And So He Decides
The world around her burned.
She was in a building. A house, maybe? She couldn't remember. But it was made of wood, something the fire greedily devoured.
The wooden floor beneath her cracked and splintered. Orange flames scorched inky patterns onto the battered surface and mahogany beams smoldered, burning embers within that ate away at it from the inside like parasites.
The construct groaned under its own weight as fire consumed it. If the end of the world had a sound, then Kurumi Aizawa was certain the building bellowed it. The greedy fire was merciless, its hunger near insaitiable and it knew not friend from foe. All was equal, all was fair in its destruction and malignance.
And in the midst of all those flames, heat, death and hatred, the black haired girl stood. Rivets of her black hair flowed, buffeted by the torrent of smoke, and the small child gazed at what was the end of the world with tired, dull eyes.
How many times had she tried?
Would it ever, ever change?
Fiery fingers twisted the very air with its heat, and the world blurred, the fabric of space itself distorting in its blistering presence. Smoke curled upwards in cloudy shapes of cotton candy and Kurumi grasped one, hoping to put it in her mouth to see if it tasted the same.
Smoke simply brushed past her dainty fingers.
"Hehehehe."
The air she squeezed out of her lungs felt scathing, steely edges that scraped and dragged its pointy edge through the inner walls of her throat. It was a miserable sound, a wheeze she hadn't realized she was capable of.
"Hahahahahaha."
It was laughter. And yet it was not.
It was the pained cries of a wounded animal.
It was a sorrowful recquiem howled by the wolves on a full moon.
And yet it was laughter.
A contradiction born from the shattered remnants of her sanity.
Kurumi threw her head back as she laughed. Laughed like there was no tomorrow. Tears sprung in her eyes as she laughed.
The impoverished walls of her throat scoured roughly against each other, constricting and shifting. Her laughter turned to spits and hacks as she tried to scratch at the itch within her throat.
She dragged a desiccant tongue across equally chapped lips. The arid surface had broken enough to draw blood from its uneven cracks and she savored the sweet, sweet taste of iron, tongue lapping it all up greedily.
Crack!
Black and amber eyes widened as seams, great fissures split the ceiling above her with a tremor, an upheaval magnitutes above its predecessors. Her laughter faltered as the world shook.
From behind her, a beam snapped and the building howled in pain. With a sound like a thunder-clap, a section of the ceiling caved in. Rubble spilled like a great avalanche all around her. Dust kicked up from the impact and fire drew its fingers back, hissing in indignance, but black and amber orbs widened, uncaring of the devastation as they stared up, up ahead, entranced at the view that had opened up to her.
It was like a great, arching gateway above her had opened up its vast doors. And what greeted her beyond was one of the most beautiful things she had ever had the pleasure to see.
Stars. Millions upon millions of stars. They hung like bulbs of light upon the colossal dome of the night sky.
Stars, millions of light years away, across immeasurable distances, each and every one of them struggled, competing to shine with the light of life. And it came. The assemblage of that struggle, tiny particles of light that shined, carving through the principles of space and time, against unfathomable odds, to distill upon her, upon the earth, proof that they all existed.
Events with astronomical odds of happening and yet their light had reached its fingers even to the corner of the universe.
A miracle.
A chunk of debris fell to earth and slammed onto the crown of her head. Like a marionette, whose strings had been cut, Kurumi dropped to the floor listlessly.
Blood spilled from the deep gash where it had struck her. Kurumi felt cold, so cold, despite the burning furnace all around. The flames continued to roll around her, and wisps of heat licked at her ankles tentatively.
She looked up, up at the bright sky where miracles upon miracles had piled on top of each other to create this beautiful scene.
Her vision began to blur, the stars swimming, coalescing as it shifted into pools of light. And Kurumi smiled even as her eyes dimmed.
Miracles existed.
They trully, trully did. And that was all she needed to know.
Maybe, if she tried hard enough, one small miracle would come knocing on her front door as well.
A miracle to bend the principles that governed this world.
Her amber eye burst forth with a glow far brighter than the stars above and the flames all around them.
"W-wait for me, mom…"
"Oi, let go of me," Aizawa was currently walking down the hallway of the U.A. high school. And he wasn't alone.
His posture tilted sideways awkwardly, his pace impeded as a black haired girl latched heavily onto his arm. "Come on, dad. Let me stay like this until class starts."
One coal black eye stared up at him in a heart squeezing puppy stare and Shouta Aizawa looked away, agitated and not at all confident that he could survive such a gaze for any seconds longer. His hand twitched uncomfortably in her grasp, and he ruffled his shoulder length hair with his other one, feeling quite flustered.
He was never comfortable with her displays of affection, all the more when in public. It was something he could never quite get used to.
An eye twitched as he felt Kurumi giggle into his arm. She rubbed her cheek into his sleeve with so much affection and Aizawa leaned slightly away, the scent of lilac assaulting his nose.
"Oi. I'm a teacher here! People are staring!" Half lidded eyes narrowed to slits, as he fidgeted in her iron grip.
"Are you embarrassed?" Kurumi chirped and Aizawa let out an aggravated sigh. It was still morning and he already felt like crawling into his bean bag to sleep. Throwing his head back, he tipped a small bottle over his eye, allowing a small droplet to fall upon his black iris. The eyedrop was soothing and he sighed as it placated the irritation in his dry eyes.
Students were already piling into their respective classes. Some second years and third years, who knew him threw curious gazes and subtle looks their way and Aizawa tried his best to ignore them as he stubbornly went his way.
"Eraser Head~!" Aizawa turned his head at the familiar voice that called. Yamada Hizashi. A fellow teacher and a very old friend.
His ever so pointy blond hair was a singular spike that swayed dangerously in the air. His hair sashayed almost comically with every small twitch, with every minuscule movement his head made and he strutted toward them in that ever familiar flamboyant way
Aizawa could see the concentric circles behind the orange tint of Yamada's sunglasses, gleaming merry and pleased, welcoming of an old friend. His arm was up in an enthusiastic greeting, a wide smile splitting his face, flashing perfect, white teeth.
The black haired man nodded his head in a small greeting.
"Where are you headed, Eraser?" Present Mic sang, wiggling his fingers as he strutted toward him.
"To the staff room."
"Same here. Same here. And who is that beside yo-" Yamada stilled, mouth agape, the rest of his sentence failing to leave his mouth. Concentric eyes widened to saucers before they split to slits as a wide grin spilled across his lips. He twirled on the spot, a fingerjab toward the girl beside Aizawa as he winked.
"Yo! Aizawa 2.0!"
"Present Mic!" His daughter gasped from beside him, and she ran into Yamada's open arms. She yelped as the musician lifted her up in the air, surprising her with his strength hidden in his deceptively thin arms.
"It's been too long, female listener!" Yamada laughed as Kurumi giggled, "You've grown so much!"
"I missed you too, Mikey!" Kurumi chirped in his arms, starting to get dizzy as he pivoted around on his foot.
"Mikey?!" Yamada feigned shock, his hand smacking his forehead as he dropped her gently back down, "Your sense of humor is still hilaaaaariouuus!"
Yamada straightened himself quickly when a student passed by, and he cleared his throat before he leaned down to her level. "But listen, female listener. We're at school and I'm a teacher here. Y'know?" He whispered secretively, "You can't just go around calling me Mikey."
Kurumi frowned before she nodded her head in affirmative and she whispered into his ear in return, "Mr. Mikey."
Yamada straightened himself as a laughter rumbled from his chest and Aizawa clamped his hands over his ears so as Kurumi did the same. His quirk amplified his voice, piercing their eardrums even with their hands clasped protectively over them and Aizawa could swear the glass panels that made up the hallway walls shook from the force of his laughter.
"Hilarriiiouuus!" He twirled like a ballerina before he flashed Kurumi a wink, "Let's roll with that then!"
Kurumi giggled as she shared a fist bump with him. Grabbing onto Yamada's collar, Kurumi surprised the musician with a quick kiss to the cheek, a sign of affection she often showed him, who was an uncle figure to her. Yamada grinned as he ruffled Kurumi's hair affectionately, eliciting a small protest from his daughter and Aizawa Shouta felt his eyebrows twitch involuntarily. Yamada saw his expression before he could cover it up and a sly grin made its way to his face as he jabbed his index finger toward him, drawing circles coyly in the air.
"Look, female listener. Your daddy is jealous. What, Eraser? You want a kiss too?"
"Oh?" The knowing smile on his daughter's face made him all the more irritated as he turned away with a dry huff. His shoulders hunched as Kurumi and Yamada roared with laughter at a joke he did not fully hear.
"Well. I better get to my class." He heard Kurumi say with a sigh. Aizawa looked over his shoulder as Kurumi merrily clapped hands with Yamada in a farewell and she winked at Aizawa before she was off sprinting down the hallway, "See you later!"
"No running in the hallway!" Aizawa growled after her.
"'K, daddddd!" Her voice echoed in the long hallway before she turned a corner and was gone from his sight.
Aizawa sighed, a hand combing through his unruly hair as he resumed his way to the staff room. And with a merry hum, Yamada followed suit, little steps behind him.
Almost all the students had filed into their respective classrooms and their steps were the only sounds that reverberated in the empty hall. His shoulders tensed as Yamada's whistles stopped and tired eyes gazed at the rising sun above.
"Well, looks like Fukukado's magic worked like a charm, eh?" Yamada hummed happily, "Look at her now. What a happy ball of sunshine! That female listener!"
The mic hero rubbed his cheek where Kurumi had planted a quick kiss, and Aizawa threw the blonde a dirty look. Yamada merely shrugged, a crooked grin on his face and Aizawa grunted irritably, hands stuffing into his pockets as the two resumed quietly down the now empty hallways of the U.A. High school.
The Sun rose a bit higher into the sky. A gentle breeze ruffled the leaves and the birds chirped, sweet morning calls that seeped between the slim gaps of the glass panels and into the quiet hallway.
Click-clack. Click-clack.
Their boots echoed against the pristine, impeccable floor as the two walked, and Aizawa hunched his shoulders.
Everything was just so, so-
-Peaceful.
"It's been two years already, huh?" Yamada mumbled from behind his back. His voice was subdued, his jubilant aura that clung to his form, the vibration of colorful notes that seemed to follow him wherever he went, quiet and nonexistent.
Yamada chuckled and he raked his fingers through his pointy hair as he sighed. The peaceful atmosphere was suddenly tinged with nostalgia and Aizawa closed his eyes, letting the rhythm soak his ears. The chirping of birds. The sigh of the wind. Their boots against the marble floor. He liked this, preferred this sound over any music Yamada Hizashi had ever weaved.
"Hey, Eraser." Yamada whispered.
Aizawa grunted as his feet reached the staffroom. His fingers touched the doorknob, a calloused palm carressing the cold metal and a half lidded eye flickered to the musical blonde beside him.
Present Mic's orange sunglasses flashed and he threw the black haired man a wide grin. "She grew up well."
Aizawa opened the door, "I know."
"G-good morning! Kurumi!"
"Morning, Deku!"
"I got up so early because I was so excited to see you! Ah! I m-mean, it's been so long and I'm just! You know! Amazing! Same school! W-what a coincidence!" Izuku crashed into a stuttering mess, as a healthy blush splashed his cheeks. He scratched his hair, ending up confused and struggling over his words as he awkwardly twiddled his thumbs, "Ah, y-y'know! I was so happy when I heard we ended up in the same class!"
Kurumi giggled, jabbing her elbow into his side and the green haired boy squeaked, shying away from her prodding fingers.
"It's like a dream," A coal black orb glimmered merrily, a fierce smile upon her face and Kurumi laughed as she threw an arm over his shoulder.
She grabbed his cheek and pinched it, eliciting a small protest from the freckled boy, "I was drinking water when you said you got into U.A., y'know? I ended up spewing in my dad's face!"
She hummed as an afterthought, "He wasn't very happy about it."
Izuku garbled unintelligibly, face ripe as a tomato as she played with his cheek. Kurumi watched with amusement as his freckles disappeared beneath the rush of his blood. Two years had changed nothing, and Izuku Midoriya was the same awkward boy she had known all her life.
"What's wrong, Deku?" Kurumi leaned into his face, trying to catch his beautiful emeralds with her coal black.
"K-Kurumi," Izuku stuttered, "Too close…!"
In the two years Izuku hadn't seen her, Kurumi had matured into a stunning beauty. Pale features, and lush black hair, long eyelashes and a sharp eye that seemed to pierce with its stare alone. Izuku couldn't help but blush fiercely when their eyes met.
"Too close?!" Kurumi laughed, "Are you embarrassed?!"
Izuku yelped as the ghost of her breath brushed his cheek and he wiggled his way out of her arm, emeralds staring anywhere but at her face, "What if someone sees and gets the wrong idea?!"
"Who cares?" Kurumi shrugged nonchalantly.
Izuku opened and closed his mouth like a landed fish, freckles still hidden under the plethora of red, and he tousled his curly hair agitatedly, as he looked left and right. His voice was barely above a whisper as he croaked fearfully, "W-What if Kacchan sees?"
Although Kurumi had not heard from the person himself, she had a feeling that Katsuki Bakugo would have passed the entrance exam. Probably with flying colors, she would presume. When it came down to it, there was honestly no denying his abilities and talents.
"It's none of his business, you know." Kurumi muttered apprehensively. The way Izuku seemed to cower at any mention of Bakugo irked her to no end. Take care of Deku. That had been her last request to Bakugo before she went away. But it seemed that Katsuki Bakugo had done no such thing.
Suddenly feeling her mood souring, Kurumi shook her head once before she began dragging her friend down the hall. Izuku protested lightly, but did not pull away from her grip and the two continued at a light pace, silent and peaceful down the long corridor.
"Wonder who's going to be in our class," Kurumi hummed thoughtfully, pursuing a different topic.
"The best of the best," Izuku answered nervously, "Elitists. The acceptance rate for the hero course is less than one in three hundred."
"And we're one of them," Kurumi whistled, "We're pretty amazing."
Izuku scratched his cheek. That wasn't it. Kurumi was the one who was amazing. He, on the other hand, he had simply been lucky. He was able to pass only because he was granted this power he still didn't know if he fully deserved. If he hadn't met All Might, if All Might hadn't chosen him as his successor, Izuku Midoriya wouldn't be here at all.
The green haired boy clenched his fists. That was why he had to work twice as hard as anybody else. Izuku renewed his vow.
"I can't wait!" Kurumi hummed happily, oblivious to Izuku's inner-thoughts. "Since the practical exam was heavily battle-oriented, I bet you most of our classmates are gonna be macho-dudes who are all buff and brutal and tough…"
Izuku wasn't sure if she was serious or just joking around to try and scare him.
"Oh, honey~" Kurumi cooed when she saw Izuku's face grow more nervous, "Don't worry! Big sis will protect you!"
"Especially from Katsuki Bakugo, if he ends up in our class," Kurumi added in a more serious undertone.
There were only two classes for the fabled hero course. So she wouldn't be surprised if he ended up in their class.
Kurumi was the one who lead most of the conversation as they walked down the hallway. Izuku was content enough to quietly listen and occassionally speak here and there.
At one point, between Kurumi's long curls, the black eyepatch with flowery patterns embroidered upon the surface caught Izuku's eye. Izuku already knew she was blind in her right eye, but he couldn't suppress his disappointment when he saw it. Izuku had always found Kurumi's amber eye to be very pretty, so he disliked the fact that she had covered it from view.
Izuku managed to muster up his courage to ask.
"Hey, Kurumi?"
"Hmmm?"
"Why are you wearing that eyepatch?"
Kurumi merely shrugged and didn't answer and the short conversation tapered out to awkward silence. A light frown entered her face.
Whenever the topic ventured close to Kurumi's past, of the two years she had been gone, she became very evasive and quiet. Izuku wondered if the eyepatch was one of those subjects concerning it and he decided to steer clear. Izuku had not the courage to push her for answers when he saw her frown. Anyways, he had said it himself, hadn't he?
You don't have to force yourself to tell me, Kurumi.
You came back. And that's all that matters.
Maybe one day, Kurumi would be able to tell him all about it with a smile on her face. But for now, all Izuku could do was respect her privacy.
As the conversation trickled to lighter topics and the bright smile returned to Kurumi's face, Izuku naturally pushed those thoughts out of his mind. Kurumi smiled at him and he smiled back.
"We're here," Kurumi suddenly said.
Izuku blinked.
A steel door came into view. It was giant in size, the word 1-A engraved upon the steely surface in molten brass. Its size was easily distinguishable from the doors to the other classrooms from 1-C to 1-J. Only class 1-B and 1-A boasted such impressive doors, and Kurumi idly wondered if it wasn't excessive discrimination on U.A.'s part. Its lone presence in the otherwise empty hallway made it all the more intimidating, and Kurumi grabbed the handle with a trembling breath, fingers curling over the cold metal.
She could hear the voices of her fellow students, filtering from within. Amiable chatterings and laughters hit her ears, and her heart sang, whispering promises of a new beginning. She heard Izuku gulp behind her, and she reached behind her, clasping his hand and squeezing his fingers.
She opened the door. And the two stepped into the class of 1-A.
Kurumi stared in wonder at the other students of 1-A who had already arrived before her. There was a pretty girl with stunning, pink skin, who was chatting happily with a guy with spiky, red hair. There was a giant of a man, flexing six arms. There was a girl with earphone jacks for ears, who was quietly reading in her seat. There was a blonde, whose hair continued to cackle with arcs of electricity. There was a boy with red, crimson eyes that were staring directly at her...
Oh.
Katsuki Bakugo.
The familiar blonde was lounging in his seat. He was leaning back, hands stuffed in his pockets and his feet on his desk, as he balanced himself precariously on the hindlegs of his chair.
Bakugo lazily tipped his head back, red eyes piercing and thoughtful. Crimson rubies gazed into Kurumi's coal black, before they sidled to rest on the green haired boy behind her.
Izuku flinched before he twisted his hand from Kurumi's grip.
Bakugo snorted before he kicked off his desk, and with a loud slam as his shoes hit the ground, Bakugo stomped his way toward the frozen pair.
"Sup, Bakago," Kurumi hummed, but her shoulders tensed when Bakugo strode forward menacingly, not a hint of friendliness to be found in his expression.
"You've got some nerve, Deku!" Bakugo growled as he pushed past Kurumi.
"K-Kacchan, I already told you! I don't care about your f-future plan! You can't stop me from coming here!" It was obvious Izuku was struggling to put up a brave front, but Bakugo's fury was chipping steadily at his defences as Izuku shrunk further and further into his shoes.
"You don't deserve to be here, you fucking cheater," Bakugo growled and Izuku flinched at his choice of words.
Kurumi scowled, "Watch it, Bakago."
Bakugo paid her no heed, crimson eyes silent and fierce as they bore holes into Izuku's clear emeralds. Bakugo bared his teeth, face inches from Izuku's and the freckled boy found his back against the wall as Bakugo's voice seared against his ear. Quiet enough so that Kurumi couldn't hear, but it was loud and harsh as it scraped against Izuku's eardrums.
"Don't act cocky, Deku! That power… That power doesn't even belong to you...!"
Bakugo saw Izuku's face go white and he grimaced. That was all the confirmation he needed. What All Might had said that day, as bizarre as it sounded, seemed to be the truth. I have deemed you worthy of inheriting my powers. That meant Izuku Midoriya was no longer quirkless, and quite possibly equipped with the strongest quirk this world ever knew.
It actually made perfect sense. That would easily explain how Deku had gotten into U.A. in the first place. Did that mean he was as strong as All Might? The impossible became the possible. What he had hoped was a dream had become reality. And despite it all, a small part of him refused to accept it.
Since when did all of this go wrong? Bakugo wondered darkly.
The person he admired and the person he loved. Both of them had acknowledged Izuku Midoriya over Bakugo. It didn't make sense. Nothing made much sense anymore. From Kurumi's inhumane faith in Izuku to All Might's acknowledgement.
There was nothing special about the damned nerd. Everything Izuku did, Bakugo was confident that he could do better. So why had he been chosen over Bakugo? What did Izuku have that Bakugo didn't?
Nothing! It was unfathomable to think that the boy, who had followed him around since childhood would ever be able to surpass him in anything! It was obvious that they were mistaken!
He remembered All Might's words. He remembered how Kurumi Aizawa's eye had shone, flickering with an emotion Bakugo was too scared to acknowledge the night they had reunited. So many dark emotions were weighing him down. And so Bakugo clung onto the only thing, the only hope he had left.
That promise he had made that stormy night.
A vow that probably hadn't reached her over that tumult and rain.
He had to become the number one hero.
They were mistaken and he was right.
Smoke sizzled from Bakugo's palms. His admiration for All Might's strength. This one-sided love since childhood.
Bakugo felt an incredible thirst, but with it came a storm of uncertainty. Never before had he wavered in his confidence, but whenever he saw the fire in Izuku's eyes, Bakugo felt an incomprehensible feeling of pressure. It was as if the damned nerd was planning to overtake him. And Bakugo could not acknowledge that. He didn't want to accept that! Izuku Midoriya had to be so beneath him that the idea of them competing should have been a complete joke!
Bakugo stared down his nose at the trembling figure in front of him. This trash couldn't even stand up to him. This loser would never be able to beat him. That's right. That was how things should be! Bakugo relished in the way Izuku cowered before him. And so he squashed down this feeling of uncertainty.
The one who's going to become the number one hero is me. Bakugo vowed fiercely once more.
And he would take from Izuku what was rightfully his.
Turning sharply away from Izuku, Bakugo allowed himself a glance toward Kurumi. She was frowning, disapproval in her eye, but Bakugo forced a small smile.
Watch me, Aizawa. I'll prove you wrong! I'll become the hero that surpasses All Might himself!
"E-even so!"
A voice behind him made Bakugo pause, and the smile slid off his face.
"Even so!" Izuku spoke up shakily, but there was steel in his voice, "I want to become a hero like All Might! And to that end, I'm not going to g-give up! Kacchan!"
Bakugo had forgotten for a moment. No matter how many times Bakugo pushed him down, the damned nerd would always get back to his feet and stick to his back like glue. Always. For as long as Bakugo remembered.
And Bakugo felt afraid.
His palms began to cackle with heat.
"It's a future set in stone," Kurumi spoke up, and Bakugo trembled as the black haired girl strode to Izuku's side, "Deku, you will become the greatest hero this world ever knew."
Her coal-black eye was gentle, yet strong. It was a pool of midnight, that sparkled with fierce pride, the surface clear and bright without a shred of doubt to taint it. And Bakugo felt his stomach twist.
"K-Kurumi..." Izuku fidgeted awkwardly. His moment of courage had passed, and a rosy tint colored his cheeks as the green haired boy shrunk back to his shy nature.
Kurumi smiled sweetly at Izuku, and the green haired boy smiled timidly back. And Bakugo felt bile rise in his throat.
"Don't overestimate yourself, you damned trash," Bakugo spat harshly. Rage bubbled in his stomach, his temper rearing its ugly head, covering up his fear and his palms sparked in response to his emotions.
The gentle look Kurumi had gazed at Izuku with was wiped away in an instant. Instead, she glowered at Bakugo with cold intensity, a hint of warning evident on her face. But Bakugo didn't care.
"You're just a pebble!" Bakugo growled.
"A nerd!"
"Useless!"
"Talentless!"
Each word came out louder and louder, but no matter how much venom Bakugo laced into his words, he had a gut-feeling the green haired boy wasn't going to stop.
"You damned Deku…" Bakugo hissed in frustration, "Know your place!"
Don't get cocky just because she's by your side!
Don't get ahead of yourself just because All Might has your back!
And even now, Bakugo chuckled glumly, Kurumi Aizawa was getting angry on Izuku's behalf. She had always been awfully sensitive when it came to Deku. Just one insult to Deku was enough to earn her ire. It was almost as if she was the one being degraded.
Kurumi's hair was floating upwards, the scarf around her neck twisting and churning. Her coal black eye pierced Bakugo in cold fury, as the corner of her lips curled down into a snarl, "Hey, Bakago." She snapped.
"You're a real asshole, you know that?"
Bakugo ignored the small throb in his heart, and he threw her a smirk in defiance.
"Well, someone's gotta teach Deku his place," Bakugo snarled back.
Her hair twisted and churned, dancing to a non-existent breeze, and Izuku grabbed Kurumi's shoulder, trying to placate the blackette.
"Deku's a million times better than you, Katsuki Bakugo," Kurumi glowered, "A better person than you ever will be. And a better hero."
Another throb. Bakugo bit his lips.
"I heard you kept bullying Deku during the two years I was gone," Kurumi continued on ruthlessly, "Hey, do you know that? My first impression of you wasn't that great. The first time I saw you, you and your goons were bullying Deku. You were just a bully, a typical ass, but I thought you'd changed, y'know? That you had turned over a new leaf when you started hanging out with me and Deku. And I thought, I thought we were all friends. The three of us. We were best friends, weren't we? And then, you just go and betray my trust. I was the fool for believing otherwise. I should have known a person never really changes!"
"I never…" Bakugo struggled, "I never thought of Deku as my best friend. Who would want to be friends with a loser like him? He's the one, who followed me around like a lost puppy! I only hung out with him because you were-"
"You're horrible, Bakugo!" Kurumi seethed, "You make me sick! I don't want to see your face ever again."
Bakugo's heart throbbed again. A lump formed in his throat and words stuck like glue to his throat.
"K-Kurumi! You're going too far!" Izuku squeaked, but Kurumi merely shook the green haired boy off and turned away.
"K-Kacchan!" Izuku shouted desperately, "Kacchan! She didn't mean that! She's just-"
The moment Izuku grabbed onto Bakugo's arm was the moment Bakugo lost control.
BOOM!
A single, deafening loud bang was enough to silence the entirety of Class 1-A. The chatterings stopped in an instant, as if someone had run a knife through the cheerful, bright atmosphere. All eyes swiveled to the front of the class where Bakugo stood, but the person himself paid them no heed. He stared emptily at his smoking palm before his eyes slid down dully to rest on the coughing form at his feet.
That was the first time. The first time his explosion had gone off without his command. The first time he had lost control.
Footsteps echoed loudly in the heavy silence that ensued. They stopped directly in front of him, and Bakugo had to struggle to drag his gaze up to the front.
Charcoal black met dull red. Kurumi merely stared coldly at Bakugo. None of the rage Bakugo had expected was there. Honestly he would have preferred that.
SLAP
Bakugo fell to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut. He felt a dull throb on his right cheek. It was a different kind of ache from the one in his chest. Bakugo gingerly touched his reddening cheek.
"Are you ok?" Kurumi asked quietly. Bakugo almost answered, but he bit his tongue when he realized that kindness wasn't directed toward him but to Izuku. Her eye was warm and kind, as she helped Izuku to his feet.
Bakugo nearly flinched when she turned to look at him again, and the gentle warmth bled out instantly to be replaced by coldness.
Izuku opened and closed his mouth like a landed fish beside her. But there was no sound strong enough to penetrate the suffocating tension that had formed in the air. Not him. Nor any of the classmates around them that were staring at this scene as it unfolded in front of them spoke.
But the spell broke as the classroom door slid open.
Shouta Aizawa blinked once. The scent of smoke pierced his nostrils and he wrinkled his nose in distaste.
He surveyed the scene and blinked again. A spiky haired blonde was on the ground, staring blankly at him. A green haired boy was standing awkwardly to the side, the front of his uniform charred and smoking. And his own daughter was standing over the fallen blonde, her eye wide.
"Sir!" A navy haired boy burst from his seat. His glasses flashed as the student power-walked to the front of the class in a heart beat. And with great enthusiasm, and much unneeded hand gestures, the boy coughed up all that he had seen that had transpired.
Aizawa rubbed his tired eyes as he sighed aggravatingly. Raking a hand through his long hair, he muttered almost disbelievingly, "Seriously?"
Shouta rubbed his temple. He could already feel a slight migraine forming, as he tried to understand what had happened. A moment ago, his daughter had been all sunshine and roses. And the next, this happens? Shouta decided to give up on trying to understand. He was too tired for this, he thought morosely to himself. He wanted to hurry up and get this over with and just sleep.
He lazily waved the boy with glasses back to his seat. The trio was still frozen in their spots and Shouta sighed. The easiest way to solve this?
"Detention," The black haired man drawled, "You. And you." He pointed at the spiky haired blonde and his daughter.
Kurumi was wrong if she expected him to play favorites just because she was his daughter. In here, he was a teacher before a father. And Kurumi was a student before his daughter.
Just earlier in the staff room, Power Loader had mentioned he needed some helping hands to clear out the development studio and sort out some tools.
Perfect. He'll send these two troublemakers.
Oh, how he wished to simply crawl into his bean bag and sleep. There would be no greater joy, he thought glumly.
He was last. He was last.
Izuku Midoriya was in last place.
The green haired boy chanted it like a mantra within his mind. A dull pain throbbed within his finger, the prior feeling of victory and accomplishment at having thought of channeling One for All only through his finger and the sheer brilliance of it all, brief and fleeting as it slipped from his mind and the facts, the cold hard truth, the reality came crashing down upon him.
"The person who comes last in all eight tests will be deemed to have no potential and be expelled…" His homeroom teacher's words echoed incessantly within his mind, bouncing against his eardrums as Izuku stared dumbly at the result chart in front of the murmuring crowd.
Kurumi Aizawa may have gotten detention on the first day of school.
But Izuku Midoriya had gotten expelled on the first day of school.
As soon as they had completed the quirk apprehension test, their homeroom teacher had left without another word after presenting them the results. At the number one spot, the name Momo Yaoyorozu was emblazoned proudly, followed closely by Shouto Todoroki. And all the way at the bottom was christened in bold letters- Izuku Midoriya.
Expelled. Izuku Midoriya was going to be expelled.
The rest of the evening went by in a blur. The curriculum of U.A. was indeed high-levelled, the teachers already starting their lessons even though it was the first day of school. And Izuku Midoriya would only get to nip at the bud of what he should have had the privilege of learning. All the things he would have learned, he would only get to have a taste of it.
Izuku couldn't concentrate. The teachers filed in one by one, class after class, heroes of renown and fame standing in real life in front of them. Ectoplasm, Cementoss, Midnight. And yet, Izuku could not muster any enthusiasm or excitement as he stared blankly into empty space. How could he when the daunting fact that he would not be entering these prefectures tomorrow hung like a death sentence over him?
He half expected, half wished Mr. Aizawa to come in to tell them that it had all been a joke. But despite Izuku's fervent wishes, the man never came.
The faint scent of smoke assaulted his nose. His uniform was still black and charring. A large singed hole was on the front of his blazer, courtesty of Bakugo, though the damage thankfully hadn't reached its way to his shirt. But that didn't matter, Izuku idly realized. He wouldn't be needing a new blazer now because he had been kicked out… Izuku sniffled, as he felt his eyes begin to water. Rubbing fiercely at them with the sleeve of his ruined blazer, Izuku bit his lips.
The scent of smoke brought with it the memories of what Katsuki Bakugo had said earlier in the morning.
Don't overestimate yourself, you damned trash!
Know your place!
Maybe Bakugo was right, Izuku thought glumly. Maybe he had been in over his head.
Deku means someone who can't do anything! Little Bakugo taunted him in his thoughts.
But Deku also sounds like the word for you can do it, right? A young Kurumi smiled sweetly in his memories.
Young man. I have deemed you worthy of inheriting my powers. His idol. His hero. The man who meant everything to him. All Might stretched his arms to the heavens.
Izuku, you look so cool. His mother's whisper brushed gently past his ears. Unshed tears shining all the more with pride for her only son.
Izuku buried his head in his arms, letting the tears fall at last.
Even with a cheat power like One for All, Izuku couldn't do it. He had failed, and so betrayed the trust that was put upon his shoulders. Just like Bakugo had said, Izuku was…
Somewhere, Izuku imagined hearing Bakugo's laughter. And for this moment, Izuku was deeply grateful that Bakugo and Kurumi hadn't returned to class from their detention yet. He idly wondered what sort of harsh detention they had gotten that would keep them away from class for the entirety of the day, but what did it matter? Izuku was simply thankful that he wouldn't have to put up with Bakugo's jeers.
Izuku flinched as the school bell rang. It signalled the end of a day for the rest of his classmates, but for Izuku, it tolled of something far more daunting. In ringing tones, it seemed to tell Izuku that this was the end for him.
Give up. It's over.
"Are you ok?" Uraraka Ochako, the girl he had saved during the practical exam came up to him quietly. She nibbled on her lower lip, hovering uncertainly beside Izuku's seat.
Izuku sagged his shoulders as he stared glumly at the brown haired girl. Ochako fidgeted slightly with the hem of her skirt, "Cheer up! It's not like it's over, yet!" She said.
"?"
"I mean," Ochako coughed, "The pretty girl and the angry blonde haven't taken their apprehension exams yet. We don't know the final results!"
Oh. She was talking about Kurumi and Kacchan.
What sliver of hope that had surfaced in Izuku's desperate mind was extinguished immediately. It was true that they hadn't yet taken the quirk apprehension test and thus their results weren't included in the rankings yet, but Ochako's words of comfort meant nothing to him. Not just because he doubted the two of them would ever do worse than him, but also because he didn't want to pray for his friend's failure in order for his survival. And whether he liked it or not, Katsuki Bakugo was bound to score among the highest if not the highest.
Izuku sagged in his chair and managed a weak smile.
Chairs scraped noisily against the floor as his classmates got ready to leave. Ochako was rolling her eyes, obviously thinking of something to say. Quiet whispers rippled through the class and furtive glances were being cast Izuku's way, but honestly Izuku wished they wouldn't pay him any heed.
"Everyone! Please, stay in your seats! Mr. Aizawa has instructed us to wait!" Iida Tenya suddenly burst into the class at a brisk pace, arms waving madly and choppily in the air as he addressed the class. His voice boomed across the room, halting the students midway out of their seats and prompting them all to plop back into their chairs at the vehement behest of the navy haired boy. When they were all properly seated, Iida gave an exgravant bow and hurried into his own seat.
Not long after, Shouta Aizawa lazily strode into the class. At his heels, the two people, Kurumi and Bakugo, who had been absent for almost the entire day came in. They both strode back to their respective seats without so much a glance at each other.
"Fight again," Shouta paused as he lazily surveyed the silent class in front of him, "And you'll be expelled." He said simply.
Kurumi glowered and Bakugo seethed, muttering furiously under his breath about some stupid crane heads. Izuku sweat dropped, wondering if their teacher took secret pleasure in expelling his students.
"Well, thanks to these two taking their time with their detention," Aizawa sighed as he scratched his hair, "I had them take their quirk apprehension test at a later time from the rest that took it in the morning. And this here is the final result of the rankings."
The screen behind him lit up, the familiar chart listing the ranking from the quirk appraisal test showing up. Izuku turned his eyes away, not really finding it in himself to look. A collective murmur rippled through the class and Izuku balled his fists on his laps.
Somebody poked Izuku on the back and he turned to see a small boy, who had purple balls for hair. At Izuku's inquisitive stare, Mineta Minoru simply pointed at the large screen, "Look."
Izuku threw a quick glance at the large chart. His mouth immediately fell open. As expected, Katsuki Bakugo had knocked Mezo Shojo to fourth and had taken his spot for third place.
But far below it, Izuku had to blink in order to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
19. Izuku Midoriya
20. Kurumi Aizawa
He rubbed his eyes, blinked once and twice then stared hard at the screen again, but the numbers didn't change. The meaning of it took awhile to fully register in his mind, and when he finally realized that it wasn't him, but Kurumi, who was in fact, last, Izuku felt dread instead of relief.
"Wha-?" Izuku clamped his mouth shut, accidentally biting his tongue in the process.
He gazed at where Kurumi was and found the black haired girl, staring at the screen with her hands fisted in her skirt as she chewed on her lips.
All eyes were on Kurumi now. The results were determined and there was no changing it.
"Hey, don't they look kinda similar?" Mina whispered to Kirishima, pointing at their teacher and Kurumi.
"Yeah, like that scarf and hair." Kirishima stroked his chin.
"I bet they're related," Denki Kaminari threw in his own remark.
"Look at her name, idiot," Kyouka Jirou scoffed, "It's Kurumi 'Aizawa'. The same as our teacher's."
"Oh," Kaminari scratched his head, "so they are related."
The homeroom teacher cleared his throat, eyebrows furrowing as small chatters broke out from the seams in the silence.
"Quiet." He droned and chairs creaked, throats were cleared as the class fell into rapt attention once more.
The black haired man squinted before he rubbed at his eyes. He grunted, taking his time as he fished in his pockets before retreiving a small bottle from his pocket. And uncaring of the twenty pairs of eyes watching him like hawks, the man lazily tipped an eyedrop over onto his iris and blinked it in as he sighed.
"Kurumi Aizawa." Shouta Aizawa spoke as he stuffed the small bottle back into his pocket, "Tell me, what do you think the purpose of the quirk apprehension test was?"
"…To assess the strength of our quirks?" Kurumi answered uncertainly.
"No," Shouta gazed at her dully, "It was to see how capable you were in applying your quirks to different kinds of situations."
"Creativity is the key," Shouta hummed, "But then, villains won't wait for you all day to come up with the most efficient way to defeat them. And therefore you need fast thinking, flexibility, level-headedness." The tired man listed off his fingers, "But most iimportant of all, you need to have complete understanding of your own quirks. Its strengths. Its limits. Its capabilities. Your quirks are your tools, the only weapon at your disposal."
"Dad-" Kurumi started, but Shouta Aizawa talked over her, raising his voice a little higher.
"Kurumi Aizawa, you simply lack in everything." He stated it as a fact. There was no hint of emotion in his eyes, appearing dull and almost bored. For all Kurumi knew, her father might have just been commenting about the weather.
"Everything starts from knowing yourself. From understanding your own power. With it, you can draw your starting line and improve yourself from there. But because you have so little understanding of that, no because you refuse to even know, you will never be able to grow."
"What are you trying to say-?" Kurumi trembled.
"You can't even use your quirk properly." Her father replied coldly, "Your growth is limited. You haven't even stepped on the starting line. As I said, you lack in everything."
Kurumi's nails dug into her palms. She clenched her jaws, biting the inside of her lip. Everything he said was true. Kurumi had indeed failed to utilize her quirk in any of the eight tests.
But when her father put it that way, it hurt her. Kurumi fidgeted uncomfortably under her father's cold, cruel gaze.
"Becoming a hero isn't possible for you. I advise you to look into other careers." Aizawa concluded drowsily, but his words were sharp and precise.
"Even so," Kurumi spoke after a momentary pause, "Even so, I have to become a hero."
The words she spoke felt awfully familiar to Izuku Midoriya. And within her, Izuku felt a kindred spirit, the same determination the green haired boy had to become a hero.
Izuku stared at Shouta Aizawa's expresionless face. The man tipped his head back once more, allowing another drop from his small bottle to soothe the itch in his eyes.
"You'll die." Shouta muttered after a moment's pause.
"Even so," Kurumi replied.
Bang!
The whole class was startled, shifting in their seats. Their teacher had slammed his fist against the screen behind him, charcoal black eyes, the same as Kurumi's flickering with the first hint of emotions. The bright screen, showcasing the chart flickered and then died out.
Black met black. Coal black, a perfect mirror to the other, and both sides held the other's gaze. A silent battle for dominance and both refused to yield.
Shouta's impassive face faltered, the corner of his lips curving downwards. The man closed his eyes, breaking eye-contact when he saw the expression on his daughter's face. A face of cold determination. A resounding no that was silent, yet loud in its defiance.
He remembered that face. That expression. He had seen it before.
One day. Many days after that fiery, fiery night.
After so much had been lost. After he had failed to save what mattered most in the end. After that fateful battle that had left nothing but embers and trails of ash in its wake.
Many days after that-
When the living was left to sweep up the dust-
She was sitting on the family sofa that day. Her eyes were blank and empty, and in her hands, bursts of purple and white, bundles of lilac, her mother's favorite flowers.
"She's not coming back, is she?" His daughter had asked.
Tiny fingers grasped the stems, fingers sweetly traveling up and down the brittle structure, softly carressing it as if flowers could even feel her warm, gentle touch-
"No."
The stems snapped. The father and daughter stared at the broken flowers. And there. That expression. That look he would never forget on his daughter's face.
One iris, pitch black, tinted in a dull light. The color of his eyes. And the other, the most brilliant shine of the rising Sun, the color of gold burned forevermore into his mind-
-the very same color of her mother's eyes.
Her lips thinned, the emptiness in her eyes didn't fade, but a new light seemed to enter them, sharpening with a sense of purpose.
That night, Kurumi asked him to teach her all that he knew about fighting. A hero. I want to become a hero, she said.
Time had been frozen ever since that fiery night. They had been meandering without aim, never trully moving forward and so, Shouta gladly accepted her request without much thought. It was a blessing to have something else to focus on. The scent of ashes was still present on the tip of his tongue, the fiery stench and the screams-
And so, he gave her all that he knew.
He taught her how to use the capture weapon he so favored.
He taught her his moves, his techniques, his strategies.
His daughter took them all in like a sponge. She pushed her body to its limits and continued to train until she made what he taught, hers.
Her determination baffled him. She loved heroes, but she had never really been interested in becoming a hero herself until now. So one day, Shouta became curious and he asked.
"Why do you want to become a hero?"
His daughter didn't answer.
Weeks turned into months and months bled into years.
And Kurumi Aizawa continued to learn.
Two years passed. And when Shouta had nothing left to teach her, finally, she answered.
Why do you want to become a hero?
"To find my mom's killer."
Stubborn and selfish.
Kurumi Aizawa was in every way, just like her mother.
Her mother had been just the same. She had been a stubborn woman, who refused to give up until she got what she wanted. She had been a selfish woman that had taken more than just herself with her when she left him behind.
"…Shou, will you be my…hero partner?"
A memory came unbidden. Something he had buried deep in his heart for two years and yet, it was as vivid as the day she had whispered it into his ear.
He had avoided it, pushed it away, hoping that time would do its job and let it all erode.
But it seemed, two years was not long enough.
Stubborn woman, isn't it about time you left me alone?
A ghost of the sweetest laughter curled past his ear, the most familiar scent of lilac tickling at his nose.
It was a voice as sweet as a honey-drop with an offer that had changed his life forever. Warmth gently brushed past the back of his mind.
Honey-blonde hair, a brilliant gold tumbled through the air and molten pools of amber eyes glistened with so much love -for him -for her -for the future and the woman in his memories seemed to whisper.
'Never.'
Stubborn and selfish.
She's just like you, Shouta chuckled.
That is why I'll do everything to make sure our daughter doesn't meet an end like yours.
It's a promise.
She smiled sweetly. Just as she had always done. Her eyes glistened with an emotion all too plain to see. A phantom touch. A phantom whisper. And the woman blew him a kiss.
Memories swirled, of the past that had been, but was now no more. A thousand images, so bright, so colorful, burst with emotions that fueled the beat of his heart, clashing, adjoining, smoothening into an unending cycle at the back of his mind and Aizawa opened his eyes, the bittersweet things lost in time, beckoning, calling and tugging at his heels.
What could he possibly do to convince her?
If I can't convince her, then-
A soft murmur curled past his ear, reminding him ever so strongly that he was still here, here, here. And Shouta Aizawa made a decision.
Dull eyes steeled themselves, clashing against the cold eyes of his daughter. Kurumi Aizawa trembled and the classmates around her were as one, holding their bated breath as they watched. Somewhere, further back, someone let out a shaky breath and the black haired man opened his mouth.
"Kurumi Aizawa, you are hereby expelled from U.A High School."
Hello, people.
It took so long to update this chapter, but I've been so busy with my studies, it's a miracle I was able to write this chapter at all. But here I am, and I thank you for sticking with me until the end.
In this story, unfortunately, Kurumi replaces Kouta or Kota? I can't remember his exact name, but you know. The one with the quirk that allows him to speak with animals? Yes, him. I'm sorry for any Kota fans that are reading this if there are any, but I've decided to move him to class 1-B because he honestly doesn't impact the show much.
Bear with me if there are awkward wordings or grammar that sticks out to you and please tell me because I'd be happy to correct it. English isn't really my first language, so I hope you will understand. With all that said and done, I've already planned out the story in my head. Pairings are decided. No harem, just saying. And oh, this will also have Kaminari x Jirou because I just love, love, love their chemistry.
Bye! Until next time!
And thank you again for those who read, favorited and reviewed!