"You know, that sounded a bit harsh." Setsuna said, glancing at Shoto.
"Oh." He replied, his unscarred eye widening. "Did it really? I guess I'll apologize later."
"Nah man, just don't be that curt to everyone. Izuku's a big boy, he can handle it—but not everyone can, though, so be careful."
Shoto nodded before turning his eyes back down the path. She was thankful he did—her cheeks were still a bit red from earlier, and she needed time to cool down. Izuku's friend had caught her off guard.
She wasn't sure why she did it—holding Izuku's faux-hand. It'd been a spur of the moment decision, and looking back, she wanted to brain herself with a brick. He'd just seemed so sad, she couldn't help herself. Of course, he'd been off-kilter for a minute, but something was off this morning.
Never before had she seen him with his prosthetic so much. He'd never cared for it much in the past—and more than that, he'd actively dismissed it. Maybe it'd been a little arbitrary, but in their late-night talks he'd always maintained his desire to be something special. A symbol for the forgotten, the disabled. It was one of his many idiosyncrasies that she adored.
So, seeing it on him where he swore he wouldn't need it… it left her at a loss. There wasn't much she could do for him besides being there, but she did her best. If she had it her way, she would've grabbed his real fingers—but she was his left hand. He needed her at his side, and she wouldn't abandon that duty for the world.
Closing her eyes, she made a silent prayer. She hoped Izuku, wherever or whoever he was with, managed to figure himself out. He could handle himself without her… but she wished he didn't have to.
A warm arm halted her absent-minded march, ripping her from her thoughts. She blinked—she was mere inches from head-butting a glass door.
"Are you alright? Did you get any sleep?" Shoto asked, before opening the door with the same hand he'd saved her with. She worked her jaw as she glanced at the threshold, surprised by the manual doors. A place like this should've had automatics, one might think.
"Thanks—and yes. I'm A-Okay. No problem ova' 'ere."
Shoto raised an unscarred eyebrow.
"That's weird. I'm a nervous wreck."
She laughed, but he didn't match her; not even with a chortle. His stoicism didn't deter her, however—in fact, his seriousness only made her smile wider. The simple idea that Shoto, son of Japan's greatest living hero, was nervous for school made her feel better.
Glancing around, she took stock of the building's lobby. Unlike the standard classes, 1Z had a dedicated building. It lay on the edge of campus, a good half-mile away from the core facility.
It sported a few windows, but for the most part, appeared rather bare-bones. In that sense, it was somewhat like the colosseum, though not nearly so spartan. The lobby lacked decor beyond a few office necessities—though there was the faintest scent of tangerines in the air.
To their right were two elevators, vending machines hung around the left, and a lobby desk crowned the room. Between the lobby desk and the vending machines was a hallway marked as "Miscellaneous." They were the only ones in sight.
"Uhm… do you know where to go?" Setsuna asked, glancing at Shoto as the boy finished his own observations. Before he could even open his mouth, however, a shout jumped between them.
"Upstairs! Left elevator! Third floor!" A large boy said, slamming open the glass doors behind them. The handle almost impacted the wall with a bone-jarring crack, but the brittle material remained whole and unbroken thanks to a sudden puff of wind. Beside her, Shoto scowled.
"Yoarashi." He said, and Setsuna perked up. Despite Shoto's rather gruff pronunciation, Setsuna recognized the name immediately. The behemoth of a highschooler cracked a grin and threw out two massive hands for high-fives.
When Shoto didn't move to accept his greeting, Setsuna stepped up to the plate. Giving the massive boy a double high-five, she offered him the enthusiasm of two people. It was only fair—she loved Shoto, but that boy wasn't even social enough to constitute one.
"Good morning! I'm Tokage. Setsuna Tokage. You're Whirlwind's son, right? That's so cool!"
"Hell yeah it is!" The boy replied, before turning to Shoto. "Almost as cool as having Endeavor as your dad! You know, I almost got close enough to ask for his autograph once. Nearly got killed for the trouble, haha! Those Endeavor crowds are something else. Just as wild as the hero, as I always say! Haha!"
Between Yoarashi's laughter and Shoto's painful silence, Setsuna wanted to die. Before his silence put Yoarashi off, however, she stepped on Shoto's shoe. She pushed every ounce of her willpower through her glare, reminding Shoto of what she'd asked of him not ten minutes ago.
The boy nearly missed her expression entirely, but when he saw it, he saw it. Sighing, he offered the tall boy a handshake.
"I prefer Whirlwind, personally."
Yoarashi laughed, nearly ripping Shoto's shoulder out of its socket as he seized his hand.
"You're in for a good surprise, then! Now c'mon! Off we go!" He said, before grabbing them both by the bicep and hauling them over to the elevator.
When he set them down inside, its interior's sheer width surprised her. While a normal elevator might've been as wide as she was tall, this one easily quintupled that. There was no question in her mind that a small garage could fit inside—though she had to wonder why. As far as she knew, nobody in 1Z was that large.
Shoto inched away from the boy as he slapped the "Third Floor" button, but Yoarashi barely noticed. With a single extraordinary step, he breached their personal space like an excited puppy.
"So, you beat Vlad King, right?" He asked. There was an odd smell coming from him. It wasn't strictly unpleasant, but with the way he towered over her, very little of his charisma struck Setsuna as pleasant. Without thinking, she gave a light push to his chest and put some space between them.
What she thought of as a harmless little move, however, seemed more like a back-handed slap to him. His jolly seemed to liquify, then harden into terrified stone. Like an automaton with faulty springs, he bowed so fast that his upper body startled the wind between them—without his quirk. The sudden breeze blew her bangs from her face.
"Sorry! Was I in your space? I apologize!" He said, nearly shouting. His sudden emotional pivot, much like the wind, startled her.
"Oh wow! U-uhm… yeah? Yeah, ah… no, no it's alright! Please be more mindful next time!"
His bow was as deep as his knees. Her response didn't budge him an inch.
"Of course! So sorry!"
With his gaze locked onto the floor, she could glance to Shoto—only to see the most bewildered expression she'd ever seen. In any other circumstance, she might've laughed, but she could hardly breath with Yoarashi bent like that. Unsure of what to do, she patted him on the shoulder.
"But for your information: Yes, I did fight Vlad King."
Ding!
The elevator door opened, and suddenly Yoarashi was upright like nothing had even happened. Setsuna and Shoto only had a moment to witness 1Z's room before Yoarashi ran in, hollering at the top of his lungs.
"Father!"
[x]
Yoarashi was a fool, Shoto decided, though good-hearted. Something hurt inside of him, seeing the tall boy reach out to his father. He couldn't even bring himself to feel surprised, seeing Whirlwind—more than anything, he felt awkward.
In the colosseum, Whirlwind had been a monumental surprise—a living legend brought to life. Up close, however, he just seemed old. While he filled out his suit like any young man might've, there was an otherwise unignorable slouch to his shoulders. It reminded Shoto of his maternal grandfather—when his father still allowed him to visit. His suit was nearly as old-looking as his face, with just as many well-worn grooves and scars littering the chest piece as his cheeks.
To top it off, his massive, square jaw was hollow with paper-thin cheeks and nearly translucent skin. It left him feeling less than, rather than greater. Shoto supposed it didn't matter much—but he was under the impression U.A. only worked with active heroes, rather than the retired.
Stepping out onto the floor, he noted how there weren't any walls. Well, there were load-bearing supports sprinkled throughout—but the third floor was more reminiscent of a parking garage than a classroom hall. Wide open, high ceiling, some furniture, and absolutely zero personality.
He rather liked it.
"Inasa! Find your way here alright?" Whirlwind boomed, his echo richeting across the wide open room. His room had a vibrant quality to it, despite his age.
"Yes sir! Your directions were perfect, and I used them to guide Ms. Tokage and Endeavor's son to our floor, sir!"
"Endeavor's kid, eh?" Another voice said, dry and far younger. Out from behind the towering form of the Yoarashi men, a far less imposing man appeared. Dressed in all beige and sporting some yellow aviators, Hawks appeared. Crimson wings hung around his shoulders like a cape, nearly going unnoticed.
Beside him, Setsuna gasped.
"Dude!" She whispered-shouted, tugging on his elbow's sleeve. "That's freaking Hawks! He's the fastest flyer in Japan!"
Shoto dipped his head in response—both to Setsuna's comment and Hawks's. The Wing Hero only shrugged in response.
"Cool, I guess. Hope you don't think you're getting special treatment." Hawks said, before side-eyeing the Yoarashi men. "Can't guarantee this guy though. Are ya spoiling your boy, Swirly?"
Whirlwind seemed to consider it before shaking his head.
"No son of mine would need babying." Whirlwind said, patting Yoarashi on the shoulder. The boy was as stiff as a board beside his father, but held none of the discomfort Shoto was accustomed to.
"Yes sir!" Yoarashi shouted. Setsuna winced.
"Will he… do that everytime?"
"If he does, I'm fucking out." Another voice said, quiet and scratchy. A glance to Shoto's side revealed the only other student there before them—a short, well-built blond. Well, he might not have been short, but he slouched enough to make it seem like it.
At a glance, Shoto couldn't put a face to a name—but there was something there. Something familiar—or, if not familiar, notable. Something twisted in his gut, seeing the boy, but he wasn't sure if it was a compass needle or his small intestine.
Before he or Setsuna could reply, the elevator rang. Glancing at it, Shoto scrunched his brow. There was only one elevator.
The sliding doors came apart before he could question it further, however, and revealed the rest of the class. They were quick to file in, and surprisingly orderly. The first to come out was a tall blue-haired man, and it quickly became clear why the elevator remained so controlled.
Shoto tried his best. He really did—he'd even taken the time to memorize his classmates' names before coming to school—but he just couldn't.
He counted five additional heads, but he could only put a name to two.
Firstly, the blue-haired line-leader, who expressed himself through his hands more so than words.
Then came Momo Yaoyorozu, the canon-girl. Following her came a second girl—this one a ginger. He gave each a nod on their way in.
On the ginger's tail was a round-faced blonde boy. He was around Shoto's build, though there was a look in his eyes that reminded Shoto of used dish water. There was a slight gap between the blond's entrance and the next's, but Shoto couldn't blame them. He wouldn't want to follow the blond too closely behind either.
Juzo Honenuki had, perhaps, the most startling appearance that Shoto had ever seen. Still, he barely felt his surprise lurch. He'd seen a more grotesque face in the mirror. The boy was also blond, like his predecessor, but his hair was far less vibrant—almost beige. His uniqueness granted him no lips to speak of, yet he had an approximation of a small smile at all times.
So, that made himself, Set, the spikey blond, the dish-water blond, the beige-blond, the bluenette, Yaoyorozu, and the ginger girl. Oh, and of course the son of Whirlwind.
Nine people. An odd number—in more ways than one.
"Ah! And that makes a full class!" Whirlwind said. Beside him, Yoarashi clicked his heels to attention, an american-style salute gluing itself to his forehead. "Gather round, kids! Let's introduce ourselves!"
Everyone gathered around them, a small chatter formulating within the new group. Whispers over Hawks and Whirlwind's appearance jumped between the girls like static shocks, and even the boys seemed a bit surprised.
Was Hawks really such a big deal? He knew Whirlwind from history class, but the Wing Hero didn't seem much older than them. He supposed, since he knew the man's epithet, then he must be a big deal—but it was still odd.
What his peers ended up formulating was a relatively clean semi-circle, centering around himself and Setsuna. Yoarashi stayed by his father's side. Between them, they left a gap—not one big enough for the large boy, but the perfect size for a hypothetical tenth classmate.
Whirlwind clapped, drawing everyone's attention. He pointed one gnarled finger at the left wing of the semi-circle.
"So! Names, quirk, inspiration, goals! Who are you!?"
The bluenette, not very different from Yoarashi, clicked his heels together at attention. His hands met at the small of his back, and he pressed his sternum outward.
"Hello! My name is Tenya Iida, and my quirk is Engine! My older brother is Ingenium, and I'd like to scratch his legacy one day!"
Oh, Shoto thought. Another Legacy hero. Was anyone else here a Legacy, or did that make them a trinity?
Setsuna turned to him—she didn't say anything, but he could decipher the mischief in her eyes with ease.
"Why are all the Legacy Heroes so odd?" She asked in silence. To his chagrin, he could offer no counterargument. Between passionate Yoarashi, orderly Iida, and his own idiosyncrasies—they made an odd group.
"Failure! I asked for names! Plural! What's your hero name?"
The question seemed to deflate the bluenette. He floundered for an answer, and the brief confusion took the wind out of his sails.
"I-I don't have one, sir. I would like to, but I didn't know I would be questioned on that today, sir!"
Whirlwind scoffed, his near-ancient face crinkling in disappointment. Turning towards the opposite end of their group, he pointed at the ginger girl.
"Ma'am, what is your hero name?"
"Uh—Battle Fist, sir." She replied, eyes wide. For emphasis, she raised a single hand and flexed. Like a balloon, her fist inflated, growing to be nearly the size of her torso.
Whirlwind, for his part, nodded with surprising seriousness.
"Respectable, Ms. Kendo. How old were you when you came up with that?"
Kendo shrunk her fist back to normal proportions before pinching her skirt, a blush on her face. She mumbled something, but Shoto didn't catch it.
"Ma'am! Speak with your chest!" Whirlwind rumbled. There was a small breeze in the air—not unlike the one around his son. Kendo quit fidgeting in an instant, composing herself somewhat like Iida—but not nearly as tense as Yoarashi.
"Sorry sir! I… I was eight." Kendo said, a pinkness on her cheeks.
"Glad to hear it, cadet." Whirlwind said, spinning back to Iida. "So Ms. Kendo's known her hero name for half her life, and you don't have an answer for me today? Unacceptable. Everyone in this room will have to find an answer in the next hour—or you'll be rightly embarrassed."
"Ah…" Setsuna began, butting in. "...What'll be embarrassing us, sir? I thought we'd just talk about schedules, rules, expectations… y'know, school stuff for orientation. Am I wrong?"
"Just assume you're always wrong when you're standing next to Swirly. He was in the top ten longer than you've been out of diapers. Even when you know you're right, wait on his word." Hawks said, stepping into the circle beside the senior hero.
"Thank you, Lieutenant." Whirlwind said.
"It wasn't a compliment."
"Anyways! Yes, Ms. Tokage, you're mistaken. Before we do all of that school-mandated nonsense, we have to bark up Nedzu's tree. In two hours, we'll be doing a class interview with the national news. Be sure to have a name, because if you don't, you're going to look like a fool."
Murmurs exploded from his peers, questions and concerns made apparent as not a single person remained quiet—bar himself and one spikey-haired blond. Each student had an otherwise unique reaction, either waving their hands or backstepping or even asking for exemption. Before it could boil over into a true argument, however, Hawks unfurled his wings.
"Whirlwind asked Iida all that crap because it's what an interviewer might ask. Take the next hour to find your own responses. This is non-negotiable, and I won't deal with your petulant complaints. Imma go grab a coffee now, and by the time I get back, you brats had better be ready to head to Ground Zero."
With a single beat of his wings, Hawks zipped out a window and out of sight. Shoto glanced back to where Whirlwind had been mere moments ago, but only found vacant space. Spinning around, he found the ancient man somehow within the elevator, the doors closing behind him.
"Did you see him move?" Shoto asked Setsuna, to which he received a surprised shake of her head.
"No? I-I.. I didn't even notice he was gone! Dang."
"That's my pops for ya!" Yoarashi said, squeezing himself in the small gap between them. There was a small odor to him that Shoto couldn't place. While it wasn't bad, the fact that he was smelling it at all irritated him. In unison with Setsuna, he stepped away from the boy. Unlike him, however, Setsuna engaged him verbally. She was brave for that, he supposed.
"Your dads pretty quick, Yoa. Say, what's your hero name gonna be?"
"Thanks! I've been letting a few names swirl around up there, ya know, but I think I know who I want to introduce myself as. I am Gale Force!"
"Damn," Honenuki said, stepping into their little group. "That kind of fucks. And here I am calling myself Mudman. How 'bout you guys?"
Shoto had nothing to offer him. He'd never really given it much thought. Still, despite his own thoughtlessness, he was surprised to see Setsuna mirror his empty response.
"Ah… I guess I've got some… stuff swirling up here… but nothing's stolen my heart, I guess. I didn't think we'd have to pick out our hero names today. Isn't the exam in two months?"
"Those were my thoughts exactly! I had no clue about an interview—I would've liked some notice. I would've cleaned up a bit more." Yaoyorozu said, joining Setsuna on her opposite side. Behind her was the ginger girl, Kendo, who nodded along.
"For real. I'm thankful I at least had a name in mind. Gosh—this is kinda freaky, isn't it? Going on the news?"
Shoto tuned out the rest of the conversation as all the girls began chatting amongst themselves. Honenuki and Yoarashi, for their part, wandered off to talk to the other men—but Shoto didn't bother.
His mind was far off, however, as the reality of the interview set in. He needed a hero name? Now?
It just seemed so… sudden. Without one prepared in advance, Shoto felt naked. How did people normally name themselves? Gale Force and Battle Fist made sense, sure. He could see the logical path they took to decide on those—but he couldn't see his own path. He was hot and cold. Should he just call himself Icy-Hot, like Setsuna sometimes did?'
No, he decided. He didn't resonate with that.
There was a flurry off to his left, and Hawks landed back inside with a tiny gust of wind. In one hand was a clipboard, and in the other a steaming cup of coffee. There was a decent distance between them, but Shoto recognized the brand—it was from a place his father enjoyed, but its presence puzzled him.
It was from a small shop across the prefect. Normally, he might've just assumed he'd bought the coffee earlier and retrieved it from his car—but who was he kidding? Hawks had no need for a car; and worse yet, the caffeine was still steaming.
"Alright; you brats figured your hero names out yet?"
"Not even a little." Shoto replied, to which he received a variety of reactions—but Hawks's response was all he cared to remember.
The Wing Hero didn't even say anything; all he did was tilt down his aviators and give Shoto a second look. With a shrug, he tapped his clipboard with a single floating feather.
"Cool. Any of y'all know anything about Ground Beta?"
Setsuna raised a half-hearted hand.
"It's a testing site where… someone destroyed a Zero Pointer."
Shoto gave her a confused glance. He hadn't heard anything about that—where'd she picked up on that tidbit? Surely he would've known if someone had destroyed a damn Zero Pointer.
What the hell was a Zero Pointer?
He found solace in Hawks, who didn't even seem to register the second half of her statement.
"Yep. Normie testing site. It's where we're going—do you know the way, or am I gonna have to lead?"
Setsuna shook her head, and Shoto could feel Hawks's sheer disappointment.
"Alright brats. Be quick—I'm only going to hold back a little. It's on the opposite end of campus."
In a single beat of his wings, Hawks flew right back out from where he came. Unlike last time, however, he stayed in-sight from the window. Quickly, however, it became apparent that if they dawdled, he'd leave them behind anyway.
Without a second thought, he sprinted to the window Hawks escaped from and leapt out. He heard a few gasps of surprise behind him, but he paid them no mind. As soon as his feet met the open air, an ice slide crackled to life beneath him. Perhaps he shouldn't be using his quirk without permission, but Hawks had literally just flown away—so who would reprimand him?
He only bothered to give a single look behind him, for fear of losing sight of Hawks. Already, most of 1Z was riding the slide out behind him, and only one person seemed actively against the liberal quirk use—Iida. Otherwise, he got to see nearly each of his classmates using their quirks to catch up in tandem.
Kendo used her hands to spring herself forward in a high-powered summersault. Setsuna flew in a storm of limbs. The quiet, spikey blonde had his palms aimed behind him, their little explosions propelling him forward. Even Iida, after a moment, gave in to the peer pressure and used the slide. It was awkward, the way he pulled his pants cuffs up above his knees, but his quirk was cool. Engine must've given his calves jet-style propulsion, and already he nearly caught up with sheer sprinting speed, despite starting last.
Hawks, after a moment, grew no further away—but no closer, either. There was a good few hundred meters between them, but that didn't sit right with Shoto. Even though the man said he'd only hold back "a little," his current speed just didn't check out—not after Shoto saw that coffee. How fast was Hawks, really?
Shoto didn't put his whole attention into his chase—while he could've gone faster by turning everything to ice, it'd only debilitated his peers. Still, there was a little yearning in his heart that hadn't been there a moment before. Hawks, if that coffee was authentic, was a colleague of his father's. He wanted to know how he stacked up—and consequently, his legs churned beneath him even faster. Ice encased his feet as he mimicked the spiky blond's stance, propelling flames pushing him even faster as a thin ice path grew beneath his feet.
If people hadn't been following him, he might've put even more flames into the chase. Before he knew it, however, a crowd gathered at his heels and what he theorized as Ground Zero grew close. Before he even had the chance to drop a gear, the distant buildings elongated, growing to tower over him in seconds.
Before he could crash, however, feathers pressed against his shoulders, slowing him to a stop.
Hawks descended before him like an angel, the near-noon sun turning his hair a shade of gold from behind. His eyebrow quirked as his feathers joined the tips of his opposing wings. He remained hovering as he looked down on Shoto.
"You're an odd one, Todoroki. At a glance… you're nothing like pops. And then you get competitive in a race, and something just… slips out. Odd."
"I'm nothing like my father." Shoto replied. Behind him, 1Z slowed to a stop.
"Say what you want. You're still blood." Hawks said, before turning to the class and landing. When his wings collapsed back into his back, a collective gasp rang through the students. While the attention had been on Hawks, no one had quite noticed the… environment.
Of course, the shock of Ground Beta being a full-scale city hit them all, but that wasn't the core of their surprise.
There was a wood platform placed in the middle of the street. A camera crew and about half a dozen people were waving them over, yet none of them seemed to notice the… mess.
Surrounding the wooden platform and piled to mountainous proportions behind them, green scrap metal littered everything. It was like a grenade the size of the Pyramid of Giza had exploded, and the proportionally-sized shrapnel were collected and dumped here. A glance up at the tall buildings also brought a sense of unease. It was like someone gave Mount Lady a sander, and she'd pressed it into surrounding buildings. They bore the scars of stripped paint, broken doors and windows, and even deep gouges.
Whirlwind stepped out from behind a car-sized scrap, a stopwatch in hand.
"Lieutenant!" He called, his inside-voice loud enough to echo around the faux-streets. "What time did you leave?"
"About 8:26."
"Ah, good… good. Well, what are you waiting for, cadets? Get on over here! We need to prepare."
1Z followed his beck and call, and Shoto soon found himself on stage, shaking the hands of several people he'd rather not have. Someone pulled him aside and asked him half a dozen questions, none of which he felt he studied for.
Like the rest of his class, a bossy man and an even bossier woman strung him along like a puppet. He didn't know how long he sat in a makeup chair for, but even a minute would've felt too long. The fact that between him sitting and standing, the sun shifted in the sky did not bode well.
Some of his classmates grew to embrace the attention—Yaoyorozu and Yoarashi especially; and even Iida grew comfortable under the scrutiny of the crew. Yaoyorozu chatted up the makeup artist during her turn in the chair, and Shoto swore they somehow became friends. He didn't even remember who'd done his makeup. Their face was blank in his mind.
Yoarashi and Iida thrived under the camera crew's instruction, and Shoto wondered if they'd met before. They worked together in a way Shoto hadn't seen with any of the others; though perhaps he just wasn't vigilant enough. Setsuna came to speak with him on a few occasions, but more often than not one of the girls pulled her away.
He supposed that made sense. They were girls. Girls had things in common, if he was to believe his sister. Still, he might've appreciated a bit more of her attention. Without her, he felt lost in his thoughts.
It wasn't that he felt worried—really, he was barely bothered. Still, his mind nagged at him, whispering quandaries he'd rather ignore. Hawks's comments about his father. His incoming hero name—of which he hadn't even begun to think of ideas for—and even his general future. As simple as he knew it to be, there was a fugue around those thoughts. He just… couldn't imagine the future. In spurts of inspiration, he'd seen glimpses of it, but he felt otherwise drained of such creativity today.
All he knew for certain was that he didn't want to be his father…
…But if that was the whole, singular truth, why did he want to be a hero at all? Surely, if Shoto studied at U.A., filed for a license, and began to hunt down criminals, his Venn Diagram with his father would be closer to a circle than a pair. That meant, since he'd already decided on this path, his fate was sealed, no? Hawks had said it himself. Despite the obvious, there was something in him that was inevitably his father.
The appearance of another group cut off that string of concerns. They were taller, broader, and their eyes had a sharpness to them he didn't quite recognize in anyone his age bar one green-haired amputee.
Of course, the first he recognized with ease.
"Mirio!" Setsuna called, leaping away from the cursing make-up artist as the blond teen hopped up the platform's ledge. She slapped the skin of Mirio's palm—or rather, she tried. She fazed straight through him, nearly losing her balance as the boy laughed his ass off.
"Togata." He offered, and the boy threw him a thumbs up as his companions joined his sides.
As Setsuna stabilized, her makeup artist dragged her back to her chair kicking and screaming. They'd garnered a few curious glances, but only when the trio introduced themselves to all did 1Z's curiosity turn to genuine surprise.
"Yo kids. I'm Mirio! This here beside me is Amajiki, and this blue thing is Hado."
Yoarashi nearly frontflipped with the force of his bow—apparently, he'd been holding back in the elevator. His forehead nearly kissed the ground as he greeted the trio.
"The Big Three! It's an honor to meet you!"
Togata glanced towards Shoto, being the only person he somewhat knew in the area for help. He could only offer the boy a shrug. Despite Shoto's lackluster assistance, Togata seemed to be a pro.
"Thanks! Whirlwind's kid, huh? Didn't know the man had one of you left in him!"
"Yoarashi men have the vitality of an ox, sir!" He replied. Even Togata, with all his grace, couldn't handle that comment. Sidestepping the still-bowing Yoarashi, he greeted the rest of the students.
Only then did 1Z seem to understand that they were meeting the best of the best, and Shoto was worse off for it. Honenuki bumped his elbow with his own, a question on his lips…teeth… before Shoto had the chance to shut him down.
"So…" He began, glancing towards the trio as Hado shook a dainty hand with Yaoyorozu. "How'd you know a guy like that? Your dad got connections?"
The question, while Shoto knew to be innocent enough, brought forth a stinge of discomfort. While he let none of it onto his face, Honenuki still backed off a smidge. Setsuna's comment about his sociability echoed in his brain before he scared Honenuki off entirely, however, and Shoto sighed.
"Not my father. Togata is close with one of my… friends in 1A. They train together."
Mudman scrunched his eyes, confused.
"Why would a dude like that," he said, waving towards Togata's bulky physique, "train with a freshmen?"
The easiest answer, Shoto supposed, was Nighteye. But he knew Izuku and Togata, over the last year, had grown close enough to train outside of Nighteye's supervision. So, he shrugged.
"Midoriya's just that guy, I guess."
As soon as the words came out of his mouth, it was like he casted a spell. Off in the distance, a small crowd turned the corner. Shoto didn't know what he was looking at, at first—but then he recognized the red shine of Vlad King's suit. Class 1B gathered at the feet of the wooden platform, chatting amongst themselves. The crew kept them back from getting too close, but there was only a two-foot gap between the crowd and the platform. He only got a small glance at the class, but it was enough to chance a few interesting faces. Someone's skin was void-black and reflectionless—and another had the constitution and appearance of a gorilla. Before he could note any others, however, Whirlwind pulled his attention away.
"Alright kids. The cameras start rolling soon. You have ten minutes to think of a name. Once Nedzu and 1A get here, we begin." Whirlwind said, and then slid away and out of sight. Shoto was curious where he kept disappearing to, but that was the last of his concerns. He still didn't have a name.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Togata. While he barely knew the guy, he did know him, and something about him felt far more approachable than Hawks. He didn't bother waiting for him to finish his ongoing conversation before cutting in.
"Togata." He said, and the blond cut himself off without a complaint. Hado, with whom he'd been conversing, also stopped to pay him attention without complaint.
"What's up? Todoroki, right?" He asked, and Shoto felt his heart skip a bit. A closer look at Togata was odd—his eyes were abnormal, but there was charm to them. More so than his stunning eyes, however, his smile lit his face like a warm fire. With his medium-length blond hair and wide build, Shoto felt nostalgic. It was like standing near All Might—something he'd only accomplished once in his life, and barely after he could form words. Even now, he could almost recall the moment.
Not one to be tongue-tied forever, however, Shoto swallowed down his feelings and spoke.
"I believe your name is Lethousand, right? How'd you come up with that?"
Togata blinked at him. He glanced aside, meeting Hado's eyes and holding them. Slowly, her face began to turn red—and then purple—and she burst into hysterics.
Shoto ignored the array of glances they received, though he couldn't ignore the way his cheeks burned a smidge hotter than normal. Togata, to his credit, didn't even loose a chortle. Instead, his smile turned a little funny around the corners and he shook his head.
"It's Lemillion, actually…" He said, before coughing into his fist. Shoto ignored how his cough sounded a bit like a laugh. "...And It's because I want to save a million people. It's my bare minimum goal. Why do you ask? Have you not figured your own name out?"
Shoto shook his head, before giving the boy a microscopic bow and walking over—escaping—to Setsuna and Kendo.
Naming himself after a goal, while a good idea, didn't gel with him immediately. For one—he didn't have one. For another, it'd just be another thing he'd get from his father. Endeavor was a good name—but it was born from ambition. Shoto didn't think he had much of that.
When he stepped into Setsuna and Kendos' circle, he did his best to ignore the way Kendo couldn't look directly at him without laughing. He could not, however, manage to avoid Setsuna's direct taunts"
"L-Lethousand? A-are you s-serious?" She asked, doubled over and laughing. It was odd, he decided. The way a crowd's judgment made him feel so different compared to Setsuna's. He'd never really been in a situation like this before—though he'd seen it in a few movies. Shoto supposed it was because they were friends—but that didn't explain the way Kendo's polite giggles also left him feeling rather neutral. They weren't friends, and he didn't expect to become such. Perhaps it was another thing he was wrong about. Whirlwind was nearby, after all.
He waited for her to right herself before shooting back with an observation of his own.
"Says the girl who'd name herself "Leftie" if she knew I wouldn't catch it."
Setsuna turned a shade of brilliant scarlet—not unlike the darkest part of his flames—and Kendo's face grew a curious look.
"I don't think I understand. I don't really get Leftie as a hero name, but… what's wrong with it? It's cute, especially with your quirk. You're kinda ambidextrous, right?" Kendo asked, looking at Setsuna as she dragged a hand down her face, nearly smudging her makeup.
"It's nothing! It's not even an idea on the table!"
"But didn't you mention it yourself like, two minutes ago—"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" She said, before composing herself. "I think I've decided, actually. What about you, Shoto? I think Iida and you are the last. Everyone has something."
He shook his head.
"I'm not really imaginative. I don't want it to sound like my dad's… but the only inspiration I've gotten was from Mirio. Saving a million people… that's a goal that works for him. I don't really have a goal that translates well to a name."
Setsuna and Kendo were silent at that. He was pretty sure that was the most he'd ever spoken in front of Kendo, so perhaps she was just surprised. Setsuna, on the other hand, pounded her fist into her palm.
"Well! If you're looking for a goal, but your only ideas align with your father… then it's pretty simple. Pay homage to your mom. Find a name that encompasses your search for a name. Use your dad's style, but don't take from him."
Setsuna's words washed over him like a warm ocean wave. He leaned into it, riding out its logic like a surfer might a rolling tide. After a moment, he decided he agreed. Thinking of his mother made his scar itch… but if nothing else, he didn't hate the idea—but how could he follow the advice?
He tackled the subject in silence, drifting away from the girls even as Kendo gave them both odd looks.
Shoto almost tripped over a little white man, but saved them both with quick reflexes.
"Thank you, young Todoroki. Are you prepared?" He asked, and Shoto nodded absent-mindedly before continuing to drift away. There was a dull rumble of feet in the distance, and he noted that Izuku had arrived with his fake class—though notably lopsided. Last he'd seen the boy, his prosthesis seemed glued to his shoulder. Now, his sleeve was flapping in the wind, empty.
For a moment, he felt concerned—but then their eyes met, and he relaxed. While Izuku was a bit stressed, there was a deep satisfaction in his eyes. He didn't bother moving to ask for his friend—he'd get the boy's story after school.
Despite Izuku's unorthodox appearance, he embraced it. After his initial surprise waned, his memories waxed. He thought back a few years, to the time he and Izuku toured Shimisuka. There, they'd spoken about many things, and confessions came and went between them. He dialed back to that time, to when he'd told Izuku about Fuyumi asking him to see mom.
Therapy went well for him—he still went, on the occasion—but… he still hadn't managed to breach that gap. There was a fifty foot gorge between himself and his mother, and the simple thought of crossing it…
His scar itched as a hand enveloped his wrist, pulling him into a line. Setsuna and Yoarashi stood on his flanks, and the Big Three stood a little ways past Setsuna. Between their line and classes 1B and 1A were, perhaps, half a dozen cameras and three lights.
The little white man from before stepped up, and only here did Shoto realize it'd been principal Nedzu. The lights flickered, then brightened, and Nedzu did a little jump.
"Hello, Japan! As our lovely reporter, Sakura Joy, announced mere moments ago, I'd like to introduce U.A.'s new tier of students!" He said, before spreading his arms. Two cameras stayed on the little rat man, but the majority rose to meet Shoto's gaze. After a moment, each panned away to a different set of his peers. Setsuna shifted beside him. He resisted the urge to wipe at his face.
By no means was this his first time on national television, but it was certainly the first time his own merits got him there. Beside Setsuna, the Big Three stepped forward.
"Many of you'll know our Big Three: Lemillion, Suneater, and Nejire Chan! They're the peak of the mountain, the best of our seniors! You've seen them in the streets, and you've seen the shade of their more secretive exploits. I've brought them out for a special reason, you see…" Nedzu said, trailing off. A moment later, each and every one of the cameras focused on the Big Three—even the pair dedicated to Nedzu himself. "U.A. acts as a crime deterrent itself, and some of you may know that its existence decreases Musutafu's crime average by about twenty-two percent. I, personally, am incredibly proud of that fact. What many of you probably do not know, however, is the percentage that our Big Three help with."
Nedzu paused here, gathering his breath as the Big Three flexed their quirks. Mirio fazed through himself, Suneater grew a chicken's claws, and Nejire Chan summoned a small twirl of energy.
"9%. Of U.A. 's 22% passive crime deterrence, our Big Three contributes nearly half of that alone. They are more than the future; they are the present."
Yoarashi, unprompted, began to clap. Unlike many of his usual outbursts, however, Shoto felt a niggling of agreement. Without thinking, he too began to clap—and soon, so too did all of 1Z. The clapping spread out, then, and all the hero classes together applauded these three incredible students.
Shoto could not see Nedzu's expression from behind, but he could feel a smile in the air.
An interview interjected the clapping, shoving a microphone in Nedzu's face.
"That's all well and good, principal, but for what purpose are they here? We've come to see your 1Z."
With a quick paw, Nedzu snatched the microphone out of the air.
"Thank you so much for asking, good sir. Well, I'm afraid the truth isn't so pretty as to just show off some fresh talent. I've brought the Big Three out and highlighted their accomplishments for one simple reason: the Japan of today is a dark place, and our Big Three are not enough."
With that said, what little clapping remained died away. The reporter asked another question, but without his mic, Nedzu steamrolled over him.
"It was a long, hard-fought battle to acquire permission for this. In the past, such an idea would've been unheard of. Our 1A is famous throughout the land, and we've consistently churned out the best heroes of the century. So, why, you ask, do we dig deeper? Why did I fight so hard for this class, meant to expedite our greatest talents? Why couldn't I let them marinate like all the others? It is simple. We no longer have the luxury."
Under such a declaration, all went quiet. Even the wind, which had so far been a pleasant breeze, died on the spot. He glanced at Yoarashi, but the boy was near tears—not nearly in control enough for such a task. Slowly, he glanced behind them—and got a glimpse of silver staring back at him.
"Just this week, another battle has been fought in the war on villainy! A hospital, razed to the ground!" Nedzu said, his voice turning hard and loud. "And I for one will not stand for this! It is for these very dark times that I've brought 1Z together! Without our Symbol of Peace, drastic times must be met with drastic measures!"
Shoto didn't notice when he stepped forward—only that he did, and that all of 1Z had followed him.
"The sons of our strongest! The daughters of our best! These boys and girls who've been students—and sometimes heroes—before they've ever even set foot on our campus!" Nedzu said, and his gaze had lowered. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or the shift in his perspective, but to Shoto…
It appeared Nedzu was looking into 1A's crowd.
"1Z is Japan's future! Even beyond U.A.'s golden standard, they are the platinum! Even now, they're ready to hit the streets! I bring our Big Three out today not to overshadow them, but to highlight them! Our Big Three shall be the wind to 1Z's sails, the mold from which we shall forge ten great sabers! 1Z will be U.A. 's answer to razed hospitals, burned shelters, and destroyed homes! Together, they'll graduate more prepared than any class in 1A's history—even All Might's year will pale in comparison to their debut as independents."
It was here the wind returned, blasting at the backs of every student on the platform. Shoto's bangs were in a wild flurry as Nedzu crescendoed, his speech coming to a close.
"You'll be seeing them all together soon, in the streets with the best of them! Until then, let me introduce you to U.A.'s next candidates for the licensing exam!"
One by one, each member of 1Z stepped forward and announced themselves. Nedzu directed the whole process, tossing the mic aside so the news wouldn't know their names as he called them to attention.
Nedzu called for Neito Monoma, and the dishwater blonde stepped forward with a bow. A pearly-white smile plastered across his round cheeks as he drank in the camera's attention.
"I am Phantom Thief!"
Itsuka Kendo.
"I am Battle Fist."
Juzo Honenuki.
"I'm Mudman."
Momo Yaoyorozu.
"Hello. Creati greets you."
Then the order skipped, the Big Three splitting the first five from the final four. It'd reached Shoto's side, and he was still unsure of his own name.
The one person between Setsuna and Hado stepped forward.
Katsuki Bakugo.
"...Ground Zero."
And then it was Setsuna Tokage's turn, and she stepped forward. He wondered, briefly, if she actually had something planned or not. With the way she stepped forward—awkward, uncomfortable, insecure—he might've thought not. But when she got in range of a microphone, her shoulders broadened and her chest pushed out.
"Heya, folks. I'm Lizardy."
It fit, he thought, before he realized she'd backed away and he'd approached. Nedzu called his name, but his ears were full of jelly and his mind full of lead. He blinked; the lights were dazzling, and he almost felt nauseous.
For a moment, he had nothing to say. Not even an apology escaped his lips, not even a breath. For a moment, he simply didn't know.
He didn't want to take after his father; Enji Todoroki's endeavor, his quest, was his own. Shoto wanted his own path, he wanted to build upon the little good his father made and make something great.
His mind was dragged back to his youth, when Touya still breathed and his father still lusted and his mother still loved—and suddenly he was back again, in the present, and he realized something.
Even before his mother had stolen his face, she hadn't hugged him much. Even before she snapped, she was distant. Rei Todoroki hadn't always been—once, when he was small, he knew nothing but her touch—but after Touya, he couldn't remember her embrace.
Shoto hadn't hugged his mother in a long time, and he missed it. He missed her warmth—he missed her heat. There was a longing in his chest, now, that had always been there but he had only just discovered.
He wanted to make a world where things like his family's disaster could never happen again.
He wanted to reach out to his mother and give her a hug.
Deep in the crowd, between the cameras, he got a glimpse of green and a one-handed thumbs up.
"I'm Heatseeker."
[x]
AN: I adore this chapter, although I have one problem: I kinda hate Setsuna's hero name. ages ago-and i mean AGES ago, I thought of something I really like: Pteradrone. Like, pterasaur (flying dino cousin) and drone (what her body parts turn into). The only problem was that when you say it out loud, it sounds like TERRORDRONE which sounds fucking evil lmao. I think I like Shoto's hero name lol, though i only thought of it about maybe two lines before i actually wrote it.
ANYWAYS! THANKS FOR ALL THE KIND WORDS FOR THE LAST CHAPTER.
Also, I'm currently working on chapter 45, and I'm struggling. it's technically done, but I think it could be better, but i'm at a loss. If anyone would like to read it and give me feedback, DM me-it'll be a few chapters ahead obviously but I don't think lacking context makes it unreadable. I don't have a beta, never have, so I might be a little stupid when prompted to use docx but I bare with me pls.
also I will always mourn Ground Zero as a canon hero name. So fucking good.
(already am panicking because I still don't have a perfect hero name for izuku lol)