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Izuku had been in his room for only a few minutes when he heard a knocking at the door.
"No way he's that fast," Izuku muttered to himself as he hopped up from his bed and opened the door. As it turned out, yes, there was a way that Yuga was that fast.
"Hey, I grot mamfes," Yuga mumbled through a mouthful of burger. In all of the scenarios that had run through Izuku's head of how Yuga would finish his meal and get matches, the possibility of Yuga's curiosity overwhelming his desire to eat while stationary was one that had not occurred.
"How did you find matches so quickly?" Izuku asked as he gestured for Yuga to sit in the computer chair again. Mercifully, this time, Yuga swallowed the food in his mouth before answering.
"They were lying on the ground by the door when I left the dining hall," Yuga explained.
"Let me guess, you used your power?" Izuku asked rhetorically.
"Qui," Yuga replied with a grin. "I wanted to see this power of yours is."
"Fantastic," Izuku said dejectedly. "Just what I needed."
"What's the problem ami.. You're the one who volunteered to show me what you can do. " Yuga asked with a confused face.
"It's . . . I guess it's nothing, really. I just get nervous about using my ability," Izuku admitted.
"Still? Didn't you go through the two months of therapy to get used to controlling it?" Yuga took another bite of burger after his question, clearly banking on Izuku to do some explaining.
"Yes, and I can control it . . . mostly. It's just there are some aspects to it I'm still working on. Look, it should be fine. If we use matches, then everything will be okay," Izuku said reassuringly, though he never could have admitted who he actually was trying to reassure.
"Good," Yuga said as he polished off his lunch. "So, what do you need me to do?"
"Just face me and light a match, then hold it up in front of you," Izuku said. He sat down on the edge of the bed so that he was only a few feet from Yuga.
"Can do," Yuga said, pulling a book of matches from his pocket and carefully extracting one from the end. Izuku noticed the matchbook had a few missing from it already. It was a pretty decent guess that Yuga had focused his luck and some poor smoker had dropped their matches without noticing. Much as he was hesitant to view luck as an ability, Izuku had to admit it definitely had its uses.
Meanwhile, Yuga had plucked his match and was trying to light it with all the skill of a drunken hobo. On his fourth try, he finally got the match head to ignite and was so surprised he nearly dropped the small flame onto Izuku's carpet. He was able to keep his hold, though, and slowly moved the burning match so it was directly between himself and Izuku.
Izuku's eyes were locked on the flame, focusing on it with all of his concentration. Ever so gently, Izuku raised his hand and opened it so that his palm was level with the match. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, the flame began to lean toward Izuku's palm. A moment later, there was a small burst of heat and Yuga was pinching only a tiny piece of ash between his fingers.
"Ohh," Yuga exclaimed. "What did you do?"
"I absorbed the energy of the flame," Izuku explained. "That's my ability: I can absorb energy and store it for later."
"What do you mean 'for later'?" Yuga said, already pulling another match from the book.
In response, Izuku held up the index finger on his right hand. A small flame appeared at the tip of his finger; a flame about the same size and intensity as the one he had just vanquished. It burned for almost ten seconds, then vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.
"I can use the energy I absorb any time I want," Izuku continued once his finger was out. "I can use it slowly, like I did just now, or release it in controlled bursts. In this case, it would have made a tiny fireball. I don't have the ability to extend or increase it, though. However much energy I have absorbed is what I have to work with."
"Impressionnant," Yuga said, nodding his head. "Now, do this one."
Izuku sighed, but he couldn't deny this was good practice, so he accommodated his dormmate's demands for entertainment and absorbed the rest of the matches one by one.
"One more question for you," Yuga said as Izuku snuffed out the final match from the book.
"Shoot," Izuku replied. His mind had wandered off near the end of their practice session, focusing instead on how the aching weariness he had been fending off seemed to be decreasing a bit in his absorbing hand. He wondered if using a part of his body as an absorption point had pain-fighting properties.
"I get that you absorb the flame as it exists, but why is it every time you use your power, I wind up holding nothing but a fleck of ash? Does stealing the energy destroy the matchstick?" Yuga was poking at the small piece of ash Izuku's last absorption had left on his fingernail.
"Yes and no," Izuku said, turning his attention back to his dormmate. "Remember when I said I was still getting the hang of some stuff? Well, that's what I meant. See, I don't just absorb the existing energy. I absorb the potential energy as well. At least, I do if I don't sever the connection."
"Yeah,pardon but that went over my head," Yuga said, flicking off the piece of ash and checking the matchbook to see if he had missed any.
"Okay . . . how to explain this? Look, let's pretend that you have another match and you light it, okay?" Izuku said.
"Qui," Yuga agreed.
"Now, if you leave the match be, the fire will eventually consume all of the wood," Izuku said. "However, if you were to lick your fingers and put it out halfway through, then you would still have some of the matchstick left. With me so far?"
"Mostly," Yuga said.
"Good," Izuku said, choosing to plow ahead and hope for the best. "Well, obviously, the match that is allowed to burn all the way down produces more fire, and therefore more energy. See, that's why the match disintegrates in your hand. When I steal the energy of the flame, I don't just take all the energy that's there, I also take all of the energy that has the potential to be there."
"I don't suppose you could break that down a little easier, could you?" Yuga asked, pulling out his dice and fiddling with them. Izuku took a deep breath and tried to hold his patience. This could be a confusing concept if someone wasn't used to it; Izuku needed to keep that in the front of his mind.
"Think of it like this," Izuku tried again. "There is only ash in your hand because, in the fraction of a second where I begin drawing on the energy of the match, the whole thing burns up in a flash and is taken into my body. That make sense?"
"Actually, qui," Yuga said. "But, if it burns all at once, then why aren't my fingers singed? I mean, if I'm holding it and it burns, it should hurt."
"You're not totally wrong," Izuku said. "Normally, that would still burn you. But heat is a form of energy, and I'm taking everything the match has to give. So, while it might flash-burn in your fingers, all of the heat flows into me."
"Ami," Yuga said. "I get it, but your power is complicated."
"This from the guy whose ability works on quantum probabilities," Izuku pointed out.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Yuga said with a flourish. "I just control luck. Nothing complicated about that."
"Right," Izuku said sarcastically. "Nothing complicated at all."
The green and silver-haired boy was fidgeting nervously. Kendo noted that in the back of her mind, not particularly intrigued, but not ambivalent either. Every little detail added up to the sum of who a person was, and that was information worth having if she was going to be dealing with these people on a regular basis.
The six students were assembled in the central common room, scattered among various seats. Setsuna was off to the side on her own, save for the stuffed bear she kept perched carefully in her lap. Kendo had been tempted to ask why Setsuna had a stuffed animal, but the moment she had looked into those amber eyes, all desire had melted away in the face of the overwhelming certainty that talking to Setsuna was a bad idea. A girl with short brown hair sat near Setsuna shyly looking around as she pulls into herself once she sees Kendo's eyes on her.
The boys were clustered together for the most part. Green-Silver Hair and Garash-Clothes were lounging on the white couch, with the third boy in the chair to their side. He was a husky one, wearing a shirt that had strangely shaped dice on the front. Kendo deduced within a few moments of hearing him speak that the boy was lacking the basic set of social skills. Then again, given who she was surrounded by, she could hardly say that he didn't fit in.
Kendo, herself, had taken a center position in the room, eager to appear eager for whatever authority figure Daddy had managed to wrangle into this babysitting job. Kendo didn't expect whoever showed up to pose any real problem for her (after all, they would obviously know who her father was), but she still preferred to get her way through charm and cunning, rather than threats and force. It was the way a proper lady got things done.
As the clock struck seven (a bit too loudly, Kendo noted with a grimace), a pair of men appeared in front of the group of students. They were dressed almost the same, save that the shorter of the two wore a tie, while the taller one did not. They wore black suits and white shirts, and both kept their dark hair trimmed. But while the short one had bright blue eyes, the larger one had muddy-brown ones.
"Hello, students," said the shorter of the pair. "You may call me Mr. Numbers. My friend, Mr. Transport, and I are here to oversee and assist you in your academic endeavors. Our apartment is what lies behind the steel door in the kitchen. You will not be permitted access. However, an intercom is on the counter next to the pantry for emergency contact. Do we have any questions so far?"
Kendo glanced around to test the temperature of the room. It seemed everyone but she and Setsuna were struck dumb by the appearance and promptness of the two men who had materialized in front of them. Kendo suppressed the urge to scoff. Of course these poor dregs were surprised; their only experience with people who had abilities was undoubtedly others like themselves. The sight of someone using precision teleportation would be truly alien to them. Kendo wasn't quite sure why Setsuna wasn't more taken aback, but she readily chalked that up to just another aspect of the girl's strangeness.
"I take your silence to mean we are on the same page," Mr. Numbers continued. "Now, I want to be clear here. We've met most of you already, when we were selecting people appropriate for the program you all participated in. We were nice and friendly then. We will continue to maintain that same level of friendliness during our tenure as your house administrators. However, please do not misinterpret my good nature as weakness. Mr. Transport and I are here to enforce the rules, and you will find we are both excellent at our jobs."
"Um, what rules are you talking about?" The question came timidly from the green and silver-haired boy.
"A full copy will be issued before the week is over," Mr. Numbers replied. "I will touch briefly on the main three, though. First, you are to keep your identities secret at all times. This is a requirement of all those who participate in the Hero Certification Program, or HCP as we call it around here, and it is the duty of the administrators to observe who has broken it, intentionally or otherwise. That will be covered in more depth tomorrow during your first class. Secondly, there is to be no fighting with other Supers or with regular humans outside the confines of the classroom."
"Wait," the green and silver-haired boy said again. "We're going to be fighting in class?"
"Of course," said Mr. Numbers. "You are training to be a Hero. This means you must learn to fight against time, villains, and environmental conditions to save as many people as possible in any given scenario. Combat training will be a very important part of that."
"Don't worry," Mr. Transport broke in, speaking for the first time. "All fights are strictly monitored, and there is always someone with a healing power on hand to tend to both parties afterward."
"Mr. Transport is correct, though both he and you could stand to take a course in not interrupting," Mr. Numbers said, staring at the green and silver-haired boy. "Now then, the third rule is the most important for all of you. Your powers must stay within your control at all times. This is a rule specific to your situation and certainly doesn't need explanation. Be aware that this is the primary reason Mr. Transport and myself were selected for this assignment. Should any of you lose control, we will act quickly and decisively to ensure the safety of those around, while simultaneously shutting down the problematic party."
"Wait, I thought we all had control of our abilities. That's why they let us enroll here, no." This time, the speaker was the light-haired boy wearing garish clothes. Kendo noticed he spoke with a French accent.
"You all do have control of your abilities. Currently," said Mr. Numbers. "The procedure you underwent was experimental, though. Those who created and performed it are certain you will remain as Supers and not drift back to your previous uncontrollable states. However, there are those who remain skeptical such a thing is possible, and the positioning of Mr. Transport and myself as overseers is a compromise to assure the safety of the regular student body."
"So, what happens if someone loses control?" Kendo was shocked to realize this question had come from her own mouth. It wasn't as if she was a danger to anyone if she began floating around again, but she was concerned that the slip-ups of some of these cretins could affect her college career. At least, that's how she rationalized the sudden nagging fear that had formed in her stomach.
"Testing," Mr. Numbers replied simply.
"What Mr. Numbers means to say," Mr. Transport said, jumping in as he saw the looks of distress cross his charges' faces, "is that we will test and investigate the reason why control was lost. Maybe there was a psychological component, and it doesn't mean things failed. Maybe it's an individual case, or maybe it just means that person will need another round of treatment. We don't anticipate anything going wrong with any of you, but if it does, we'll be there to find out exactly why it happened."
"I feel testing was an adequate answer," Mr. Numbers said. "Now, do any of you have any questions about the rules I have set down so far?"
There was silence, though this time, it was less motivated by being dumbstruck at the dramatic entrance and more motivated by the sudden fear they had all presumably acquired of someone losing control and screwing the deal for everyone.
"Excellent," Mr. Numbers said. "Then I will turn the floor over to Mr. Transport for some 'getting to know our dormmates' activities." With that, Mr. Numbers sat down in the chair directly opposite Kendo. Kendo, for her part, worked very hard to avoid his observant blue eyes and focus on the tall Mr. Transport. It seemed that everyone was following her lead on that account; everyone, that is, except for Setsuna.
Setsuna was staring directly into Mr. Numbers's big, blue eyes, meeting his gaze with her own amber orbs. Since everyone was gazing intently at Mr. Transport, no one noticed the two looking at each other. If they did, though, certainly no one noticed as Setsuna brought both of her hands up and began clapping them together softly, engaging in a very gentle, very silent, session of applause.
"Well then," Mr. Transport said as the eyes of his charges fell curiously upon him. He was glad Mr. Numbers had allowed him to be the "good cop" in their interaction with the students, but he still felt a bit awkward dealing with a group of fourteen-year-olds. After all, Mr. Transport could scarcely remember a time when he'd shared the worries and concerns of an everyday teen. Of course, the reason Mr. Transport had trouble finding those memories was because they didn't exist. Being able to pop out of nearly every situation had a profound impact on diminishing the amount of things he'd had to worry about in his formative years. "Why don't we do an exercise to get to know one another better?"
Mr. Transport waited for some sign of agreement or excitement from the students. Instead, he got back blank stares. So after a moment, he elected to take that as the sign of their agreement. "Okay," Mr. Transport continued. "Here is how it works. I want everyone to stand up, say their full name, what their ability is, where they are from, and one interesting fact about themselves."
Again, Mr. Transport was met with silence; having settled on choosing to perceive that in the positive, though, Mr. Transport was able to keep right on trucking. "I'll begin. My name is Mr. Transport. My power is teleportation of myself and others. My birth location is considered classified. My interesting fact is that I collect bottle caps from sodas all over the world."
"They still make soda in bottles?" Yuga asked skeptically.
"Yes, they do, in other countries as well as in America," Mr. Transport answered, grateful to have anyone say anything. "Why don't you pick up the ball and tell us about yourself now?" Mr. Transport had something that almost seemed like conversation momentum and he would be damned if he was going to lose it.
"My pleasure," said Yuga, standing from the couch. "Yuga Aoyama, and I've got the power of creating and controlling luck. I'm from the Sin City itself, Vegas. My interesting fact is that I've been punched in the mouth by a senator." With that, Yuga plopped back down on the sofa and threw out a big, broad smile.
"Punched by a senator? Would you care to elaborate on that story, Mr. Aoyama?" Mr. Transport asked.
"You're not the only one with shit that's classified," Yuga answered.
"Okay then," Mr. Transport said quickly. "Who would like to go next?"
Before the word "next" was fully out of his mouth, the blonde girl sitting directly opposite him and Mr. Numbers had popped up from her chair like there was a spring loaded in it. He hadn't yet had the pleasure of meeting this young lady, but, by process of elimination, he knew who she was before she began to speak.
"My name is Itsuka Kendo, and I have the power of gigantification of my hands. I'm from Los Angeles, California. An interesting fact about me is that I have been riding horses since I was five and have won several championships," Itsuka said with a firm tone and a confident aura. She was a bit agitated that the Garish-Clothes boy, or Yuga as it were, had beaten her to being the first to speak, but she kept that annoyance off of her face as she returned to her seat and smiled placidly.
"Very nice to meet you, Itsuka," said Mr. Transport. "Who wants to go next?" He braced, waiting for another student to pop up, but it became all too apparent he had already worked his way through the confident public speakers in the group. Well, no matter; Mr. Transport knew the default solution for problems like this.
"Well, since no one wants to volunteer anymore, how about we just start at this end of the room," he said, pointing to Nirengeki, "and we'll work our way down."
There were some mumbling and dissatisfied tones, but slowly, Nirengeki rose to his feet. The boy looked a bit better than when Mr. Transport had last seen him. The months of therapy and procedures had shrunken him from round to a wide husky, though the confidence of an elf lord about to siege a castle was strangely gone from his eyes and body language. Now that Mr. Transport thought about it, Nirengeki and that small girl, Setsuna, were the only two who hadn't spoken a word since he and Mr. Numbers appeared in the room.
"My name is Nirengeki Shoda, and I'm from Chicago. An interesting fact about me . . . is . . . um . . . well, I won a couple of writing competitions for my fantasy short stories," Hershel said in soft tones. He moved to sit down, but Yuga stopped him.
"You forgot to tell us what your power is, ami," Yuga pointed out.
"Oh," Nirengeki said. "Um . . . well, I guess that's because I don't really have any powers. I mean . . . I do, but . . . it's complicated."
"How complicated can it be?" Yuga kept pressing. "You can either do something superhuman, or you can't."
"Well, it's more that I do something, and then I can do something super. Does that make sense?" Nirengeki asked timidly.
"He's a shifter," Setsuna said from her chair on the end.
"Oh, why didn't you say so? So, you turn into some other form that has the powers, no?" Yuga asked.
"Yes," Nirengeki said, nodding emphatically. "That's how it works." "No shame in that," Yuga said reassuringly. "Some of the best Heroes on the record books had to go through a transformation before they were ready for business. It makes keeping your secret identity and Hero identity separate all the easier, too."
"I guess it does," Nirengeki agreed, looking thoughtful about the benefit Yuga had brought up. He sat down in his chair successfully at last, the burden of speech passed off of him and on to the next poor sap.
Since the person to Nirengeki's right was Yuga, who had already gone, the turn skipped to Izuku. It wasn't really that Izuku was scared to talk in public; it was just that everything in him was ingrained to go against the idea of volunteering. In his world, volunteering drew attention, and attention made people notice he was different. Once people noticed that, well . . . things always had a tendency to get far too interesting for Izuku's tastes.
Izuku rose to his feet and addressed the room. "My name is Izuku Midoriya. My power is the absorption, storage, and redistribution of energy. I'm from New York . . . originally. My interesting fact is that I've been in forty of our fifty states." Izuku sat back down on the couch quietly.
"I have to ask, how do you get your hair that color?" Itsuka said once Izuku had hit the couch. She didn't really care about who his stylist was, but she was curious. The strong tone and voice that had come from Izuku didn't match up with the skittish body language she had seen all night. She wanted to hear more from him to try and reconcile that personality discrepancy.
"I don't," Izuku said, this time a bit sheepishly. "My hair is naturally this color, and for some reason, I can't get dye to stick in it."
"Oh," Itsuka said. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." That was unfortunate; she had been planning on getting a full course of dialogue from him, but if it was natural and a feature he was clearly embarrassed about, then there was no way for her to press onward from her present position.
"Don't worry about it," Izuku said quickly. "Yuga more or less asked the same thing when he first met me. It's good that people think I dye it this way; it makes it easier to blend in as a human."
"Very positive attitude, Izuku," Mr. Transport said.
All eyes turned to the short, wiry girl who had thus far only spoken once, on Nirengeki's behalf at that, in the course of the night. Unlike the others, Setsuna didn't stand. She delivered her introduction from a cross-legged, sitting position in her chair.
"My name is Setsuna," she began. "And my power is an advanced brain which gives me telekinesis and telepathy. I was born in Louisiana, but I've been in the forests of Colorado for about eight years now. An interesting fact about me is that I know how to turn beavers into hats."
"What's your last name?" Nirengeki asked.
Setsuna blinked several times, then let her gaze move around the room. She unconsciously let her hands pet the head of the stuffed bear in the lap. A few seconds of silence passed, and Mary looked back at her fellow dormmates.
"I don't really remember. Like I told Itsuka, I haven't had any need for names in a very long time," Setsuna said.
"Thankfully, we had ample need," Mr. Numbers interjected. "Your last name is Tokage. You may check the releases your parents signed if you need confirmation."
"I have no reason to doubt you," Setsuna said graciously.
"Thank you, Setsuna," Mr. Transport said. "Tell me, does your bear have a name?" He was fairly certain girls who were Setsuna's age didn't name their stuffed animals, but then, his understanding was that fourteen-year-olds didn't normally keep their stuffed animals with them out in the open anyway, so he'd opted to ask in the hopes of seeming friendly.
"No," Setsuna said bluntly.
"I see. That was a silly question," Mr. Transport said hurriedly.
"Why do you think that?" Setsuna asked him.
"Well, because you're obviously old enough that you wouldn't be naming your bear," Mr. Transport said.
"You misunderstand," Setsuna told him. "I did name my bear. His name is No."
"Huh," said Mr. Transport. "Why did you name him No?"
"Why not name him No?" Setsuna responded.
"Yes, well." Mr. Transport paused and resisted the urge to press his fingers to his temples. He didn't need the children seeing that he could be annoyed, gotten to, or given a headache. It was best to just get things back to business. "Now then, shall we hear from our last student?"
All eyes turned to the last person yet to speak to see an average looking girl with a bright smile standing up.
"My name is Ochako Uraraka," she began. "My power is flight. I was born and raised in the Mie prefecture and I guess my interesting fact is since my mother is American she taught me how to speak english and i've been there a few times."
"Wait so most of us are from America or we have American parents that's gotta be some kind of coincidence." Izuku blurted out.
"No, I doubt this was a coincidence Izuku. The company that changed us probably did this on purpose my ami." Yuga replied.
"That takes care of the meeting agenda for tonight. But there's one last thing before Mr. Numbers and I retire. As you were all told, classes for U.A. take place on the ground level, while classes for the Hero Certification Program take place in a special underground campus. Now, other dorms that house the others have special elevators to convey their students between campuses. However, since ours is new and it is not yet hooked up to the network, I will be your method of travel between these two schools."
"Why couldn't we just get clearance to use an elevator at a nearby dorm?" Yuga asked.
"Too much paperwork," Mr. Transport said with what he hoped was a believable grin. "No, in reality it is simply that getting approval takes months and months, and since we weren't sure if any of you would be able to attend this year, we were unable to secure that approval in time. Fear not, though, for I know all of your class schedules, and I will always be around to teleport you as needed."
"How do we get back up?" Yuga said, asking yet another question.
"You can call for me on my phone, or you can ride the elevator. Getting up doesn't require clearance. Only going down. Now, I'm sure you all know there is a meeting welcoming you all tomorrow at eight in the morning, so I expect to see each of you here ready to go promptly at seven forty-five. Aside from that, please intermingle, get to know one another, and have a great night."
Mr. Transport gently kicked Mr. Numbers, who said something that might or might not have resembled "good night," depending on the language one was using as well as the level of sarcasm tolerated before the meaning of a word was reversed.
With a nod and a smile, Mr. Transport vanished, presumably taking Mr. Numbers with him, since the chair Mr. Numbers had occupied now sat empty. The students were overtaken with surprise at their disappearance, though this time, the spectacle wore off much more quickly. The vanishing administrators left behind a vacuum in conversation, rendering the five gifted individuals with no idea what to say to one another. This vacuum was broken quickly by Yuga, whose powers evidently included a need for attention and an utter lack of social insecurity.
"Okay," Yuga said. "I'm now officially taking bets. Gay couple or just a pair of best friends who secretly wish they were a gay couple?"
"I'll take you up on that bet and I think it's the latter." Ochako said with a giggle.