Quirkless Volleyball (Adopted)

Chapter 6

Uraraka didn't really know what to think anymore. 

First, she discovered that her friend's been sneaking around and doing who knew what. There just had to be a reason. Midoriya was a logical hero-in-training (most of the time) and this didn't seem like an issue that Midoriya would play around with.

What reason was it? What was it?

She knew that he didn't want any of them to know. That was why he always managed to shake them off right after school. At first, she had brushed it off. Maybe he had a difficult schedule like...

Maybe he had a part-time job.

Maybe it was a family issue. Uraraka understood that family was important.

But now? Uraraka didn't really know what to think, especially with the rest of her class walking towards that alleyway.

What would they find there?

The suspense was killing her. 

"Why do you think he keeps going there?" Asui commented, breaking the tense silence. 

Uraraka shrugged. Iida put his finger on his chin as he thought out loud. 

"There's a possibility that it's his friend. But that would not make sense due to the fact that quirk usage is illegal," he began, "However, if it was a hero, that would make sense. The unfortunate thing is, no hero that I know has that quirk. Your guess is as good as mine. However, we must assume that this portal has a schedule, or rather, the person who is controlling the portal has a schedule that Midoriya must follow."

"Well, that was fucking useless! Of course we fucking know that!" Bakugou yelled from the front of the group.

"At least we can cross things out!" Hagakure protested. Todoroki had somehow summoned a notebook from nowhere and started scribbling things on it.

Meanwhile, Kaminari turned to Kirishima and Sero. "Dude, this is why I'm not at the top of the class. I do random, stupid facts, not this theory thing."

Sero nodded while Kirishima held up a clenched fist and said, "Mhm, I'm more focused on power."

Uraraka looked at her own hands. What kind of hero was she going to be?

Well. obviously a rescue hero, but where would she specialize in? Would she even specialize in anything?

It'd have to be somewhere with a lot of debris for her to lift. So, the city? 

"OI! Fucking idiots! We're almost fucking there!" Bakugou yelled as they turned around a corner to the right. Uraraka looked up. No time to wonder about her future. 

She had to figure out her friend first.

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Bakugou POV

Bakugou glanced behind him. The people behind him were not too far behind. 

Good. He wanted to know exactly the fuck Deku was doing.

Not like he was fucking worried or anything, it was that shitty Deku wasn't supposed to be this fucking mysterious. Bakugou swore that if Deku was doing something shitty and illegal that he'd beat the living daylights out of him.

He stopped in between two buildings and looked quickly around. No security cameras or any of that shit that people liked to fucking buy. 

No windows where people could fucking look through. 

This shitty spot was the best shitty spot if Deku didn't want anyone to see him. There were also a shit ton of trashcans around the place so even if he disappeared through a fucking portal, no one would notice if they were walking down the street and not paying attention.

Carefully going into the alleyway, he put his hand on one of the dirty, shitty walls. 

"This is the fucking place," Bakugou muttered.

"What did you say?!?" one of the extras behind him say. A tic mark grew on his head. 

"I said," Bakugou repeated himself, "this is the fucking place!"

"Oh, okay! Gotcha!"

Bakugou fucking swore that he was going to kill one of the fucking people one day. 

"It's very dark," Shouji said out loud. Bakugou almost snorted. 

Of course it was fucking dark, it's a fucking alleyway in between two houses crying out loud. 

"Well, the first thing we should do is to see whether anything is out of the ordinary," Shinsou commented with his hands in his pockets. Iida nodded, with his chin in between his index finger and thumb.

"Yes, that would make the most logical sense..."

And with that been said, the nineteen people there started looking around the narrow, thin alley.

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Midoriya POV

The two childhood friends were in Hinata's room. Hinata was sitting cross-legged on his bed while Midoriya had pulled up a chair in front of him. They were trying to figure out what to do. 

The discussion was mostly silent. Occasionally, one of them would say an idea but then the two would realize it probably wouldn't work. Midoriya sighed. This attitude wasn't like Hinata at all. It was throwing him off.

"Did you think of anything?" Hinata asked. Midoriya shook his head. 

"I mean," Midoriya began, "for the practice match, if it weren't for the quirk training camp, then it'd be fine. But, it's required so..."

Hinata sighed and threw the volleyball next to him to the ceiling and caught it. "WHY IS THIS SO HARD?!?" he whined. "I'M NOT THE KIND TO KNOW THIS STUFF!"

Midoriya was faintly reminded of that song that he watched with the Hinatas about a girl and boy surfing into a movie or something like that. Wasn't there also a biker gang? And two evil scientists? And breaking fourth wall? 

He mentally shrugged as he stood up and stretched. Hinata stared at him, forgetting to catch the volleyball, so it bounced off his head. 

"Where are you going - gah!" Hinata held the top of his head. A volleyball was light - Hinata knew that (hopefully) - but it could pack a powerful punch when spiked. This volleyball wasn't spiked, but it surprised him. 

Hinata got off the bed and the two went downstairs. Mama Hinata popped her head out from the kitchen. 

"Hey, boys. Want something to eat? I've been trying my hand at making some American snacks."

"Okay, okaa-san!" the two said. Midoriya was proud to say that he could confidently call Mama Hinata 'okaa-san'.

While the two ate the yellow dessert that Mama Hinata made (it was lemon fudge), Midoriya put his issue away in his head. Hopefully, he could keep it a secret. In any desperate cases, he'll tell Aizawa, his teacher. 

After all, you never knew what was going on in other people's heads.