Chapter 1: How Did This Happen?
"Why are we here again?"
Kaminari glanced down at Sero, his chin in his hands and his legs swinging over the edge of the building. He glumly stared out at the skyline; the night quiet – for now.
Kaminari sighed deeply, "I don't know, man. It's one of the big questions isn't it, why are we here?" Leaning up against the barricades, he tried to make out his classmates running around below. "Why us? I mean, so many of us have been through so much and now we're all stuck here together and –"
"No, Kaminari, you idiot!" Sero interrupted suddenly, breaking the peace. "Why are we here? We're on a roof in the middle of the night, and you have a bunch of exposed wires!"
He blinked, "Oh."
"Yeah, oh. What was all that about? Did you think I meant – meaning of life or something…? Are you ok?"
"Fine! Fine, really – just… thinking 'bout stuff."
"Do you… want to talk about it?"
"…No, it's –"
Kaminari froze – his eyes catching the glimmer of a flashlight below, turning on and off.
"– Maybe later," he finished. "That's the signal – right?"
"How am I supposed to know? That's what I was asking you in the first place! I forgot!"
Kaminari hurried back to the wires, "I'm short-circuiting the building!"
"You can't just stick your hands in there!" Sero hissed, backing away from the electronics that Sato had ripped out for them earlier. "You'll short-circuit yourself!"
"And that's why you're here!" Kaminari grinned, giving him a thumbs up. "See you on the other side!"
And with a shout and a flash – the lights went out.
Kaminari stumbled back from what was once the fuse box, murmuring nonsense with that blank look upon his face.
Sero simply sighed, taping his friend's arms together and hauling him over to the edge of the building, where they could abseil down.
"This is going to be a long night."
"This is going to be a long year," Midoriya muttered to himself, staring up at UA.
The massive, H-shaped building towered before him. The sunlight reflected in the windows. He had to avert his gaze from the blinding light; it was painful to look at. The heat was bound to be stifling in there, with all that glass. Their air conditioning better be good. The gazes from the other students already resting on him were bad enough.
He ducked his head, marching forwards and trying not to catch anyone's eye.
That's it – he was inside. Home for the next… who knows how long? Midoriya certainly didn't.
For Midoriya, was a member of UA's infamous class 1-A.
In a world of superpowers, also known as Quirks, those who held the greatest strength, rose above the rest and were hailed as heroes, holding back those who used their powers for ulterior motives – the villains. And of course, with rising crime rates, schools were established to raise heroes to fight for society.
But UA was unlike any other hero school. There were three years here, but the first year was the smallest. In the second year, class A and B were both hero classes, with C and D in general studies, etc. But the first year was half that size. Class B was the only hero class, C for general studies, D for support, and E for business. So, where did that leave class A, you might ask?
Class A was the villain class.
One day, some official looked at the data, and decided that most villains started on the road to darkness when they were only teenagers, like Midoriya. And it was only getting worse. There were kids with dangerous Quirks – kids who fell in with the wrong crowd – kids manipulated and turned against the heroes – kids who tried to be the hero themselves, illegally. That official said that, well, they could train more heroes to combat the growing crisis – or they could hit the problem at its source. Find a way to stop people from taking that dark road at all.
UA was a prestigious school. Its entrance exams were tough, and classes just as challenging, but it produced outstanding heroes. If you couldn't get in for the first year, possibly because you didn't have a flashy Quirk or the skill to use it yet, you had a chance to enter for the second year, providing you had some outstanding references and grades. You could even transfer from UA's general studies department, if you proved you had what it takes.
And then UA talked to that official, or group of officials, and said, if we take in a class of delinquents from across the country, we could train them alongside our brightest – with heroic teachers and outstanding resources – and turn them around.
The program was a success. Some of the greatest support tech designers had graduated from UA's class A. Outstanding underground heroes had been produced, and over-ground ones too. Then let's not forget businessmen and women who could twist the market around their pinkie finger with the world of experiences they had gained from UA and beyond.
But if you failed class A – that was the end of the road for you. You'd be sent back to whatever hole they pulled you out of. Most often, juvie.
Class A was your last hope.
And Midoriya… he didn't belong here.
Because in a world of superhumans, Midoriya was the opposite – he didn't have a Quirk, nothing at all.
Quirkless – useless – pitiful Deku. And here he was, the red bands of class A painted onto his blazer – the large number 18 on his back. One of twenty would-be villains and thugs. Why was he one of them?
Why was he here again?
The room was deadly quiet as he slid the door open. He wasn't the last to arrive, which he was thankful for. More so when he realised Kacchan hadn't turned up yet.
He sat down on the desk, which had a new PE kit marked 18 sitting on top. 18 basically seemed to be his new name now. He stared blankly at the front of the room, waiting for the dreadful day to begin.
More arrived, slowly but surely. Each had their own remarkable story to tell, Midoriya was sure. Kacchan arrived eventually too. Midoriya quickly turned away from his furious stare as he stomped across the room and threw himself into the seat in front of him.
17.
Great! Just great.
Of course, Kacchan had to be number 17. Why couldn't he have been… 1? He always saw himself as number 1 anyway.
I'm going to be the greatest hero this world has ever seen! Blah, blah, blah – stupid Deku – go die in a ditch – blah, blah, blah.
Ha, good luck with that now. You'll have a black mark on your record for the rest of your life. Even if you do make it into class B next year, the world will always see you for your time in class A. You'll never be number one.
Never.
The time ticked by. The classroom filled up to the brim, every seat occupied. Midoriya didn't dare to glance around at his classmates (if he could even call them that). This was nothing more than a prison – at least, that was what it felt like. The trackers strapped around their ankles didn't help to convince them otherwise.
Midoriya wasn't the only one who flinched when the door was finally flung open again. Outside, was a man who couldn't possibly be their teacher, right?
But he waltzed in regardless – long, greasy, black hair, tired eyes and dull clothing; a bright yellow sleeping bag slung over his shoulder and a white scarf around his neck. He let the sleeping bag drop to the floor, the soft thud filling the silence.
"Good morning," his low, gravelly voice greeted them. "I am Mr Aizawa, your teacher."
Midoriya felt his sweat drop. For such a tired, done looking man, he radiated a strange intensity. That didn't stop Midoriya giving him a weird look when he pulled what looked like a… fruit pouch from his desk and ate… drank… most of it whilst staring back at them.
"You all know why you're here," he sighed, tossing the empty pouch into the bin beside his desk, which already had a decent number of packages within it, despite this being the first day of class.
Midoriya was tempted to say that, actually no – he didn't understand why he was here. But that would mean speaking out in front of everyone. He wasn't ready for that yet – he had to figure out how this classroom worked first.
A prolonged moment of silence reigned over them before Mr Aizawa continued, "You can graduate class A at any time. All you need is my approval, and you will be immediately transferred to class C, general studies. But you have to earn it first."
Another minute of silence passed as Mr Aizawa looked every one of his students in the eye. Midoriya hated how he lingered on him for a little longer than the others.
"Pick up your PE kit," the teacher instructed. "I'm taking you down to the changing rooms, then I'll meet you out on the green."
Everyone got up with varying enthusiasm. Midoriya could already see who they were from the way they walked. How some seemed to cower and shuffle past; how others stood tall, chin raised in defiance, as if saying that this place had no hope in changing them, or perhaps that it was an honour to be considered bad enough to get here; whilst the rest didn't seem that bothered, like they knew they'd end up here anyway.
Mr Aizawa followed them from behind, calling instructions out to those in the lead as to which way to go. They'd all individually been toured around the buildings and facilities anyway; that's why they all arrived at different times. Midoriya hadn't been listening or paying attention though. He had been too lost in his own thoughts. Now it looked like he'd get lost in this maze of a school too.
With orders to meet him past the door on the other end of the changing rooms, Mr Aizawa left them to it, allowing the boys and girls to separate into their respective rooms, and wandering off. Midoriya got changed as quickly as possible, not wanting to be shut in this situation for a second longer than necessary.
He just needed to make it through to graduation – however… long that ended up being. Maybe Mr Aizawa would soon see there had been a mistake and let him transfer to general studies! Yeah, he could seem himself there – sure, why not…?
Damn it, Kacchan – this is all your fault.
Whilst Midoriya scampered towards the exit, he walked straight into terrifying-looking number 11. He glared down at him over the top of his blue mask, and a third eye appeared on his tentacle-like hands.
Midoriya just laughed nervously and backed away, giving him a wide berth as he made his way towards the door.
"Aren't you going to get changed, 15?!" someone suddenly called out. The loud noise made Midoriya jump. He turned around to see bespectacled number 4 waving his arms at this number 15.
Midoriya met eyes with 15, and his blood ran cold.
"There are no cameras here," he said whilst Midoriya backed out of the door. "I'm not here to make the heroes' life any easier."
Midoriya heard nothing more. He marched away, not wanting to get involved, and soon found himself standing by some of the girls, before Mr Aizawa.
His mind wandered back to the changing rooms –
Student 15 – was Shoto Todoroki.
Midoriya used to be a fan of heroes. He knew all about him. Well, even if you weren't a fan of heroes, you'd still know about Shoto Todoroki, the son of the number two ranked hero, Endeavor.
It was a great scandal. Todoroki was supposedly kidnapped by a scarred villain named Dabi a few years ago. There was massive media coverage over it. When he was finally caught, Dabi slipped through the cracks, and Todoroki had a newfound hatred of heroes – specifically his own father.
Of course, he'd end up at UA. Where else would he go? He wasn't exactly a murderer like Dabi, but he was still a villain of sorts.
But of course, Midoriya had to end up in his class too. He didn't ask for this. For God's sake, it hadn't even been an hour yet, and this was already a nightmare.
Time went by, and most of the other students arrived. But not Todoroki.
Eventually, Mr Aizawa went to get the missing student himself. And after way longer than necessary, Todoroki seemingly gave up and got dressed, meeting Mr Aizawa outside and walking as slowly as he could over to the rest of them.
"Line up," Mr Aizawa sighed, and they did just that. "In your number order."
A confused minute of shuffling later, and Midoriya found himself between a guy half his height who kept ogling at the girl next to him, and Kacchan.
Because the universe just hates him.
"Get used to who you're standing next to," the teacher instructed, "Whenever you line up, it will be in this order. Be quicker next time."
Great.
"There are three reasons for you being here," said Mr Aizawa, walking up and down the line. "Firstly, your Quirk could be dangerous. Numbers 1, 2, 7, 10 and 14 – we will be working on gaining better control of your abilities. You will graduate when I believe you are no longer a danger to yourself or anyone else.
"Secondly, vigilantism. I know it sounds honourable; I know you believe you were doing the right thing – but it is illegal. In the eyes of the law, you are villains, not heroes. Without training, restraint and skill, you could have caused more problems than you fixed. Numbers 3, 4, 6, 8 and 9 – you will graduate once these messages have truly sunk in."
He stopped in front of them all, sighing deeply, "That makes ten. The other half of you are here for villainous behaviour. Argue with me all you want – it won't change a thing."
Midoriya clenched his fists. That's what they really thought of him? A villain? That wasn't right – he didn't do anything wrong! It was Kacchan who was meant to end up here – not him as well! But it had all backfired so horribly… For all the planning and everything he'd thought through, this was not an eventuality he'd even considered.
"You will graduate when I believe you understand why you ended up here – and when you can see a better path to the future."
Well then, Midoriya was going to be stuck here forever.
"Reach the end of the school year without my approval to move on, and it's an automatic fail."
Midoriya gulped.
"Do I have to explain what that means to you?"
No one answered.
"Good. Every single one of my students graduated last year. Let's see if you have what it takes."
And then the dreaded words were uttered – Quirk assessment – and Midoriya knew that this was the beginning of the end for him.
It was bad enough at his old school, Aldera Junior High. It was bound to be worse here, where half of his classmates were basically villains. The second they knew he was Quirkless, it would start all over again.
He'd gone through all that effort into ending it, once and for all, and it had boomeranged right back into his face.
Well, at least Kacchan was here. Not that Midoriya was particularly thankful for the familiar face. It was more because that was Midoriya's aim. He wanted to get Kacchan into class A. His old friend was going to make an excellent hero, that was for sure, and Midoriya had no doubt that Kacchan would transfer to class B before long. But he needed to learn a little humility before that. He couldn't be a hero and a tyrant. Kacchan was heading straight towards a life where he'd just be a bigger, crueller, meaner version of his middle school self – a bully with power. Class A would teach him the difference – right? With the added bonus of him likely being unable to make the highest hero ranks.
Of course, Midoriya never planned that he would also be in class A.
"Oh, and I forgot to mention," Mr Aizawa suddenly said, interrupting them as the first two made their way to the start of the sprint exercise. "Last place in this assessment will get immediate detention."
There was a murmur of complaint that Midoriya didn't dare participate in.
"And for you, that means helping class B wash their dishes tonight."
Mr Aizawa's terrifying grin made the prospect seem far worse than it probably was. And all of a sudden, Midoriya had a newfound motivation to do well in this test.
But that didn't stop Kacchan accidently blowing up in Midoriya's face whilst he used his Quirk for extra speed in the sprint. It certainly didn't help when he almost burnt through Midoriya's shoes whilst he was supposed to hold his feet down during a sit-up exercise. And Midoriya was most likely still sitting dead last when, in the eight-hundred metres, Kacchan tripped him up and Midoriya got a face full of concrete.
Midoriya caught Mr Aizawa's gaze after he stood back up, rubbing the blood off the gash in his cheek with the back of his sleeve before he carried on. Somehow, he still didn't come last.
"Number 17," Mr Aizawa called out before they moved onto the ball toss.
"Why don't you use my damn name?" Kacchan hissed.
"At the moment, you're not acting like someone that deserves it," Mr Aizawa droned with no remorse. "Care to explain why you're treating 18 like this? That's a nasty cut on his face and don't think I haven't noticed all the scorch marks on his clothes."
Midoriya felt the rest of the class' eyes on the back of his head. He kept his gaze on Mr Aizawa.
Kacchan simply snarled, "I'm not doing anything he doesn't deserve."
Midoriya didn't say a word – didn't move a muscle – didn't avert his eyes.
"I know how the two of you ended up here. Neither of you will be going anywhere until you can find a way to work out these differences. Especially you, 17."
Well, Midoriya really was going to die here. At least he was taking Kacchan down with him.
"Detention," Mr Aizawa snapped to Kacchan. "And don't come last, or else you'll be doing two days in a row."
Midoriya was one hundred percent prepared for Kacchan to immediately take it out on him. Since, once again, it was his fault. But the fact that he just clenched his fists, seething in silence and glaring at him from the corner of his eyes, almost made it worse.
The rest of the assessments passed without any problems, which just made Midoriya nervous. Especially when short, purple haired number 19 ended up scoring incredibly high in that side-to-side jumping activity. Midoriya was doomed. He was going to end up in detention with Kacchan. It was even more of a punishment.
"Ok, here are your scores," Mr Aizawa sighed, and with the touch of a button, the leader board appeared as a hologram before him.
Midoriya winced, preparing himself for the worse, before slowly allowing his eyes to gaze up and find that –
– he wasn't last?
"15 – detention. Next time, put in a little more effort."
Todoroki didn't seem so bothered, but Midoriya was relieved. He wasn't last! He was third to last! The invisible girl hadn't done as well as him either! Well, it made sense, considering her Quirk didn't give her any advantage in these tests. Although Midoriya couldn't see her, from her clothes, she seemed just a little smaller and weaker than him.
"Number 20, I expected more from you. I won't let it slide next time. And 19 – I'm watching you."
Well, that wasn't ominous at all.
The tall girl with the ponytail (number 20) glared down at 19 (the short, purple boy). Gosh, Midoriya really needed to learn their names.
Mr Aizawa handed a note to Midoriya. "Head up to Recovery Girl and get that scratch fixed up. I assume you know the way."
Midoriya nodded, even though he didn't at all.
His teacher turned back to the rest of them. "I need all of you to be trying your hardest if you want a hope in graduating. This is your first warning."
"What about him?" 19 pointed up at Midoriya, who flinched at the sudden proclamation, "He didn't even use his Quirk."
"18 doesn't have a Quirk."
Well, that just happened.
"You barely scored higher than him, 19 – I don't know why you seem so smug about it. You're on thin ice. 18 put in more effort than most of you. Any bigotry towards someone's Quirk, or lack of one, will not be tolerated here. Do you understand?"
Midoriya blinked. He… hadn't expected that.
"I said, do you understand?"
There was a chorus of: "Yes, Sir." – before they were finally dismissed. Midoriya almost ran back to the changing rooms. He got changed so quickly that most hadn't even made it inside before he was gone, ready to roam the maze in search of Recovery Girl.
Maybe… this won't be so bad after all.
But that was only the beginning.
