"Okay, bell rang. Time for you brats to find your seats." Bakugo said gruffly, as he watched his class obediently sit down and face the front. 

Guess my teaching methods are paying off. 

I knew I was better than Aizawa. 

"It's been a week. Were you all able to obtain a copy of the book if you so desired?" He grumbled, glaring at Glasses. 

The class nodded. Those who didn't obtain their own version of the book, had made sure to pick up a class copy on the way in. 

"Okay, good. Now does anyone want to read the next excerpt? Or are you all simply infatuated with my heavenly voice?" Bakugo looked around the room, and once finding no one volunteering as tribute, started reading. 

"It's weird how time changes at the oddest of moments. Within a year the skull that always taunted the water below, is now in the same premise as its followers. The log that breaks in front of the path, has given way to a crucial sacrifice of Death's heart. The moment of falling is not the same as the moment of eye contact. 

"My hand was slapped away once, and the red mark has hardly faded over the years. Yet it is covered by the foundation of new scars as I stay in contact with the skull. I go where it goes. I go where he goes. 

"Once upon a time, we shared a dream together. Yet unlike the myths and utter lies that fairytales have portrayed, the beaten path led to a log. And then the log caused the fall. 

"I can only imagine that nature is what truly is to blame in this scenario. However, the concept of ignoring the soulless fortitude of nature is ludicris. Knowing this, I have no one to blame except myself. Because truly, I should have given up the dream of matching the skull before death consumed my dreams whole." 

Bakugo looked up from his book, and glanced around the class. 

He let a moment of silence permeate the air before speaking. "Thoughts?" 

"That was confusing." A student near the back row--Flower Tattoo--spoke up. The boy had brown hair and a relatively normal face, but a flower tattoo on his right cheek was noticeable and ever so prominent. 

"Good job for speaking facts. Any inferences?" Bakugo added on. 

Wings looked around the room, as if guaging everyone's reactions. 

Half-N-Half Junior was staring at the podium in front of Bakugo, while Insomniac Kid was seemingly asleep at his desk. 

Gosh, Bakugo wanted to sleep too. But the class was more important. 

"Okay, let me get more specific for you children. Why does the author want to blame nature?" 

A hesitant hand was raised in the air. 

"Yes, Identical Twin Uno." 

The twin sat up in his seat and began waving his arms around to emphasize his words. "Because the author feels it is an easier explanation to blame nature. He doesn't want to blame himself." 

"Good, good." Bakugo mumbled. 

Twin Uno grinned, and then turned to his counterpart as if to rub his correct answer in his twin's face. Twin Dos rolled his eyes. 

"Why a log, Eyebags?" 

The lime green haired child jolted forward, not expecting to be called on. "I--I don't know…" 

"Correct." Bakugo smirked at the startled and confused class. "The author of this book wrote this specific chapter in a way that no one can truly, fully understand unless they were there when this event occurred." He met the gazes of a few students all around the classroom. "You can still guess and analyze all you want, but this chapter is both a memory and a warning to his younger self." 

The class, once again, was silent. 

"Why would he write a memory in his book if he never wanted anyone to actually know of the memory?" Glasses raised his hand to comment, on the edge of his seat in curiosity. 

Bakugo grinned. "Do any of you think you can answer it?" 

A moment passed where no one could hear anyone else breathe. That was, until Green Dye spoke up. "Maybe it's because the memory was too personal to share?" 

"But then why did he write it? If it was too personal, why not leave it out completely?" Orange Braids commented. 

Bakugo, liking the discussion, moved away from his podium to sit on top of his desk, book in hand. He chose to sit back and watch the class attempt at picking the author's brain. 

"Since he is kinda reminiscent, could this be talking about the symbolism leading up to 'the fall' he keeps mentioning?" The Translucent Kid commented. 

"He does mention that 'fall' quite a few times, doesn't he?" A kid whispered from the front of the room. 

"Wait, when he attempts to blame nature, is he also lumping in the log into that?" Twin Uno asked. 

A thump was heard as his twin smacked him in the back of the head. "Of course it is, idiot! A log is a dead tree and last time anyone checked, trees are part of nature." Twin Dos chastised. 

"--the skull and death the same thing?" Came a girl's soft voice. 

"Well, they do hold similar connotations, so I presume that if they are not one in the same, then they are at least similar." Glasses added on. 

Bakugo took the small pause in the conversation to cut in. "So if the author keeps bringing up nature, and death, and skulls, and time, and fairytales, and myths, and lies, and dreams, then what is he trying to accomplish? Why did he choose not to elaborate on the physical actions within the memory to make more sense?" 

A gasp was heard, followed by a hand snapping upwards. 

Bakugo felt a wicked grin plastered across his face as he saw the understanding dawn on the teen's face. "Go ahead, Bleach." 

"Since he is reminiscing over the memory, could he be only writing about how he felt in the memory, and not necessarily emphasizing the actions that took place?"

Bakugo grinned wider at the teen. "Yes." He almost hissed, voice deep and sounding intense. His red eyes were sharp, a certain excited gleam that almost seemed threatening. 

Orange Hair gulped. 

"Now that you know he is writing about the feeling of the memory, have you figured out your question, Glasses?" 

The teenager gulped, shaking his head slowly. "I still don't understand why he would write down the memory if he didn't want the readers to know of the memory. Especially since he only wrote his feelings on the topic." His voice was strained, brows furrowed as he thought extremely hard about what the author meant while writing this excerpt. 

"Have you ever thought that maybe he didn't want his book to be published? That he never wrote this book for other people to read?" Bakugo asked, finding a sadistic glee in answering the question with a question. 

The class blanched, brains not fully processing what their teacher said. 

But they had time to mull it over until the next class, because the bell rang.