Author's Note: Happy New Month folks! It's fourteen days to Valentine's and I know I'm gonna spend it binge-playing Breath of the Wild on Master Mode to find all 999 Korok Seeds. But my lack of a love life is not the tragedy you're here to read.
A lot of reviewers were suspicious about this story because of the seeming lack of death, blood, guts and gore that accompanies my usual creations in the first chapter. Some believe it's a trap to lull you all in, while others seem to be of the opinion that I've been replaced by an alien.
To address this: I'll be honest, the Boku No Hero Academia world is a place where I don't need to make it overtly dark. It's... pretty dark enough on it's own when one looks underneath the underneath. Not saying that things won't get darker (that's kind of a given with me) but just sit back, relax, and let the tiny implications make your mind go "Oh shit" before yours truly takes that shit and shoves at at 343 m/s at the nearest ceiling fan.
Cause shit always hits the fan, ladies and gents. It always hits the fan.
So for now... enjoy.
A Precise Note
"You fucking can't."
He and Kacchan argued again. Izuku didn't like it when they argued. He liked it even less, when Kacchan said some of the things he said. When Kacchan was pessimistic about things in the world. When he reduced people to being only the weak and the strong. The user and the used. When he made it sound like everyone was terrible.
"I can!"
"Izuku – be fucking real."
"All Might does it."
"All Might never loses," Kacchan snarled. "He never fucking loses. But that doesn't mean he fucking saves everybody. Check the fucking listings. Endeavor has solved more bloody incidents than All Might – and even then, Endeavor has never, ever saved everyone."
"Then I'll be the type of hero that saves everyone."
"Stop saying such cheesy bullshit like this is one of those those stupid comic books and manga!" Kacchan yelled. "You're just going to fucking kill yourself if you try to save everyone. You're going to fuck yourself over if you try to please everyone. That's your problem Izuku – you're a fucking people pleaser. You want a world were everyone is your fucking friend and you can hold hands and sing kumbaya, but that shit doesn't happen. It can't happen. You'll make enemies just by breathing. Make enemies just by taking the last slice of pie on a tray that someone else wanted. The problem is, you'll be too fucking dense to even realize they're your enemies, and when you do – it'll be too late."
Midoriya didn't see things that way. There was good, and then there was evil. There were people, flawed people, but flawed people needed second chances, help, assistance. Then there were those who were beyond help. Those who used their flaws and troubles as an excuse to hurt others. As a justification for picking on the weak. He didn't like those kind of people. He liked it even less, that Kacchan was sometimes among those type of people.
Their entire argument had started over a game of Heroes Smash V. First, the discussion and pre-game banter. Then, the post-game swears from Kacchan as he lost, time and again. Then, he mentioned the type of hero he wanted to be. Kacchan followed and talked about the kind of hero he wanted to be as well.
They did not see eye-to-eye on the issue.
Kacchan wanted to be the strongest hero. The type of hero that never lost a single battle. The ones that villains would flee in terror from, because his presence evoked that sensation of fear and doom. A hero whose mere existence made evil cower, running with tail between legs.
Izuku wanted to be the kindest hero. The one who went out of his way to inspire hope and uphold justice. The everyday man's hero. A figure who would fight grand evil, but was never to busy to help a cat out of a tree, or an old lady across the street. The kind of hero that the people loved and adored, and a hero that would never fail at saving anyone who needed saving.
Kacchan took objection. He said, it wasn't possible to save everyone who needed saving. Izuku took objection. He believed it was. The argument snowballed from there.
"I'll prove you wrong."
"And how the fuck are you going to do that?"
Izuku bit his lip. "At school. I'll – I'll help everybody that needs help. I'll tell them, I AM HERE! So – so they know that they can always have someone to count on in their time of need. If – if I can help everyone, help everyone without issue – then you'll believe me when I say I can save everyone too."
Kacchan scoffed. "You'll fucking regret it Izuku."
"I won't. I love helping people."
"Izuku you're basically saying you're going to let yourself be a fucking doormat. It's like a lion choosing to cut off his claws, shave his mane and fucking expose his neck to a pack of hyenas. They'll slaughter you."
Izuku frowned. "People aren't as bad as you think they are Kacchan."
"You're right," Kacchan agreed. "They're fucking worse."
Kacchan was becoming more and more of a pessimist than Izuku remembered. He didn't know why that was. Why his friend was always quick to see the negatives. He'd always been foul-mouthed and hot-tempered, but he'd never had such little faith in other people. The fact that he wanted to be a hero, not to save people, but to stop villains, was already something that Izuku could not wrap his head around.
"You'll see Kacchan." Izuku said. "I'll show you what kind of hero I'm going to be."
|A Precise Note|
Aldera Junior High was abuzz the morning Izuku made his announcement to his class. Standing high on a table, forcing down the rapid beating of his own heart and his own lack of confidence, he channeled his inner Katsuki, and made his declaration.
"If there's anyone who needs help with anything at all, um – y-you can ask me, and I'll try my best to help you out!"
One lizard-eyed student narrowed his gaze. "What's the catch?"
"Um – there's no catch. I just… want to help out as many people as I can."
"With your quirk?" another student asked.
Izuku rubbed the side of his head. "Well… if it's something that my quirk can help with… then… yes?"
The whispers and murmurs travelled through the classroom at the speed of light. Izuku could feel his chest pounding even harder at the sudden rush of excitement that everyone seemed to have. Why exactly were they so excited?
He glanced at the back row, finding Kacchan scoffing while doing his best to act uninterested with the whole thing. Just wait, Kacchan – I'll show you –
Midoriya Izuku liked to help people. There was a satisfaction he got from helping others with their problems. He didn't even really want gratitude. He didn't need gratitude. He just wanted to be there for people. He wanted to be there for people, because there was no one who was there for him. And he knew how terrible that felt. He hated how horrible it felt. When there was no one in your corner. No one to smile and tell you to chin up. No one to believe in your dreams and tell you to never give up. When no one, not even your own mother, believed you could accomplish your dreams.
For the first few hours, class proceeded as normal, and no one asked him for anything. At least, until halfway through the third period, when the teacher called out a student to help clean the chalkboard. The student, grumbled, before suddenly jerking his head back.
"Hey, Izuku-kun, do you mind helping me with the blackboard?"
The eyes of everyone in the class was on him. "Um – oh – okay –"
The teacher rose an eyebrow, but said nothing. There were whispers, chortles and chuckles. Izuku stood, grabbed the duster, and in three precise, smooth movements, the board was wiped spotless. The entire process barely took two seconds.
The teacher whistled quietly. "My, Midoriya-san. That's impressive. Your quirk?"
"Y-yeah."
"Go on, back to your seat."
He dusted off his hands, taking his place beside Kacchan, who was trying his hardest not to stare at him. "Oi – Izuku. Better call it quits now."
"What are you talking about?"
"You don't know these bastards like I do. You never got to know them because you were always dealing with your own shit. But if you don't call it quits now, it's going to get fucking worse."
"You're paranoid Kacchan."
Kacchan scoffed. "Don't say I didn't fucking warn you."
"Midoriya-san, hey, hey, my right hand is feeling kind of sore… can you help me copy the notes?" A pug-faced girl asked.
"Ah… well, I can help…"
"Thanks!"
She tossed her book over to him, leaned back in her chair and started subtly pressing her phone underneath her desk.
"Hey, Izuku – my hand's kind of sore too."
"Yeah, me too."
"Me as well – must be the weather."
The books piled, one after the other. One after the other, until half of the students in the class were snickering, and Izuku's table was overflowing with a dozen notebooks.
This is fine. He took a breath. A soft, long, deep breath, and he sent his two hands to work. The snickering stopped abruptly as everyone turned to stare. His left and right hands were blurring. Blurring from movement. Faster than the human eye could track, Midoriya Izuku's two hands moved in tandem. Words appeared upon pages in fluent, eloquent kanji. It was less of him writing and more of him printing, as his handwriting could effortlessly be mistaken for a computer-generated document.
The books slid, one after the other, circling and juggling in the air as he wrote them all, leaving no room for error, no margin for mistake. He copied the teacher's words on the board just as the man wrote them, and for him, a person whose goal was to be a hero that saved everyone, writing a dozen notes simultaneously was something he could manage.
"No way…"
"He's like a computer."
The bell rang. The teacher dropped his chalk, just at the exact moment Midoriya Izuku wrote the final characters and closed the books. With a flick of his wrists, the books spun in the air like shuriken, rushing to their appropriate owners.
"And that's all we have time for right now – and why are you all staring at Midoriya?"
"I was helping them out sensei. A lot of people's wrists seem to be sore for some reason, so I helped them out with the notes."
"Is… that so?" The teacher cleared his throat. "W-well – then, carry on."
No sooner did the teacher leave, did the class burst into excited cheers and mutterings. "Yo! Izuku that was fucking cool!"
"Your quirk is awesome!"
"Midoriya! The boys are going to shoot some hoops. We'd love for you to join us. You don't have anything doing right? Come on!"
"Er… sure. Why not?"
Kacchan was still skulking. Izuku gave him the peace sign. He knew he could do it. That he could help people. And the way their eyes all lit up at him, the way they were excited, happy with him –
"What's the hold up?"
"I'm coming!"
Lunch break wasn't all that long, so, he knew that once he'd helped the boys out with shooting hoops he'd go straight back to helping other people. The basketball court wasn't far off from the main playground and swings. It was, kind of, his first time ever, playing basketball. He wasn't sure of the rules. He didn't really know how to play.
Yet, the second the ball was tossed in his direction, he knew what to do. He bounced, once, twice, rose his arm, and –
"A three pointer?"
"Damn."
"Izuku… were you using your quirk?"
Izuku stared at his hands. "I… I wasn't."
"Huh. Make him go a bit farther – let's see how he fares. And no using your quirk."
The distance was such that he could barely make out the net. Yet, the second the ball entered his palms, his body moved on instinct. One, two, bounce and –
"Holy shit."
"He made the shot? How the hell did he make that?"
"You cheated. You used your quirk, didn't you?"
"No… I-I… didn't."
"There's no way you would have made that shot without your quirk."
"But – I –"
"Whatever. Come on, let's just have some fun."
There wasn't much fun to be had. He couldn't be dribbled. No matter what strategy they tried, no matter how they attempted to fool him, it didn't work. His eyes saw through it. His body moved on instinct. Reflexes activated on their own accord and prevented anyone from getting past him.
It was even worse when he was the one doing the dribbling. He bounced the ball at speeds most couldn't follow. He could stop his movements and spin on a dime. He could slip through the tiniest of spaces without being touched. If he didn't want to be touched, he couldn't be touched. His reflexes would activate on their own and prevent anyone from getting close to touching him. Preventing anyone from getting close to touching the ball.
"Hey, Izuku – I think… we think maybe you should go."
"Go?"
"Yeah. It's… no fun with you. You're too broken man. Like a cheat character. Seven us ganged up and we couldn't even touch you."
"Oh. Um – maybe, maybe we could play something else?"
"Like what?" One of the boys scoffed. "Every sport requires reflexes and timing and stuff. It'll just be a repeat of this."
"Yeah. Sorry, Izuku – but – we don't think you should participate in sports anymore."
"It wouldn't be fair to any side to have you on a team."
"Oh," he said, quietly. "Um… okay… but… if you need my help with anything else… I'll be here."
"Yeah, yeah whatever."
He made his way away from the court, but his ears didn't. They were more acute than most. Acute enough to catch their muffled conversation before he left.
"Ugh, Midoriya's a freak."
"I can't believe I preferred him when he was quirkless. Now he's got a quirk and he's fucking looking down on all of us. Getting payback for all the stuff we did to him."
"Is that what he's doing?"
No – it's – it's not –
"Come on. I mean, standing up in front of the class and saying he'll help out anyone who asks for his help? He's doing it to make us all look incompetent."
"Compared to him… we kind of are."
"It's not our fault he's got a freakish quirk. How's anyone supposed to compare to that?"
He wanted to march back and tell them that they were wrong. That he wasn't trying to upstage them. To make them look bad. He couldn't. He couldn't, not without revealing that his quirk augmented his hearing. Not without making himself appear even worse.
"Hey, Midoriya! There you are!"
Izuku's head snapped up. Another one of his classmates approached him, waving his hand eagerly. Matsuda, Izuku remembered his name. "Been looking all over for you dude. I need your help."
Something swelled in Izuku's chest."Sure! I-I'll help! What do you need?"
"Do you mind using your quirk to help me draw a portrait?"
Izuku blinked. It wasn't quite what he'd expected or anticipated, but it was still someone asking for his help. "Um… I haven't tried drawing with my quirk yet… but I-I'll see what I can do."
"Great! It has to be a portrait of Akari-chan!"
Akari? She was, arguably, one of the prettier girls in the class. Actually, the prettiest girl in the class. Although she was also known for being cold. He wants a portrait of Akari? "Er… I… I think I can do that."
"Great." The boy said. "Also, I need you to…" he leaned in, whispering the details of the portrait into his ear. With every word, Izuku's eyes grew wider, his face grew hotter, and he barely let the boy finished before pushing him away.
"I – I can't – that's… that's…"
"Of course you can!" The boy patted him on his back. "Your quirk lets you do anything you want with absolute precision doesn't it? This'll be nothing for you."
"I mean… I shouldn't. It's… wrong. She – she won't like that – it's – it's wrong –"
"Come on Midoriya-kun. It's just art. Art! Besides, didn't you say you'd help anyone who needed it? Why can't you help me with this?"
"It's… it's wrong! I – I can't do that!"
"So, you're saying you can't help me? Is that it? After standing up in front of the whole class and telling everyone you'd help them… in the end, you were just all talk?"
"No!" Izuku bit his lip. "I – I mean…" Could he? "Why d-do you even want s-something like that?"
Matsuda stared at him. "Are you… gay or something?"
"W-what?"
"I mean, you and Bakugo are kinda close, I didn't want to assume – not that there's anything wrong with it –"
Midoriya spluttered. "I'm not! We – we're not – we're just friends!"
"Then why're you asking what I want to do with the portrait? Obviously, I'm going to add it to my spank bank."
"Y-your… w-what?"
Matsuda stared harder. "Are you sure you're not gay? Wait, no, even gay people know what a spank bank is. You're not asexual or something are you?"
"A-asexual?"
"It means you don't get hard when watching porn."
Midoriya felt a new amount of heat rush to his face. "I – I don't –"
"You don't?"
"W-watch p-p-porn." he finished. "I – I don't watch –"
"Bullshit," Matsuda scoffed.
"I – I'm serious."
There were several seconds of terse silence before Matsuda's eyes widened in realization. "Holy shit. You're not pulling my leg?"
Midoriya nodded.
"Huh. I thought guys like you were only an urban legend, or a myth that self-righteous people spread to make the rest of us feel bad." Matsuda muttered under his breath. "So how do you get off? Don't tell me you use your imagination or something. That'd be one hell of an imagination."
"G-get… o-off?"
"You know?" Matsuda made several forward and back movements with his right hand. "Jack it off? Beat the chicken?" Midoriya stared, blinking in confusion. "Holy fucking shit, you can't tell me you've never heard of masturbation. Are you from the Sengoku era or something?"
How did this conversation get to this point? Midoriya coughed into his hand, trying his hardest to avoid eye contact. "I… don't d-do that…"
"So… what, you just go around ignoring the urges?" Matsuda rubbed his chin. "Or, is it that puberty hasn't kicked in yet for you?"
"U-um – I-I think w-we've gone o-off track –"
Matsuda waved his hand. "No, no, we're on the right track. I wanna know how it's like for other people – or maybe if it's just me."
"W-what?"
"My Quirk," Matsuda said. Midoriya looked even further confused. "You don't remember what my quirk is? We all had that class where we showed our – oh that's right. You were quirkless back then. You probably didn't show up."
Matsuda grunted, letting out a large, bear-like growl. In a manner of seconds, the boy's muscle definition grew. It grew and continued growing until his shirt was several sizes too small, on the verge of ripping, and his entire physical form was reminiscent to that of bodybuilders. The most notable difference, however, was his face and arms. His face was overridden with thick, bushy beards. His arms as well were incredibly hairy.
"My quirk is called Man Up." Matsuda's voice was deeper, far more baritone than before. "It makes my entire body flood with testosterone to develop muscles and tons of hair. It makes me pretty antsy for a fight, energized, a bit short tempered… and horny."
The boy's muscles deflated like a popped balloon. His facial hair receded back to whence they came, and his uniform was crumpled from the transformation.
"The thing is, as a side-effect, my quirk makes my body secrete at least five times more testosterone on average than most guys. I started puberty when I was six. I had a full beard when I was eleven. I constantly have to shave every morning, but the worst part is how hard it gets whenever I so much as get a glimpse of a girl's legs… or skirt… or thighs… or… well, any part, really."
"Oh."
Midoriya didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure, what to say. He'd heard of people's quirks having unintended consequences or issues that altered their biology and led to problems they themselves had no control over, but it was his first time actually realizing he knew someone like that.
"That's… hard."
"Was that supposed to be a pun?"
Izuku's eyes widened. "No – no – I was – I mean –"
"Relax," Matsuda chuckled. "You're not wrong. I wear three pairs of boxer shorts everyday, and sometimes, it's still not enough to hide it. The worst part is during P.E. classes – it's like they're trying to make my life more difficult."
"Um… have you tried, talking to specialist?"
Matsuda nodded, grimacing. "Put me on some treatment for hormone imbalance and what not. Tried to counter the testosterone production with estrogen. It… it didn't end well."
There was more to the story, but Midoriya couldn't find it in him to ask.
"So, yeah," Matsuda shrugged. "I watch a ton of porn. I read a lot of doujin and watch hentai too. I'm pretty sure there's no hentai on this planet you can name that I haven't watched. Kinda wish there was a trivia contest for that sort of thing – I'd take home the gold any day."
"S-so the reason you want a portrait of Akari-san –"
"I – I – kinda like her," Matsuda admitted. "Nah, that's an understatement. I'm head-over-heels for her. Just her looking at me makes me harder than porno of mutant-type girls hitting it with a guy with a tentacle quirk. I asked her out, you know. She says she's got a boyfriend who's in his second year in senior high. Going to one of the top hero academies to boot. And me? I'm just the guy whose quirk makes him always horny. I can't really compete with that can I?"
Matsuda clasped his hands in front of him. "So I just need a portrait, Midoriya. A picture. Something to have as a consolation. A cathartic object. I don't care if people think it's disgusting, or wrong or whatever. They haven't walked in my shoes. They don't know what it's like, to constantly feel like I feel. To have to jerk off five times a day on average just to think straight. It's not my fault I was born like this – but at least – at least I'm trying my hardest."
Midoriya Izuku's throat felt dry. This… It was more complicated than he thought. It would have been easier, if it was just a request from some sort of deviant, but Matsuda was… different.
What was the right thing to do? To draw porn of his own classmate to help a person with peculiar circumstances, or to refuse, and leave Matsuda to suffer on his own in silence? To condemn him for something that wasn't entirely in how own control – wouldn't that make Izuku like the very same people who looked down on him, simply because he'd been born without a quirk?
I'm… I'm not really hurting anyone… and… and if it's for a good cause –
"I – if… if you promise not to tell anyone, not to show anyone, not to mention it to anyone –"
The boy's face lit up. "You have my word – no one will know of Akari-chan's portrait but myself and my right hand."
Izuku cringed. "S-swear on it?"
Matsuda's hand rose to his chest. "I swear on my mutantgirl hentai collection."
His heart thumped heavily in his chest as they made their way over to a secluded corner. Littered with cigarette stubs and several empty cans of beer, it was an area the delinquents used. An area Izuku never believed he would have a reason to get near to.
He took a deep breath before grabbing the boy's drawing book, Matsuda-san, Izuku recalled his name, and reaching for his black pen.
"You're using a pen? To draw?"
"Y-yeah?"
"Why not a pencil? So you can erase mistakes?"
"My quirk… it's named Precision… it - it doesn't make mistakes."
"Pretty badass claim. Let's see if it's true."
The entire process started at once. The image was fueled from his mind. From the description of details Matsuda told him. To finding and finetuning his own mental image of Kobayashi Akari. His right hand dropped the pen upon the paper, and it moved.
The image from his mind fed directly into his hand. The drawing was not made conventionally, rather, his hand moved as though it were a printer, or typewriter, artificially printing out an image from right to left, and top to bottom. The entire process was a blur. His hand moved faster than his own brain could process. The pressure and speed of the pen on the paper was such that it felt as though the object was gliding. Skating across ice.
After a solid thirty full seconds, his hand came to a stop at the bottom, and Midoriya Izuku stared at what he had created.
"W-whoa. Fuck. It's… um… there's a word for this kind of art…. Realism? No, what was it?"
"Photorealism." Izuku whispered, staring at the portrait.
A portrait of a classmate. A portrait of a classmate so stunningly drawn it was indistinguishable from a photograph. Had Midoriya not been the one to draw it himself, he would not have believed someone actually drew it. He would have believed it was a picture with a filter applied on top. A portrait of a classmate, naked. A gag in her mouth. Her hands bound forward. An aroused, defiant look.
Each second he stared at the portrait, he felt something stir within him. An overwhelming heat rushed to his face at the realization that he drew this. I drew this.
"Yo, Midoriya, if the whole hero business doesn't pan out… you'd make a bloody fortune as an artist."
"A-h-hah…" Izuku's mind was not focusing on that. It was focusing on his art. The art he drew.
I drew this. How did I draw this?
He'd never seen a pair of female breasts before in his life, except in biology textbooks. Never accurately studied human art or anatomy. How did his quirk get all the details right, such as Akari-san's dual piercings, to her belly button being outward rather than inward?
"I don't think I've ever heard of anyone being stunned speechless by their own art before." Matsuda chuckled.
Izuku's attention came back to reality. His mind shifted gears, no longer focusing on the art, and more on the eroticism. He'd never watched porn before. It wasn't like he had the time to sit down and focus on such things like normal kids his age when he was too busy being quirkless. He'd never masturbated either as a result. Nor could he ever remember having a crush on anyone.
Was it… possible?
"Um… Matsuda-san… is it… is it possible for someone's quirk to affect them, like… have a side-effect on them, without them realizing it?"
"Well, yeah." Matsuda nodded. "I know of a girl in another school whose quirk kicked in and turned her completely invisible. Turned out she never realized it, and didn't understand why people were running away from the floating dress and shoes." The boy shook his head. "Stuff like that isn't uncommon. Why're you asking? You think your quirk has a side-effect you never noticed?"
"W-well… my quirk makes my reflexes and h-hand-eye-coordination precise. Like… r-really, really precise. I o-once caught a fly out of the air b-by its wings w-without killing it. A-another t-time, I d-dodged a baseball c-coming at m-me from b-behind without e-even knowing it was coming."
Matsuda shrugged. "Seems pretty standard."
"B-but… w-what if… my quirk also affects… m-my insides? Like r-regulating my b-blood, or – or s-stabilizing my h-heartbeat, o-or –"
"Affecting the secretion of hormones?"
Izuku nodded, slowly. "Making everything… p-precise."
"Woah. That'd be insane." Matsuda said. "Have you like… tested it out?"
"Tested?"
"Yeah. I mean, we know you can precisely mimic people's voices and body language like what you did with Bakugo in class… so that means your quirk affects your voice-box and affects your brain to be able to make you mimic someone's personality… and that means your quirk does affect your biology – so…" Matsuda hummed. "Try… making your teeth precise."
"My… teeth?"
"I mean, gotta start small. Worst case scenario you make them all fall out. Still better than messing with your stomach or brain or something."
Izuku closed his eyes. Making my teeth more precise? How would that work? How can someone's teeth be more precise?
He opened his eyes. "I-I don't think I can –" Matsuda was staring. "W-what?"
The boy wordlessly reached into his pocket, brought out a cellphone and opened the front camera. Izuku blinked, and he blinked again at his pearly white dentures. Shining dentures. More than that, the teeth were perfectly aligned. Upper and lower, all perfectly aligned when he closed his mouth.
"Wow."
"Did you feel anything happen in your mouth? Pain? Discomfort?"
"No – I – nothing."
Matsuda nodded. "Well, there's your answer. If your quirk can instantly make your teeth shine and make them perfect without you even noticing a difference… it's not hard to believe that your quirk is doing other things to your body that you have no idea is happening."
Izuku was not sure he liked that realization. He was highly uncomfortable with that realization. My quirk could be… affecting me without me realizing it?
"Anyway," Matsuda grabbed the portrait of Akari, rolling it up and slipping it into his bag. "Thanks a bunch for the help Midoriya."
"It's… it's nothing. I said I'd help anyone I could."
"Yeah, but everyone knows that words are cheap. It takes a real man to say something, and stick to it despite his reservations. And that's coming from a guy whose quirk is literally to become a manly man."
Matsuda gestured out his fist. Izuku stared for a few seconds. "Um…"
"It's a fist bump, man. Don't tell me you've never been fist-bumped."
I… haven't. I didn't have anyone to fist-bump with –
Midoriya Izuku's right hand stretched forward, his fist meeting Matsuda's on. A strange, foreign sense of exhilaration and excitement rushed through him. The fist-bump. A fist-bump. He fist-bumped someone.
Am I… making friends?
"If you ever need an expert on pornography and endocrinology, I'm your guy."
"Thanks… Matsuda-kun."
I'm making friends.
"Now on to more serious issues, how the hell have you never masturbated before?"
"U-uh, l-look at the t-time –"
"Oh, nononono – you're not going anywhere until I teach you about one of the finer aspects of being a man. So basically, there are different grip styles, but the standard version typically looks like this, and you'll need something to lubricate –"
Midoriya Izuku could feel his face burn up with each word that Matsuda spoke. His own inexperience and slight uncomfortableness with the subject matter at hand was prevalent, and he wanted to do nothing more than slam his hands over his ears and shut out the words and thoughts.
He didn't. He didn't, because he could see Matsuda's face. The excitement on it. The eagerness at which the boy narrated and talked, explaining lewd concepts and judging indecent material with the same flair as a wine connoisseur. There was fervor, and passion, and zest, the kind at which Izuku remembered having when he used to talk about heroes. The type he had when he talked about All Might.
"You…. You're really passionate about this… you Matsuda-kun?"
Matsuda scratched his chin, awkwardly. "Yeah… I guess. I haven't told anyone else this but… when I get older, I want to become an adult film star. There isn't much else I can see myself doing with my quirk. If I tried to take a normal office job or something… my libido would just get me into trouble. Rather than being the sleazy guy who everyone'd know can't keep it in his pants… I'd rather just take a job where I'd be praised for not keeping it in my pants."
Matsuda grinned, giving him a thumbs up. "So, if you haven't gotten laid when I make it big, I'll be sure to introduce you to tons of hot girls Midoriya."
Izuku, couldn't help it. His lips curled, softly into a smile. Then, they opened, and he laughed.
"Hey! I'm serious here!"
"I – I know. It's just…"
You – you've been looking for someone to talk to… about this, haven't you? Someone who'd listen… someone, who wouldn't judge you…
A person who'd be there for you.
Everyone… everyone deserved at least that, didn't they? Everyone deserved, at least one person, who'd root for them, no matter how odd, or how weird, or how unusual they were. No matter how crazy, or mad, or impossible their dreams –
Everyone deserved at least that.
"I'm… rooting for you, Matsuda-kun." Izuku said, gesturing his fist forward. "Y-you can do it. Go beyond… plus ultra."
Minoru Matsuda stared, eyes widening for several seconds. His lips, too, curled into a smile. "Thanks… Izuku."
Midoriya Izuku nodded, unable to stop himself from smiling. He knew, one day, Matsuda-kun would accomplish his dreams. Because ultimately, despite it all, Matsuda-kun wasn't a bad person. There were people in the world, who'd have done worse, much worse, with such a quirk. Who'd have used their quirk as a justification for their behavior. Matsuda-kun wasn't like those people.
To keep looking at the bright side despite getting a bad hand in life…
People like that, in Midoriya Izuku's opinion, were true heroes.
"Oh, yeah, you want to be a hero don't you Izuku? If that's the case, I gotta show you one of my favorites, it's a parody of the 18+ only hero Midnight in her debut outfit that created the regulation for how much skin hero costumes are allowed to show –"
True heroes indeed.
|A Precise Note|
"What's got you grinning so much?"
Class, for the most part, resumed as usual after the lunch break. Izuku couldn't keep still, smiling and humming softly underneath his breath.
"Kacchan, did you know there's porn for every single mutant-type quirk out there?"
Katsuki Bakugo choked on his own spit. Coughing out loud in the middle of class, before snapping his head to Izuku and staring at him as if he was looking at an alien lifeform.
"What the fuck?"
"It's kinda… nice? Don't you think? No one is left out, and – and everyone has something for them. Everyone has someone who likes something they do, and… won't judge them for liking it too."
Kacchan rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Did you fucking hit your head or something?"
"I've… just been thinking, Kacchan." Izuku said. "You were wrong. Sure, some people… some people are mean… but it's because everyone has different stories. Everyone… has their own little problems. We don't see it… and – and so, a lot of times we think someone is angry or cruel… when they're simply just… sad... and lonely."
Katsuki Bakugo snorted. The boy's gaze didn't meet Izuku's own. Midoriya felt, strangely, that Kacchan was trying to avoid meeting his gaze.
"Hey, Izuku-kun, my hands getting kinda sore again –" the same pug faced girl, what was her name again, Rainu? "Do you mind?"
"Ah, s-sorry," Izuku managed to look sheepish. "But… I'll be helping you more by not helping you… I-I read that it's better for studying if you're reading your own notes than someone else. And, I – I don't want to be the reason your grades slip, Rainu-san."
"But – my sore hands –"
Izuku reached into his bag. "I-I g-got some hot packs y-you can use? And, um… I could h-help you massage your hands after class?"
The girl in question muttered under her breath. "Great."
Izuku beamed. He felt great, to think ahead and bring hot packs for everyone that'd had sore hands. That way, rather than taking care of the symptom, by helping them write their notes, he'd tackle the disease at its source, by making their hands better. That way, they'd still be able to do their homework once they got home.
Kacchan was staring at him oddly though. Izuku wondered why it was.
"Why the bloody hell are your teeth so shiny?"
