This is bad. This is very bad. Toshinori knows there's NO way he can get out of this. First Young Midoriya, but that brought him a protege. This can only end badly. Obviously there are much worse people to find out than a student, but the more people know, the harder it will be to keep quiet.

"Well- You see," Midoriya began stammering before All-Might raised a hand to silence him, and allowed himself to power down. "I have been training him." Clark raised his eyebrows but remained silent, obviously recognizing that there was a story on the way. "My quirk has special properties that allow it to be passed from person to person and I had chosen Young Midoriya to receive it. His body, however required a great deal of physical training to be able to handle the power surge. As for my appearance, that is the result of a past injury that frankly, I would rather not discuss."

Clark looked severely embarrassed now, perhaps understanding that he wasn't supposed to know any of this.

"All-Might," said Midoriya. "should we be telling him all this?"

"The damage was done as soon as he arrived young Midoriya, there would be no point in trying to hide it." All-Might turned back to Clark. "You are taking this remarkably well. Young Midoriya here was half convinced I was lying."

Clark nodded before saying, "Well considering we're two guys who can break the sound barrier and walk off bombs, there isn't all that much that can really seem unusual. So you can pass on your quirk. What makes that so much stranger than any other quirk? I mean for God's sake there's a top ten hero who's a washing machine with legs. I'd frankly call that weirder than anything you've said tonight."

All-Might opened his mouth as if to respond, but nothing came to mind.

"Well, I've got some preparing to do myself for the entrance exam. See you guys later!" Clark turned to the east, before taking off over the water.

As Clark faded to a dot in the distance, All-Might powered up again, and pulled a follicle of hair from his scalp. "Now then. Eat this," he said as he held out the the hair to Midoriya.

Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean

Clark had no idea if he had enough power stored up for the entrance exam. This likely wouldn't make much difference, but staying under direct sunlight until it was time seemed like a decent idea. As he flies, Clark thinks about what he's learned today. He can't say he's not surprised, but at the same time it's not all that shocking. Quirks have proven themselves capable of absurd feats time and time again. Not to mention his own heritage. "Kelex," he said as he breached the lower atmosphere, "What can you find about All-Might in earth's databases? We're looking for heavily encrypted files, likely several years old." Kelex slides out of his pocket, where she had been disguised as a smartphone, and returned to her orb form to follow alongside him. "I'll do what I can, though I'm not sure what you hope to learn."

"He was injured in battle at one point, and it was apparently serious. If there's something still out there that could hurt him, I want to know in advance. It may pose a problem later."

"For you, this is unusually pragmatic. Why?"

"All-Might is currently the most powerful being on this planet. Someone that can hurt or potentially kill him, I think that justifies a little extra caution. However we do need to respect All-Might's privacy. Do not record or tell me anything you find not pertaining to the injury."

Far away, mainland Japan.

"Alfred, any word from Lucius?"

The butler looked up from his book as Bruce entered the room.

"Master Bruce, I implore you to reconsider this path."

Bruce's jaw tightened slightly. "You know exactly why I can't do that."

Alfred stood as Bruce turned to leave. "You have no quirk! You will be killed!"

"Call me if Lucius or UA contact you, I need that suit ready by the time classes begin."

Alfred sighed as he sank back down. "Of course."

Bruce moved through the hotel suite to his temporary workshop. There were still around thirty batarang units awaiting sharpening and polishing. As he reflected on Alfred's words he thought back to his time in Tibet. It had been soon after his parents were killed, that a man calling himself Ducard had approached Bruce with an offer. Gotham had gone too long without a hero that wasn't on the take from the Falcone and Maroni families. Ducard offered to train him to be that hero, citing his funds and newfound hatred for Gotham's underworld as ample proof of suitability. Only nine years old at the time, Bruce had agreed. He spent four years with the League of Shadows, training, learning. On New Year's Day, of the fifth year, they told Bruce to kill someone, a murderer from the village below, and he was almost killed for his refusal. Bruce had spent three weeks trekking through East Asia until he made it to the American embassy in Hong Kong. The most difficult part of the whole experience was convincing them he was in fact Bruce Wayne.

"Master Bruce," Alfred said from the door. "A package has arrived for you requiring your signature." When Bruce didn't look up, he continued. "The couriers are wearing Wayne Enterprises uniforms sir. And the crate is the size of a man." For the first time in almost five years, Bruce allowed himself to smile.