Word Count: Around 6000

"Get up now, you quirkless fuck!"

There was a wet sensation on his forehead, traveling down his face too slowly to be sweat. His head was bleeding again. Fuck. How am I supposed to explain that again?

His legs felt shaky under his weight as he stood up, vision blurred and wavy as his hands curled into fists again, using the back of his hand to delay the blood from reaching his eye. The other one was swollen and starting to grow black, and he needed to see his opponent to kick their ass. "Even after that, you still get up? You stubborn, useless scum. Learn to stay down when you're beaten!"

He dodged his head to the side, the bandaged fist crushing his ear against the brick wall behind him, a searing pain tearing through the entire side of his head as the digit was ground against the rough surface. He soldiered through as he always did, his knee rising to his abdomen before his heel shot forward into the gut of his attacker. It was like hitting a cement wall reinforced by rebar, but he hit hard enough to unpin his bleeding ear and barrel out of the way of another punch that would've surely broken his nose.

Rolling onto his feet, he caught the swing of a metal bat with the back of his hand, saving his cheek from being caved in for the cost of several broken knuckles. His teeth ground against each other with cracking force as he hooked his foot on the ankle of the second thug, pulling with all his might and knocking them onto their back, which resulted in several of the spikes that grew out of their spine to shatter under their weight. Using the same foot that tripped them, using the wall his ear had been smashed against previously to keep his balance, he kicked their temple and watched their eyes go wide before shutting, knocked out from the force.

Course, the two others who had confronted him hadn't been sitting around with their thumbs up their asses, the cost of removing one threat being a roundhouse kick to his side. He thanked the lord it had been low enough that it barely grazed his ribs, though his shoulder was promptly slammed into a wall with the force of a truck. Both points of impact were sure to leave nasty bruises, and he had bitten his cheek in the process. "Fucker, you know Satoshimi's gonna get your ass for breaking his spines. Shit takes years to grow back."

He felt the blood pool in his mouth as he recovered from the kick, staggering deeper into the alley he had been dragged into as he worked to regain his footing. Only for that second was he allowed rest, reinforcing his forearm with his other hand in an attempt to block a wild haymaker, though the serrated bones of the assailant tore his skin all the way down to his bones. Still, it stopped their momentum, and he spewed his blood and spit into their face.

He hated fighting dirty, but it was more often than not the reason he made it out of his encounters alive.

With the bastard blinded, his palm flew up into their chin, forcibly making their eyes point skyward and exposing their neck and throat to his assault. A single, well-placed punch sent them recoiling, grasping at where he had struck before falling on their ass next to their sleeping comrade, spittle and flem seeping from their lips as they choked. Served them right, there were more stories of them forcing themselves onto women than he cared to count, not to mention their blatant prejudice and discrimination towards those misfortunate enough to be quirkless.

He had to wipe his blood from his forehead again as it crept into his vision, along with the bits that hand seeped from his mouth, using the torn bit of his sleeve to catch the red liquid. He looked at the final thug with enough malice and ego that he was sure they had shivered, or at least second-guessed himself, before charging at him the same as the rest. The long and deadly bayonets that had sat recessed in the gap between his elongated ulna and radius coming out like a splint, which could've easily pierced his stomach had he been naive and unable to defend himself.

But he was anything but that, and a simple sidestep and a shove to the side of their head ended their bout, skull colliding with the wall hard enough to knock them unconscious and give him a moment's rest.

He made sure to give them all one last kick to the head before tending to himself.

Sometimes, I wish I didn't have virtues and could just end them with a clear conscience. Course, then I'd be no better than them. He thought to himself, hurriedly tearing off the already ripped sleeve of his hoodie and wrapping it around the gash on his arm and his broken knuckles. He had to take care of his immediate injuries before the adrenaline wore off, the natural anesthetic saving him from collapsing alongside the group of gang-bangers. If he passed out then, he was sure he would never wake up afterward.

He finished tying the knot with his one hand, putting one end of the makeshift bandage into his mouth and pulling the wrap tight, grunting as the raw and stinging flesh was roughly jostled by the cloth. There was a reason bandages were made out of a certain material and not the same cotton clothes were made of, and he couldn't remember how many times he was reminded. It got the job done, and the bleeding slowed itself down, just in time for his adrenaline rush to come to an end.

And he could feel the pains of his injuries in full force and not the dull aches they had been previously. Made him realize his shoulder was dislocated, not just bruised as he looked down on the joint. It was dangling much lower than it should've, solidifying his theory. "Damn… That's going to hurt a lot, isn't it?" He muttered to no one in particular, grumbling about how inconvenient it was to have the damage spread across both his arms and not centralized on one. "Well, I guess now's as good a time as any, because complaining won't help."

He bit down on the collar of his hoodie as he pressed his arm against the wall, shoulder leveraged upwards slightly as he readied himself for pain.

One…

Two…

Three…!

There was a muffled, but sickening crack as the joint was forced back into place, his nose flaring as he exhaled exasperatedly, eyes shutting in pain. He leaned against the walls for a minute longer as the affliction faded, the collar of his jacket soaked with spit and blood as he released it from his bite. Good god, that's always worse than I remember.

Fluttering open, his eyes, or more accurately, eye led him out of the alley, almost tripping over the sleeping bodies he had made while he walked out onto the evening street, out of place among the uninjured and whimsical walkers that wandered the festive street, but yet he managed to blend in. Usually, he had to take hidden and unused paths to get home, but it was Halloween that day, so he fit right in, even though he didn't.

Even though his pain, he managed to smile at the children who waved at him, politely tipping his head to the mothers and fathers who walked with them and he shambled across the streets. 3.9 kilometers of sheer torture before he reached his safe-haven, his determined lumbering turned to a meek stagger as he came into view a medium-sized house, built into a clinic that he had worked in for years.

The Kurosaki Clinic, his home, and his workplace. He felt relief wash over him as he opened the door, the turning of the knob more than enough to wash away his agony. His father's warcry fell on deaf ears as he lazily ducked, the body that was flung at him soaring overhead as he walked into the house, and he felt the rest of his energy get sapped from his body. "Hey, I'm home." He mumbled with a chuckle as he stared at the worried faces of his sisters, before promptly collapsing on the ground.

Ichigo chuckled as he laid on the medical bed, watching as his father was bullied by his sisters. "Don't act like you don't deserve it, old man."

"What! What did I do to deserve being shunned by me, little angels!" He cried theatrically, on his knees as he begged for forgiveness.

"I don't know, maybe attacking Ichi-nii while he's already struggling to stand up? I think you should sleep outside tonight, dad." Yuzu commented offhandedly, not bothering to look the man in his eye and kicking his hands off her ankles, the green light from her palms shown down on Ichigo's wrist as she tended to him. Her coldness only served to make Ichigo's smirk grow and his father's whines louder.

There was always such a difference when his father was treating his family compared to actual clients. Probably because he knew his family was forced to deal with him, or maybe because he knew it made them smile. "Don't think you're innocent either, Ichi-nii. This is the third time in the past two weeks that you've come back like this! You'll have to go to school all covered up in bandages because I won't be able to heal this all by tonight."

He turned his gaze to his blonde sister, his golden-brown eyes meeting her chocolate ones. "On the bright side, you get lots of practice with your quirk. Probably more than anyone else in your class." He offered, which made her frown.

"It isn't worth seeing you hurt all the time. I can get practice elsewhere, but I can't get another brother."

Ichigo smiled warmly, pulling her head down and kissing her on the forehead. "I know, and I'm sorry. Somethings just don't work out for me, and this is one of them."

He felt her quick stop, as she hugged his chest, tears growing in her eyes. "I'm just so scared, Ichigo. I'm scared that one day, you won't win, and you won't come back home. I'm just scared that one day, I won't be able to save you."

Ichigo felt his heart crack. His little sister, barely eleven, felt the need to save him. Made his name ironic, One Protector his ass. "I'll always come back if I know I have you guys waiting for me. I can't leave my little sisters without their older brother, can I?" He felt her shake her head, but she continued to hold onto him. "And don't worry about healing this all by tomorrow. I don't have detention tomorrow, so I'll be fine."

He felt her nod as she released him, wiping the tears from her eyes and standing up straight. "Go ahead and check on dinner, Yuzu." Isshin told her gently. "Ichigo and I need to talk for a bit if you don't mind."

Ichigo watched her expression change rapidly, going from sad and worried to happy and upbeat in a second. "Oh yeah! I forgot I made your favorite Ichi-nii! I'll make sure to put extra curry on your rice!" She told him as she beamed out the room, yelling something to Karin who had been making sure the kitchen didn't burn down.

He felt himself smile on instinct. For how unlucky he was, he was at the same time, extremely lucky.

"You worry those two, Ichigo. You need to be more careful."

He felt his father's hand fall on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. "I wish I could. I'm getting targeted more, and it's getting a lot harder to avoid people's attention."

"I understand that, but it's scary for them. Seeing their older brother come home, looking as if he's been through a meat-grinder." Isshin muttered, loud enough so that only they could hear. "I'm happy I raised you with a strong will, but sometimes it is better to run than to get yourself mangled up. Sometimes I feel like you're gonna give me a heart attack."

Ichigo smiled sadly. "Again, I'm sorry dad, but I can't find it in myself to run away. What kind of hero would I be if I let someone else take the punches for me."

His father's grip and features hardened when he mentioned being a hero, as it always did. "Just, don't worry your sisters too much. They've been through enough as it is."

He nodded. "Sure thing."

Ichigo hoped his father wouldn't notice how empty of a promise it was.

Shouta Aizawa didn't find himself impressed very often. He could barely say he was surprised, let alone impressed. Not because he was an emotionless asshole like some people assumed him to be, but usually, he was able to predict what would and wouldn't happen in specific scenarios he came across.

However, he could say that the camera footage in front of him managed to impress him, enough that he could feel a grin growing on his face from under his scarf.

The Yakuza was an elite and troublesome gang that had started causing problems in Musutafu decades ago, and their members were always hyped up on the drug called 'Trigger', one of the gang's main products. Effects ranged depending on the doses, from a small high to magnifying the physical capabilities of an individual, it was always a hassle dealing with someone who had tasted the honey-like liquid.

Yet here he watched as a man dominated a 3 on 1 fight in a crowded alleyway, no weapon or tool in his possession to help him claim an advantage against a trio of 'Trigger Heads', tanking blows that would've put a lesser man on his knees and reciprocating them with greater force. He didn't see them use their quirk either, which was that much more impressive. Then again, against a trained opponent, the man would have a much tougher time, but Aizawa had an eye for potential.

And it was clear to him that there was potential to be had.

The kid could already throw a punch, he could take a punch, he just needed to know when and where to throw his punches, and how to mitigate damage from punches. The kid took blows he didn't need to take.

"Do you know his name, Detective Tsukauchi? I'd like to visit him if there's any chance."

The detective smirked tiredly. "Yeah, we know him. Ichigo Kurosaki is a name we give out to all our officers, though this is the first time a hero has come across his work." He rummaged through his filing cabinet. "He's been in the department dozens of times, but he's never been charged for anything despite the fact. He's a good kid, straight A's in high school, has two little sisters that adore him like crazy. And he can take one hell of a beating too if you couldn't tell by the security footage." Tsukauchi clicked his tongue as he found the file he had wanted, pulling the thick bundle of paper out of the cabinet and tossing it on the table. "That's every incident we have on record with him involved, his address, blood type, fingerprint, and school. All the information we have on him should be in there."

Aizawa picked up the file, flicking through the absurd amount of papers. "There should be at least one case of illegal quirk use. Is he really that law-abiding?"

The detective shook his head as he took a sip of his coffee in an attempt to remedy his weary eyes. "He's quirkless. Can't break that law if you have nothing to break it with."

His interest was piqued even further. "Quirkless? Yet he still has this many incidents on record?" Aizawa felt a slight pang of disappointment. "Damn, there goes another candidate for a decent hero."

"I wouldn't mark him off the list quite yet. Read what he wants to be in the future, should be on the front page in the description." Tsukauchi mused to him with a grin, though he never looked away from his coffee. He was too busy trying to make a star with his creamer.

But Aizawa listened, turning back to the front paper, and scanning down to the bottom box.

Detective Tsukauchi (D.T.) : 'From here on out, everything you say will be recorded and can be used against you at a later time if you decide to commit a felony. Do you understand this?'

Ichigo Kurosaki (I.K.) : 'Yeah, yeah. You act like we haven't done this routine hundreds of times.'

D.T. : 'Just protocol, Kurosaki.'

I.K. : 'I know, Tsukauchi. Just giving you shit for the fun of it.'

D.T. : 'Right then. Please describe the incident that brought you here using your own words.'

I.K. : 'Well, I guess it started when I was looking at possibilities for Hero Universities. Not all of them take quirkless people, so that helped with a lot of the decision making. Anyway, I was looking at possible choices at the internet cafe when Daiki, Eiichi, and Fumihiro entered. They made it clear that they weren't there for the internet nor the cafe, and forced my hand by harassing the baristas. They know I prefer leaving other people out of the equation, and used this to force me out of the cafe and into a place where they would be safe from scrutiny from heroes or police.'

D.T. : 'And at this point, none of the three have laid a hand on you, correct?'

I.K. : 'Not yet, though they did assault the baristas. You can determine what kind, I'm not a detective.'

D.T. : 'Right. Please continue.'

I.K. : 'So, I walked into an alleyway as per usual, Daiki, Eiichi, and Fumihiro following until we were far enough that no one would bother us. Fumihiro pulls out a gun, shoots me in my shoulder. At the time, I didn't know if it had or hadn't hit my jugular, so I acted in a worst-case scenario. I told myself, "I got 2 minutes before I bleed out. End this as quickly as possible, call for an ambulance." And I did exactly that. Fumihiro misses another two shots, I knock him out by smashing his head against the building next to us before he could use his quirk. The other two charge at me, Daiki nicks my side with a switchblade, below my ribs on my left side. He tries to cut me again, slices my nose, but I recover fast enough to elbow him in the nose and break it, knocking him out as well. At this point, Eiichi tries using his quirk, which turns his fingers into large tendrils of plasma. One burned my calf pretty bad, but I managed to knock him unconscious too..'

D.T. : 'And at this point, you managed to call 911?'

I.K. : 'Yep. And from there, you know what happened.'

D.T. : 'Right, so now we have to get down to the specifics.'

"You saw it, right? The part where he says he's looking for Hero Universities?"

Aizawa nodded. "Yeah. Not very logical of him. Quirkless, yet wanting to be a hero." Tsukauchi saw his grin from under the scarf. "I think I will pay him a visit. Just to see how things are with him."

The detective chuckled. "Go easy on him. He's probably still recovering."

"He's well enough to go to school. I think he'll be fine."

It wasn't uncommon for him to go to school covered with bandages. Whenever he came back with injuries, it was usually too late for Yuzu to heal him with her quirk. Which was neat, because it stored and transferred sunlight into a green light that slowly healed injuries that were put under its rays.

That day, it was only his left forearm and knuckles, since the other injuries were only bruises. Though anyone who called them 'only bruises' were a bunch of dicks, because they hurt way more than the cuts or broken bones. Not that anyone knew that. "So… Seniors in high school, eh? I remember when you were all freshmen, barely blossoming into puberty yet here you stand as young adults." His teacher grabbed his attention from whatever assignment he had been given. He could finish it during his study period tomorrow, but there was nothing else to do at the moment. "Well, it's about time you all finally decide on what college you all plan on going to."

Ichigo watched unimpressed as they threw the stack of papers they had into the air for dramatic effect, yet he could only see it as a mess. "But who am I kidding! You all want to be heroes, am I right or am I right?"

He didn't flinch at the sudden fire that was spouted to his left, or the burst of snakes that replaced the arms of the classmate to his right. Maybe he should've been worried about the pink sludge that slowly oozed from the person behind him, but he knew that it was little more than a party trick. It would fall out of their body, before quickly being sucked back up. "Oi, Teach. Don't beat around the bush here, you're boosting their egos. The only one who's gonna make it into the hero course and come out a respectable hero is going to be me."

He felt himself wince at the cockiness in his tone, the blonde leaning back in his chair and resting his feet on the desk. Knocking Bakugō down a peg would be oh-so-satisfying, yet it would also lead to him worsening his injuries and staining his perfect record. And, as full of himself as he was, Bakugō could back up his words well enough. His quirk was impressive, and there was some effort and skill when it came to his capabilities. It sucked that it had to come packaged with such a garbage personality.

Still, the class egged him on with outraged insults and taunts, which made Ichigo realize that this was nothing but a cock-fight between his classmates, and he returned his attention to his assignment. "Bakugō quit instigating your classmates. You might make it to Yuuei with these scores, but it'd look better if you tried to have a little humility."

Ichigo snorted, though it wasn't his smartest move seeing as his class was already hushed by the prospects of Bakugō entering Yuuei, which meant that it wasn't hidden under a blanket of conversation. Which meant that the explosive blonde had heard him loud and clear. "Oi, you got something to say, Carrot-Top? Need I remind you, your ass is worth less than the rest of these side-characters!"

Ah. There went his 136-day streak of not interacting with the pitbull of Aldera Highschool. Maybe he could keep it if he just didn't reply.

"Calm down everyone. I don't need another meeting with the principal." The teacher reprimanded semi-sternly. "Still, Yuuei has a very low entry rate, barely 1 percent of applicants make it to the exams. Even less than that makes it to the first day."

"That's why it's perfect for me! Yuuei is the only place that I'd be happy getting into, and I won't settle for less. Acing mock tests, amazing grades, I'm almost guaranteed to make it in, while you losers will struggle to get into some alleyway dump of a school."

Ichigo felt himself count his blessings, the blonde's pride over-riding his anger and saving him from a confrontation. "Oh yeah. Kurosaki wants to go to Yuuei as well." He watched with utter betrayal as the teacher took off their glasses and looked at the paper. "He aced his mock tests too. Would you look at that!"

Did you have to rat me out like that? It would've been better just to keep it between us.

He noticed the horde of stares but didn't give the effort to acknowledge them even though he knew a single glare would cause them all to halt. He didn't care about them. That wasn't what he was worried about.

"I mean…"

"Well…"

"I suppose maybe…"

He watched two hands slam on his desk with an explosion, the acrylic and wood splintering slightly, but not breaking completely under its force. Ichigo couldn't give enough effort to react, as his eyes drifted to the enraged red globes that stared down at him. Though it was more like eye level, even though Bakugō was standing up and he was sitting down. Bakugō was kinda short, he noticed. "Why are you even trying, Kurosaki? Everyone here knows you can't be a hero without a quirk."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, to be fair, that rule is outdated. They repealed that a long time ago." He spoke casually, his dull, unimpressed glare meeting the fiery, explosive ones. "Second of all, everyone here knows that you really can't do shit to stop me. And finally, I hope you like splinters, cause I'm sure as hell not sitting here anymore."

Ichigo's smirk was lazy, yet satisfied as he watched Bakugō's bravado slowly die out, the classroom setting acting as a vacuum to his flames and forcing him to sit back down. Had his will been weaker, he would've been scared and there might've been some sort of fuel, but that didn't happen. "Oh wow! Midoriya wants to go to Yuuei as well. That's three people in one class!"

"If Kurosaki's chances are debatable, then there's no way Midoriya will make it!"

He heard the feminine squeak of the other quirkless person in the classroom as she buried her head in her desk. "Yeah! Midoriya doesn't stand a chance of getting into Yuuei! She's even more quirkless than a quirkless person!"

Ichigo felt himself frown. He didn't exactly take a prejudice against quirkless people lightly. "At least she has the gall to set her sights higher than you all, who settle for a mediocre degree in a mediocre school. Maybe learn something from the two quirkless people in the class, who have enough balls to do something and not settle for a half-assed life."

Most of them took the hint and shut their mouths. Once again, Bakugō made it known that he wasn't most people. "Aw…look! The quirkless rejects are standing up for each other!" This time, Ichigo's stare wasn't lax. He could take shit for being quirkless, but he wasn't thick in the head. He knew there was a reason the quirkless suicide rate was was at a record high.

More accurately, the quirkless suicide rate for the most recent generation accounted for more than 80 percent of total suicides an rising. "Bakugō. Don't fucking start, or do I need to remind you just how hard I can kick your ass?"

Bakugō, in all his smugness, could only stare at Ichigo in sheer hatred for a couple of seconds before breaking eye-contact and backing off. "Whatever. You fucks aren't worth my time."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Bakugo snorted.

Ichigo scoffed.

And all returned to normal. Except for the fact, the entire class was ready to bolt out the door if they started trading blows. "R-Right… Well, I suppose it's about that time anyway. I need all applications in by the end of the week, otherwise, you'll have to mail them yourself." His teacher said, the bell ringing just as he finished. "Be careful, you little rascals! I'll see you after the weekend is over."

The highschoolers slowly filtered out of the room, conversing and walking until only Ichigo was left. "Did you have to tell them all I was going to Yuuei, Teach? I mean, I thought we all knew how Bakugō was going to react."

His teacher chuckled softly. "I'm sorry, my lad. I hadn't seen the applications until just then and had blurted it out without thinking." A gentle smirk grew on Ichigo's face. "Not that it seemed to matter. It's good to see someone cuffing Bakugō's overconfidence in the bud."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and patting the teacher on his shoulder. "Take care old man. Don't have too much fun this weekend."

The teacher chuckled again as Ichigo walked out the door, closing it behind him. So what, he was on good terms with his teacher. Ichigo had saved them from getting hit by a semi-truck, so it was only natural. The guy's an airhead though. Wish he was a little better at remembering things. He thought warmly to himself, remembering all the times their lessons had gone from planned to winging it because the teacher forgot what to do.

"Real funny guys! Now can you please give it back?"

His eyes flicked to the voice, coincidentally the owner of the feminine squeak and in turn the other quirkless person in their class. Their green hair made them stand out as much as his orange hair did.

"She doesn't have a quirk, so she makes up by studying everyone else's and hoping she'll get one. How sad is that!"

The book in Bakugō's hand exploded, and he tossed it out one of the hallway windows. "You know if you want to be a hero that badly, here's a pro tip. Pray for a quirk in your next life, and take a swan-dive off the roof of a building."

He had heard Bakugō spout inconsiderate dogshit before. Hell, that was about all that came out of his mouth. But even Ichigo had a limit to how insensitive someone could be without reserving a spot on his 'Scum-Bag' list. He had been tippy-toeing the line before, but Bakugō just crossed it by a mile. His expression turned stone-cold watching the blonde smirk as if he had come up with some witty insult, his hand blasting as a silent promise that any back-talk would end up with bruises and burns.

Luckily, Ichigo was well-experienced in both. "Hey, Bakugō. Why don't you shut the fuck up for once, eh? I doubt you know the first thing about quirkless suicide rates, so you sure as hell shouldn't be telling people to jump off roofs." He found himself marching up to the blonde student, almost relishing in the fact that there was fear on his face. Bakugō knew his title as the 'Quirkless Demon' better than anyone else. Ichigo grabbed his collar, using his broken hand as a sign to show that, even injured, he was not to be fucked with. "Quirkless suicide accounts for exactly 87 percent of the total suicide rate in the world, not to mention the missing cases that never get solved."

"If Midoriya took your advice, you would be prosecuted for manslaughter for encouraging suicide, your hero career would be over, and you'd be known as a scumbag to just about anyone who reads the news." He could see that Bakugō was scared, his hands popping and crackling. There was good reason too, there had been times where he left people with permanent disabilities. "Now, for future reference. Fuck off." He growled, tossing the blonde backward and watching him struggle to stay on his feet.

"F-Fuck you, Kurosaki. You're lucky we're in school and not out somewhere where I could kick your ass!" He taunted weakly, hands in his pockets as he pouted like a child. "Hurry up you fucks. I'm hungry."

His gaze lingered on their retreating figures, before finally realizing there was a green-haired, awe-struck individual staring up at him. "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. He doesn't know when to quit." He mused, rubbing the back of his head in apology. When they realized he was talking to them, she turned into a red, sputtering mess, her hair covering her face as she bowed and apologized incoherently. "Hey, hey. Calm down. I was just gonna offer and see if you wanted to go see if your notebook is still legible. It'd be nice to know the other quirkless person in our class too if you wanted to exchange numbers."

She looked up at him with the same, awe-struck expression as before, only to nod violently. "Yes! I'd be honored to, Kurosaki-kun!"

He rolled his eyes. "Right."

"So, what makes you want to be a hero, Midoriya?"

The question came out of nowhere, he couldn't blame her for being blind sighted. The stuttering and awkward/dismissive waving was a little odd, but eh. "I-I mean, there are lots of reasons I want to be a hero!"

Ichigo shrugged. "Yeah, but usually people can boil it down to one main reason. Like Bakugō, he wants to be a hero for fame, so he can be recognized as Number 1. I want to be a hero because I have the desire to protect as many people as I can." He looked at his hands as they walked, and he couldn't help but smirk as she followed his gaze, as if there was something other than bandages on his hands. "Course, we got dealt with quite a bad hand for hero business, but we can't let that stop us. Hell, you've got a pretty strong will for taking as much shit as you do and still keeping your dream alive. So why do you want to be a hero?"

He watched her shoulders shrink inward as if she was trying to shrink herself and avoid his stare. "W-Well, don't laugh, but I want to save people with a smile and give them hope, be something to lean on. To be a Symbol of Peace, like All-Might!"

Ichigo nodded. "That's a good goal. Better than most peoples anyway. Having a good intention means you'll make a good hero whenever you get out into the field."

She looked up at him as if he had spoken an ancient language and was having a religious moment. Her eyes started to water, and her lip started to quiver, and he started to feel guilty. "W-Wait, y-you think I'll become a h-hero?"

"I mean... If I said you couldn't be a hero just because you're quirkless, then I'd be a bit of a hypocrite. So yeah, I believe that you can be a hero." He mused nonchalantly. "Hey, this is about where the classroom is. It's probably around the corner.

They had barely walked around the corner where her book had been thrown before he heard her sniffling behind him, and looked back to see Midoriya on the verge of bawling her eyes out. "Hey, you okay? I didn't say anything wrong, did I?"

He saw her shake her head before she collapsed onto her knees. "N-No one has ever told me I could be a hero… Th-They always said it was impossible, or that they were sorry. No one had ever believed in me, then here you come, five minutes after we meet, and you tell me the words I've needed to hear my whole life!" Ichigo didn't expect her to barrel into him, missing the bruise on his side by an inch as she wept into his uniform. "Thank you, Ichigo! Thank you! Thank you!"

He awkwardly patted her head. "Y-Yeah… No problem."

Yuzu was gonna kill him for staining his uniform again.

Just testing things out here.

Trying to find out what I like and what I don't.

Review, if you would. Input helps a lot.