My Hallucinations Ahh

The sun was setting over the University of Arizoma parking lot, casting long shadows over cracked asphalt and faded parking lines. Midoriya wiped his hands on his jeans, staring at his latest pride and joy: a 2006 Chevy Malibu. It was his car. His ride. His ticket to impressing Ochaco.

She was standing a few feet away, sipping from a gas station slushie, blissfully unaware that she was about to witness the single worst display of automotive handling in human history.

"Yo, Ochaco! Check this out," Midoriya said, tossing his backpack into the passenger seat with a confidence that didn't belong to him.

Ochaco looked up. "Huh? Oh, is this your car?"

Midoriya nodded. "Yeah, just got it. V6 engine. Real beast." That was a lie. The car barely had the will to live.

But that didn't stop him from explaining.

He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a battered green notebook labeled "Vehicle Analysis for the Future, Vol. 13." The edges were frayed, some pages had oil stains, and at least one section had been marked with "DO NOT REFERENCE—DISASTER RESULTS" in all caps.

Midoriya flipped it open and pointed at a carefully drawn diagram of a Chevy Malibu.

"Okay, so hear me out," he said, pushing up his glasses. "This car is actually underrated. I ran the numbers—this model has a 3.5-liter V6 engine with 201 horsepower, which means it's got way more torque than people expect from a sedan. Sure, it's not, like, a muscle car or anything, but in a controlled test environment, this thing can actually keep up with a mid-tier sports coupe—"

Ochaco blinked. "Huh. So it's fast?"

Midoriya grinned. "Well, theoretically. But speed isn't everything! It's all about optimization! Now, look here—" He flipped to a page filled with color-coded annotations.

"I cross-referenced real-world performance tests, and while it doesn't have the best acceleration, it actually has above-average fuel efficiency for its class in highway conditions. I mean, you wouldn't think that from a V6, right? But if you look at the aerodynamics—"

Ochaco nodded slowly, slushie straw still in her mouth.

"Uh-huh. So it's, like… good for road trips?"

"Exactly!" Midoriya beamed. "That's why I chose this model! It's balanced. Not too powerful, not too slow. A perfect everyman's car—a vehicle that can handle anything from a quick sprint across campus to a high-speed maneuver through heavy traffic—"

Ochaco raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever done a high-speed maneuver through heavy traffic?"

Midoriya faltered. "Well… no, but—"

"That's crazy."

He cleared his throat. "Anyway, the suspension is also really solid for something in its price range! A lot of people underestimate mid-2000s American sedans, but if you really think about it—"

Ochaco took a long sip of her slushie. "Mhm. So this is, like, your dream car or something?"

Midoriya hesitated. He looked down at the Chevy Malibu, its slightly rusted edges, the faint dent on the passenger door, the way the side mirror was being held on by pure faith and duct tape.

"Well, no," he admitted. "But it's got potential!"

Sliding into the driver's seat, he turned the key. The engine sputtered, coughed, and then roared to life in a way that suggested it wanted to die immediately. Midoriya grinned like a man who had never made a mistake in his life.

"This baby's got some real power," he said.

Then he did The Move.

The Move, as he had envisioned it in his head, involved revving the engine, smoothly pulling out, and maybe—just maybe—drifting a little as he turned. The reality was that Midoriya's foot found both the gas and brake simultaneously.

For a full minute.

The engine screamed. The car shuddered. Smoke started pouring from under the hood. The world became loud.

Ochaco's slushie slowly lowered as she stared at him.

The car refused to move.

Midoriya, in full panic mode, still refused to lift his feet. His brain had entered a state of total freeze. He was now one with the revving. He was the revving.

Ochaco took a step back. "Uh… is it supposed to sound like that?"

A loud BANG echoed through the lot as the engine finally gave up on life. A dense plume of smoke billowed into the sky. The check engine light had been on before, but now the entire dashboard was just flashing HELP.

Silence.

Midoriya sat there, gripping the wheel like it had personally betrayed him.

His "Vehicle Analysis for the Future, Vol. 13" slid off the passenger seat and onto the floor.

Ochaco took another sip of her slushie. "So. Was that the power you were talking about?"

Midoriya exhaled. "I don't wanna talk about it."

The University of Arizoma parking lot had claimed another soul.