminari already claimed the hallway between their seats as their own. How Asui always arrived first and had her notebook open when everyone else entered. How Bakugo was still Bakugo in every possible way but there was something in the way he sat that was slightly less territorial than in the first week, like someone who had decided the territory was already sufficiently established and didn't need constant proof.
Small things. But real.
That Tuesday, Present Mic gave them a paired English conversation activity.
The method for assigning partners was random, which produced some interesting combinations. Kirishima and Tokoyami, who glanced at each other for a second before Kirishima decided this was perfectly manageable and Tokoyami decided Kirishima was at least a better option than several others. Kaminari and Bakugo, which wasn't interesting so much as dangerous, resulting in Kaminari speaking English at the speed of someone trying to finish the conversation before Bakugo found a reason to explode.
Mineta was paired with Uraraka.
— Hi! — Uraraka said, with the enthusiasm of someone for whom any activity is an opportunity to get to know someone better. — I'm Uraraka Ochaco, though we already know each other a little, right?
— Mineta Minoru. Yes, from the first day.
— Exactly! — Uraraka looked at the activity sheet. — We have to talk about why we want to be heroes. In English.
— I want to become a hero because — Mineta paused, choosing his words carefully. — Because I think the world needs people who can do things others cannot.
Uraraka looked at him as if processing whether that was a complete answer or the beginning of a longer one.
— That's… kind of philosophical — she said. — I want to become a hero to help my family. My parents work very hard and I want to pay them back someday.
There was something very straightforward in that. No embellishment.
— That's a good reason — said Mineta.
— Yours is good too — said Uraraka. — Different, but good.
Present Mic passed by their table, heard the last exchanges, and gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up that on his feedback scale probably equated to a perfect score.
Wednesday was memorable for completely different reasons.
That afternoon's hero training class included a solo practice session where each student trained their quirk in the yard under Aizawa's supervision, moving among the twenty with a clipboard and the expression of someone seeing interesting things even if they didn't say so.
Mineta used the session to work on the limit of simultaneous spheres. Not the physical limit, but the attention limit: how many he could actively monitor before spatial awareness began to degrade.
The answer that day was nineteen.
With twenty, his attention started to fragment in a way that wasn't incapacitating but noticeable, like trying to follow too many conversations at once. With nineteen, it was still sharp.
Nineteen. Last month it was sixteen. It's increasing.
This reflection was interrupted by a noise from the other side of the yard.
Specifically, the noise of Kaminari attempting a higher-power discharge than usual, which was a reasonable experiment in a practice session, but the result was that the discharge deviated from the intended direction and hit the metal bench where Jirou had left her backpack.
The backpack flew.
Jirou looked at it.
Looked at Kaminari.
Kaminari had the expression of someone rapidly calculating whether there was any version of this moment that could end well for him.
There wasn't.
— I'm really sorry — said Kaminari, with completely genuine sincerity.
— There are four books in that backpack — said Jirou, with a calm more concerning than anger would have been.
— I know.
— One of them is from the UA library.
— I know.
— The fine for library property damage is three thousand yen.
— I know that too.
— Just making sure you knew.
— I know everything, Jirou. I know everything and I'm really sorry.
Jirou picked up the backpack, checked the books for damage with the expression of someone doing an inventory, and put everything back.
— The library book is fine — she said finally.
Kaminari exhaled the breath he'd been holding.
— Thanks to —
— But if you discharge again without controlling the direction first, next time I won't warn you.
— Completely fair.
Aizawa, who had observed all of this from five meters away without intervening, wrote something on his clipboard with the expression of someone who had drawn a conclusion, though he didn't specify what.
Mineta returned to his nineteen spheres.
Thursday brought the first moment of what could be called a real conversation between Mineta and Yaoyorozu, distinct from the brief interactions of the first days.
It was in the UA library, where Mineta had gone after class to look for a book on hero legislation the teacher had mentioned as recommended reading. The UA library was large and well organized, with that particular silence of spaces where people come to work seriously.
Yaoyorozu was at a table near the back with three books open simultaneously and her notebook beside them, working with the focus of someone who has found their rhythm and doesn't want to lose it.
Mineta found the book he was looking for, found a free table, and sat down.
The free table happened to be two tables away from where Yaoyorozu was.
It wasn't a plan. The library was quite full that afternoon, and the free tables were what they were.
They worked in silence for a while. Mineta read the legislation book, which turned out to be more interesting than the title suggested. Yaoyorozu worked on her own tasks with her usual methodical approach.
It was she who spoke first, without looking up from her notebook.
— Chapter four of the book you have. About quirk use in joint operations with the police.
Mineta looked at her.
— Yes?
— It's more useful than chapter three, even though the teacher only mentioned three. Chapter four has the case law explaining why the regulations in three exist.
Mineta looked at the book's index. Chapter Four: Legal Precedents in Hero-Police Joint Operations, 1998–2019.
He turned to chapter four.
Yaoyorozu returned to her notebook.
Mineta read chapter four, which was indeed more useful than three. The case law not only explained the origin of the regulations but showed the exact limits of their application, which was considerably more practical information than the regulations in the abstract.
After a while, without overthinking it:
— How did you know four was better than three if the teacher only mentioned three?
Yaoyorozu looked up.
— I read the entire book before the teacher mentioned it. It was on the reference list for the course program.
— You read all the books on the reference list before the teachers mentioned them?
— The ones I could get, yes.
— How many were there?
— Seventeen. I got fifteen.
Mineta processed that.
Fifteen preparatory books before classes even started. On top of physical training, on top of systematic notes for each class, on top of everything else.
Recommended entry, thought Mineta. And yet she works as if she has to prove she deserves it.
He didn't say it. It wasn't the moment, nor did he have enough context to say it without sounding like something he didn't mean.
— Thanks for chapter four — he said instead.
— You're welcome — Yaoyorozu replied, returning to her work.
Friday brought UA's first math midterm.
It wasn't that he didn't know exams existed. It was that UA exams had a practical application component normal exams didn't, and the first midterm included a section calculating trajectories in heroic scenarios, requiring both pure mechanics and the judgment of when to apply it.
Mineta completed it with plenty of time and checked it twice before submitting.
When the results arrived the next day, Aizawa handed them out with his usual energy: the energy of someone who considers elaboration a luxury.
Mineta opened his.
87 out of 100. Points lost in the practical application section, specifically for calculating an intervention angle more precisely than the time available required.
Optimization when sufficiency would have been enough, he thought, with mild irony.
Behind him came the sound of Yaoyorozu opening her exam.
A brief silence.
Then, very quietly, almost only to herself:
— Ninety-four.
It wasn't satisfaction with ninety-four. It was the voice of someone expecting more and honestly processing the gap between expectations and reality.
Mineta said nothing. It wasn't his place yet.
But he noticed.
The following Monday, Aizawa announced in class that on Wednesday they would visit the USJ for rescue exercises with No. 13.
The class reacted with varying enthusiasm. Uraraka with genuine curiosity about different rescue environments. Iida with the posture of someone already mentally preparing. Kaminari with the excitement of someone who hasn't fully processed that rescue exercises involve simulated emergencies, not just visiting a new site.
— Will there be real fire? — asked Kaminari.
— Simulated — said Aizawa.
— And water?
— Simulated as well.
— And collapses?
— Kaminari.
— Yes?
— Simulated.
— Ah. Good. — A pause. — And villains?
— Simulated — said Aizawa, with the tone of someone closing that line of questioning.
Kaminari turned to Sero with a satisfied expression.
— All simulated. It's going to be very safe.
Sero nodded with the expression of someone who doesn't want to be the one saying what he's thinking.
Mineta, in the fourth row, listened and looked ahead.
Simulated, he thought.
Of course.
Tuesday before the USJ trip, Mineta stayed later than usual in the yard after classes.
There was no one else. The afternoon had that particular light of day's end, and the yard was silent with the silence of spaces used to noise.
He worked for an hour on the sphere limit. Twenty that day. All twenty clear. The limit had risen.
Then he worked on something different: regeneration speed. How long it took to recover spheres after heavy use. The answer depended on how many he had used and over what period, but the general pattern was becoming predictable.
You're on the edge of something, he thought, with the specific certainty of someone who has been monitoring a process long enough to recognize when it's about to shift. I don't know exactly when. But it's close.
He had felt it for weeks. A pressure in the quirk that wasn't pain but rather the sensation of something growing in a space that no longer fit it, yet hadn't found the exact shape it was going to take.
The USJ was tomorrow.
Mineta gathered the spheres he could recover, left the ones he couldn't yet, and went home.
That night he wrote more than usual in his notebook.
Tomorrow is USJ.
What I know: Kurogiri will split the class into groups. Midoriya, Asui, and I will end up in the shipwreck area surrounded by aquatic villains. Aizawa will fight alone against a horde to protect us, and Shigaraki will release the Nomu that will wreck him. All Might will arrive and fight beyond his limit.
What I don't know: exactly when each thing happens. The precise timing in the chaos. And what will happen with my quirk.
A pause.
What I have to do: in the shipwreck area, follow Midoriya's leadership. He has the best situational analysis in the class even if he doesn't fully realize it yet. In the central plaza, don't intervene in Aizawa's fight because I can't change that outcome and any intervention only adds another variable to the chaos. When All Might arrives, stay out of his action radius.
And the quirk. If it evolves at USJ, as I believe, I can't predict exactly when or how. I just need to stay alert.
He closed the notebook.
Outside, the neighborhood was quiet. The piano in the building across the street played that familiar melody, with the fluidity of something long learned.
Tomorrow, thought Mineta before falling asleep.
Tomorrow, something else begins.
End of Episode 16.