Chapter 1: Into the Jungle
A/N: I do not own Boku No Hero Academia, nor do I own Mean Girls. I am not profiting off of either work.
"This is your lunch, ok?" my father said as he handed me the brown paper bag. "I put a dollar in there to buy some milk. You can probably ask the big kids where you can do that."
"Do you remember your phone number? I wrote it down for you just in case, so place it in your pocket or backpack, I don't want you to lose it." My mother's face clenched as she forced herself to keep her tears from pouring out of her eyes. "Are you ready, my sweet boy?" However, the dam wouldn't hold, and massive waterfalls poured down her cheeks, wetting her clothes and the ground around her.
I rose from my sitting position on the porch step. A mix of anxiousness and excitement sat in the pit of my stomach. "I think so." I smiled a hesitant, yet wide smile at my parents.
My mother flung her arms around my shoulders, wrapping me into a tight, suffocating embrace. "Oh, my baby boy is so grown up!" she wailed. I swore I could hear my ribs cracking under her indestructible lock.
"Uh, m-mom you're crushing me," I gasped out, sharply breathing.
She quickly released me and gave me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry," she sighed. Speaking again, her voice shifted from a high quiver to a loud wail, "But I can't believe you're this grown! Just yesterday I was blowing bubbles for you in the bath, and playing superhero hide and seek with you, and changing your little diapies, and-"
"Ok, ok, mom." I said, trying to calm her.
My mom pulled me into another hug, this time, a side one. We smiled for the camera as my dad took a picture. "It's Izuku's big day!" he said, smiling widely. He also looked like he was about to cry.
I guess it's natural for parents to cry on their kids' first day of school, but this usually happens when the kid is five. I'm sixteen, and until today, I was homeschooled. I know what you're thinking, homeschooled kids usually have the reputation of being freaks. Like, they're grotesquely intelligent or devoutly cultish or something, but my family is totally normal…well, except for the fact that my father is a Japanese language teacher at a university, and we spent the last twelve years in America. I had a great life there, but then my father got offered tenure at Musutafu University, and so, it was goodbye America and konichiwa Japanese high school. I guess you could ask why my parents just didn't continue homeschooling me in Japan, well, Japanese homeschooling laws are a lot different here than over in the states. On top of that, my parents agreed that it was better for me to become more socialized with people me own age.
When we left for school, I told my parents that I didn't mind walking by myself, but of course, they insisted they come with me, at least on the first day.
"We need to make sure you don't get lost," my dad said.
"We needed to make sure that you didn't get jumped, or beaten up, or hurt on the way. What if you were hurt and we couldn't come help you?" my mom added.
I laughed lightly. "I do have my phone," I replied.
"What if it gets stolen, Izuku?! Then how will you reach us?" my mom answered back. You could probably say that my mother was the worrying type...actually, that was probably an understatement. She has been like that my entire life. Often times, her worrying would lead to an unhealthy amount of overprotection that could only be suppressed by my father. He told me that when I was first born, she wouldn't let me sleep in my own crib out of fear that she would not be able to hear me cry at night or that I would get lonely...or both. It took him several days to finally convince her that me sleeping in the bed with them was more dangerous because one of them could roll over and crush me. Horrified at that thought, she finally let me dwell in my own space, but even when I got older, ever so often, she would practically force me to sleep in their bed.
When we got to the school, I waved goodbye to my parents and turned around to head to the building. I gripped the yellow straps of my backpack, forcing a brave smile on my face. The nervousness that welled inside me, suddenly began to dissipate as I set one foot on the street. I could do this, I could survive high school. After I took another step, I was only met with rushing winds from a speeding school bus that nearly turned me into pudding. Both my parents screamed in horror as I stumble slightly back onto the sidewalk. Ok, maybe I wouldn't survive.
Dazed, I shook my head and straightened my blue shirt. Trying to constrain my body tremors and shock, I faced them again, forced the wide smile to appear once more, and said as confidently as I could, "I'm ok! I'll be more careful! I promise!" My parents nodded in response after being shaken in horror of their only son nearly dying.
"Izuku! Never scare us like that again!" my mother wailed.
Thankfully, I was able to make my way across the street in one piece. Although, getting through the front school yard was a different story.
Ambling my way to the front door, I was met with forceful pushes and shoves from the exhausted and drowsy student body. Everyone looked like they wanted to murder someone or like they were waiting to get murdered. I definitely hadn't imagined the zombie-like phase the crowds seemed to be in, nor the red bloodshot eyes from glares that most definitely had detected me as the "newbie". No, Hollywood painted a different picture of high school. A much more glamorous one. I didn't quite expect hordes of Abercrombie models sporting surfer-dude demeanor, but I definitely didn't expect so many sultry expressions with an atmospheric angst airing off so many of the students. It was really...depressing.
Tentatively making my way in through the door, and through the halls, I found the number of my first class. I glanced around at the vigorous classroom. Students were taking their seats, talking to each other, or getting out their supplies. Ok, things were definitely surpprisingly calmer in here than outside. Strange.
I spotted a medium height, yellow-haired boy handing in a paper at the teacher's desk and approached him. He wore khakis and a faded blue button up shirt. He looked presentable, like someone I would've hung out with in America. "Hi," I said cordially, and he looked up and scanned me with crazed blue eyes. "I don't know if anyone told you about me," I went on. "I'm a new student here. My name is Izuku Midoriya."
His eyes washed over my being, then he smiled at me derangedly. "Talk to me again, and I'll kick your ass," he laughed maniacally, and went to his desk. Guess I didn't have a good judge of character.
This remark of course caught the attention of the other students who laughed derisively at the interaction. I mentally shook it off and decided to sit down. I put down my backpack on a desk and literally began to sit when the broad-shouldered boy with glasses and navy-blue hair, sitting two seats back, said to me, "Young man, you do not want to sit there."
The brunette girl sitting one seat back said, worryingly, "Yeah, Neito Monoma's girlfriend is gonna sit there."
Not wanting to upset anyone else that day, I reluctantly picked up my backpack and decided to move. A red headed girl with a side ponytail slipped into the desk, and the boy who I talked to before said, "Hey, baby." He grabbed her head and aggressively pulled her face into his to suck it off. Guess that's one thing about school that Hollywood got right.
Disgusted, I walked around the exterior of the desks to an empty seat one row back next to the brunette girl. She made frantic waving motions with her hands. "Uh-uh, Koda farts a lot." The boy in front of us looked behind guiltily and let one loose, so I moved to where the girl pointed to. But, of course, it was quickly snatched.
I sighed and made my way around the exterior again, scanning the classroom for, God I ask, just one available seat, when I bump into something hard. Paper and donuts went flying, and hot coffee spilled on my shirt...and his shirt too.
I had just bumped into the teacher.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going. I'm so clumsy. I should have been more careful-," I hollered, panicked, as I gathered the papers that had landed on the floor.
"It's alright, it's alright. It's not you. I'm bad luck," he interrupted as he picked up papers from the floor and put them on his desk. He untucked his white polo shirt from his work pants and began taking it off, his undershirt, however, went with it, exposing toned, rock hard abs to the class.
"Uh, sir-," I began to warn.
"Mr. Toshinori." A sloppily dressed man in black sweatpants and sweatshirt walked in. He wore a weirded out, yet stupefied expression on his face. His hair was long and disheveled, with some strands hanging in his face, encompassing a typical "bum" look. Was this man supposed to be a teacher or something?
"My muscle shirt is stuck to my polo isn't it?" the teacher stated blatantly. His arms were frozen in the air, and his shirt was more than half way up his arms, covering his face.
"Yeah, sir..." I said, grabbing his undershirt to pull it down.
"Fantastic, just what I needed on the first day back," the teacher muttered.
"Is everything alright in here, Mr. Toshinori?" the man asked skeptically, stepping closer to us.
"Yes, everything's fine, Mr. Aizawa," Mr. Toshinori affirmed, eagerly, rolling off the polo from his arms and flinging it onto his swivel chair.
"I assume your summer was a mess and that's why you're returning to school in such a frenzied state." The black haired man took another step forward, he placed his hands in his pockets and scanned the classroom. For a moment, I thought I saw a flash of...concern...in his expressionless eyes when they returned to Mr. Toshinori, but then it was gone
"Gee, how was your summer, Shouta? Great! How about yours, Yagi? Fine, It was wonderful." The lemon-haired teacher aggressively sorted through the papers on his desk, making separate piles. "You're actually right, though, I got divorced."
"Oh, how I missed your snide remarks." Mr. Aizawa's eyes pierced Mr. Toshinori before continuing, "I had eye surgery this summer." He pointed to the scar underneath his right eye. "So, if you want someone to relish in your pain with, swing by my office."
"Lovely offer, Shouta. I will definitely not take you up on that."
"Suit yourself." Mr. Aizawa rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I just wanted to let everyone know that we have a new student joining us. He just moved here all the way from America."
"Welcome!" Mr. Toshinori smiled and held out his arms in a welcoming manner, but not to me, to a blonde boy with purple sparkling eyes, and an upturned nose sitting in the middle of the room.
"I am from Française, Monsieur," he said in a sing song voice. "And I have been residing here
quatre années." He held the back of his hand to his forehead in a dramatic manner.
"Oh...great," he replied, embarrassingly.
"His name is Izuku. Izuku Midoriya," Mr. Aizawa said.
"That's me," I peeped, smiling shyly from behind Mr. Toshinori.
The teacher whipped around and said, "Well, welcome, Izuku! I'm sorry for the mix up." He turned back around to face the long-haired man. "And thank you, Mr. Aizawa."
Mr. Aizawa's eyes surveyed Mr. Toshinori for what felt like the thousandth time. "Uh, your welcome, and," he lowered his voice, "again, if you need anything or you want to talk to somebody, just swing by my office."
"Thanks again for the offer, but," Mr. Toshinori also lowered his voice, so discreetly that I could barely just make it out, "maybe some other time when my shirt isn't see through." I didn't know what to make of that exactly, only later did I actually understand.
Mr. Aizawa nodded, then looked down at a spot on the teacher's chest, and back up again at the class. "Ok, good day everybody."
The first day of school was a blur. A stressful, surreal blur. I got in trouble for the most random things. Like in Biology, I simply tried to get up to go to the bathroom. I had exited my lab table and walked towards the door when I was abruptly blocked, by the large, square chest from the teacher. "Where are you going?" he demanded.
"Uh, I have to go to the bathroom," I replied, nervously.
"You need the lavatory pass." He crossed his arms and stared daggers at me.
"Oh, uh, may I have the lavatory pass then?" My voice had gotten smaller.
He bellowed out a loud, rumbling laugh. "Take a seat."
I had never lived in a world where adults didn't trust me, where they were always yelling at me. In America, adults were always happy to engage with me. I guess you could say I was a teacher's pet. There were many days were I would spend hours helping my dad's colleagues, sorting through lessons, cleaning the room, and suggesting activities for the students to do in class. They would usually heed my advice. Many times, in my homeschool groups, when the instructor had to leave for a minute or two, they would entrust me to keep the kids under control. Here it was the complete opposite. The entire day, I always seemed to be doing something wrong. Weather it was reading ahead, or using the wrong color pen, not following the rubric format for a written response, eating or drinking in class, or simply yawning, I always made a mistake. I always did something that upset someone.
Lunch was the worst part of the day. It wasn't just hard to find a place to sit, the students actively urged me to not sit with them. I was like a spider trying to crawl into an ant hill. Everytime I tried to introduce myself, kids turned their heads away, or got really quiet when I came up to them. Kids were never this closed off in America, usually it was the opposite, always being open, warm, and welcoming to a new face. At one table of what looked like a group of students wearing traditional Korean inspired clothing, a chair was empty, so I went over. But before I could even ask to sit down, a girl placed her purse on the seat, blocking my only path to eating lunch with the cultured individuals. Alright, message received.
I went over to another table with a bunch of boys. "I told you, I saw the whole thing!" one said, excitedly.
"Everything?" another boy asked. Curious, I ambled a little closer.
"Did you see nipple? It only counts if you saw a nipple." There I froze dead in my tracks. Yeah, a different table was a better idea.
Finally, after a long extensive search, I reached a group of what looked like American exchange students chatting amongst themselves. My heart welled up with joy, and I felt tears well up in my eyes. I forced them back, however, and exclaimed "Hello!" in English to them.
They stared at me bizarrely. "Que?" one of the girls asked.
"Ele estava falando conosco?" a boy asked the others.
I had a lot of friends in America. But so far, none at UA. I never did find a table to sit at that day. I ended up having to sit alone in the bathroom. How stereotypical and teen, Hollywood movie-like the day had actually turned out to be after all, a friendless loser, forced to sit in exile in a dirty toilet stall.
When I got home, my parents greeted me with hyper-enthusiastic excitement. They bombarded me with millions of questions.
"How was your first day?!" my mother screamed in my face.
"How were you classes?!" my father yelled in my ear.
"Did you make a gazillion new friends, sweetie?!" my mother pried.
"Were the teachers nice!?" my father boomed.
However, being so drained mentally and physically, I didn't want to answer any of their queries. My mom, noticing my unusual depressive demeanor, asked, "Izuku, sweetie, is everything all right?"
"Yeah, everything's fine." I tried to move past her to go upstairs to my room, but she stopped me. She took my hands in hers and gave them a tight squeeze.
"Izuku, what's wrong?" she asked, concern pooling into her voice.
I lifted my eyes from the floor to meet hers. "Mom, nothing is wrong, really. I just...I just had a long day, ok? I'm just really tired and want to take a nap."
The all too familiar glints of water formed in her eyes again. "Izuku, please can you-."
"Mom, please." I really didn't want to deal with this.
"Honey, let Izuku rest if he's tired," my father said. He placed a hand on his wife's shoulder.
She sighed and released my hands, and I went upstairs to my room. From the upstairs hallway, I could hear the faintest of their concerned conversation. "What do you think happened?" my father asked.
"I don't know," my mother said. "But whatever it is, I don't like the effect it had on his attitude. I don't think I've seen him so down in so long."
The next day ended up being a lot easier. In the morning, when I first arrived, I power walked through the halls, straight to the desk next to the boy with glass, where the brunette initially wanted me to sit. I was not going to have the same conflict I did the day before. I swiftly threw down my backpack and slammed my binder the desk. I got out my pencils and sorted my things in a neat manner to start this class off right and to get this day over with.
Two sets of eyes from the brunette and the boy with glasses both stared at me with curiously. After a few uncomfortable minutes of trying to ignore their stares, I turned to them and said, "Uh, hi…"
"Is that your natural hair color?" the girl piped up with wonder.
Confused, I said, "Uh, yeah." I gave her a small, shy smile and turned my attention back to the front of the room.
"It's gorgeous!" she piped up again.
"Oh, uh, thank you-."
She hopped up and ran a hand through my dark green locks. Ok, what the hell? "See, this is the color I want," she giggled. That was definitely a first for me. Never had I ever had a random person touch my hair before, especially without asking and without permission. My whole life, my parents drilled the idea personal space deep into the pit of my brain. Respecting someone's space bubble was key, always inches apart, and never touching someone you don't know very well without their consent. My personal space bubble was definitely being violated, one million percent.
"Uraraka, stop it!" The boy with glasses reached for her arm, but she moved out of reach, hand still swallowed in my green sea.
"Come on! Don't you think it would look badass?" She finally, after what felt like an eternity, took her hand out of my hair and made a fist. She struck it in the air and put her right hand on her hip.
"I think it'd look more 'badass' if you stopped bothering the new student." He glared at her, and in response, she playfully stuck out her tongue.
"I'm Uraraka," she said, introducing herself. She a smiled bright, wide smile, and placed her finger tips together. "And the serious one is Iida." She leaned down toward me and whispered, "He's almost too straight to function."
"Hey, I heard that!" She looked back at him and giggled.
"Nice to meet you both," I replied. Alright, this day started off weirder than yesterday...and I didn't think that was possible.
Just then, I tall, broad shouldered boy with big lips, walked by us. "Hey Iida! Nice personality ya got there. Someone shove a stick up your ass?"
"Yeah! Your mom did!" he shouted back. He looked back at Uraraka with eyebrows raised. "Was that good?"
She nodded in approval. "Better," she said. "But you still need work."
"Uh," I shyly piped up, looking at my schedule. "Do you guys know where Room G-14 is?"
Uraraka snatched my schedule from my hand. She sat down, and her and Iida looked at the printed paper. Uraraka placed a hand to her chin in thought. "Health, Tuesday and Thursday, in Room G-14."
"I know where that is, I would gladly take-," Iida began to say.
"We would gladly take you," Uraraka interrupted. She smiled at me, however, something was off about this smile, something that made it different from the last one. "I think that's in the back building."
Iida looked at her confused. "But, didn't the back building-."
"Remember they rebuilt it this summer." Her smile tightened.
Quizzically, he placed his fist under his chin. "They did? I didn't hear about-."
"You don't hear about a lot of things, Iida. Remember in seventh grade when they decided to close the pool?"
"Yikes, you're right! I need to do my best to keep on top of the school news!"
"So, what d'ya say, Midoriya? We show you around?" Uraraka closed her eyes and let her pink cheeks radiate kindness. How cute. How could've I said no to that? At that moment I felt relieved that two, somewhat normal people were offering to show me around and help me. That was the first act of kindness I had received from any student at UA, and I was deeply grateful.
"Sure, I really need help navigating my way around this building."
After class, Uraraka and Iida quickly rushed me through the crowded halls. Students, like hordes of animals bustled in and out of classroom doors, making sure to not be late for their next classes. Uraraka led me from the front, and Iida, from the back, both acting as my shields. "Watch out, please!" Iida shouted.
"New meat coming through!" Uraraka added.
"New student," Iida corrected.
"No, no, honey, he's fresh meat."
When we finally got outside, Uraraka led me by the arm through the sports field. She led me to a shady spot underneath a tree. Meanwhile, Iida interrogated me about my class schedule. "Health. English…" His eyes widened. "You're taking Calculus? Isn't that only offered to third years?"
"Well, yeah, I like math," I replied.
"Why?"
I smiled shyly. I could feel my cheeks get red, as I rubbed the back of my head. "Because it's the same in every country."
"Wow, Midoryia, that is intellectually insightful," Iida said. "This man is deep."
Uraraka sat down at the roots of the tree. Confused, I ask, "Where's the back building?"
Iida stood there confused as well, taking a minute to process the situation. Then he frowned. "Uraraka! Uh, I knew you were tricking me! How could you do this, again?"
She giggled. "Relax, it's not like he's actually going to miss anything."
"But, still, a class is a class and you need to be there!" Iida clenched his fists. "Doing this, especially to a new student, is completely uncalled for."
"Ugh, Iida, don't you remember how awful Health was? We're doing this boy a favor by saving him from that torture. Is he really gonna benefit from listening to Ms. Kayama talk to him about abstinence for fifty minutes? All the while she gets horny from her own lessons?" Uraraka reasoned.
Iida's face retrieved back to a stoic state. His mouth made a firm line. "Fine, but I'm only letting you do this once."
Still confused, I asked, again, "Uh guys, where's the back building?"
"It burned down in 1987, and no, they didn't rebuild it like I thought. I'm sorry." Iida sat down next to Uraraka under the tree.
Finally, the situation fully processed, and I realized what we were doing...what I was doing. Nervousness welled up in the pit of my stomach again. "Uh, won't we get in some sort of trouble for this?" I asked, hesitantly.
"Why would we get you into trouble?" Uraraka asked. "We're your friends." She said this as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Friends. It felt nice to hear someone say that for the first time at UA. Friends were something I was in no position to pass up. So, if skipping class meant that's what I had to do to make them, then so be it. Uraraka and Iida knew best anyway, right?
A/N: So you made it to the end, eh? Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of Mean Quirks! Please comment and critique, every in put makes me a better writer!
So far, this fic is rated T, but at some point, it will likely receive an M because of upcoming mature themes. This first chapter is admittedly pretty mild. :/
I'll try to do my best to upload every to weeks, always on Sunday! So, stay tuned!