Toshinori took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrant, flowerlike smell of the tea Principal Nezu had brewed for the teachers. Closing his eyes, he let himself steal away a moment of peace. He wasn't really a tea drinker, or coffee for that matter, but when he brought the drink to his lips, letting the delicate flavors wash over his tongue, he couldn't pretend he didn't enjoy it.

It had been a while since he had visited U.A., and it was different from when he was a student. He didn't want to say better, always proud of the time he spent here training under Gran Torino, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind that the school had even more resources than a few decades ago. More money, more advanced robots, even more experience gathered by another generation of educators. Yet somehow, the principal's office looked nearly identical to his memories.

"I do hope you like this batch, All Might. I actually made this blend myself, using herbs from my garden." The principal's high, almost childlike voice interrupted the man's quiet moment, but Toshinori opened his eyes and simply smiled at the hyper-intelligent mammal in the chair next to him.

"Principal Nezu, this tastes great. You really work magic with your tea." He bowed his head slightly in thanks, and took another sip.

He wasn't lying when he said that. Over the past year, his condition had been worsening, and the principal's tea blends had a mystical ability to sooth his joints and ease his chest pains. Add to that his transfer to U.A. and his matter of a successor, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that he'd been spending an increasingly large amount of time over the past year with the dog-mouse-bear.

"Thank you, I do try." The principal smiled, returning the slight bow, perfectly polite as always. Toshinori smiled, but he knew there wasn't any real affection between them. It wasn't that they disliked each other, but rather that the principal was simply the sort of individual that kept everyone at arm's length. Always cordial and polite, but Toshinori was unsure if he had ever seen the creature relax around him, or anyone else for that matter. He supposed he wasn't particularly seeking a friendship with the small, hyper-intelligent mammal, no, he likely couldn't keep up with the thing even in casual conversation, but Toshinori had to confess, being all hero business, all the time... It was exhausting.

… But that's what he agreed to when he chose to be the Symbol of Peace. Symbols don't get a private life. He internally bemoaned his fate, but he knew full well that he wouldn't exchange it for anything.

"By the way," The principal spoke up again, passing Toshinori a small plate of premade sandwiches. "How has your physique been since we last met?"

Taking the plate, Toshinori hesitated. His eyes, heavy and sunken deep into his face, lingered on the plate of sandwiches, but when he reached to set them down on the small table in front of him, a bolt of pain seared his shoulder. His boney cheeks framed his growing scowl. No reason to lie, he supposed. It was obvious to everyone who saw him like this.

"... Well, to be honest, I'm not sure how long I can keep it up." A cough racked his body, and he could faintly taste blood at the back of his throat. He tossed the feeling aside, and gave the strongest reassuring smile his skeletal frame could muster. "But rest assured, I will remain strong until my successor is trained. I am here!" He laughed at his own catchphrase, but whether it was to lighten the mood or at the slight irony of the statement, he himself couldn't tell.

"Hm, yes yes." Principal Nezu nodded solemnly, looking deeply into his glass of tea as he ignored Toshinori's optimistic guarantee. "I am worried though. That window is quickly closing."

"Don't worry, principal." Nodding in agreement, Toshinori took another sip of his tea. "I know I have to find one soon. I just have yet to find one."

"Certainly not due to a lack of trying." The principal's small, beady eyes flicked towards the pro hero, and his words were calm and cautious, probing. "I know it might not be my place to ask, but may I inquire why you declined Sir Nighteye's recommendation?"

Toshinori half choked on his tea, but managed to keep a straight face, setting the cup down. He paused, then leaned forwards, setting his elbows on his knees and weaving his fingers together.

"Togata Mirio, he's... a good kid. Intelligent, skilled, and I don't doubt that he has a good heart. He reminds me a lot of myself when I was in school."

He had only met the kid a few times, mostly in passing, and if he was honest, he had not a single bad thing to say about him. He was passionate and driven, charismatic and endlessly optimistic. Given three or four years of training, and another decade with Toshinori as someone to call on for advice, Togata had the potential to be an even better version of what All Might was in his prime.

"Well, that certainly seems to be a mark in his favor, is it not?" The principal raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Conventionally, yes, but… the world doesn't need another me." Toshinori took a deep, labored breath, and let out a shaky sigh. The past year had been… a long one. He couldn't count the number of nights he'd lost sleep to a mixture of aching pain and growing anxiety. Honestly, it was easier to count the handful of nights he had slept well. And on those long, sleepless night, and the long, sleepless days, Toshinori had been reflecting on his career. He had come to some tough conclusions. "Principal Nezu, I have been a hero for nearly thirty years now. The youngest heroes and villains of today have grown up submerged in a culture that sees me as the Symbol of Peace, the sign that everything will be okay. That really was my goal. By that metric, I was successful. Crime is even down 3%, almost exclusively because of people's confidence in me."

"You've done a splendid job, yes." The principal gave a nod of acknowledgement, and raised his glass slightly, as if toasting the wonderful success of All Might. "Strong heroes like you really do give people a sense of security."

Toshinori shook his head, and clenched his hands.

"That's the problem, Mr. Principal. When I fought All For One, I nearly died without a successor. One For All nearly fizzled after eight generations of heroes. I might look strong, but just like anyone else…" The scar on his stomach, usually so very tender, flared up for a moment, and Toshinori held in a hiss of pain. His eyes, so tired and blue, drifted to meet the principal's gaze. "Just like anyone else, I'm fragile. Too fragile to be the crux of our nation. Imagine what would happen if the Symbol of Peace was defeated."

There was a moment of quiet as the mammal contemplated Toshinori's words, but he slowly nodded.

Toshinori grimaced, feeling a rising anger at himself. Not the furious inferno of rage or the smoldering coals of deep resentment, but the sort that burned at the corners of his eyes and smugly whispered all his countless failures in his ear. Every civilian that was hurt, every comrade in arms that died, every life derailed by sheer bad luck and malicious actors. "For nearly thirty years, I've gambled all of Japan's peace and stability on the idea that I could win every battle I ever fought, and that would scare enough villains and inspire enough heroes to save everyone. And really… it was just my pride. I gambled Japan for my pride."

"Selflessness, All Might," The principal was quick to correct him. "Not pride."

"Selflessness or pride, Japan doesn't need another All Might. I shouldn't train another All Might." Sitting up a bit, he pushed his messy yellow hair out from in front of his eyes. "They need someone better than All Might."

The principal sighed deeply, and shook his head. "I cannot say I agree with you, but you are the only one who can choose your heir. Though in order to help you find one, I must know what you're looking for."

Toshinori's lips tighten. He knew that there had to be a change. What he was doing, it simply didn't work, not in the long run. After all, one day he would be gone, and… well, that would be that. Training an heir delayed the issue for a generation, rather than solving it. But what would he need to solve it? He looked into his hands, as if they might provide an answer, but nothing came. "They need to be… Creative? Able to see possibilities for change and improvement that I can't. Beyond that… I'm not sure yet."

Principal Nezu clicked his tongue. "... Well, I must insist that you find a new apprentice by the end of summer semester. If you wait any longer, I'm not sure how much I can help you."

Toshinori gave a smile, uncertain but nevertheless genuine. "Thank you, and don't worry, principal. There are so many talented students here at U.A., I'm certain I'll find the right one."

"Of course. Now, it seems the practical exam is about to start, and maybe there you can find some inspiration. Shall we?" Principal Nezu stood up, gesturing towards the door.

Toshinori groaned, standing up to follow the small creature. "Of course."

The pair briskly made their way through the few hallways between the principal's office and the Battle Observation Room, but even that small stroll was enough to remind Toshinori's knees that he was no longer the same All Might he was two years ago. Part of him had to wonder if it was really his age; obviously, All For One tearing out half his chest had severely injured him, but alongside that, he had been the number one hero far longer than any of his One For All predecessors. Nana, he remembered, had only been the number one hero into her early forties. 42, he thought. At that point, she stepped back to let Toshinori take center stage. Next year, Toshinori would be fifty years old. Not even the incredible powers of One For All could fend off the weakness of aging forever, and all it took was one slip up for everything he had built to fall apart. Every day, that slip up seemed more and more likely.

His heart ached at that.

"Here we are." The principal opened the door to the Battle Observation Room, revealing a small, dimly lit interior with a dozen seats scattered around and several dozen more LED screens. A few of his fellow teachers looked up from their conversations to greet the pair, but most were already wandering towards their seats for the exam. Everyone was here, with the exception of two rather notable figures, those being Aizawa and Yamada.

Yamada wasn't expected to be here, being the teacher monitor for the practical exam. His wide grin and spiked electric yellow hair appeared on one of the many screens. Toshinori would be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed; after all, even if Yamada could get a bit annoying at times with his 'radio announcer' gimmick, his energy was infectious, and Toshinori had been hoping to get a chance to talk with him today.

He had been hoping to talk to the other missing teacher, Aizawa, as well, but it was for a different reason. The man typically seemed to avoid Toshinori, especially as All Might, but the hero couldn't blame him. After all, Aizawa felt most comfortable in the shadows, and Toshinori almost always had a spotlight on him. The man had no sense of charisma, in Toshinori's opinion, with a very strict sense of business and being pragmatic nearly to a fault. He could hardly imagine a hero more different from himself. But that very difference was the thing Toshinori needed from him. After all, if All Might's successor was to be different than All Might himself, Toshinori couldn't think of a better person to go to for advice than Aizawa. He would just take it all with a heavy grain of salt.

But, Aizawa wasn't anywhere to be seen. Toshinori sighed, but made his way to his seat, making small talk with Cementoss until the exam started. It wasn't long until Yamada made his dramatic announcement, starting the practical exam, and the screens filled with hundreds of students rushing to earn the most points.

He watched, but if he was honest, it didn't truly snag his interest. Maybe if he was down there with them, but simply put, watching hundreds of kids on dozens of screens all try to break machines as fast as they could was… it wasn't what he needed to see.

Yes, they were the new generation of heroes in the making.

Yes, they were all plenty strong, and quite skilled.

Yes, some were much more powerful than others.

That wasn't a surprise. This was U.A., the premiere school for heroism in Japan, and honestly, seeing all the students did give him hope for the future.

But Toshinori couldn't choose an heir just by watching them fight.

A light scowl spread on his lips, but then-

Something caught his attention.

One of the students, a young man with green hair, caught his eye. He… he would swear he had seen that student before, but he couldn't put his finger on who exactly it was.

"Principal Nezu," Toshinori spoke quietly into the small mammal's ear, careful not to disrupt the other teachers as they judged. He pointed to the screen with the green haired examinee. "Do you recognize that young man?"

The principal took a long glance at the screen, as if racking his brain for the answer, before he hummed in recognition. "Hm, oh yes, I do. A certain… Midoriya Izuku, I believe." The mammal maintained his polite smile, but rubbed his temples with his thick, padlike fingers. "He was certainly interesting, I had to approve his paperwork myself."

Toshinori raised an eyebrow, looking between the principal and the screen. The young man threw a knife, which lodged itself in the gap between joints in a robot's neck. Something tickled at the very back of his mind, as if he was missing something obvious. "Why? Is his quirk… unorthodox?"

"Well that's just it." Principal Nezu raised a thick finger, shaking it for emphasis. "The boy simply insists he doesn't have one, and all of his documents support it. A generation ago I wouldn't have been surprised, but he's so young. Add to that his behavioral record and his petition, and it was simply such a headache."

Quirkless? That's so uncommon, he genuinely didn't remember the last time he met a quirkless pers-

Wait.

No, no he remembered.

Almost a year ago, on top of that building, the day of the… A slime villain, if he remembered right. There was a boy on the roof, who saw him in his weak form, and asked about becoming a hero.

Toshinori's eyes went wide as he recognized the young man, Midoriya.

He was that boy on the roof! Toshinori only had the faintest memory of the boy, but he clearly remembered his nervous stammering, and… Well, and crushing his dreams.

His heart twisted at that thought.

He didn't regret telling the boy to give up. After all, being a hero was dangerous, and to try as a quirkless individual was near suicidal. But it still hurt to remember. He had been in a bad mood that day, and he had taken it out on the boy, being too gruff and direct with his answer.

Of course, Toshinori had to admit, it seems young Midoriya decided to ignore his advice. He watched the screen, where the young man struggled to remain on one of the robots as he gouged out its wiring with cold, analytical precision. In some ways, Toshinori was impressed.

Midoriya Izuku.

Midoriya Izuku.

Remember that name.

Toshinori turned back to the principal. "You mentioned a petition?"

"Ah, you're likely not familiar with it." The principal nodded. "In order to use any hero gear during the exam, the student must petition for it. Most of the time, the body responsible for petitions is simply a rubber-stamp committee, but his was unusual enough that they requested I review it."

The pro hero looked at the screen, catching the glint of a well sharpened blade. "The knives?"

"Indeed." Principal Nezu whispered back, perfectly still and composed. "For most any other student, it would've been absurd to approve a petition for a weapon, but his written letter did make a rather strong case for it, due to his natural disadvantage."

Toshinori grunted with surprise. "You approved it?"

"Out of curiosity, yes. We don't get applicant's like him often, and I firmly believe in giving each student a chance. Equity is not the same as equality, after all." He nodded solemnly. "Of course, I highly doubt the committee will approve his application, thanks to his record."

"What sort of record does he have? He certainly doesn't look like a troublemaker." Thinking back, all he could remember about the young man was how nervous he was, a stuttering, bumbling mess. Maybe that was just because he was getting a chance to meet All Might. It wouldn't be the first time Toshinori saw someone act differently because All Might was around. But even with that brief glimpse… Young Midoriya didn't exactly seem like a punk.

"Looks can be deceiving." The principal pointed out. "Apparently over the past year, he's caused quite a stir at his school. Several weeks ago, he had even gotten into a fight with another student that resulted in him receiving skin grafts and the other student receiving a concussion."

… Toshinori didn't know how to respond to that.

Being a hero, he had seen all sorts of violence, and the injuries that followed them. That was part of the job. But it was very different to think about children attacking each other. He swallowed the small amount of bile gathering in his throat. "Schools have become so violent since I was a kid…"

"Quirks have simply gotten too strong for most teachers to know how to handle. After all, students are typically far more capable than sensible." The mammal laughed softly, and while it was a cute, high pitched laugh, it was a mirthless sound. "Hopefully U.A. will set a precedent in that field as well."

"Yeah…" The conversation faded, and Toshinori leaned back in his seat. The screens changed the focus student every now and then, making sure each student got their moment to be watched. But wherever young Midoriya was on one of the screens, Toshinori caught himself watching the young man.

And wondering what would happen when the obstacle appeared.

)ooOoo(

Seek and destroy.

That was the villain-bot's directive, simple and absolute. It needed no complex thought, no planning, no advanced functionality, to achieve that objective. It may have more moving parts, with sensors and gatling guns and heavy armor, but in its functionality, the villain-bot was no more sophisticated than a trusty hammer.

Thus, when the collection of ones and zeros that comprised its processor registered a young male fleeing into an alleyway, it recognized its next target, its next victim. It would have served its programmers well to make the mechanical beast also able to recognize the mauled corpse of its sibling, collapsed a dozen meters away and still wailing its final cries of mechanical pain.

But that was not the purpose of a hammer. All it knew to recognize were nails.

The machine's engine thrummed to life, and its rubber tire screeched like not-yet-dead roadkill, launching the mechanical beast forward. Skidding around the corner into the small alleyway, its gatling guns spun to life as its targeting system booted up.

Combat engaged.

)ooOoo(

Izuku's feet pounded on the concrete, a steady jog as he made his way from the wreckage of a 1-point villain-bot.

It was strange, the exam.

Well, not really. It was exactly what Izuku expected, on a concrete level.

It was chaotic and violent and Izuku couldn't even begin to imagine how expensive it was. Well, he very likely could, given access to a calculator, some looseleaf, and a copy of the school's budget. He could likely even find an average cost per examinee. But he couldn't let himself imagine it. Now wasn't the time.

No, what was so strange wasn't any of that. It was rather… how the exam felt.

He ducked into a nook in the side of the alley, lodging himself behind a factory-clean dumpster.

Izuku scowled.

Cramped, but it would do.

Izuku had started to understand what fighting felt like. Between his fights with Himiko, and Bakugou, and even Warp, he understood the way he would shiver out a breath before the first punch in a fight, and the tingle he felt as every hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The prospect of pain, of bruises and rips and tears… It made Izuku feel alive.

Tucked away behind a dumpster that had never been used, Izuku... waited.

Simply waited.

Balanced precariously in his lax fingers, his knife glinted coldly and cruelly despite the warm afternoon light.

But the fight today was different. Something about it didn't feel the same. Like, despite the crushing anxiety of getting into U.A., something was missing.

His breathing was slow and deep.

Too deep to truly be at ease.

The air smelled of freshly laid concrete, chemical and stale.

A villain-bot burst around the corner, barging into the alleyway with an ear piercing screech and an overwhelming mechanical buzz. Its guns roared, ready to unleash a hellspray of rubber shrapnel, and it's single red eye darted about, seeking a target to lock on to.

The alley was empty.

There was a stiff squeak as the robot slowly rolled forward, its guns still reved. And yet, despite the orgy of destruction happening just outside the alleyway, the world went quiet.

Izuku's green eyes, typically so warm and kind, watched with an icy focus.

Ba-dum.

When he fought Bakugou, hate powered his punches. His very right to exist was questioned, and he responded in kind.

Ba-dum.

When he fought Warp, righteous fury burned in his furnace heart. A man was beaten for spectacle, and Izuku would fight for justice regardless of who held a license.

Ba-dum.

When he fought Himiko…

Ba-dum.

When he fought Himiko, sick, twisted love flared up inside him. The desire to win was subsumed by the desire to hurt and be hurt, to see blood on concrete and be devoured by her yellow eyes.

Ba-dum.

The robot paused, scanning the dumpster. It raised its gatling gun.

Ba-dum.

Now.

Izuku jumped out from the dumpster, kicking off the wall and launching himself at the mechanical beast.

And he felt nothing.

The force of his whole body narrowed to the single tip of his knife, puncturing the robot's monowheel, and with a flick of the wrist, the razor edge of the blade cleanly cut through rubber and steel wire, popping and snapping like tendons. A series of emergency support struts extended, mounting the robot to the ground.

Immobilized.

He rolled, releasing the knife and unsheathing two more. His hand flicked, throwing the knife with practice precision. A blade silently sliced through the air, shattering plexiglass and burying itself in the robot's single red eye.

Blinded.

Leaping up and pushing himself off the wall in midair, he just barely dodged a hail of rubber bullets loosed by the blind beast. He was already moving, pushing himself off the narrow alley wall-

A single bullet ricocheted off the concrete, ripping through the air, and a sledgehammer of pain slammed into Izuku's thigh.

No!

His foot slipped, and he hissed in pain as he tumbled.

No no no-!

His hands caught on the villain-bot's armored neck, but the beast bucked like an American rodeo bull, trying to dislodge him from its smooth metal plating. His fingers dug to find purchase, but there was nothing to hold, and his hands came free.

He flew across the alleyway like a cotton doll.

The moment he slammed against the wall, all the air was forced out of his lungs. Electricity shot through his body, searing his skin, and something in his chest cracked against the concrete. Izuku screamed.

A three meter drop. Give or take. Some small part of his mind estimated that as he fell to the ground. The ground, it was… it was approaching fast.

No, no, it already hit him.

The concrete was cool. Not cold

So cool to the touch, just enough to feel good against his hot face.

He could just… lay there for a moment.

… That would be nice.

There… there was a robot, wasn't there?

His vision was spinning, a large shadow loomed over him, and was getting larger.

… Maybe there was a safety stop? There had to be one, right? It only made sense.

Then, he would be safe. He would… he would be saved…

No one will save you.

Himiko's cruel words rung out, somewhere in the murky mess that was his mind. From so long ago… when he first met her. When she marked him, in that messy alleyway. Where he had surrendered. Where he chose to wait and be saved.

Just like this.

Do you really think heroes can save everyone? They won't save you.

He clenched his teeth, and clawed at the ground, forcing himself to his feet. Every part of him screamed in pain, from his bruises to his shattered rib to his cuts and scrapes.

He didn't care.

He didn't care!

He didn't care he didn't care he didn't care!

He didn't care about getting into U.A., or his mom or Bakugou! He didn't care about heroes, not Warp or Endeavor or All Might! He didn't care about points or this damn entrance exam!

Izuku glared at the villain-bot, swinging wildly and unable to move, and flicked out another well honed blade.

Now he knew what had been missing from this fight.

His fire.

Oh, he could fight coldly and scientifically, but fire didn't burn cold.

He was sick of being weak! Sick of being saved, of being undercut and talked down to and ignored! He was sick of giving up and kneeling to authority and rolling over! And he was sick of living in a system where people like him were second class citizens!

No more!

Izuku was no deku. Not anymore.

He was the Victim, and for every ounce of suffering he and every other victim had been forced to bear, he would return tenfold!

His eyes darted back and forth, analyzing the alley and the stationary robot. The pieces clicked together quickly, a well oiled machine constructing a plan. The pain in his chest flared up every time he breathed, but he blocked it out. In that moment, nothing but the objective mattered. Nothing.

He put the blade between his teeth, clamping down on it, and charged.

Run.

Jump.

Wallkick.

Even with the beast whipping its head back and forth, Izuku caught the neck with both hands, spinning around and wrapping his legs around it. The knife slipped from his mouth to his sweaty hand, and he jammed the blade between the joint plates.

The chink in the armor.

He slid the blade to the center and pried the armor plate off. A small line of blood trickled into his eye, but he ignored it, clinging to the neck with every drop of strength he had. The plate dislodged, falling to the ground as the robot lashed its head about with panicked ferocity. But there it was: a clump of multicolored wires, thick as his arm, exposed to the air.

The pumping veins of the monster.

Izuku smiled, vicious and victorious.

He didn't bother cutting them out. It would've been too clean. Too fast. No, with a cannibalistic catharsis, he ripped the bundles of wires out with his bare hands, listening to the mechanical beast's death howls.

It was only as its last weak groan left it that Izuku leapt off the robot, savoring the metal carnage.

It didn't matter what anyone said, not Bakugou, not All Might, no one.

Izuku was strong.

He bit the apple the snake offered.

"Four minutes left!"

Izuku's eyes went wide. The exam! He was still in an exam! Turning on his heel, he dashed for the alley exit-

He nearly screamed at the pain in his chest.

Stumbling out of the alley, he came face to face with the chaos that was the testing sight. Robots were reduced to scrap metal, and examinees dashed back and forth in a mad panic to secure more points.

"Sixteen!"

"Forty-two!"

"Thirty-six!"

Whatever pride had been in Izuku's heart withered on the vine.

Weakly, he whispered to himself. "T-two."

And maybe the first one didn't count. After all, a dozen other people were trying to fight it at the time too.

The blood drained from his face.

"Three minutes!" Present Mic's voice rang out through the fake city.

P-points! He needed points! More points! Fast!

Turning to stumble towards… Towards another robot? Maybe? He didn't know! And he only had five knives left! He didn't have time! He had to-

The ground began to rumble.

Hard.

Harder.

Izuku nearly fell over, barely catching himself, and grasped his side.

An earthquake!? Now!?

But then chunks of cement started flying, and a gigantic figure, taller than buildings around it, rose from behind a row of apartment buildings. Eight giant, crimson eyes marred the gargantuan silhouette.

The-

The obstacle.

His eyes wide, Izuku couldn't even move.

H-how?!

How was he supposed to fight that!?

How was anyong supposed to fight it!?

Panic filled the exam site as students fled in the opposite direction. Each and every one of them. The Ida kid dashed past, not stopping to even give Izuku a glance.

Izuku would've done the same, if pure terror hadn't set his feet in cement blocks.

It was unwinnable.

"Ow!" A small voice came from the wall of dust rushing towards him, filled with pain. There was… pain. Someone in pain! His feet, so heavy he couldn't move them if he screamed at them, took slow, cautious steps forward. The dust cleared just enough for him to see, and…

Uraraka.

There, with her leg trapped under a concrete block.

Unable to run.

Izuku didn't think. He didn't need to.

He had an objective.

His legs, held down by terror, pumped like pistons. His lungs, run ragged from exertion and pain, resisted giving out by willpower alone. His mind, so rage fueled just minutes before, had not a single image in it but the way she smiled before the test. So… friendly. And now, she was gritting her teeth and pulling at a broken leg.

Push, Izuku! Faster!

The moment he reached her, his hands were grasping the underside of the block, pulling.

"Midoriya?!"

"Push, Uraraka!" He shouted with all his heart, not even looking at her.

The block didn't budge! It had to be hundreds of pounds! There was no way he could lift it! But-

The obstacle loomed over them, its heavy treads cracking the road beneath it. Moving closer.

Ever closer.

The block had to move!

He poured every ounce of will he had into his muscles, every bit of training, every moment of fear and hope all muddled into a cacophony of panic. His back screamed, his thighs burned, his ribs cried out for him to stop. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. And with four hands pushing with all their strength-

It was slow, but as soon as it budged a little, he pushed harder, and it moved more. He could feel his muscles tearing, ripping as he pushed harder than he could ever possibly imagine.

And the block flipped.

There was no moment of celebration. As soon as it was out of the way, he grabbed Uraraka, slinging her arm over his shoulder as he scrambled to escape. The treads were getting closer!

Uraraka was saying something. He could hear her voice. It was panicked? Maybe? But whatever part of his brain handled speech interpretation was on lockdown, all power diverted to his muscles. He had to move forward!

Blood and dust coated his tongue, the taste of being crushed to death. The rattling of heavy machinery filled his ears until he couldn't hear anything else, the banging and thudding and clacking of a soulless machine designed to destroy them. Scorching pain permeated him to his very core, with every muscle so far past the point of collapse that Izuku was moving out of desperation alone.

He had to help her. Help her escape.

Even if he couldn't pass the exam, even if he couldn't get a single point more-

A mechanical hand, far larger than either of them, wrapped around the pair, dragging them up, up, up.

Izuku looked into Uraraka's eyes, seeing the pain and terror, and looked at the robot, before looking back.

… For a moment, there was no more panic, no fear, no uncertainty. There was only stern determination.

In the eye of the storm, Izuku was at peace.

"I'm sorry."

He spoke, but he couldn't even hear his own words. The confusion in her eyes told him she did, but he didn't give her time to respond.

Izuku pushed her out of the hand, sending her plummeting before the beast could tighten its grip.

The last thing he felt before passing out was the bone-shattering pain of the fist squeezing his lower half.

)ooOoo(

"I'm sorry, young listener, but I can't do that for you!"

"But he risked his life for me!" Ochako pleaded. "I don't know how many points he got, but he was muttering about getting at least one more point, and-"

"Young listener, the way the exam works is set." Present Mic's cheery grin never changed, and his concentric lime eyes showed sympathy, but it was clear this wasn't up for debate. "He did a good thing saving you. Hopefully the committee will see it too."

There was a moment of silence where she searched his face, looking for anything to grab onto to change his mind, but there was nothing. Sighing, she nodded. "Thank you for considering it, at least."

Present Mic gave a friendly smile. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

With that, Ochako left the office, limping ever so slightly. She scowled, shaking her head.

She didn't know a thing about Midoriya, not really. They talked briefly before the exam, yeah, but she didn't know where he was from, his hobbies, his quirk. For all intents and purposes, they were perfect strangers.

So when he dashed to help her, covered in gashes and bruises, Ochako was shocked. Like, the boy looked like he was about to keel over in pain! She could see how twisted and broken his rib was, even. But there he was, stumble-running at her with all his strength, right towards danger, to try and move a massive concrete block.

The fact that he managed to do it didn't impress her nearly as much as the fact that he was crazy enough to try. She smiled weakly to herself, walking down the hallways of the school building.

But the smile died, and she internally slapped herself. It all could've been avoided with her quirk! She was Uravity, of all people, her quirk was literally meant for situations like this! But when it came down to the line, the pain in her leg was too much for her to focus, and she wasn't able to lift the concrete, no matter how hard she tried. She laughed awkwardly, self-deprecatingly. Maybe she didn't deserve to pass the exam.

She chewed on her lip, but shook her head. She was here to train to be a hero, so she couldn't expect herself to be perfect. And besides, she got 28 points! She knew it wouldn't be top-rank, but that was nothing to sneeze at. She had been working hard at this, hard as anyone else. If she got in, then she deserved it. She just… Needed to get stronger. More focused. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself.

It was only a short walk to the nurse's office. She paused in front of the heavy chestnut door, taking a moment to consider. What if he was still passed out? Or what if he didn't want to see her? She might very well be the reason he failed the exam.

… She shook the thoughts away, swallowing her anxiety, and knocked on the door. Two light, nervous taps. He deserved a thank you, at the very least.

"C-come in!" A nervous voice stammered through the door, and for some strange reason, the anxiety in his voice only made her more comfortable. She wasn't the only nervous one.

With a creak, she opened the door to the room, revealing… well, a nurse's office. A heavy desk, some white plastic curtains on a ceiling-mounted rack, a pair of beds for patients, the sort that are comfortable enough but aren't really comfortable. Ochako had never been one of those fangirls blinded by the glamor and fame of heroism, far too grounded and frugal for that, but the total mundanity of the school building surprised her. The manila colored walls and faint smell of rubbing alcohol would've been right at home at her own middle school in Ise. Midoriya sat in the bed closer to the door, a thin white blanket covering up to his waist and a couple of pillows supporting his back so he could sit up. His backpack rested next to him against the bed, and a knife spun in his hand, weaving between his fingers with practiced grace.

She took a step inside, and gave a friendly, if a bit uncomfortable, smile. "How are you doing?"

"I'm, uh…" Catching his knife mid-spin, Midoriya paused to look at himself, before giving a smile that did not contain all the certainty he tried to give it. "Well, Recovery Girl said I should be able to walk on my own in a few days. My ribs and leg bones are perfectly healed, but she didn't want to push too far by completely healing my muscles." He grasped the white blanket, raising it just enough to show a tapestry of thin, jagged scars running up his legs.

Ochako gasped slightly, covering her mouth, but at the sound, Midoriya quickly covered himself up again, muttering what might've been an apology. She bit her lip, trying to give a thankful smile, but unable to really shake the shock of his legs.

Less than two hours ago, she had heard his bones shattering. It had sounded like someone breaking a bundle of dry noodles before tossing them in boiling water. Her stomach twisted.

"... You must've really done a number on yourself." Setting her bag on the ground, Ochako scooted a chair up to the bottom of the bed, close enough to be friendly but not so close as to be uncomfortable. "Just how many bones did you break to save me?"

"Uh, it was…" Midoriya looked at nothing at all, beginning to count on his fingers. "Two ribs, one snapped clean and the other cracked, both fibulas, both tibias, one actually snapped into four separate pieces..."

Ochako could only stare blankly as the boy descended into describing his injuries, precise and scientific and without an ounce of hesitation. He just said... so much. It just poured out of his mouth like an endless river of knowledge. It's… it's so many! Are there even that many bones in the human leg? There couldn't be. No way. Oh, he stopped- no, no, he was just taking a breath.

She wasn't sure how much time passed, but Izuku finally caught sight of her awkward, blank stare, and his cheeks flushed red. "Oh, uh, but, the ribs weren't because of the big robot! I did those on my own with one of the villain bots. So don't worry about those!"

There was a pause.

Then Ochako laughed. She just laughed. She didn't know why! Just, something about his mumbling, and his awkwardness, and comparing that to earlier-

"You're crazy, you know that? You really should've run the other way." She gave a wide smile, her anxiety melting away at the absurdity of this boy. But then the smile softened, and became deeper. "Thank you. For saving me."

The boy sat there, his emerald eyes wide. It was as if he was unused to processing thank yous. For a brief moment, his eyes shined with pride like precious jewels, but it just as quickly disappeared, subsumed by a darker, heavier tone. He pressed his lips into a tight line, and took a deep breath.

"I just-..." He sighed. "I can't stand seeing people get hurt. I saw you in danger, and, well, muscle memory took over."

There was an… authentic look in his eyes. The sort she knew from experience couldn't be faked, not well. Ochako weaved her hands together, watching his eyes cloud with a dozen different thoughts. She couldn't help but feel a small amount of admiration. "You really are built to be a hero, huh?"

"Huh?" His head shot up.

"Midoriya, you had no reason to help me. None at all. But you did anyways. That sounds like a hero to me." She gave him a small smile, the sort that just appeared on her face more than she thought about it. How could she not? "I hope to see you in class. I, uh, I tried to give you some of my points!" She gave an unsure laugh.

"W-what?!" He stammered out an answer, his eyes darting around as if to make sure he wasn't on some practical joke TV show. When his panic seemed to subdue just enough, he gave a deep bow, which was awkward in the bed. "I, uh, but, well-! T-thank you!"

She laughed, a bubbly sound. "Don't thank me, they didn't let me!"

He laughed with her, but then… paused. The smile on her lips died with his, and worry seeped into her eyes.

A sigh escaped his lips. "... Well, I probably won't be getting in anyways. I only got two points. Thank you though."

Ochako opened her mouth, then closed it. Opened it again, but no words came out.

How was she supposed to respond to that? With only two points, there was simply no way he could get into the hero course. That wasn't her being mean, it was just… Well, it was just fact. She swallowed.

"Yeah, that's… that's hard." Her warm hazelnut eyes watched him shrink away, and she could tell it was to his own thoughts more than her words. But still, she couldn't bear to watch it! She plastered a grin onto her face, daring herself to find the positives. "But you could still get into another school! There are plenty of hero schools, and you definitely can still apply! Some even specialize, like the one where I'm from in Ise, they specialize in tech-based quirks. What sorta quirk do you have?"

Ochako immediately knew that was not the question she should've asked. Something about his demeanor changed. His shame burnt away, and a scowl marred his face as he glared at his hands. No, not his hands. The knife in them.

"I don't have one." He spoke sternly, almost angrily.

"Wait, really?" Ochako did a double take. Did she hear that right? Not even touching on the fact that the quirkless were nearly nonexistent at their age, he fought the villain-bots and only broke two ribs? "And you still got two points? That's amazing!"

Izuku's eyes flicked towards her, and Ochako felt them cut deep into her soul, as if trying to find what trick she was pulling. They were so much colder than before, almost like a different person-

Ochako shivered, but made sure not to show it.

"... I don't want your pity." Izuku spat out the words like poison. But then he shifted his gaze out the window, and when his eyes left her, she realized how tired he looked. Like he had long been fighting a losing battle. "I know I failed. I know I'm weak."

Ochako ducked her head. "S-sorry."

Midoriya didn't respond.

His quirklessness… That was a sore point for him, apparently. Mentally, Ochako slapped herself. Of course there was no way she could even know, but she still felt awful. She played with her fingers, trying desperately to distract herself from the suffocating silence.

The boy took a deep breath, before letting out a long, shaky sigh.

"I'm sorry if this is weird to ask, but… Why do you want to be a hero?" His gaze never left the window, looking over the campus grounds.

"Huh?" Ochako looked out the window, and then back at him.

Casually fiddling with his knife, Midoriya licked his lips. "W-when I was a kid, there was this video I'd watch of All Might, where he had this big smile and was saving people from a collapsed building. It was… amazing. I'd watch it on repeat for hours. Everyone told me I could be just like him someday. But then I learned I was quirkless, and almost overnight… everyone changed their tune."

When he said that, something in his soul bled hot tears. Ochako could see it deep in those green eyes. He flicked open the knife, carefully inspecting the mirror-sharp edge. Could he see his own sadness in it?

There was a small click, and Ochako glanced over to see a boney man with raggy yellow hair and a loose pinstripe suit quietly slip into the room. She opened her mouth to say something but he held up a hand, and gave a small, unsure smile. But Midoriya didn't seem to notice, continuing to speak just like before, his voice unnaturally dark and smooth for such a nervous boy.

"I wanted to be a hero to help people. I never thought about the fame or money. That was never the point. I just wanted to save people with a smile. But everyone told me that it was impossible. Even All Might."

Her eyes went wide. "You met him!?"

"Yeah. And he told me to give up." Midoriya clicked the blade shut again, and set it on his lap. His voice was low and flat. It wasn't even angry. "And I have."

"Y-you could still be one!" Her mind rushed to find something positive to tell him. "I'm sure someone would take you as an intern, even!"

He clenched his hands, and grit his teeth. "... Uraraka, I saw how people are swept aside for those with stronger quirks. I read articles about heroes using court semantics to get away with destroying apartment buildings or beating villains so badly that they end up unable to even function without a caretaker for the rest of their life. I saw a hero beat a man who was stealing food for likes on the internet."

Midoriya's nervous, polite, doe-like exterior had melted away to reveal a pulsing furnace heart, raging with passion hot enough to burn bystanders. "I don't want to be a hero, because I don't think I could change these things as a third-rate hero in some backwater town that couldn't afford to hire one with a quirk."

She didn't say anything to that. There was nothing she could say to that. Sitting in the very heart of the facility that would prepare the next generation of heroes, Midoriya spat a scathing rebuke of them, as if he hadn't been in an exam several hours earlier. Part of her wanted to call him out on his bitter hypocrisy, but there was something too raw, too genuine about the look in his eyes for her to say it in good faith.

She looked over to the man in the pinstripe suit, hiding in the corner where Midoriya couldn't easily see him. His blue eyes watched with interest, but he said nothing. Several moments passed.

"... It was for the money." Ochako finally spoke up, answering his question. What else could she say? She'd rather be honest. "My family has been through slim times, and I knew if I played my cards right, I could make it big as a hero. My family would never have to worry about finances again."

The boy's eyes softened, and he gave her a look of understanding. "Everyone has their reasons."

Ochako gave a weak laugh, a half-smile on her face. "Compared to yours, mine seem downright petty. You're all full of altruism and a desire to better the world, and I… I want my family to not worry about bills."

"... It's not your fault. The hero system is meant to attract money." Midoriya shrugged, defeated. "Maybe I'm just naive."

Maybe he was. Ochako couldn't say. Heroes individually were simple, but as an industry? It was way too complicated for her to wrap her mind around. She knew enough to say she knew nothing about the intricacies of heroes as a whole. But she also wasn't so blind as to pretend problems didn't exist. Her eyes fell to her toes.

But then she looked back at him. "What would you do?"

"Huh?"

"If you could reform the hero system however you wanted, what would you do?" She spoke quietly but firmly. He had strong opinions on it. What would he do to fix it?

Izuku scowled, then looked back out the window, watching the students leave. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, but then he spoke with a confidence and authority that could barely fit in his small frame. "... I would integrate it with the police, make them more accountable. And remove all the sponsorships and social media and money. Reform the law, seal up loopholes and penalize excessive violence. It wouldn't fix everything, certainly not how the quirkless and mutant quirked are treated, but… It would be a start."

Ochako didn't know what Midoriya had experienced. If half of what he said was true, she wasn't sure she wanted to. A hero beating a petty theft for fame? It was too believable for her to be comfortable with. And maybe… Well, maybe heroes did have to change. Times changed, so they need to too.

"You'd make a good hero." Ochako smiled at him. "And… Even if you don't become one, if you want to make changes like that… I'd love to help."

Midoriya returned her smile, and nodded. "... Thank you."

The man in the suit coughed, and the pair snapped to look at him. Midoriya gasped, and Ochako looked between the two in confusion. But the man spoke up.

"Would you please give us a moment of privacy, ma'am?"

A/N

Good afternoon, everyone.

So, the moment everyone had been waiting for: the exam. The brief and extremely violent moment of truth. And after all of it, Izuku only has two villain points.

Now the more observant of you might've notice that, along with the update of this chapter, I have added All Might and Ochako as major characters on AO3. Before anyone asks, no, I have no intent of making *shivers* a love triangle. Ochako and Izuku will have absolutely zero romantic relations.

Finally, at least until my semester begins, I will try to maintain a weekly update schedule, though I shall be making Saturday my update day. This means there will not be an update next Wednesday, but rather next Saturday.

With only the most nefarious intentions,

Imp