God of Heroics: Comicman!

The group chat had pinged at 9:47 PM the night before.

Fukidashi: new training method tomorrow morning. gym. 6 AM. trust me on this one.

Tetsutetsu: BRO ITS A SCHOOL NIGHT

Tetsutetsu: IM IN

Kamakiri: what kind of training

Fukidashi: the kind like in an anime

Kamakiri: im in

Tokage: Bold of you to assume I go to bed before midnight anyway. Count me in.

Kendo: Do I need to bring anything?

Fukidashi: just your body. your poor, unprepared body.

Monoma: You certainly have a talent for theatrics.

Fukidashi: is that a yes?

Monoma: I suppose I have nothing better to do at that hour.

Shoda: I'll be there, Fukidashi-san!

Shishida: If I may inquire as to the nature of this new regimen?

Fukidashi: no. surprise. 6 AM. be there or be square, yo.

The reporters were already at the gate.

A swarm of cameras, microphones, and professionally concerned faces pressed against the U.A. entrance barrier like pigeons fighting over breadcrumbs. Every question was the same question wearing a different hat.

"How does it feel being taught by All Might?"

"What's All Might like as a teacher?"

"Can you tell us anything about All Might's teaching methods?"

"Is All Might a good influence on young heroes?"

Tetsutetsu, stopped by a woman with a microphone, blinked at the camera and said, "He's awesome? Like, he's All Might? What do you want me to say?"

Kendo handled it with more composure. "All Might brings an energy to the classroom that inspires everyone to give their best. We're very fortunate to have him."

Kamakiri walked past without stopping and a reporter had to jog to keep up. "Yo, is All Might as big in person as he looks on TV?" Kamakiri didn't slow down. "Bigger."

Tokage herself gave a wink and a peace sign. "He's super cool! The real deal!"

Shishida offered a polite, measured response about the value of learning from the symbol of peace that the reporters seemed genuinely pleased with.

Shoda mumbled something about All Might being really tall and escaped into the building.

Then a reporter caught Manga.

"Excuse me! You're a student in the hero course, right? How does it feel learning from the Symbol of Peace?"

Manga turned to face the camera. His speech bubble shifted to something large and bold.

"All Might is pretty awesome," he said. "But the real story here isn't All Might. The real story is that Fukidashi Manga, the man who will become a hero that stands above God, is also in the building. You should be asking about ME."

The reporter's professional smile cracked. She glanced at her cameraman. The cameraman made a tiny cutting motion across his throat.

"Uh, thank you for your time!" She pivoted to the next student so fast she nearly tripped over her own microphone cord.

Manga watched her go. A little crying-laughing emoji appeared in his bubble.

"Did she just run away from you?" Kendo asked from the doorway.

"I have that effect on people."

"I’m not surprised."

“You should’ve seen my therapists in middle school.”

…

At 5:58 AM, the U.A. gym was cold and dark and smelled like floor cleaner.

Manga was already inside, stretching on the padded floor in his PE uniform with a water bottle beside him. His speech bubble glowed faintly in the dim light, a little sunrise emoji cycling inside it.

Tetsutetsu arrived first, at exactly 6:00. He was wearing a tank top that had no right to be that tight and had clearly been awake for at least thirty minutes based on the protein shake residue on his upper lip.

"Alright!" He smashed his fists together. "What's the surprise?!"

"We gotta wait for the others."

Kamakiri came in at 6:03, looking like he'd rolled out of bed and directly into his shoes. His mohawk was leaning slightly to the left. He grunted something that might have been "morning" and sat down against the wall.

Kendo arrived at 6:05 with Tokage, both looking considerably more put-together. Kendo had her hair tied back and her sleeves rolled up. Tokage was in compression shorts and a sports bra again, and Kamakiri suddenly looked more awake.

Monoma walked in at 6:07 in coordinated workout wear that looked like he'd ironed it. Shoda followed a minute later, round-faced and eager.

Shishida arrived last, at 6:10, in human form, glasses on, polite as ever. "My apologies for the delay. The morning train was slower than anticipated."

"You're fine. Everyone's here." Manga stood up. Eight people in a gym at six in the morning, all looking at him like he was about to announce something either brilliant or insane.

He was about to do both.

"So." He clapped his hands. "Yesterday, during the battle trial, I used a word called Zusshiri. Crushing gravity. Dropped it on Kendo and Tokage and they couldn't move."

"Don't remind me," Tokage muttered.

"Sorry. Anyway." Manga walked to the center of the gym floor. "Last night I was thinking. If I can increase gravity on other people, I can increase it on myself. And if I can increase it on myself..."

He let the sentence hang.

Kendo got there first. Her eyes widened. "You want to train under increased gravity."

"Two times normal." Manga held up two fingers. "Everything you do, your body works twice as hard to do it. Every squat, every push-up, every step. Your muscles, your bones, your cardiovascular system, all of it working double. And when the gravity comes off, you're stronger because your body adapted to the load."

Silence.

"That's freaking insane, dude." Kamakiri said. “Badass…” He grinned.

"That's what I said!"

"Has anyone ever done this before?" Shoda asked.

"Not that I know of. I literally came up with it the night after the battle trial."

"Of course you did," Monoma said with a smile.

Tetsutetsu was vibrating. "DUDE. This is gonna be freaking awesome!"

"That’s what I’m saying!"

"I'm IN. Put the gravity on me RIGHT NOW."

"Hold on." Kendo raised a hand. "Is this safe? Two times gravity means twice the stress on your joints, your spine, your heart."

"That's why we start at two and don't go higher until our bodies adjust." Manga's bubble displayed a little chart with an upward line. "Pin-pin handles fatigue. But the physical stress is real. If anyone feels actual pain in their joints or their chest, you step out of range. This isn't about killing ourselves. It's about getting stronger faster than anyone thinks is possible."

"I'm interested in the physiological implications," Shishida said, adjusting his glasses. "The musculoskeletal adaptation alone would be remarkable if sustained over weeks."

"So you're in?"

"Naturally."

"Anyone out?"

Nobody moved.

"Alright." Manga took a breath. Centered himself.

"Zusshiri."

The word left his mouth and formed above the gym floor, heavy kanji that seemed to press the air down around them just by existing. The letters hung there, dark and dense, and then the effect settled over the room like a blanket made of lead.

Two times gravity.

Tetsutetsu's knees buckled. Not a lot, but enough to notice. His eyes went wide. "Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa."

Kamakiri, who had been leaning against the wall, slid down it about three inches before catching himself. "What the hell. My arms weigh twice as much."

"That's because they DO weigh twice as much," Manga said. He was standing, steady, but the effort showed in his posture. His shoulders were lower. His steps were shorter. His body was handling it, but only because he'd spent months training like a madman after the entrance exam.

Kendo took a step forward and grimaced. "It's like wearing a weighted vest on your entire body. Inside AND out."

"Try stretching," Manga suggested.

Tokage reached for her toes.

"OW. What the... I could do this yesterday!"

"Under one G, yeah. Welcome to two."

Monoma was standing very still with his arms at his sides and a frown on his face. "This sucks."

"That means it's good for you." Kendo smirked.

They started with basic exercises. Push-ups. Squats. Sit-ups. Lunges. The kind of thing they'd all done a hundred times.

Under Zusshiri, nothing was basic.

Tetsutetsu dropped to the floor for push-ups and his arms nearly gave out on the first rep. He grit his teeth and pushed through, steel-stubborn, but his pace was a fraction of what it normally was. Each rep looked like it cost him something.

Kamakiri's lean frame struggled more than he'd ever admit. His push-ups were shallow and his sit-ups were agony, his core fighting twice the resistance it was built for. He cursed under his breath on every single rep.

Kendo had the technique. Her form stayed correct even under the gravity, her body remembering the right positions even as the load tried to break them. But her reps were halved. Exercises she could normally blast through became nearly impossible.

Tokage gave up on push-ups after eight and switched to bodyweight squats, which she managed with better success until her tenth rep when her knees wobbled and she sat down hard.

Monoma did everything slowly and correctly. His form was right, his range of motion complete, and his rep count embarrassingly low. He didn't complain. He just worked, while complaining obnoxiously.

Shoda was sweating through his shirt by the five-minute mark. His round body fought the gravity on every movement, his center of mass working against him in ways it didn't under normal conditions. But he kept going, reps coming slower and slower.

Shishida handled it best.

He stayed human, glasses on, polite expression intact. But his baseline physicality was simply higher than everyone else's. His muscles were denser, his frame was built for physical activity, and his body accepted the doubled gravity like a machine accepting heavier fuel. His push-ups were slow but steady. His squats were deep and not shaking. He wasn't comfortable. But he was getting 'em done.

Manga was right behind him. His compact frame handled the compression better than the taller students, and his months of pre-school training gave him a foundation the others didn't have. He worked through every exercise with visible effort but no signs of stopping.

After twenty minutes, Manga released the Zusshiri.

The kanji dissolved. Gravity returned to normal.

Eight bodies collapsed.

"Oh my God," Tokage said from the floor. "I can breathe. I can BREATHE."

"My spine," Kamakiri said. "My spine is thanking me and cursing me at the same time."

Tetsutetsu lay on his back with his arms spread like a starfish. "That was... the hardest twenty minutes of my life."

"How do you feel?" Manga asked. He was standing because he refused to be the one on the floor, but his legs were visibly shaking.

"Horrible," Kendo said. Then she paused. She rolled her shoulders. Flexed her hands. "Wait. Actually..."

"Light, right?" Manga said.

"Yeah." She stood up slowly. "I feel... really light."

"That's the point. Your body just spent twenty minutes working twice as hard as normal. Now that the gravity is off, everything feels easier. Your muscles are primed. Your nervous system is adapted. And over time, that adaptation becomes permanent."

"This is going to be our morning routine?" Shoda asked, sitting up.

"Every morning. Twenty minutes at two G. In a month, we bump it to 2.5."

"You're a fucking maniac," Kamakiri said.

"I'm the man who will surpass God."

"Yea, I said it right."

They showered, changed into uniforms, and headed for the main building as the rest of the student body started trickling in.

…

Classroom. Morning homeroom. Vlad King at the front with his notebook open.

"Before we get to today's agenda, I want to address yesterday's battle trial results."

The class straightened.

"All Might submitted his evaluations to me. I've reviewed them alongside my own notes." He looked across the room. "Overall, I'm impressed. You adapted to your partners, you used your quirks creatively, and nobody got seriously injured. That last part matters more than you think."

He opened to a specific page.

"Match by match. Tetsutetsu, Kamakiri: your aggression was effective but you relied entirely on quirk matchup advantage. If Monoma had copied a different quirk, your approach might have fallen apart. Think about what you do when the draw doesn't favor you."

Tetsutetsu nodded hard. Kamakiri shrugged.

"Monoma, Shiozaki: your defense was well-constructed but one-dimensional. Two vine users against a blade user is a math problem you can't win. Monoma, if you were able to copy either Tetsutetsu or Kamakiri during the battle, who knows how the outcome would’ve turned out."

Monoma's expression didn't change, but he wrote something down.

"Tsunotori, Tsuburaba: excellent teamwork. You identified the enemy's weakness and exploited it. Tsunotori, work on your Japanese callouts. Clear communication wins fights. Tsuburaba, your air walls are an incredible asset. Start thinking about offensive applications, not just defensive."

Pony gave a thumbs-up. Tsuburaba nodded.

"Shishida, Rin: you lost to superior mobility, not superior power. Shishida, your nose is a great tool but it can't detect everything. Rin, holding the weapon room alone when the hero team has a ranged advantage was a losing position. Consider mobile defense next time."

Shishida pushed up his glasses. Rin's jaw tightened, but he nodded.

"Yanagi, Kodai: flawless synergy. Your quirks complement each other at a level most hero teams would envy. Don't get complacent. Someone will figure out how to ground you eventually."

Yanagi's expression didn't change. Kodai said "Mm."

"Honenuki, Bondo: terrain control is powerful but it has a ceiling against airborne opponents. Honenuki, you're one of our smartest students. I expect you to already be working on counters to what happened."

"I have three," Honenuki said.

Vlad King chuckled.

"Kaibara, Komori: you pushed a stealth team to their limit. Komori, your mushrooms nearly won that match by themselves. The timing just wasn't there. Kaibara, your Gyrate is devastating up close but you need a plan for when the enemy won't engage you directly."

"Yes, sir." Kaibara said.

"Awase, Kuroiro: good execution. Ambush, restraint, capture. You understood your win condition and played to it. Don't assume every opponent will be as vulnerable to stealth as Komori was."

Kuroiro's pale eyes gleamed. "The shadows have much to teach."

Vlad King turned the page. "Fukidashi, Shoda."

The room's attention shifted.

"Seven different environmental traps across three floors. No repetition. Progressive difficulty. And a combat phase that lasted less than a minute because the heroes had nothing left by the time they arrived." He looked at Manga. "Well done you two."

Manga's bubble displayed a little crown, then quickly replaced it with a humble bowing emoji when he felt Tokage's stare boring into the side of his head.

"Shoda. Your ambush execution and Twin Impact application were the deciding factor. All Might named you MVP and I agree with him. You understood your role, you waited for the right moment, and you delivered. That's professional-level support work."

Shoda's face went red. Again.

"That said." Vlad King closed the notebook. "Fukidashi. All Might raised a good point in his critique. With preparation time, you're a nightmare. Without it, you're a different fighter entirely. Don't let your strengths become a crutch. A hero doesn't always get five minutes."

"Understood, sensei."

"Good. Now." Vlad King set the notebook down. "Moving on. It's time for you to choose a class president."

The mood shifted from combat analysis to something entirely different but equally competitive.

"Anyone who wants to be considered, raise your hand."

Fifteen hands went up.

Awase. Kamakiri. Kuroiro. Kendo. Komori. Shiozaki. Shishida. Pony. Tsuburaba. Tetsutetsu. Tokage. Honenuki. Monoma. Manga. Rin.

Vlad King looked at the forest of raised hands and then at the six students who hadn't raised theirs: Shoda, Kodai, Yanagi, Bondo, and Kaibara.

"Fifteen candidates. Impressive. How do you want to decide?"

The discussion that followed was exactly what you'd expect from twenty teenagers trying to agree on leadership.

"Whoever has the strongest quirk should lead," Tetsutetsu declared.

"That's not how leadership works," Kendo said.

"We could go by looks," Tsuburaba suggested, running a hand through his hair.

"Absolutely not," Kaibara said from his desk.

"Age?" Pony offered. "I'm the oldest!"

"Being old doesn't make you a leader, Pony," Kamakiri said. "It just makes you old."

"I'm sixteen, not freaking forty!"

"What about grades?" Shiozaki suggested, hands folded. "Academic performance reflects discipline and dedication."

"That isn’t fair to me." Monoma brought up. "So I'm against that metric."

"Height?" Bondo rumbled.

"If we went by height, Bondo would be president and Fukidashi would be vice president," Tokage said, glancing at Manga. "And I don't think either of them wants the job."

Manga, feet up on his desk, waved a little flag emoji in his bubble. "I’ll be happy as president."

Eventually, as these things always do when teenagers run out of silly ideas, someone said the obvious thing.

"Let's just vote," Honenuki said. "Anonymous ballot. Everyone writes one name. Whoever gets the most votes wins."

Nobody had a better idea.

Vlad King distributed slips of paper. Twenty pens scratched across twenty desks. The slips were collected, folded, and placed in Vlad King's hands.

He counted.

The tally went up on the board.

Kendo Itsuka: 4 votes

Fukidashi Manga: 4 votes

Shoda Nirengeki: 3 votes

Tokage Setsuna: 2 votes

Everyone else: one or zero.

The room erupted.

"I'm flattered," Manga said, his bubble displaying a blushing emoji.

"Shoda in THIRD?!" Tsuburaba looked at the board like it had insulted his mother. "Shoda, did you vote for yourself?"

"N-no!" Shoda looked mortified. "I voted for Kendo-san!"

"Three people voted for Shoda and he didn't even run." Monoma chuckled.

Tokage stared at her two votes. "Two. TWO. I'm a recommended student! I got TWO?!"

"I voted for you, Tokage-san," Rin said.

"I appreciate that, Rin, but I'm still upset."

"ZERO VOTES?!" Tetsutetsu looked at the board, then at the class. "I got ZERO?! Who did you people vote for?!"

"Bro, you voted for Manga," Kamakiri said. "I saw you write it."

"BECAUSE HE'S AWESOME! That doesn't mean I don't want votes!"

"Anyone who got zero votes and voted for someone else only has themselves to blame," Kaibara said calmly from his desk.

"Kaibara, you also got zero votes."

"I voted for Kendo. I'm at peace with my decision."

Vlad King let the chaos burn for about thirty more seconds before raising a hand. "Kendo and Fukidashi are tied. How do you want to break it?"

Manga looked at Kendo. Kendo looked at Manga.

"Rock paper scissors," they said at the same time.

The class went silent.

They faced each other. Fists out.

"Rock... paper... scissors... SHOOT!"

Kendo threw rock.

Manga threw scissors.

A tiny skull emoji appeared in his speech bubble.

"Kendo wins," Vlad King said. "Fukidashi, that makes you vice president."

Manga stared at his hand. Stared at Kendo's fist. Stared at the ceiling.

Then he stood up.

"I reject the position of vice president."

The class stared.

"If I can't be the best, I'd rather not be anything at all." He bowed to Kendo, genuinely respectful. "Congratulations, President Kendo. You'll be amazing." Then he turned to the board. "I nominate Shoda for vice president. He earned it."

"Okay." Vlad King shrugged.

Manga walked to his desk and sat down. "Shoda will be a better vice president than I would. He's responsible, he's humble, and he actually good at helping people. I'd just use the position to order people around or something silly like that." He lied.

"Well, Shoda-kun… Do you wanna be my vice president?" Kendo smiled.

The class looked at Shoda, who looked like he'd been struck by lightning.

"M-me? Vice president?"

"You got the third-most votes without even running," Honenuki said. "People trust you."

"I'll work on my rock paper scissors for next time," Manga said from his desk. A little notepad emoji appeared in his bubble, like he was genuinely adding it to a to-do list.

Vlad King looked at the class. "Any objections to Kendo as president and Shoda as vice president?"

Nobody objected.

"Then it's settled. Kendo, Shoda, you start immediately. Congratulations."

Kendo stood at the front of the class and bowed. "I'll do my best for everyone. Thank you for trusting me."

Shoda stood beside her, face red, voice small. "I... I'll do my best too. Thank you."

From his desk, Manga's speech bubble displayed a single, warm thumbs-up.

"Oh, one more thing before we move on." Manga raised his hand. "I just want everyone to know that the man who will surpass God will also one day surpass Kendo at rock paper scissors. This is a promise."

"Fukidashi-san." Shiozaki's voice cut through the room like a bell. Her hands were folded in her lap, her vine-hair perfectly still, her expression serene. But her eyes had a quality in them that suggested she'd been waiting for this moment.

Manga turned. "Yeah?"

"I have held my tongue on this matter since the first day of school." Her voice was measured. Musical, almost. "But I can no longer remain silent. Your repeated claims of surpassing God are deeply troubling to me."

The class went quiet. An awkward silence. This was the quiet of twenty teenagers sensing tension.

"God is not a mountain to be climbed, Fukidashi-san. He is not a record to be broken. He is the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. To speak of surpassing Him is not ambition. It is hubris of the highest order." She closed her eyes. "I pray that the light of heaven will illuminate the truth in your heart before this path leads you astray."

Manga looked at her. His speech bubble cycled through several expressions. Surprise. Consideration. Respect. Then warmth.

"Shiozaki-san. I hear you." He put his hand over his chest. "I respect your faith. I really do. You believe in something bigger than yourself and you live by it every day. That's admirable."

She opened one eye.

"But I'm still going to surpass God."

Her eye closed again. "Then I shall pray for you twice as hard."

"I appreciate that!"

"It was not a compliment."

"I'll take it as one anyway!"

Monoma smirked. Tetsutetsu was wheezing. Kamakiri looked like he was watching the best show he'd ever seen.

Vlad King moved on with any other announcements because if he didn't, this class would never learn anything.

…

Lunch was loud and messy and exactly what a high school cafeteria should be.

Class 1-B had claimed a long table near the windows, and the conversation bounced between topics like a pinball with no bumpers.

"Did you guys see that video of Hawks rescuing the kid from the roller coaster?" Awase was holding up his phone. "He just swooped in and grabbed her mid-loop. It's got forty million views."

"Hawks is overhyped," Kamakiri said through a mouthful of rice.

"You're insane. Hawks is the best, bro." Tokage shot back.

"I’m a fan of Best Jeanist," Monoma added.

"You just like him because he’s fashionable," Kendo said.

"I like him because he has taste."

"Speaking of taste," Pony held up a convenience store onigiri. "Japanese rice balls are so good. In America these would have, like, seventeen ingredients and come in a bag."

"That's... sad," Tsuburaba said.

"I know, right?!"

Shishida was reading a book while eating. Kodai sat beside Yanagi, the two of them sharing a comfortable silence that needed no words. Kuroiro was at the far end of the table, eating squid ink pasta that matched his skin, occasionally glancing at Komori two seats away, who was describing mushroom varieties to a politely trapped Rin.

Manga sat between Tetsutetsu and Shoda, talking with his hands as much as his mouth.

"So my mom asked how school was going and I told her I placed first in the quirk assessment, won the battle trial as a villain, and invented gravity training. She said 'that's nice, how are your grades looking like?'"

Tetsutetsu howled. "Moms don't care about hero stuff, bro! My mom asks if I'm getting enough iron in my diet. EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT."

"Do you eat like actual iron or the iron in chicken and beef?" Shoda asked.

"I’m not a freaking iron golem, man!"

"My parents still don't understand my quirk," Kendo said, leaning over. "My dad keeps asking if I can make my feet bigger too. Every time."

"Can you?" Manga asked.

"NO."

"Bummer. Giant feet Kendo would be unstoppable."

"I will use my normal-sized feet to kick you in your shin."

“Mt. Lady has giant everything and do you see how popular she is despite how new she is as a Pro Hero?” Tsuburaba pointed out with a faint blush on his face.

Some of the girls gave him a look of disdain.

The conversation drifted. Hero rankings. Whether Endeavor was actually a good hero or just a strong one. What ranking they thought they would have when they become Pro Heroes.

It was a good lunch.

And then the alarms went off.

The sound hit the cafeteria like a fist. A blaring, pulsing alarm that cut through every conversation, every laugh, every clink of chopsticks against a tray. Red lights flashed from panels near the ceiling.

"SECURITY LEVEL 3 BREACH. ALL STUDENTS EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY."

The cafeteria erupted.

Chairs scraped. Trays clattered. Hundreds of students surged toward the exits at once, bodies pressing against bodies, voices rising into the kind of panicked noise that fed on itself.

"What's happening?!" Pony's eyes were wide.

"Someone broke into the school!" Awase was on his feet, pulling Komori up by the arm.

"Stay together!" Kendo's voice cut through the noise. She was already standing on her seat, trying to see over the crowd. "Class 1-B, stay together!"

But the crush was already moving them. Manga felt bodies press against him from all sides, the tide of panicked students carrying him toward the exit whether he wanted to go or not. Tetsutetsu had grabbed Shoda's arm to keep him from being swept away. Kamakiri was using his height to see over heads, blades retracted, trying not to accidentally cut anyone.

"This is insane!" Tokage yelled. "Everyone's going to trample each other before any villain even shows up!"

Manga looked toward the windows. Through the glass, past the courtyard, he could see the front gate.

It was the press. Cameras. Microphones. Reporters pushing through a gap in the U.A. barrier that looked like it had been forced open. No villains. No attack. Just the media, swarming in like the piranhas they'd been at the gate this morning.

"It's just the reporters!" Manga shouted. "It's the press! There's no villain!"

But nobody could hear him over the alarm and the crowd.

Then, from somewhere near the front of the cafeteria, a voice boomed above the chaos.

"EVERYONE, PLEASE CALM DOWN!"

Manga looked. A tall boy had launched himself above the crowd. He was clinging to the frame above the emergency exit, his body horizontal, his voice carrying far.

"IT'S JUST THE MEDIA! LOOK OUTSIDE! THERE IS NO THREAT! PLEASE PROCEED CALMLY!"

The panic broke. Students slowed. Voices dropped. The crushing press of bodies eased. 

Looks like the fun at lunch time was over.

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