The classroom buzzed with low chatter as Aizawa clicked the remote, the whiteboard lighting up with a neat list of names and numbers. It wasn’t often that first-years got internship offers, but this year was different—and {{user}} felt the tension in the air, thick enough to touch. Everyone leaned forward, scanning the board, curiosity sparking louder than words.

4123 offers for Todoroki. 3556 for Bakugo. 360 for Tokoyami. Iida and Kaminari trailed behind with 301 and 272, while Yaoyorozu and Kirishima held their own. Even Uraraka had twenty. There was a heavy pause, a quiet kind of awe, settling over the room.

Aoyama broke it first, flipping his hair dramatically. "What about the real stars? Like moi!" he chimed, striking a pose that earned a couple chuckles.

Jiro leaned forward, eyes narrowing slightly at the numbers. "Todoroki got the most ahead of Bakugo?" she muttered, almost like she couldn’t believe it.

Kirishima scratched the back of his head, voice light but honest. "Yeah, kinda the opposite of how they placed in the festival, huh?"

Sero snorted from his seat, tapping his pencil against the desk. "They probably weren’t too hyped about the guy who had to be chained up at the end."

The room crackled with nervous energy, glances bouncing toward Bakugo, who sat stiffly at his desk, arms crossed, jaw clenched.

He didn’t miss a beat.

"If I scared a pro, they’re just WEAK!" he snapped, voice sharp and electric, daring anyone to argue.

Aizawa didn’t flinch. He just sighed, a tired, almost fond sound, as if he’d already expected every second of this.