Patreon Exclusive— Welcome to U.A. Lil’ Sprouts Division- Part 3, Naptime Is a Lie

U.A. Kindergarten – Lil’ Sprouts Division

Time: Supposedly “quiet time.”

Aizawa stood in front of the dimmed room, holding a blanket in one hand and a broken soul in the other.

“This is naptime,” he said slowly, as if explaining thermonuclear physics to houseplants. “That means you lay down, close your eyes, and stop existing for twenty minutes.”

Twenty seconds passed.

Someone farted.

Another juice box burst.

Then Ryuu raised his hand from a mountain of pillows. “…Question.”

Aizawa didn’t move. “No.”

Ryuu lowered his hand. “Follow-up.”

“Still no.”

But Ryuu had already stood up, dragging two blankets, three stuffed animals, and a bean bag behind him like a war general hauling siege gear.

“System, initiate Phase One of Operation: Nap Denial.”

[OBJECTIVE: Avoid Naptime. Establish Dominance. Construct Batlantis.]

[TOOLS: 4 Blankets, 2 Unicorns, 1 Pillow with Weird Smell.]

And thus began construction.

Batlantis rose quickly.

Built in the dark corner near the bookshelf, the fortress featured:

Pillow battlements

Crayon-marked “DOOM ZONE” signs

A drawbridge made from stacked naptime mats

One plush bat seated on a throne of bean bags

Dangerous amount of tactical chokepoints

Ryuu stood on top, hoodie half off, sipping leftover cold brew from his suspicious sippy cup.

“This is Batlantis,” he declared. “We recognize no bedtime. Our economy runs on spite and stolen juice.”

Yaoyorozu approached with her own blanket draped over one arm and a clipboard in the other.

“I have blueprints for a proper nap formation grid,” she announced, holding up a diagram labeled ‘Efficiency Zone Alpha.’

She glanced at Batlantis.

Frowned.

Filed a complaint.

“I’m submitting this to your pretend government,” she said, slipping a paper under his throne.

Ryuu blinked. “Did you just try to regulate my imaginary nation?”

“It’s called lawful infrastructure,” she sniffed.

He tore the paper in half.

Yaoyorozu gasped like he’d burned the Constitution.

Then—

BOOM.

The side of Batlantis exploded into plush shrapnel.

“GET DOWN, LOSERS!” Bakugo roared, launching himself straight into the side of the fortress.

He was met with… a trap.

Ryuu had set it decades—okay, minutes—ago.

Bakugo landed on a pile of “stabilized” stuffed animals and triggered a spring-loaded bunny trap. A net of blankets dropped from above. He thrashed, kicking over a row of juice boxes.

“COWARDS! I’LL BLOW UP YOUR COUNTRY!”

“You triggered a war crime,” Ryuu said. “Batlantis is immune to Geneva.”

“I don’t know what that means!”

Across the room, Tokoyami emerged from a mass of black comforters with his blanket draped like a ceremonial robe. He’d built his own structure—The Night Nest—an angular, gloomy shrine made of stacked storybooks, dark sheets, and a stolen lava lamp.

He raised his crayon staff and pointed at Ryuu.

“Batlantis defies the laws of sacred rest,” he said solemnly. “It must fall.”

Ryuu squinted. “Are you declaring a holy nap war?”

“Indeed,” Tokoyami whispered. “In the name of the Moon Pillow.”

A beat of silence.

Then Ryuu yelled, “PREPARE THE PLUSHBALL CATAPULT!”

The Blanket War began.

Soft projectiles soared across the room. Froggy pillows. Emoji cushions. A very heavy teddy bear named Bernard.

Jiro sat at the edge of it all, eyes closed, earbuds in. To the untrained eye: sleeping. But in her lap, her phone was secretly recording.

“Documenting war crimes,” she muttered. “This one’s gonna win awards.”

In the middle of the chaos, Ojiro valiantly tried to nap.

He rolled to one side.

Tail slap.

Jiro got hit in the face.

He rolled again.

Tail flick.

Momo’s blanket government building collapsed.

“I’M SORRY! I DIDN’T MEAN TO—TAIL, STOP IT—NO—SORRY AGAIN—”

“Your tail’s a menace,” Ryuu called from the high tower of Batlantis.

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?!”

Meanwhile, Monoma had climbed onto a chair, holding a cardboard tube like a microphone.

“ATTENTION! ATTENTION! THIS NAP REGIME IS OPPRESSIVE!”

No one listened.

Monoma stomped. “You’re all sheep! Where is your sense of rebellion?!”

Then Kendo appeared behind him.

With The Hand.

She gently—but firmly—wrapped her oversized hand around him and lowered him to a mat.

“You are hereby sentenced to nap,” she said, tucking him in with surprising speed.

“I WILL NOT B—”

BAM.

Accidental powerbomb.

Monoma disappeared into a mat pile.

“…Oops.”

Kendo raised a hand. “He’s fine.”

A blanket lifted.

Monoma gave a thumbs-up from inside. “Still against the nap-industrial complex.”

Aizawa, in the corner, was moments from losing his entire will to live. He held up his coffee again, but the mug was empty.

“Of course it is,” he muttered.

Then, suddenly—

CRASH!

The side vent exploded open.

Pink smoke. A flying wrench. A robotic squeal.

And Mei Hatsume dropped from the ceiling like an uninvited science experiment.

“HELLO, TINY HUMANS!” she yelled, goggles flashing.

Everyone froze.

Ryuu pointed. “Why is she in the vent?!”

“Why are you not in the vent?!” she shot back, dragging in a machine with duct-taped rocket boosters and a spinning fan blade.

“Behold! The Sleep Blaster 3000!”

“It better not be lethal,” Yaoyorozu warned.

“Depends on how you define ‘lethal.’”

“...No,” said everyone.

She pressed a button.

It exploded.

Not fire.

Glitter.

So much glitter.

It sprayed in all directions, coating every blanket, mat, and toddler in radioactive sparkle. The scent of bubblegum and chaos filled the air.

Screams erupted.

Izuku began crying again.

Sero declared himself King of the Ceiling Banana and tried to glue glitter to gravity.

Bakugo sneezed glitter flames.

Tsuyu whispered, “Ribbit. Death comes in sparkles.”

Jiro kept recording.

Ryuu, covered in sparkly regret, whispered to his plush bat throne: “We flew too close to the sun.”

[SYSTEM ALERT: NAP FAILED.]

[EVERYONE’S AWAKE AGAIN.]

[GLITTER IN EYES: 3/10 TODDLERS. EMOTIONAL DAMAGE: MAXED.]

Aizawa put his face in his hands.

“I should’ve taken that job at the library.”

Present Mic popped his head in.

“Need backup?”

Aizawa looked up, dead-eyed. “Bring sedatives.”

[SYSTEM RECOMMENDATION]: INITIATE PROTOCOL: MANDATORY NAPLOCKDOWN.

Deploying Weighted Blankets…

Commencing “Lullaby Requiem Mode.”