"Oh, Ojiro-senpai!"

Ojiro turns at the call, eyes finding Izuku in the middle of the crowd. He smiles instantly with recognition, jogging lightly to Izuku's direction. "Midoriya-kun!" and then, with a laugh, "okay, maybe you can drop the senpai now that we are classmates."

Izuku suddenly feels shy—which is sort of embarrassing in itself, because they've known each other in the dojo for more than half a year now. The door slides behind them as they enter the fairly crowded train. Izuku grins, sheepishly, shifting his foot. "You're still my senpai, though.."

"Not in UA," Ojiro reminds him. "You didn't even tell me you were applying, you sneak!" he laughs again, surprising Izuku—there is no malice in the jab, just some mix of disbelief and something ... friendly?

"I mean," Ojiro-senpai continues with excitement, "At the exam, didn't you rank—"

Izuku can feel his cheeks heat into a mortifying blush. "It was just—I got lucky! I, um, I had help.." Izuku sputters, before immediately attempting to pinch his voice down—his pitch momentarily raised due to the extreme horrifying embarrassment that slammed into him. "Um, I cooperated with another student … that aside, um, I didn't mean to hide it from you, or anything, I was just, you know, I really didn't expect to, um, actually get in, and I think it'd be sort of, I don't know, show-offy if I had—"

"Whoa, relax, Midoriya-kun," Ojiro says, easy, with a friendly shoulder bump that surprises Izuku out of his embarrassing monologue. "Sorry, I'm just kidding. I just kinda wish you did tell me, because I mean, the whole thing was nerve-wracking ... would've been nice to share that, y'know?"

Izuku blinks at him. "Oh," he says, after a pause. That's right … isn't that what people do? Tell each other … things, and go through them together? Why didn't Izuku think of that?

Socializing issues aside, he just didn't think that Ojiro-senpai would, dunno, care about him enough … or more precisely, Izuku just didn't want to know what Ojiro-senpai would think of him. What Ojiro-senpai would think of Izuku signing himself up for the UA Hero Course, of all things.

Izuku, of all people.

(Biggest joke of the year.)

Izuku can't say that. Ojiro-senpai isn't like that.

(That's just his messed-up head talking.)

Izuku's face still feels warm. "Um," he doesn't really know what to say. He tries, anyway. "I guess it was just kinda—embarrassing ... I wasn't, I didn't think I would … I didn't have—the, the nerve.."

Yeah, no.

Izuku's gaze flickers down to the floor, stupidly. See, this is why he shouldn't be allowed to interact with people. He can't even hold a proper conversation for, what, two minutes—

"I get it."

The train sways gently around them. Izuku looks up. Ojiro-senpai's mouth twists into a small, rueful smile; something thoughtful in his eyes as he looks at izuku. He's taller than Izuku by a few centimetres. "I'm not the most confident person too, y'know. So I get it," he says. And then he shrugs a little, his smile widening a fraction. "Well, no harm done. Congrats!"

I get it. It's such a small thing, what he said. But Izuku's brain short-circuits momentarily because that was—somehow, that was probably the nicest thing any of Izuku's peers have ever said to him. That understanding, that kind disposition despite Izuku's mess of a self. It makes something in his chest stutter a little.

"O-oh—um—congrats to you too, Ojiro-senpai!"

"No need to bow, Midoriya-kun.."

"Right," Izuku straightens himself up again, and Ojiro laughs.

"Congrats to your rank, though," Ojiro says again. "Seriously, it's insane—"

The heat crawls up his neck once more; his ears even feel a little hot. Izuku pleads, somewhat mortified, "I had help—"

"Right, right, sorry, I was just teasing," Ojiro grins, with an apologetic edge. After a short pause, he says, "You kinda have a habit of not taking credits, you know? Even in the dojo."

Izuku opens his mouth before closing it again immediately. And then, with as straight a voice he can muster, "Do you know who our homeroom teacher will be, senpai?"

"Drop the senpai, will you," Ojiro says, though he seems to be nice enough to take the shamelessly blatant topic change in stride. "They didn't tell us, I think? I hope it's someone cool, though ... Vlad King would be awesome."

Vlad King would be awesome, true, but ... "I hope it's Present Mic," Izuku says earnestly.

"Dang, Present Mic would be sick."

Izuku beams a little. "Right?" They never really talk much, before, other than niceties. They never really discussed heroes in depth before, but—Ojiro-senpai is literally in the Hero Course with him, so that gotta count for something.

"I don't mind either, to be honest," Ojiro nods, looking a little wistful. "Imagine if we meet All Might."

Izuku would throw up. "I would throw up," Izuku says honestly.

"I would pass out, I think," Ojiro agrees. "But like, I hope I'd take a photo with him first. And then I'd pass out."

A passenger shushes them a few seconds after that—for laughing too loud, probably. Izuku almost doesn't mind; Ojiro-senpai apologizes and then the both of them look at each other and Izuku just … fights hard to hold back another bout of giggles.

Is this, a loser part of Izuku (which is basically the whole part) wonders faintly, what it's like to have friends?

Because honestly, it feels kind of freaking incredible.

"Oh, a few stops more," Ojiro-senpai notes. The views outside the window have shifted into skyscrapers as they delve more into the metropolitan part of the city. Izuku can't help but feel a little mystified as it sinks in.

"I can't believe I'm really going to UA," Izuku says, a little quietly.

"Same," Ojiro replies. "It still feels kind of surreal, even now. Oh, look—there it is.."

And then they see it: the building. It's huge, towering to the sky, occupying hectares of land. The morning sun glints off its windows in a soft, blinding light. It's the exact same view that Izuku saw on his way to the Entrance Exam just a few weeks ago, but—it's different, like this. It hits different.

Ojiro-senpai is wearing the UA uniform, just like him. Izuku looks down at himself—the way the blazer is tailored fit to his body, and the fabric … the best quality of fabric that he has ever worn. His shoes, he notes—his cheap, red shoes—look positively out of place against the otherwise impeccable outfit.

"You know," Ojiro-senpai says. A little quietly, "I'm sort of worried about the classmates part, though. I'm guessing the atmosphere is going to be somewhat, er, high-strung..? I'm not really good with that kinda thing."

Izuku blinks. "High-strung?" he echoes.

"I bet it's going to be pretty competitive," Ojiro says, something uncomfortable in his tone of voice. "Honestly … it's insane that I've even gotten this far. It's kinda, um, scary."

Izuku turns to fully look at him. Ojiro is still looking out the window, a pinched look between his brows. They never really talk before. Not really.

Ojiro-senpai is the best student in their dojo, standing above even the other seniors exceeding their age. He's never been condescending to Izuku and has always shown him the ropes in spite of Izuku's whole … Izuku thing. It's why Izuku really admires him, his skills aside. Again: that kindness.

And if Ojiro-senpai—that cool, kind, strong Ojiro-senpai—is scared..

Izuku can feel the lightness he's felt since he opened the UA letter dissipating like smoke.

"Anyway, I'm glad that you're here, you know? I'm not really the social type, so it's really nice to have a familiar face.."

Right. It's UA they're talking about. It's UA that Izuku is entering.

"..Midoriya-kun?"

Izuku blinks. "Huh?"

"You okay?" Ojiro is looking at him weird. "You look a little … um. Greener than usual."

"I'm fine," Izuku says. He suddenly realizes that the train is so crowded. He forces himself to look Ojiro in the eye and tries to smile. They were never really close, not really. Ojiro-senpai has always been nice to him. He's a good person. "Just. Nerves."

Izuku wipes his hands on his pants and wonders if he's going to ruin them just from the way he's sweating like crazy, suddenly. His mouth feels a little dry.

Which is insane. Is he really going to have a mental breakdown session when he felt absolutely fine just five minutes ago?

"Do you need to sit down?"

No, he is not. Not gonna let that happen.

Izuku shakes his head and laughs a little. He steps back, pushing so his back can find the wall. "No, it's okay—sorry, I just. It just," how does he phrase this in a way that does not make him look like a complete freak, haha! He stands up straighter. "It just kinda hit me, you know. I'm really ... you know.." Izuku pauses. And then he says, "It's UA. What the hell."

Ojiro looks a little less concerned then; Izuku probably looks like he isn't going to pass out anymore. "Oh. Yeah, it's crazy." Still.

"Um, I can't believe I didn't ask this before," Izuku sweeps in what he hopes is a smooth subject transition. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his pants just in case they shake. "What class are you in, Ojiro-senpai?"

"Oh, right," Ojiro-senpai frowns. "I can't believe I didn't ask you either, I totally forgot—wait, I'll check, I think I'm in … 1-A, yeah—"

"No way," Izuku murmurs. He checks his phone where he took a photo of his own letter—"No way, I'm in 1-A too!"

They look at each other, a smile forming on their respective faces.

"No way!" exclaim them both once more.

"Shush," shushes a passenger.

Izuku cringes. Ojiro apologizes promptly and they go quiet for a bit. And then they look at each other and Izuku finds himself holding back a huge, relieved smile.

"I'm so glad we are in the same class," Ojiro says in moderate volume. He looks as relieved as Izuku feels. "Thank god, at least I know someone.."

"I'm glad we are in the same class too," Izuku says. He really is. For a second, everything actually feels like it's going to be okay. For just a second. "I'm not, um, really good at—" everything? "—at, um, meeting new people and stuff."

"Me neither," Ojiro sighs. "I bet the studies are going to be. Really hard.."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Izuku tries, even though he is dying inside. Only the best of the best is supposed to get into UA, right? So that means they'd be walking into a class full of child prodigies or something. It's like a big joke. A cosmic joke, really. Izuku, of all people, in a class meant for … special people—

"At least I got a friend," Ojiro-senpai says, and Izuku looks up. "We should do study groups later, or something, if you want. We kinda live near each other, after all … maybe after dojo sessions.."

It takes Izuku an embarrassing second to realize that the friend Ojiro meant is him.

"Oh," Izuku says, though it sounds a little like a squeak. Ojiro isn't even looking at him when he said that—when he called him a friend. It was a casual, off-handed thing, the way he said it. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. He hopes to god Ojiro doesn't notice the new blush entering his face. "Yeah, that sounds great, senpai."

Ojiro laughs. "Seriously, drop the senpai. I'm sure you'll catch up with me in the dojo soon—"

"No way," Izuku says, with way too much emphasis, but seriously—there is no way he would even come close. Not in years. Maybe ever. "Ojiro-sen—" he pauses. "Ojiro-san..?"

Ojiro-san visibly cringes. "Oh, somehow that's worse.."

"Ojiro-kun," Izuku tries, unsure.

Ojiro-kun grins a little shyly. "Much better."

Izuku smiles. "Okay," he says, and then, "Um. Ojiro-kun."

"Yeah?"

Izuku stares at the window. And then looks back at Ojiro. "I think we missed our stop. Um. A while ago."

They look at each other for a beat.

"Crap," says Ojiro-kun.

"This place is way too huge," Izuku wheezes.

"I think it's this way!" Ojiro points to a vague area on the right. To Izuku's envy, Ojiro-kun is barely out of breath.

"Oof," Izuku nearly crashes into Ojiro when the latter stops dead in front of—what must be the biggest door he has ever seen in his life. It must be at least three times his height. Who is this door for, All Might?

"This is it, right?"

"I think so," according to the map the both of them chanced a glance when they ran like hell to the lobby. The school even has a lobby, like some bank. Izuku glances at the futuristic 1-A inscription on the giant door. "Yeah, This is it."

They look at each other. "Okay," Ojiro-kun takes a deep breath, and pushes in.

In retrospect, Izuku should've known. The universe has always loved to mess with him.

(He has always been the first person Izuku set eyes to in any and every room. Whenever, Wherever. Whenever, Wherever. Whenever—)

Their eyes meet.

What Izuku hates the most, he thinks, is that Kacchan always manages to make him feel like he is five again. Always manages to make him feel like he is falling twenty metres to the ground, gravity punched right out of him. Always manages to make him feel like the color red.

Kacchan is here. Kacchan is here. Of course Kacchan is here. The best of the best. A spot reserved for special people. It's UA after all. And.

And last time the both of them met had been—

"Is there any problem?" a voice says.

Kacchan looks away.

Izuku breathes.

"Midoriya-kun?"

"Yeah," Izuku says, vaguely turning to the direction of Ojiro's voice. His eyes focus on Ojiro's somewhat concerned face with difficulty. And behind Ojiro is—

"Well?" Eraserhead says.

Oh. He's talking to him. "No, sir."

Most of the seats have been filled. The class is full—Izuku's stomach churns the moment he is aware that there are eighteen students staring right at him. Right—they were late. Late..

Ojiro spares a nervous smile at him, and takes a seat near the back. Izuku ambles to the other only empty seat, which is—

He can't hear anything other than his heartbeat as he puts his bag down in front of Kacchan's desk.

"This is the Hero Course," Eraserhead says, pocketing a pack of what looks like jelly drink. "I'm your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shouta."

Silence.

There is a beat where he drags a sleeping bag to the class podium before turning to stare at them. "Right," Aizawa-sensei says. "Put on your PE uniform. We are doing a Quirk assessment test."

Izuku's brain processors malfunction as he attempts to process that. Quirk assessment test.

It's almost hilarious. The universe loves to screw with him.

There are murmurs as chairs are being pulled. Izuku looks at his desk—the best desk he has ever seen, the surface is so smooth and clean and there is no dug up scratches of Useless Fucking Deku on them—as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. He can hear his blood rushing like he's going to die, die, die as the chair behind him is pulled and Kacchan—

Kacchan.

Kacchan walks past his desk without so much a glance.

Izuku breathes. He didn't realize he'd stopped doing that. He wants to—

Okay, Izuku thinks, as he gets up along with the other kids to the changing room.

Okay.

Rewind.

How was this going to go, again?

Let's track back a little.

So he wants to be a Hero. Great. He passes the UA Entrance Exam by pure luck. Great. So now, now is the … being a Hero part, isn't it?

And how, Izuku asks himself—his brilliant, idiotic self, how on earth do you plan to do that when you can't even be in the same room with Kacchan without wanting to—

"Dude! This is the guy I was talking about! This is him!"

"Oh! The Ash to your Pikachu?"

It takes Izuku a few seconds to comprehend what's going on. He stares at the two boys who just manifested in front of his desk. "Er," he says, rather eloquently. And then, "Oh—"

"What's up, Midoriya?" Kaminari-kun says, holding out a fist.

Izuku looks at it before his brain kicks in and—he bumps it in a manner that he hopes is normal behavior. "Kaminari-kun," he says.

"We are in the same class! Man, that's awesome. This dude here is my friend, Kirishima."

"'Sup?" Kirishima grins and offers his fist—which Izuku proceeds to bump dutifully. "Kaminari told me all about what you did in the exam—damn, you were cool as hell."

It's all very disorienting. Is Izuku currently—is he being approached right now? By … people? By—oh my god, by his classmates?

Mortifyingly, Izuku finds himself blushing hard. Again. For the nth time just this past hour alone.

"Oh, um," Okay, brain. Work. "I had help—I mean, Kaminari-kun helped me. If it wasn't for him—"

"Oh man," Kaminari cuts in with excitement, "But you were like, bam! Pew, pew!" He imitates what Izuku's pretty sure are lightsaber noises. "And like, kapow! Obiwan and everything."

Izuku's face is as red as Kirishima's hair as of now. "Thank you?" he says.

"Humility is super manly," Kirishima says admiringly, and Izuku wants to combust a little. "I mean, didn't you rank—"

"No! No, I'm, no, not," he's babbling now. "It was all thanks to—"

"If you're here to make friends, go somewhere else," Aizawa-sensei says, an intimidating silhouette of black cut hard in the middle of the class.

The three of them start. Most of the class have left the room. Some of them—all unfamiliar faces—are looking back curiously at them.

"Sorry," Izuku offers in a pathetically small voice, which is quickly rewarded by Aizawa-sensei turning to glance at him.

Izuku is inadvertently reminded of the last time the both of them had met. He was not making a good impression then. He's pretty sure he isn't making a good impression now either. He feels nauseous with shame.

"Time is short," Aizawa-sensei says flatly. "Are you still planning to dawdle?"

"No, sir."

He is a very tall man, Izuku notices. He already knew, but he really is a tall man. Aizawa raises a brow at them, and the three of them turn to follow their classmates out of the room.

"Damn, that was scary as hell," Kirishima says the moment they enter the changing room. "Dude's kinda gloomy, isn't he."

Izuku relaxes considerably when he realizes that Kacchan isn't there. He must've already finished changing. The locker room still has some people inside, though. Izuku inches to a corner and inspects the PE uniform—the material is good, even better than the daily uniform … durable, waterproof. He wonders if he can alter it later.

"Aw," Kaminari says, "I was hoping we'd get someone cool, like Present Mic.."

Izuku hesitates.

Izuku knows he shouldn't say it. He knows he should've kept his mouth shut. If there is anything he's learned in the past 15 years of his life, it's that it's never a good idea to go against the majority. And Izuku is especially placed very low in the social ladder.

Unfortunately, keeping his mouth shut is one of the many things he can't do. "I think, um, I think he's cool."

Both boys turn to look at him, and Izuku immediately regrets it, and his brain does this weird ass counter jerk which makes him blurt, "He's the Pro-Hero Eraserhead, right? He's known to be one of the best underground heroes out there."

The boys look at each other. "I didn't know that," Kaminari says, and Izuku's stomach drops.

Kirishima looks a little thoughtful. "Wait, actually, I've heard that name before.."

"I didn't know you were a Hero nerd, Midoriya-kun."

Izuku turns to look at Ojiro, who smiles at him. It takes Izuku a few nanoseconds to sparse that there is nothing malicious in the way he says it, so Izuku just—shifts sheepishly instead of killing himself. "Oh, um, yeah.."

"No way, me too, man!" Kirishima exclaims, surprising all of them with the ferocity of his words. "Who is your main? I main Crimson Riot."

Izuku freezes for a second before his brain kicks in and—"Crimson Riot is amazing," he says, and the dam breaks: "I think that Crimson Riot was the Hero of his era! His resilience and moral code is an inspiration to the following generations of heroes, and his legacy—"

"—is unparalleled!" Kirishima cuts in. "Oh my god, fuck yeah! Fellow Crimson Riot stan, you are officially my bro—"

"Now he won't shut up for at least another five hours," Kaminari says. "Hey man, I'm Kaminari."

"Oh, I'm Ojiro."

"Cool. Hey Kirishima, let the poor guy breathe—he needs to change too, y'know."

"Oh, right," Kirishima says, stopping. He rubs a hand to the back of his neck sheepishly, "Sorry. I just get super excited; he's kinda old school, so not many people know about him."

Izuku, whose head is kind of spinning right now, shakes his head. "It's cool," he says. He feels a little high. He thinks that was the first time in many, many years anyone else has ever gushed out about Heroes with him.

"Oh right, dude, this is Ojiro."

"Hey, what's up?"

There isn't really a private space in the locker room, but Izuku tries to manage. He surreptitiously moves a little farther than the others. He feels a little self-conscious about it, but he knows that no one is looking at him—it's just his faulty anxiety-riddled brain.

The uniform fits him well. Perfectly, even—it's light, comfortable. Stretchy. High quality..

He looks at himself in the mirror on the wall next to him. Midoriya Izuku, wearing UA colors and symbols.

An impostor.

"Hey, Midoriya, let's go!"

"Don't wanna get yelled at again.."

Izuku looks away. "Right," he tries to smile.

Izuku doesn't know when it all began. It being the constant what ifs in his head. It being the sleepless nights. The nervous stutter. It being the ever-present nausea so thick his tongue is heavy with it. It being his brain supplying endless scenarios of things that'll go wrong.

He's so good at it. So good at thinking what'll go wrong. He knows what it is; his therapist calls it that word—the one that sounds like a curse. The term that Izuku doesn't want to admit, doesn't want to claim.

(As if Izuku's life isn't hard enough without a disorder.)

Those fears—those stupid, meaningless, relentless fears. They're not real. A product of some neurotic haywire. A character flaw, a defect. They're not real, most of the time—not really. He knows people aren't looking at him, but it feels like they are. He knows he doesn't disgust people—not all of them, anyway—but it feels like he does. Relentless. Meaningless.

But sometimes they're right. Sometimes he actually does screw up. Sometimes things go wrong.

"A Quirk assessment test?"

And right now, they are going wrong very quickly.

"What about the entrance ceremony? And the—"

Why is he here?

"If you're going to be a Hero, you don't have time for leisurely events. UA's selling point is how unrestricted its school traditions are.."

Why is Izuku here?

"..averages taken from students not using their Quirks. It's not rational. Well, the Ministry of Education is slacking off.."

Why the hell is Izuku here?

"Midoriya Izuku."

Izuku looks up. A pair of dark pupils framed by bruise-like circles staring right at him. He is, suddenly, ensnared with the sensation of being tied up.

"You finished at the top of the Entrance Exam," Aizawa-sensei says. "What was your best result for softball throw, in junior high?"

There are low murmurs all around him and Izuku feels so horrifyingly singled out. His throat feels like sandpaper. "I—I don't remember," he's mumbling, which is a bad habit. He should cut that out—now. "Um, I think—less than—" speak it out. Come on. "Less than 50 metres, I think."

His cheeks feel hot with shame. He wants to throw up.

"Alright," Aizawa holds out a ball he procured out of nowhere. "You can do whatever you want as long as you stay in the circle."

It's your average, everyday softball. Izuku looks at it like it's a grenade.

Except if it is a grenade he would actually—because right now he really wants to—

He takes the ball.

Stupidly ambitious. That's him. And look where it got him: his biggest nightmare.

Izuku takes a step to the circle on the field. Eighteen pairs of eyes staring right at his back, waiting to watch him perform his inadequacy to the world.

You're going to trip and fall, Izuku thinks to himself. You're going to make a mess of yourself and everyone is going to make fun of you. They'll know you don't belong here. They'll know that you—

"So we are allowed to use our Quirks?" someone whispered. "That's awesome."

Look, Kacchan is laughing at you right now. Because they're going to find out that you're a fake and you're going to get kicked out.

"Give it your all," Aizawa's voice rings next to him, but Izuku can't bring himself to look at his teacher in the eye.

He's going to expel you.

Izuku's hand is so sweaty that he's sure the ball is going to slip right out of it. He steps into the circle on the field.

Give it your all. His all? Izuku's all is belly acid and blood bitten lips and the constant ashen, burnt smell clinging to his school uniforms. Izuku's all is losing.

This was a mistake. This whole thing was a mistake. What was he thinking? UA. UA! What kind of grandiose, bloated delusion was he in until now?

When had Izuku forgotten his place? The bottom of the ladder. He's just Deku. Just a Quirkless nobody. Quirkless fucking Deku—

Except that's not true anymore.

Izuku blinks water that could either be sweat and tears out of his eye. Nine months of blood and sweat and tears and his mother's smiles and for what? You're going to be a hero, sweetheart.

Regardless of UA, your efforts..

He throws the ball like his life depends on it.

('Like his life depends on it.' Now, isn't that a thought?)

Izuku swallows as he watches the ball fly and meet gravity. And then follows several excruciating, silent seconds where he can hear nothing but his own maddening heartbeat.

Aizawa-sensei turns at him and flashes the numbers: 46 metres.

His mouth feels dry. He couldn't bring himself to look at Aizawa-sensei in the eye—he couldn't bring himself to look at anyone in the eye. He walks numbly to the vague direction of the rest of the kids.

"Know your best first."

He looks up on reflex. Aizawa-sensei's eyes—a set of dark pupils framed by bruise-like circles. His voice is inflectionless. "That's the most rational way to form the foundation of a hero."

The words aren't meant for him; they can't be. It's meant for the whole class, but—but they stop Izuku in his tracks, somehow. The way he says it. The way it feels as if Eraserhead is looking straight at him, and only him.

And then the moment passes and the teacher looks away. "Next," he says, "Bakugou Katsuki."

The Universe just loves to screw with him.

And there he is, Izuku thinks. There he is.

The first person Izuku sets his eyes on in any and every room. Whenever, Wherever.

Kacchan walks to the circle that Izuku was in seconds ago. That flash of familiar blond hair, standing tall in UA colors and symbols. He looks like he belongs there. He looks like—

Kacchan takes the ball and throws it with a boom. Both the shower of fire and the burst of ashen, sweet scent—Izuku would recognize it anywhere.

Aizawa-sensei flashes the numbers.

705.2 metres.

The other kids are murmuring excitedly, but there is a ringing in Izuku's ears and he feels sick, sick, sick.

How could he forget? How could he dare to forget? This feeling, this shame. The deep, red shame. The color red.

Oh, he thinks. Oh.

He is looking at Kacchan's back again.

(Losing, to Izuku, is akin of water to fish.)

Another name is being called up, but Izuku just stares at his shoes, numb. He doesn't know how long he does that—he isn't sure if he cares anymore.

Why is he here? Hasn't he always been a realist?

And this, this is reality. The irrefutable reality that he can't escape. Kacchan stands first place, of course. As always. An absolute, immovable object of victory. A rule in Izuku's universe—

"Infinity?!"

Izuku starts at the sudden erupt of loud shouts. He looks up, almost out of his consent.

"What?" he mutters.

"She got infinity, dude!" Kaminari's voice—since when has he been standing next to him? "That's just insane!"

"Infinity?" Izuku repeats, and that's right; written on the monitor: the infinity symbol. Someone beat Kacchan's record, and by an impossible mile—literally. Just who..

"My Quirk is called Zero Gravity," the familiar girl standing in the circle says, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "I can nullify gravity.."

Oh, so that's what it was, Izuku thinks, remembering the way she had corrected his center of balance at the Entrance Exam, the chunk of concrete. "That's amazing," he breathes.

"Midoriya-kun," Ojiro's voice reaches his ears, and Izuku's heart stops.

This is it, he thinks. What a shame. He thought he finally got a friend.

This one is going to hurt. Izuku turns to look at him, "Yes, senpai?"

"You did so good!" Ojiro says. "I think I did less than that in middle school. Man, I'm kinda nervous for my turn."

Izuku blinks.

"Also, I thought we agreed we were dropping the senpai," Ojiro reminds him, light-heartedly. "And I knew it! So you really did rank first in the Entrance Exam, huh?"

It's the oddest feeling, waiting for the admonishment that never comes. "I," Izuku says, confused. "I.."

"Oh my god, this suuucks," Kaminari says, messing up his own hair. "My Quirk is, like. Entirely useless for shit like this … I think I hit like, 40 in middle school. Midoriya, do you work out or something?"

Izuku stares. "I. Yeah. I um, I—I go to Ojiro-se—Ojiro-kun's dojo.."

"Maybe I should go too," Kaminari mourns. "This is so unfair, not everyone has a physical enhancement Quirk.."

"I don't think my tail is any help for ball throwing either.."

Oh, Izuku thinks. Oh.

He feels a little lightheaded, as if he just jumped off expecting concrete and landed in cushion instead.

That's right. Quirks aren't … Quirks aren't necessarily..

Having no explicitly non-combatant Quirk doesn't mean he can't fight. There are many heroes without such a Quirk, heroes that still save people with their skillset.

Even, even Eraserhead himself … Izuku glances at their teacher, who is currently handing a ball to the girl with the pink hair and skin. Even Eraserhead's Quirk isn't exactly violent, but he's a nevertheless capable Pro-Hero.

And moreover, Izuku thinks with wonder, moreover—

Kacchan isn't in the first place.

"Oh, right, Midoriya," Kaminari says, curiously looking over at him. "Now that I think about it, I don't know what your Quirk is."

Izuku's head goes blank for a second. "Oh.."

Kirishima, ambling over, leans on Kaminari's shoulder with an elbow. "Huh? Didn't he take down that zero pointer with his Quirk?"

"No, man, he did it with a lightsaber."

"..a what, now?"

"It's a type of a Regeneration Quirk," Izuku says in what he hopes is an even voice.

"Oh," says Ojiro who has given Izuku probably no less than a hundred bruises in their spars for the past seven months. Bruises that definitely do not heal on impact. "That's so useful."

Izuku smiles, wobbly. "Pretty much."

"Damn, so you don't have a combatant Quirk and you still took that robot down?" Kaminari whistles. "Dude, that's fucking sick."

"Hold on a second, man," Kirishima says, "did you just say lightsaber?"

Izuku didn't think he could get overloaded, but that's the state of his brain as of now. "I'm—um—no," is all he could manage to Kaminari, and to Kirishima, "it's not exactly a lightsaber, it's more of, um, an approximation of one—"

"No way!" Kirishima's face lights up like it's christmas. "You've got to show me! Does it make a noise?"

He actually did it the first time he made it, but then he realized what a huge nerd it made him so he took it out. But. "I can add it in, if you like," Izuku offers with a weak smile.

"Fuck yeah."

"You can come join us in our sessions!" Ojiro, who looks excited by the prospect of new students, is coming down on Kaminari. "We do lots of mixed martial arts. Izuku here does kendo.."

"Kaminari Denki," Aizawa-sensei's voice calls out, and the four of them immediately shut up in fear of another scolding.

Kaminari looks like he's going to walk to his deathbed. "Good luck, man," Kirishima punches his shoulder.

Izuku watches as the test goes on. Some students get creative—the boy with the navel laser, which is very interesting, the girl with the most OP Quirk he has ever seen that can quite literally create things, the purple little guy..

Some others do have physical enhancement and/or combatant Quirk. Ojiro, as expected, cleared the track magnificently. And then there is that strict boy from the entrance exam, the one with the glasses—with his incredible speed Quirk. And the quiet boy with the powerful ice Quirk.

But the rest of them are doing it without Quirks—or rather, their Quirks don't necessarily boost them in the test. The invisible girl, Kaminari, the boy who speaks in sign language. Just like Izuku, they go through the test like … like a Quirkless person.

His running track: 7.02 seconds. Grip strength: 46 kg. Average, Izuku thinks. They're all average—without Quirks.

But the class continues on.

There are no jeers, no sneers, no fucking freak Deku can't do anything right. No one cares—in the best way. He isn't exceptional, and it's absolutely fine.

Sometimes Izuku's fear turns out to be true.

But that doesn't mean they turn out to be as bad as he thought they would.

"Hey! Curly hair guy!"

Izuku, who just finished his lap, turns to look at a pair of round eyes and a blinding smile. "You passed! And you ranked first, huh?" if sincerity is a person, it's her. "You were amazing!"

Izuku hopes she passes the furious blush on his face (how many times does that make today?) as the result of his track run. "Oh, I'm—no, I mean—thank? Thank you—"

"I'm so happy we are in the same class! I wanted to say hi much earlier. I've been wondering whether or not you're all right. I mean, they told me you were fine, but I was still kind of worried you know? My name is Uraraka Ochako!"

This was all said very quickly, genuinely, and cheerfully. Izuku wonders if in a way, this was a karmic retribution—the best kind.

"..I'm Midoriya," he says, when he finds his voice. "Midoriya Izuku.."

"Nice to finally meet you properly, Midoriya-kun," she flashes another one of her megawatt smiles at him. "It's gonna be my turn soon, so see you later!"

"See you.."

Izuku watches her disappearing back as she jogs over to the track lines.

Was that, he wonders in bewilderment, the fourth classmate that has made conversation with him today?

It feels kind of surreal. A lot of surreal. Izuku's classmates don't talk to him. They laugh at him, make fun of him, taunt him, mess him up—but they don't talk to him.

He guesses that's not true anymore.

"Midoriya-kun, can you spot me for a bit?"

"Oh, yeah, sure.."

They move to the gym room for the last few tests. It's the biggest, fanciest gym room Izuku could imagine; the facility is as impressive as the other ones. All that's left is the seated sit-ups and the seated toe-touch tests. Ojiro-kun expectedly does better than him at the first one—but for the seated toe-touch, Izuku isn't quite far behind.

"That's a new record for you, Midoriya-kun," Ojiro says when he's finished spotting him. They take turns with each other.

"Thanks," Izuku takes the water bottle handed to him. "I still think my endurance is still kinda lacking though.."

"'Cause of your Quirk, right?"

It's a miracle that Izuku doesn't spit his drink. "I'm sorry?"

"I heard regeneration types of Quirk eat away stamina, something to do with metabolism I think?" Ojiro says, drinking his own water. "Is that true?"

"Oh, right," Izuku pretends that the print on his bottle is the most interesting thing in the world. He mumbles vaguely, "my Quirk counsellor did mention something like that—" change of topic needed stat. "I still should build up more endurance though. I never see you out of breath, Ojiro-kun."

"Yeah right," Ojiro laughs good-naturedly. "I wish."

"Shut up!"

Both of them startle and turn to look at the source of the voice.

Unexpectedly, it's from the nice girl—Uraraka-san. She seems to have been spotting another girl—the one with the amazing Quirk, only a few paces next to where they are. They seem to have finished a while ago. Both are currently glaring at the boy with the sticky purple balls.

The boy jeers. What was his name? Mineta. "Why are you so mad? I was just saying that she looks—"

"You've been harassing Yaoyorozu-san since morning," Uraraka says coldly. No blinding smile on her face. "Cut it out."

Mineta sniffs. "You're just jealous you're not getting the same attention."

Izuku starts at that—almost disbelieving his ears by the sheer awfulness of that retort. Both he and Ojiro have stood up, hovering over the scene. The other classmates are still clumped around the room, not yet paying attention to what's going on.

"What an asshole," Ojiro says beside him, a pinched look on his face. Any other time, Izuku would've noticed that it's the first time he's heard Ojiro say a curse word.

But Uraraka barely bristles at the shameless jab. "I mean it," she says, like a warning. Her voice is low. "Cut. It. Out."

"It's okay, Uraraka-san," Yaoyorozu says with a smile. She looks back at Mineta—the smile diminishing instantly. "Stop approaching me," she says sternly. She looks very, very uncomfortable. "I'm not interested in men."

"I can fix that," Mineta says.

Yaoyorozu pales.

Izuku doesn't know when he moved to stand between Yaoyorozu and Mineta, but suddenly he is. "You can't say that!"

"He's right, you can't say that," Uraraka says beside him. And then she lunges to punch Mineta in the face.

It's a hard punch. Izuku has heard—and been—punched before. He knows a hard punch when he sees one. There is a crack and then Mineta is on the floor, flat.

A heavy, shocked silence falls on the room. Izuku is caught between surprise at Uraraka's action and an overwhelming sense of justice. For a moment, he thinks Mineta passed out—but then the boy sits up, holding his bleeding nose. "You broke my nose," he says, both shocked and furious, "you fat bitch—"

"I'm sure there are a lot of other things this fat bitch can break," Uraraka says.

"You are expelled," Aizawa says, calmly.

Izuku doesn't notice when the teacher has come over to their spot, an intimidating silhouette of black cut hard in the middle of the gym. The rest of the class, too, are paying full attention to them right now. And then the teacher's words sink in.

Uraraka blanches. Izuku steps forward without even realizing it. "Sensei, she did nothing wrong!"

Uraraka, seemingly encouraged by Izuku's support, raises her chin. "I regret nothing," she says, furiously. "He was saying gross things to Yaoyorozu-san—"

"Not you," Aizawa says, still in that calm voice. "Pack your bags, Mineta."

There is a very, very silent second where everyone in the class processes his words.

"What," Uraraka says. And then, in what sounds like awed understanding, she says, "oh."

"What," Mineta squeaks. "Me? But I—what do you—"

"You may go to the nurse's office first. We still prioritize your health and safety," Aizawa-sensei drawls, "even if you are no longer a UA student. Here, you can give the nurse this slip."

No one says a word. And then Mineta laughs; a terrified, incredulous sound. "But," he says, disbelief in his voice. "But why?"

"I expel any student that displays zero potential," Aizawa-sensei says. He sounds almost bored. "Such as you."

"What, just because I called her—because I said she has—" Mineta stumbles over his words. "It was just a joke!"

Aizawa looks unphased. Mineta pales as he realizes that his teacher—or who had been his teacher—is completely serious.

"You can't do this to me!" Mineta says, all blood drained out of his face. "I did nothing wrong!" Something in Aizawa's face seems to harden at that, though Mineta hardly notices as he continues to ramble, "and this is only—only the first day, you can't expel me on my first day—"

"We are free to do what we want about the circumstances of our students," Aizawa-sensei says coldly.

Izuku finds himself, for the first time in his life, truly stunned.

Izuku doesn't like most teachers. Izuku never likes teachers, in his life. It's a slippery slope, a relationship that Izuku doesn't really want to … contemplate. Teachers are, for most of Izuku's life, apathetic. They don't care about Izuku.

Teachers aren't bad, they're just—they're not good. And they definitely don't believe you.

Izuku feels like a lot of attributes to his life have been turned upside down today.

"But," Mineta says, a pathetic noise. "But.."

"Here are the results for today's assessment test," the teacher continues on as if Mineta doesn't exist. A hologram lights up behind him, presenting their scores. Izuku can't even bother to look at them, and he doubts anyone actually does as they try to process what's going on.

Mineta looks mortified as the situation fully sinks into him, but before he could raise another rebuttal, Aizawa-sensei seems to have fully lost interest in his assault case.

"We are done here," Aizawa-sensei says. "There are handouts with the curriculum and such in the classroom when you get back; look over them carefully. Tomorrow will be packed with more rigorous tests, so prepare yourself. Dismissed."

Mineta has started to cry. Aizawa does not show any indication that anything is wrong. The teacher calls out, "Uraraka."

Uraraka starts, staring unsurely at her teacher. She still looks a bit in awe. "Yes.."

"Next time," he says simply, "Don't tuck your thumb in your fist when you punch."

The look of Uraraka's face looks like a mixture of utter bewilderment and absolute worship. "Yes, Sensei."

Aizawa turns to look at the rest of them once more.

"Welcome to UA's Hero Course," he says.

"Welcome home," Izuku says.

"Hello, dear," his mom smiles. "I'm home."

"I cooked some teriyaki salmon," Izuku says, ripping the cling wrap from the plate of the aforementioned salmon, "I'll reheat them real quick. I think I used too much salt, though.."

"That's fine, honey," his mom says, putting her shoes on the entryway.

"How was work? Did you manage to get your shift changed?"

"Oh, yes, thank god, Nakamura-san finally listened to my request.." Inko momentarily throws herself on the couch, cracking her neck. "More reasonable workload now, thankfully. Oh, that smells good."

"I made some tea too, I restocked that sencha brand that you like.."

"Oh, thank you very much," Inko cranes her neck so she can look at what is visible of her son in the kitchen. "Are you trying to bribe me to allow you another prototype?"

Izuku laughs, his back rising and falling with the motion.

A comfortable silence falls to their small, warm apartment. His mother breaks it very softly, "how was school, Izuku?"

The hum of the microwave fills the room while the scent of salmon permeates the air. Izuku takes a bowl as he opens the rice cooker—steam rising to the ceiling.

"I think," Izuku says, "I think this is the best day of my life."

There is a pause. Izuku can't see his mom's face from this angle, but he can hear the smile in her voice when she says, "that's great, honey."

"Yeah," Izuku says. "It is."

And for a split second, a part of him wonders. It's a careless, irresponsible, absent-minded piece of thought; but he thinks it anyway.

Why, Izuku wonders, did he ever try to kill himself?