"So you're telling me that most of these kids have no potential," Aizawa says, flicking through a stack of folders that contain the profiles of every heroics applicant that managed to pass the exam. Most aren't all that impressive, but that's nothing new. Judging worth based on smashing robots is something he'd thought was dumb from day one.
Across from him, Principal Nedzu nods. "Yes, unfortunately the batch of children was rather weak this year. And they're even more disappointing if you compare them to the ones we got in the two years previous…"
"How can we be sure of that?" Cementoss speaks up from the far end of the long table. "Ten minutes is hardly enough to gauge the strength and talent of thousands of kids. Perhaps they didn't have the right Quirks for the practical." That's a good argument, but...
"You judged rescue points this year," Snipe says, idly tipping back in his seat so only the rear legs of his chair touch the ground. "You ought know whether or not Nedzu's right."
"I graded one tenth of the applicants. That's hardly a broad enough sample, especially among thousands of children," Cementoss counters.
"It's not just rescue or villain points we're talking about here," Midnight says, "most of the test takers couldn't give a half decent analysis on the written exam. Not to mention the rather crude ways most of the top sixty used their Quirks, which were mostly simple emitters and transformatives suitable for taking out robots, I might add."
A wave of murmurs breaks out among the teachers. Each and every one of them was either a judge for rescue points, a zone manager, or both. They're who decide what prospects get picked and are probably the most important part of the U.A staff.
And at this moment, they're unsure.
"We can't justnothave a heroics course," Present Mic speaks up, casually flicking through a lesson planner. Most of the staff look at him incredulously. "What?" he defends, "both Eraser and Nedzu say most of those kids don't have potential, and we all know what that means. But we can't refuse to teach some of 'em just because they can't be great. The world needs average heroes, too. Not everyone can be All Might."
"Excellent point, Yamada," Nedzu says, swirling his tea cup around. "But we are UA. Our motto isPlus Ultra,no? We take those with potential to be great and make them so. No less."
"We could shrink the hero course," Aizawa suggests, carefully scrutinizing the profiles of the top two placers. "You saidmostdon't have potential. Give me the ones that do have some, and I'll put them through the usual and then some."
"Can we really do that?" Thirteen asks, tapping their fingers together. "Just… change the outcome of the exam after it's over?" Most of the teachers present seem to agree with her sentiment. Aizawa does not.
"It's been done before," Nedzu says. "I know that in the early days of our school, the staff would annually vote on the number and size of the heroics classes. They discontinued it after they realized the average was two classes of twenty, but we could bring it back for a couple years if needed."
"You'll give Eraser the cream of the crop and leave me withnothing,"Vlad King complains, thumbing through his own stack of student profiles.
Aizawa lets the corners of his lips twitch up just a little. "There's always next year. And besides, I might end up expelling them all." Then, "It's not like there's much to look at here, if I'm honest. You all saw the videos, you know how little 'cream of the crop' there is this year." There's a small mutter of agreement, but most of the teachers still present seem unsure.
"Let's have a vote," Nedzu decides. "Our two options are having two classes of twenty like usual, splitting the top scorers in each class, and molding our rather meager crop as best we can. Or, we have only one class and handpick the best students for Aizawa to teach."
They vote. The result is 8-7 in favor of Aizawa's idea. The man himself takes a long look over the four recommendation students (contracts stipulate that there had to be four no matter what), but there's nothing too interesting there. The top two who took the regular exam, though… well, he certainly hoped they wouldn't disappoint.
[x]
"Izuku, Izuku! Ohmygosh, it's here! Honey, come quick! The letter! It's for you!"
The sound of his mother frantically jogging through the apartment shakes Midoriya from his trace. Quickly closing his hero notebook (volume 14), he gets up from his desk and leaves his room, nearly knocking his mother over. A rather heavy envelope is thrust into his hands.
"Open it!" his mother cries.
Midoriya blinks, almost not believing that the expensive-feeling paper with gold lettering is real. "Can I… open it in my room?" he asks, mostly because he wants to be composed for when his mother finds out. He knows she'll cry no matter what.
"Sure, honey. But please make it quick! My heart can't take all this waiting."
Sitting back down at his desk with his mother pacing on the other side of the (locked) door, Midoriya sits down at his desk. He stares at the envelope and pokes it with one finger. Biting his lip, he carefully pulls away at the seal. He gets the envelope open but sits back in his chair.
He can't do this. The weight of everything is just too much. The letter will determine his future, and he can't bring himself to open it.
Every poster of All Might in his room seems to stare down at him anxiously. A bead of sweat flows down his neck and onto his collar.
Hehasto do this. Staring determinedly at the letter, Midoriya reaches in and pulls out a heavy, metal disk. It lights up in a hologram, and Midoriya drops it in shock.
A tall (is he tall? The hologram can't be more than six inches, but Midoriya feels like they're tall) scruffy looking man is displayed on the screen. He's wearing all black, and his face is covered by his long hair and a five o'clock shadow.
"Hello. I am Aizawa Shota, heroics teacher at UA High." The man holds up a remote and clicks it. The screen darkens and expands. A large stylized spelling of his name now takes up most of the screen. "Midoriya Izuku, you took the heroics exam and placed in the top five percent in the written portion." A little '95th percentile' blinks under Midoriya's name.
"However, academics isn't all we look for." Midoriya swallows nervously as the man reappears on screen. This is it. "The practical is much more important in the long run. But, lucky for you, you aced that too." The screen changes again, displaying a colorful list of ten names. His in the top left corner, bright gold with a boldonenext to it. There's three rows of numbers next to his name, reading60 villains, 25 rescue, 85 total.
"Congratulations. This isyourHero Academia." The screen blinks out and collapses back into the disk.
Midoriya can hardly breathe. He reaches for the disc, hoping to play the recordings again, but his hands shake so bad he drops it.
He sits there for a while, trying to process. It's a lot. Too much, really. U.A. His dream school. Accepted him. And he'snumber one.He pinches himself hard a couple times, just to be sure he isn't dreaming.
He's not dreaming.
His eyes start to water, but he wipes away the tears before they fall. He did it.He did it.He's not useless. He's not foolish. He passed, top of the rankings. He's gonna be a hero.
But next, he has to tell his mom.
Getting up onto his shaky legs, Midoriya walks across his bedroom and gently opens the door. Immediately, his mom rushes forward and wraps him up in a hug. She's crying hard.
"I was listening through the door," she sobs, "Izuku, I'm so proud of you!"
Midoriya can't help it. He cries too.
[x]
"ALL—er—MR. YAGI!" Toshinori hears a voice yell. He turns around and smiles as he sees his successor jog towards him. "I got in! I got in!"
The boy slides to a stop, sending particles of white sand everywhere. He's smiling like usual, wide and bright. It's a different one than the one he has for combat and weight training. Toshinori can't decide which he likes better.
"Congratulations! Though I can't say I'm surprised. We did work you hard this past year." Toshinori pats the boy on the shoulder.
Young Midoriya laughs and rubs his neck self-consciously, "Yeah, I uh, I placed first, too. With a total of eighty-five points."
Toshinori raises an eyebrow. "That's only ten shy ofmyentrance exam score. Though I'm sure you did better on the practical than I did, so it balances out."
"You got ninety-five points!" Midoriya's jaw drops. "Did you beat the zero pointer, too?"
Toshinori laughs, "I tried, but I couldn't quite take it down in the allotted time. I did get a lashing from the support department head for denting his creation, though, so you probably dodged a bullet by not attacking it." Toshinori blinks. "Wait, you didn't attack it, right? Please tell me you didn't break your limbs smashing that thing, I don't need another lecture from Recovery Girl next time I go for my monthly checkup!"
Young Midoriya chuckles. "No, I didn't try to. I did pull another guy out of the way of it, though! He wasn't very happy about it…"
Toshinori shrugs, "Some people don't like getting help. But that doesn't change the fact that they need it."
There's a comfortable silence after that. The two stare out to sea, enjoying the cool air and the sound of the waves.
"I can't believe I'm actually going to be a hero," Midoriya says after a while.
Toshinori looks at him oddly. "Still? I'd've thought you would have accepted that a year ago." God, it's already been a year since that fateful day. Toshinori can still remember how Midoriya looked as he slung his backpack at the villain.
"Yeah, I know, it's just…" The kid looks down at his feet. "I was Quirkless for so long, I think I just got used to how people assumed I'd never amount to anything. But now that I got into UA, I can start to prove them wrong."
"I'd say you already have," Toshinori says, gesturing to the beach and the sea beyond. Young Midoriya looks a bit confused at his words so he continues, "You alreadyarea hero."
"No I'm not!" Midoriya denies, "I don't have a license! Sure, I have a Quirk now, but that doesn't mean anything! I need education, and experience, and—" He's cut off by a newspaper clipping being shoved into his face.
"Anonymous youth cleans Dagobah trash heap," the boy reads aloud. "Spotless sands and clear waves make the former dumping ground a new summer hotspot." He looks up to Toshinori, confused. "How does this make me a hero? I did it so I could hold your power. Cleaning the trash was just a plus."
Toshinori sighs, "Do you remember what I told you that first day on this beach? When it was covered in trash?"
"That if I used your full power, my limbs would fly off?"
"Technically correct, but no. I said that being a hero is about service. This beach was dirty, but you reverted it back to its former glory, bringing joy to thousands. You helped those in need and expected nothing in return," Toshinori says, "and last year, the day I met you, you proved yourself as well. By risking your life to save another, you embodied the traits of a hero.
"Servitude. Self-sacrifice. They are what make a hero a hero. You, my boy, have already shown both. Here on this beach, and the day we met."
The boy sniffs, and Toshinori thinks for a moment that he's going to cry. But then he wipes his face and stares him directly in the eye. His mouth is curled into his fierce smile, and his eyes burn with passion. "I promise to be a hero worthy of your power," he says, his words wavering. "I'll be the successor you and the world need!"
Toshinori can't help but beam. The kid will go far, he'll make sure of it.
[x]
"I am here! I am here! I am here! I am—" A fist smacks down on the head of an All Might-themed alarm clock, silencing it. Midoriya stares wide-eyed at the ceiling. He's been up for two hours and got five hours of sleep the previous night.
He lays there under his covers for all of ten seconds. Then he shoots out of bed and hurriedly gets dressed. After tearing off his pajamas, he throws on a pair of socks and an undershirt. Then he slips into the gray slacks and tucks the white button-down in.
He grabs his blazer, belt, and backpack as he hurries to the kitchen. His mom is there already, happily sipping on a mug of hot tea while Midoriya's usual breakfast is there.
"Morning, sweetie! Big day today," she says, standing. "You forgot your tie, but that's alright. I'll run and grab it while you eat."
Midoriya mumbles out a thanks as he slips his blazer on and sits down at the table. Shoveling food into his mouth as his mother came back into the kitchen with a red tie, part of his mind reminded Midoriya that classes started at 7:30 and that it was only 6:00. He ignored that and kept rapidly shoving rice in his mouth.
"You know, if you keep eating like that, you'll get the hiccups," his mother chides.
"No I—" Midoriya hiccups, "won't." He turns bright red and quickly drinks a glass of water.
And that's how his first morning of being an official hero in training went, earning the glares of fellow train passengers as he awkwardly hiccups the whole ride to school.
It could be worse, he reflects as he walks through the gateway of U.A. The train could have broken down, or he could have overslept, or the U.A faculty could decide that he's not good enough and expel him on the first day. Boy, would that suck. All Might and Gran's looks of disappointment would haunt him for years.
Midoriya decides to stop thinking about that halfway to his classroom. Instead he focuses on getting there on time. It isn't like he needs to—after all, he's a full twenty minutes early and has directions from the front desk—but he needs something to think about.
After less than a minute of walking (the rooms for the hero classes were closer to the entrance, probably because U.A was a hero school), Midoriya reaches it: Class 1-A. Taking a deep breath, he pushes on the (absolutely massive) door. Stepping in, he's greeted with a familiar, yet odd, sight.
There's a group of five girls in the back, talking and laughing despite the fact that they (probably) just met. Similarly, a quartet of boys, all taller than Midoriya, converse loudly, while another pair, who look like twins, play hacky sack (?) in the middle of the room. A couple people are sitting at their desks, but they're all talking, too. One boy with an obvious lizard mutation flirts with a red-faced girl.
It's just like middle school.
And wow, that's weird. Midoriya thought that the kids who got into U.A would be better disciplined, but then he remembers. They all probably have strong Quirks, and were allowed to be rowdy—he'd seen examples of that everyday for the past ten years. Why would high schoolnotbe the same for them?
Midoriya sits down at his desk in the second row. He's student number nine, so he's pretty close to the door, which is good, though it'll suck being so far from the window. He gets out all his pens and pencils. It's the first day, so homeroom should just be a syllabus and maybe some introductions. Actual hero classes are in the afternoon, but even those shouldn't be too intense.
The minutes go by, and more students trickle in. The one to his left is a dark-skinned girl with an ear piercing and short black hair in an undercut. She gives Midoriya a once-over then busies herself with organizing a notebook.
At least someone else is trying to be a good student.
By the time there's two minutes before the first bell, everyone is in their seat. They're still talking, though, which can't be helped. Everyone in the room is a classmate, and they should get to know each other a little.
No one talks to Midoriya, though, but that's fine. It means more time for him to double and triple-check his utensils.
Then, he hears it. A soft—barely audible over the hum of talking teenagers—thump. Midoriya's eyes hover over to the doorway. There, lying on the ground just outside the classroom, is a massive caterpillar. Said caterpillar has a human face. Said human face looks ridiculously sleep deprived and mildly annoyed.
The girl to his left must've noticed the creature (Midoriya wants to think it's human, but the world's so weird that he wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't) because she lets out a soft, "What the fuck?"
Finally, the bell rings. The ongoing conversations in the room dim a bit. Most start talking about their lack of a teacher. Midoriya and the girl to his right both watch with identical confused expressions as the caterpillar unzips from a yellow sleeping bag (?) and stands up. The man (because it's definitely a man, now, and no longer a bug) leans against the door frame, looking terribly disappointed and tired.
It's the man who made his acceptance video, Midoriya realizes. He somehow looks a bit more scruffy than before, with bigger eyebags and greasier hair. He looks like hasn't shaved all week, too.
Eventually, the rest of the class notices the man in the door. They all quiet down as he looks them over seriously. Finally, "It took you all over two minutes to quiet down, and that's completely illogical," he says. "This is the U.A hero course. We don't tolerate time-wasters."
He lets everyone think on that for a second, then, "I'm Aizawa Shota, as some of you may recognize. I am to be your homeroom teacher." He reaches behind himself and into his sleeping bag and pulls out a world famous U.A gym uniform. "Put these on and meet me outside in the nearest courtyard." Then he pulls a pouch of something from his pocket and disappears into the hallway with a loud slurping noise. The whole class erupts into pandemonium.
It takes a while for everyone to calm down and get changed, but eventually they all make it out onto the field. Mr. Aizawa is already there, casually standing in the sun as he wears all black. Everyone stands in front of him, and he waits for everyone to stop talking before he speaks.
"Midoriya, you placed first in the regular entrance exam," Mr. Aizawa says. Midoriya shrinks as nineteen pairs of eyes settle on him. "How strong was your grip strength in middle school?"
Midoriya blinks, looking up in confusion. "Fifty kilograms, I think."
Aizawa nods and tosses Midoriya a heavy, rectangular device. Midoriya recognizes it as a machine to measure grip strength. It's more high tech than the one his middle school had, but that was to be expected.
"Take another try at it, but use your Quirk this time," his teacher says.
Midoriya looks up at him, then back down to the machine. He takes a deep breath and tries to ignore everyone's stares. He grabs hold of the handhold and activates One for All. Technically speaking, grip strength comes from the arm muscles, so Midoriya only has to channel the power into his arm, but he decides to activate Full Cowl anyway. Better safe than sorry.
After a couple seconds of squeezing as hard as he could, the machine vibrated."Eight-hundred-twenty point five kilograms,"it says in a robotic voice. Impressed whispers break out across the crowd, making Midoriya flush.
"That's how these tests should be done." Everyone turns their attention back to Mr. Aizawa. "The Department of Education and the Civilian Quirk Use Committee just don't get it. A person's potential can't be determined without their Quirk. That's why you'll be taking all the regular middle school tests—grip strength, side-to-side jumps, pitch, fifty meter dash, distance running, sit ups, push ups, and long jump—using your Quirks however you like."
There's a beat of silence. Then, "Aw, hell yeah!" "This is great!" "I finally get to cut loose with my Quirk again!" "Dude, this is gonna be fun!" "Awesome!"
"'Awesome?' 'Fun?'" Mr. Aizawa quotes. His tone has changed from casual apathy to anger. "You think this is ajoke?That using your Quirks inmyclass is anything other than a serious test of your skill?" The utter silence from the crowd of children is telling. "How aboutthisfor fun," Aizawa continues, "the person with the lowest rank out of all of you gets expelled."
"But that's not fair!" Midoriya can't keep himself from crying out.
Mr. Aizawa snorts, "And villains and natural disasters are? The world of heroes may seem like nothing but flashy super moves and interviews, but it's deadly, and above all, unfair. If you can't overcome that unfairness, then you've got no right to call yourself a hero."
The tests start in earnest after that. Some people halfway regain their enthusiasm, mostly the people who have good, physical Quirks, but most seem single-minded in not being last. Midoriya was among the anxious majority.
Grip strength is the first test everyone does, and he gets first in that. The boy with the lizard mutation got close to his score, though he used both hands. After grip strength is side-to-side jumps. Midoriya gets third, just behind the dark-skinned girl he sat next to, and a boy whose Quirk must be some form of linear acceleration.
The dark-skinned girl must've placed pretty high on the exam, Midoriya figures. She has a good, versatile Quirk that lets her grow steel-like hunks of metal from her abdomen. She mostly uses them for mobility in the tests, getting respectable scores in all of the exercises.
A Quirk like that would be good for heroics. Simple Quirks like that usually are. They allow the user to do all sorts of creative things due to the basic nature. It's also pretty flashy, which would lend itself to decent popularity. On top of that—
"You're staring at me," the girl says, looking Midoriya dead in the eye. The jacket of her gym uniform is undone so she can use her Quirk without damaging it. It also makes Midoriya flush.
He looks away. "S-sorry, it's just… you have a really great Quirk. I uh, I really like Quirks, and—"
"Whatever. Just stop looking at me like I'm some kind of test subject."
"But aren't we all test subjects right now?" Midoriya immediately regrets asking the question.
She narrows her eyes. "Alright, smartass, you—"
"Midoriya. Noburo. Stop talking and line up for sit ups," Mr. Aizawa interrupted. "We don't have all day."
Midoriya stops staring at the girl (Noburo, he reminded himself) after that.
By the time there are only five minutes left of the period, the tests are over. Midoriya places first in everything except side-to-side jumps, the pitch, and distance running. Though, if he was being honest, he doesn't really deserve first place in the fifty meter dash. The boy with the linear acceleration Quirk should have beaten him by a mile, but he got distracted by something and tripped. Midoriya, who was floating through the air, passed him and stole the top spot.
Everyone is lined up in front of Mr. Aizawa now, and the man himself is lazily looking at his phone. Then, he holds it out and taps it once, causing a hologram to appear. The hologram shows a list of names and numbers.
"These are the placements for the Quirk Apprehension Test. Some of you did good, some of you did awful, but only one is going home today."
Midoriya quickly picks out his name, which is the very first one. He lets out a sigh of relief, much to the ire of his nearby classmates. Then, he hears someone behind him start to cry. He can't help but turn around and look. It's one of the tall boys from before, who could turn his arms into fire. Considering he can't use them for propulsion, and that fire didn't really have a lot of mass, it makes sense that he's last.
"Oto, head to the principal's office immediately," Aizawa orders. The crying boy quickly ran off the field, and a heavy weight was soon felt in the air. "Tai, Yuyu, Katsu, Lee, Wan." Five other students looked up to the teacher with fear. "You five are out of the hero course. See the student counselor about transferring to Gen Ed immediately."
"You can't do that! We all placed in the top twelve!" one girl yells. The other four also chime in, voicing their anger.
"I'm a hero course teacher at UA, where freedom of expression is valued above all else. I can do what I want," Mr. Aizawa says, slipping the phone into one of his pockets.
"But we passed the test! And the entrance exam!" another boy cries, wiping a tear from his face.
"Yes, yes, congrats. You beat up enough robots with your destructive, flashy Quirks. But I can tell at a glance none of you have the maturity for this class," Aizawa crosses his arms. "Laughing, making fun of those who do worse than you, half-assing the test just because you can. You're not fit to be heroes, but you'll get another chance at the Sports Festival. Now get out."
They walked off of the training field, leaving the remaining fourteen students to stare wide-eyed at their teacher. "For the rest of you, this isn't over. You passed the first test, but as far as I'm concerned, every day in this class is going to be the same. If you don't try your hardest every single day, I will not hesitate to kick you out of my class."
Midoriya gulps at his teacher's words, shrinking down, but that only gathers the man's attention. "Midoriya, you're on thin ice," he says.
"But he got first!" a random classmate defends. "That means he's better than all of us, right?"
"Oh, he performed better than all of you today, that's true," Mr. Aizawa stared at Midoriya, "But he didn't utilize his full potential. Why didn't you fly for the pitch? Or distance running? You could have easily done better if you did."
"I can't control my flying yet!" Midoriya cries. "I can barely control the speed and direction, much less stay in a two meter circle!"
That was true. He'd worked on Float for days following the entrance exam. All Might slapped a helmet on his head and had him train for hours while he and Gran helped. 'Helped' probably wasn't even the right term, because neither of them could fly. Sure, Gran had forgotten more about aerial combat than most would ever learn, and All Might glided regularly, but they couldn'tfly.Midoriya's Float training boiled down to him running into walls while his two mentors shouted out tips fromFlying For Dummies.
"Fine," Mr. Aizawa says, turning around and walking back towards the building. "But you're still on thin ice. All of you, get changed and pick up a syllabus. Make sure you aren't late for math."
And that's how Midoriya's first homeroom at U.A went. Somehow, he feels it still could've been worse. At least no one thinks he's useless.