Been a while since, given what I had attempted over November, so my apologies to all those having to wait for this. There's been a lot of complaints over my pacing, which I understand; chapter 10 until the entrance exam? It was intentional, everything before has a part to play, but I know some people felt it drawls on too long. My apologies. I'm hoping the five chapters after this will encompass everything past this first day of school for the story to the end of the USJ incident, so understand I won't be taking until 30 to hit the Sports Festival. Length of chapters might still be outrageous, but I enjoy having these longer segments for what I think is more engaging story without having to cut between scene shifts if they were any shorter, or miss out on content I could put by condensing character perspectives. This feels more creative to do.

I'm hoping I can have chapter 12 close to after New Years. I plan on doing another or two for Staring Point and then some other writing in between. This site and AO3 are indulgences in my passion for writing, and it is something I wish to perfect into a profession, so please understand if my attention draws to what will help me live comfortably and support myself. I'll do my best to balance it enough so I'm never too long gone from these sites, for all of you. Knowing anyone is interested in what I bring to the table and how I present it gives me the confidence to write what pops in my head and craft enough for entertainment. So thank you to the over one thousand followers on this story. This will continue on because of all of you.

Izuku thought the month building to the new school year was the most stressful time of his life. More than dealing with Katsuki; more than admitting the past decade to his mom; more than taking U.A. High's general entrance exam, was the pressure in his chest having to wait a whole month and a week to graduate junior high and attend the world's most renowned high school of heroics. But thanks to his (now, but he wasn't going to linger on that fact) supportive mother, encouraging friends and the promise of so much to go right for him going forward, he kept himself together and waited through the last of his classes, graduation, and the week of break before the first of three hard but hopeful years began.

He thought that would have kept the position of "most stressful time of his life," had he not taken an early train from Shizuoka to Tokyo to meet with the principal of U.A. an hour before classes began.

Getting into U.A. was a surprise in and of itself, and scoring highest in the exam overall only added on to his disbelief and his joy, but both revelations were overshadowed when the principal continued on in the acceptance letter and hologram that he wanted to meet the boy personally – he agreed, of course. Nedzu left an email address to reach him, to tell the sentient creature and head of the hero high school if he could come an hour early or not to the school so they could meet and talk. About what, the principal had not elaborated on, and in his responses over email the most he would detail was "what his time at U.A. was going to be for him, unlike any other student."

It was probably unnecessary to take, but the new baseball bat clenched in his hands – courtesy of his mother as celebration for school and good luck to succeed in his dream – was helping him on a crowded morning bus with everyone else heading to their jobs. A few had given him a look from the corner of their eyes; maybe because he was dressed in his U.A. Uniform, maybe because he was holding his bat upright and shaking in his seat. Whatever the reason, he was at least given space on the bus for breathing room and a clear path out the bus when he reached his final stop. A block of a walk and a turn down one street, and the world he had been waiting for was right before him.

Once more was the towering school of U.A. in front him. Its atmosphere was still suffocating just outside the gates, its height equally intimidating as the morning light rising behind it. It was different under a different shine: the midday light of the entrance exam had given the school and allure of power and stature as any other hero, but the dim light of the sun had dimmed the aura of the campus to the level of any other school he'd seen. For as early it was in the day, there was little anyone else in sight; had Izuku not seen the scuffed man dressed in nothing but black and a gray scarf (in Spring of all season?) standing right at the front entrance. Watching him. Greeting him.

"Midoriya Izuku." The guff voiced man stated his name more than asked. He nodded timidly in confirmation. Was he supposed to be a security guard for the school? He wasn't exactly a wall of a man like most bouncers. "Nedzu wanted me to walk you to him. Little rat doesn't trust Kayama. Come on." Whoever he was the man wasn't one to mince words, turning on heel and slouching his way into the school. Izuku took one last look behind him, to the city and world of uniform shops and towers, before he followed the man to the glass colossus boxed in by trees and underbrush.

The inside of U.A. main building was just as barren as the outside, Izuku following the school's staff member down vacant halls locked between mile high doors and thick walls of glass overlooking the city around the school grounds. Not a student in sight, not a teacher on standby, not a single other soul to greet him. Yeah, he was an hour early, but it's not like that gave the school the go-ahead to act out a ghost town.

They took the stairs instead of an elevator, only to the fourth floor before the man guiding him decided to trudge down the halls again and leading Izuku to what must have been the dead center of the school decorated by a white door that contrasted with all the tan he had passed on the way. The name card on the door read simply, "Nedzu," with little else to give away the man/rodent's identity and position at the school, though Izuku guessed the birch wood door would give enough away on its own. The man gave a look over to Izuku, who returned the gesture in kind with a bit more of a shake in his knees before the man pushed the door open.

In his mind, Izuku envisioned a room decorated with profile shots of every pro hero, past and present, who had graduated from U.A., directly into the world of heroics or after a following college education. He imagined stacks of trophies and awards lining the walls and shelves commemorating the school's yearly achievements for student satisfaction and ensuring the safety of society in Japan and society worldwide. He pictured a man – or mouse or whatever the principal was – bathing in the glory of what his school had done for the world, in the recognition it had brought him and his practices, in the praise of the people and the wealth of his school's success.

In reality, Nedzu's office couldn't have been bigger than the living room back home, and it was far cozier than his imagination had envisioned. Not much else tha a desk and a few chairs in front of it, two bookshelves flanking either side behind the principal, and then the principal himself. Even boxed in with no windows, the lighting was a warm orange like the rising sun and the wall painted a similar tone of colors. In the center of it all, sitting on his desk rather than a chair behind or around it, was the principal himself.

"Ah, Midoriya," he greeted with a cheery tone, with what Izuku assumed was a smile from the forward view he had. "You were able to make it, indeed. I take it your journey over was relaxing and safe? No citizens or other staff members had approached you and stalled your journey?"

The principal of U.A. was also…nicer than he was expecting. His emails hadn't done anything to convince him otherwise, but a man/animal of his position was more commonly infatuated with the status from what he's experienced. But he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Uh, yes sir," Izuku responded. "I – we" – he gestured to the silent man beside him – "hadn't seen anyone else on campus actually. Am-am I too early?"

"No, not at all. The other teachers are probably just getting ready for classes to start, then. I always like knowing my staff isn't slaking off from their duties." Nedzu gestured to the seats in front of him. "Please, take a seat. Our conversation may take up the time until class starts, but if all goes as planned you'll have time to yourself when all is said and done."

Izuku took up the principal's offer, plopping into one the chairs with his bat laid across his lap while the man with him dropped into the other one. The rodent of a man took one look at the lanky man dressed in black and sighed, though the smile he wore did little to drop. "You haven't even introduced yourself, have you?" he chastised the man playfully. "Still as mute as ever. There's no reason not to do it now."

"He's getting special attention enough as it is," the man commented. "He can wait until classes begins to get to know me."

"Nonsense! I need you to spend more time with the boy today more than any other. It's best you two familiarize yourself just enough." The rodent-man turned to Izuku with his grin intact. "Midoriya, this is your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shouta. He'll be your Class 1-A homeroom teacher for your first year here, of course. Please pardon his silence; getting him to open up has been one of my greatest failures. He's a tough teacher, but one I trust to help whip the first years into shape for their following two more here. As his student, you and the rest of your class will be in his care."

Izuku would admit he let the room fall into an uncomfortable silence before his response, looking back and forth between the school's principal and one if its teachers. A bit of an odd clarity to the man who guided him over, knowing most of the school's staff were licensed heroes even if inactive. A tired-looking and scruffy man like Aizawa still wasn't fitting any title given to him, but he wasn't going to argue the truth of the matter on the first day of classes. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sensei," he greeted hesitantly, giving a small bow in his seat. "Please take care of me."

The man who was to be his teacher only gave a stiff nod, eyes above his scarf to look at the boy. "Had this been my decision, you wouldn't be here early. You're a kid without a quirk, not a show pony. No reason to treat you unlike the rest of your class."

"I'd rather be treated like them, if it means anything," Izuku noted, locking his eyes onto the principal more than his teacher. "I'm just a kid without a quirk, and that's about it from anyone else. I don't see a reason to treat me differently."

"I see no reason to, either." Nedzu hopped onto his feet, pacing across his desk and towards Izuku. "You are our school's first quirkless attendee, and the first of one to attend a heroic's class worldwide, if my memory serves me correctly. A title worthy of celebration, for sure, but I know it would be wrong of me to parade around any one of my students intentionally. Your being here isn't to show you off, it's to make sure you'll be as comfortable as any other attending student. I understand people without quirks can and have been treated harshly in the past and even modern day on some accounts, and I wish to reassure you that kind of action and opinion will not be tolerated on my campus. If ever you feel targeted for such, please don't hesitate to report it to me or any other staff member you come across. Physical mutations and animal traits of students before have had similar reports in the years – discrimination is a hard weed to kill – so don't fear that I'm treating you any differently here. My intentions are to treat you as any other student we've had and will get."

"A-alright. Thank you." U.A. was blowing more out of the water than Izuku was prepared for it to. A promise from the principal not to be like his schools from the past, and be treated like any other student and classmate? He'd take it over the spotlight. "Is there any other reason I'm here, then?"

Nedzu shook his head as he plopped down on one of his books as a seat. "Not too many, no. My main intention of this early meeting was assurance that you would be treated fairly. Similar to any other student, of course. Be as it may, you do not have a quirk, but I do not wish to give you the impression that any one of my staff would intentionally try to drive you out of this school on the detail alone or decorate you with attention. You've proven yourself a promising potential student and hero, and I would be honored to have your skills honed here at my school. And I've been meaning to ask you if you plan on being forward about your lack of a quirk with your classmates. U.A. is infamous for making headlines on even the smallest and insignificant of information; I assume drawing unwanted eyes to the attention of your quirkless biology is not high on your list of goals while attending my school."

Izuku nodded with a huff. "I…don't plan on being upfront about it with anyone," he admitted, eyes dropping to the bat turning in his lap. "Anything I can to keep the eyes off me longer, the better. A few people already know, though…"

"I assume Bakugou Katsuki would be one of those few?" Nedzu was on the money with his first guess, one that had Izuku jut his lower lip to the side. "He's the only other student from your school to enroll here. I would find it quite difficult to hide such a detail of a quirk or none from a prior classmate three years running."

"15 if you count day care," Izuku muttered and garnered the quip of Nedzu's eyebrows. "Known him practically since I was born; mothers are friends. He's known I've been quirkless for a while."

The principal of U.A. let his head drop in a roll towards his newest student. "Do I have to worry about his mouth running information you don't want to share, or treating you in ways I would hope you report to me the instant they happen?"

Izuku shook his head, green locks tickling the corners of his eyes. "No sir." For his worth, Katsuki had become more shut in over the past year than Izuku had seen from him before. He had only cornered the green-haired teen once since the acceptance letters from U.A. were mailed out, and fell silent again after that. Unless it was about his own ego, Katsuki wouldn't shout a word from the rooftops that didn't fuel it. Calling him out as quirkless could fit that bill, but Izuku would rather run the gut feeling he wouldn't. "I doubt he'll say a thing."

Nedzu accepted the answer with a nod before he continued, "And you mentioned 'people,' as in plural, correct? May I know who else is aware of this information?"

"Uh, Iida Tenya and Ojiro Mashirao both know, and I know they're supposed to be in my class." Izuku patted the pocketed phone in his trousers. "They've promised not to talk about it at school; agreed to let me reveal it when I'm ready. And Mei knows. Hatsume Mei. She said she was accepted into the support department here. Won't tell anyone a thing about my lack of a quirk. They're the only people I've told."

"And if they are, then I assume they are people you trust." Principal and student shared in a nod. "You're playing a risky game withholding this sort of information; even with your justifiable reasoning, not everyone may take that into consideration if they are to find out after thinking or being told otherwise. Do you plan on telling a cover-up if you are pressured into talking about it?"

He did; one he'd used before, actually. One he had already told to Momo as compensation for getting to hear about her own quirk. It was scummy, telling her lie after lie about what his "quirk" was capable of, and him through using it. But he did it and he committed to it. It was the story he was going to run with until he knew everyone – bar one guy – around him had no bad blood or ill will towards people without quirks. He hated that. "I would rather not resort to it until the last second, if possible. It doesn't feel good, lying, especially to people I'm hoping to be around for three years and then some after graduating."

Nedzu spent a moment longer staring at Izuku than the teen liked. The principal didn't even hum during the moment, opting to leave the compacted room silent par the creaking of the seat Aizawa was slowly sinking into. The green boy couldn't tell if the principal was judging him or approving of him, not until the short "man" clapped his paws together. "Alright. You've proven yourself on film as someone trustworthy and kindhearted, I believe I can trust your judgement and intentions here too. I'll make sure the staff are aware and do not speak about your quirklessness to prying ears or unwanted souls, and that concludes my main concerns on your wellbeing here at U.A. Aside from those inquiries, of course, there's also the matter of the Sports Festival."

Izuku nodded but kept silent in response. He knew about the festival, a school sport of sorts U.A. and U.A. alone would put its students through. It was a nice show for the general audience, a good example for the heroes to judge them for future hiring, a great opportunity for the students to bond and partner with their class- and schoolmates, and a fantastic event outperforming the Olympics in viewership. He'd watched it more often than the latter option growing up, mesmerized by the display of quirks and the sheer variety he witnessed in use over the years. While he couldn't offer the same, he had committed himself to the idea of participating.

"You'll have a month's time to prepare for the event with the rest of your classmates," Nedzu continued. "While the third years have me to give an opening speech and the second years their top student to do it for me, your year – this year's freshmen – will feature you as the player representative giving the declaration and speech; as usual, the top scorer of our entrance exam gets front and center as the opening before the events begin."

And up until this point that was not a detail he had remembered about the festival. Izuku tried not to widen his eyes too much in the realization that he was given the opportunity to be front in center in front of a crowd; a thought that both please him to have a chance to speak when people would pay attention and terrified him with the chance of being ignored despite the situation, as he had been before. "Oh," was the simple acknowledgement he made of the situation.

"Now I understand that thought may be intimidating, but if you wish the role can be passed on to another one of your classmates if you do not feel up to the task." While he couldn't reach Izuku, Nedzu put out a paw and patted the air towards him. "I do hope you'll at least consider taking up the role before passing it on. The opportunity to let your voice be heard is one many of my old students in your position have cherished; I would hope it would comfort you more than trouble you. Then there is the matter of your bat."

Izuku looked down to the tool in question spread across his lap and breathed out a low chuckle. It was the first time he had brought one to a school. "Yeah, my mom got me a new one since the other one broke…and it's a part of my hero uniform, technically, so I thought I'd bring it."

"Wise of you, but ultimately unnecessary. I am aware that you considered it a part of your gear – it being your weapon of choice and registering it for the exam – but since it is our school that provides the students with their hero uniforms we've already ordered another bat to go alongside your costume. It's our duty to outfit our students and the companies tied to us are inclined to meet those goals, and it would be better left that way on our campus as to not show favoritism or worry anyone unaware of the situation."

Oh, Izuku thought to himself, a faint blush brushing his cheeks. Yeah, it makes sense they don't want a student walking through the halls with a bat.

"If you would rather, I can put that on standby with your uniform when the time comes for you class to participate in a heroic exercise. Or we can leave it in here, where no one will come by and steal it while you are attending classes."

"Can I" – Izuku fiddled with the hilt – "pick it up after classes? I'm not forfeiting it over?" Nedzu shook his head at his worry. "I'll leave it here then." He dropped it leaning against the principal's desk as he motioned for. "Um…does anyone else know…about me?"

Nedzu nodded. "Only those I can trust with the information," he elaborated. "All of the first year teachers know you're quirkless, as they all will – at some point – teach you and your class through physical exercises. Most other teachers were not informed; we'll get there when we get there. I have no plan on making a public statement on the matter to make into a news article, as those…sharks tend to warp the news and the truth for the attention of the public, and I assumed you wouldn't take kindly to being demoted to nothing but a headline. It's a fear many aspiring heroes fear of their future when they graduate; no need to bring the matter during your education."

Izuku appreciated the thought. It was surprising how little attention the principal wanted to draw in with his quirkless status, and the man who would be his homeroom teacher looked bored out of his mind by the conversation, but he had yet to assume to guess any alternative motives to the principal's words. Little times before had someone worded sincerity only to mask disgust and demeaning conclusions about it, but even as uninterested as Aizawa Shouta was in this before-school meeting, Izuku saw little directed at himself. Just a man/rodent/sentient-being-thing of a principal greeting him with warm welcomes and a gruff homeless impersonator impatient on getting to teach.

"Then I believe that's everything I wanted to talk with you about." Nedzu nodded a smile to Izuku before jumping to his feet and turning to the teacher trying to fall asleep in his chair. "Shouta, I take it your class will be skipping formalities and taking the assessment tests instead of joining the rest of us for the morning assembly?" Wait, Izuku blinked, they could do that? Just skip a session at the school?

The man in black grunted and split an eye half open to the principal. "There's no reason to waste time there. The formalities are a sugar coating the students shouldn't need, training to be heroes."

"Agree to disagree." It was strange game for Izuku, discerning what was playful banter and a threat behind the combination of a static smile and black, beady eyes. "All the same – since you're here – why not run Midoriya through them early? Save yourself time when classes begin and use the moment to your advantage? I see no reason for a man as saving of his time as yourself to waste the opportunity before your eyes."

It was a staring match between the two U.A. staff members Izuku got watch, spending the free time of attention off him to try and dissect their dialogue. It helped to paint a picture of the man who would be his homeroom teacher – much less a better one now that he was actually getting details on the black clad man – but it still left mystery as to who he was supposed to be. His attire was either a good disguise from his uniform as a hero or it was just a costume and hero he didn't recognize, maybe a new face to the profession given his laziness or an underground hero to fit the unfamiliarity.

"Fine," Aizawa sighed, rolling to his feet and drawing Izuku out of his musing. "When we're done I'm heading into the teacher's lounge until classes begin. I'm not doing anymore tasks for you this morning; get Mic for that."

"I'll make sure to call on him if need be," the principal replied with a pip in his step, seemingly unruffled by his staff's attitude. "You do a lot of work for us already and I'll let you get the rest you need. Thank you, Shouta."

The tall man grunted and looked away from the principal, but not towards Izuku. His hand swiped forward and plucked the bat against the desk, handing it under his arm. "You use this, don't you?" He pointed his question to the teen but waited not for an answer before turning to the door and stalking away. "You'll probably need it for a test or two; we'll see when we get there. Let's go. I'll have you change into a uniform for the exercise, so hurry. Wasting time isn't professional."

Izuku shot to his feet to follow Aizawa out the door before turning around last second and bowing to the principal of U.A. High. "Thank you for the hospitality, Nedzu," he directed to the short, sentient mammal. "I'm sorry I hadn't said it earlier, but it's an honor to be accepted here."

"And it's an honor to have you attend," the short rodent replied, his smile etched across his cheeks. "I'd argue more so on my end, but we don't have time to argue semantics. Hurry along and have a splendid first day at our school."

Izuku thought nothing of the principal's first use of "our" with "school," or how his paws bounced on his stiff knees as he waved goodbye. Finally, a principal who listened to him and a teacher – while aggressive – who showed no animosity to him being him. It was hospitality at its finest, and Izuku would take it with a pinching smile.

Shouta thought any and every idea out of Nedzu's mouth was a waste of time. Even with the principal's keen eye – thanks to his quirk – and heartfelt resolve to surpass all expectations in the best of ways, the mouse acted more as a showman than a high school principal. Even Kayama's tendencies of foreplay and teasing were bearable in comparison. Why Nedzu thought the need to tell Midoriya the school wouldn't parade him around whilst simultaneously singling him out for the exam scoring, first day of classes and a private assessment test was beyond him, and he'd rather not waste the time playing the principal's pointless mind games.

Midoriya was at least logical enough in that sense, going along with the questions and not wasting time to change and meet him on the training ground. There was a hesitation to his step he would have to work out over the course of his first year. He'd do that when classes actually started; now was the time to test his current abilities.

Aizawa kicked the bat at his feet lightly and Midoriya watched it roll an inch in response. "Your junior high gave you yearly physical tests, correct?" The kid nodded. "Then you should be used to these. Short and long distance running, sidesteps, long jumping, push-ups, sit-ups, the works. All your heroics classes will have you push yourself farther than you're capable of now, but all that matters here is that same now. It'll give me the information I need to judge your abilities and how to make you better throughout the year. Let's get started."

"Y-yes sir." A stutter in his tongue as much as in his step. Least it was less offensive.

As it stood, putting Midoriya through test after test (and using his own quirk as little as possible during each test), Shouta had to admit he was disappointed. The young teen was physically average in strength, performing around the same level of competency as anyone his age that didn't have a quirk that enhanced their physical properties and showing satisfaction with his scores. But Shouta knew the reason Nedzu was running Izuku through the tests early and Midoriya was not meeting the expectations of either adult. He ran as fast as any other kid, could move his weight around with the slim muscles kids his age had, and at least had a lung capacity to keep himself going through it all without fault. Nothing about him was stellar, nothing was showing the prowess he demonstrated at the entrance exam.

"Ball toss." He did as the title said, passing the ball over to the kid as he stepped up to the plate. "Do you remember how far you could throw last year?"

"No sir," Midoriya admitted with hesitance. "It's been a while since then."

"Then throw away. You'll be judged on the distance it goes, so don't hold anything back." The kid took a moment to situate himself and take up and stance. Once he was ready, Midoriya threw the ball and the instant he did Aizawa snapped his eyes and activated his quirk. In the end, Shouta was just as unimpressed by his display as every other test left him.

72.4 meters wasn't a bad throw, not for a kid, but it still was far beneath the bar set for him. The boy still wasn't upturned by his score, looking pleased that it had gone the distance it had. If the kid was hiding a quirk, he was doing well in hiding his surprise at his scores and feigning happiness with the effort he was putting out. Shouta doubted Midoriya was that good at holding a façade, but he could never be too sure. He was undoubtedly the lowest ranking of his class (the rest of his class would most definitely top many of his scores) when he should be ranking in the top ten – hell, top five. What was he hiding now that he didn't during the exam?

Shouta eyed the bat by his side a moment before looking back to the green haired boy picking up the ball he had just thrown. Shouta moved quick with his capture tape to grab the bat and sling it into his hand before the boy could see him. "Try again," he told the kid before tossing the bat his way. Midoriya reacted just fast enough to catch the bat before it flew into him, giving the teacher a strong look of confusion. "For someone who was able to score top in the exam and take on several robots without a quirk, you're scoring painfully average for someone your age. Your classmates will all be using their quirks for this test and the school years going forward, and you're going to have to show yourself somehow competent enough to match them without one." He nodded to the bat in his hands. "You're trying to replace a lack of a quirk with that, and this is the only test where it'll help. Try it again."

One of the recommended students assigned to his class had let slip an "explanation" of what the boy's quirk was to be, one that he frankly found a load of shit and the boy's performance was only further proof of it. But it was contrasting proof all the same; all bodies were genetically adjusted to handle their quirk to some degree, meaning Midoriya could at least put some minute output into his body to make himself run faster, jump higher, perform more push-ups and sit-ups and probably put more strength into the grip test. Hell, even the ball throw should have gone maybe double what he managed. But with the bat, he was able to do just that and then some.

Shouta remembered the news report of the attack at the mall; the one Midoriya was a part of, the one Nedzu had him read before assigning the boy to his class. A man with a quirk to contort rocks and plaster them over his body was sent flying almost ten meters off his feet and into a wall from one swing of the boy's bat. A bullet flying at nearly 762 meters in a second that should have ripped through his shoulder was stopped by the bone. The boy held a child in his arms for near ten minutes with a bad arm and walked off a gunshot wound for thrice that time before passing out from shock and blood loss, and managed to survive three hours through surgery while unconscious atop the one hour it took from being shot to get to the hospital and rushed into ER. His actions were noble but reckless, a mirror to his attitude during the entrance exam with maybe just as much of his own blood spilled, and on both accounts he should have died. So why didn't he?

Midoriya took his time at the plate, bat hanging lazily in one hand whilst the other held the ball before him. With his back turned to Shouta, the man had only the boy's posture to read his emotion. Slouched, tired and defeated for a whole minute before his shoulders squared and his head lifted. He turned on his heel slightly, giving a peek at his hardened stare out towards the trees. His fingers tightened around the ball a moment before he shifted and tossed the ball into the air. Midoriya readied his bat at his shoulder, and Eraserhead his quirk on the boy as the ball fell back down. The ball was hit with a swift crack, and gone in a second.

There wasn't any time for Shouta to pick up his goggles when the cloud of dust came bellowing his way. He cursed under his breath and wiped the particle from his eyes. Midoriya was left in his place, posed in a post-swing stance with eyes squinted to the distance above the tree tops. There was a crack of a smile tugging up his lips as his body relaxed and fell into a normal stance. A flash of yellow peaking around the gym building's corner caught his eye for a second before his attention was drawn elsewhere; the phone in Shouta's hand dinged, pining the man out of his stupor to read the distance the ball hand gone.

And he just stared at his screen in silence.

He knew he had activated his quirk on the boy. If the kid was hiding a quirk of his own, it would have been unusable. Unless it was a physical mutation they were born with, Shouta could deactivate it and leave the person powerless. The how the hell—

"Uh, sensei?" Midoriya's stuttering voice had Shouta snap his eyes up to the boy. The green teen had a concerned brow raised in the teacher's direction. "Was that good? Is something wrong?"

Shouta wasn't sure the question or the lack of spite and snark in its delivery bothered him more.

"If you're going to stay in my class, you'll have to put your everything into your actions," he started and walked up to Midoriya. "I expect to see you working with your all from here on. Any slacking would mean death in situations where it could be avoided. You won't always have your bat on hand, but seeing as you perform best with it, I'll make sure there's always one on standby with your field uniform. The ceiling you are at now will continue to climb through training and experience; maybe you'll give everyone else a run for their money if you're lucky enough." He bounced cupped fingers between himself and the boy, taking back the bat handed over.

"Go back to the lockers and change back into your uniform. You can head to class from there. 1-A is down the northwest hall on the fourth floor. Class is in" – he looked to the time hanging over Midoriya's last score – "35 minutes. You'll be out here again with the rest of your class when the bell's rung. I'm not running you through these tests again so you'll follow me out when everyone else dresses properly. Now go. I'll make sure this is back in Nedzu's office."

With a moment to scrunch his face before moving past his thoughts, Midoriya bowed and rushes back to the main building. Shouta watched until he had rounded the corner before moving on and strolling to the gym building the opposite way. Around the corner, leaning against the wall with a vacant look in his eyes and a hanging jaw was how Shouta found him.

"Being here in that form isn't safe," he stated, getting the lanky blond man to look his wat with a slow turn of his neck.

"Nedzu's wanting me to keep it up as a guise," All-Might sighed, and pushed himself weakly off the wall. "The recommended students have already seen me like this, and probably will another time. And Midoriya…met me looking like this. It's no big deal if he sees me like this a second time."

"Last I remember, this guise was meant to be a cover up to have time to yourself, not share it with others."

"We don't always get what we want." The number one hero sounded defeated, his eyes darting to the corner Shouta came from. "That was…quite the display on that last test. I'm surprised you didn't question him about it."

"Nedzu wants to be indirect about this; for the life of me I don't know why. I'll question him when classes are over. Pretty sure if I try to corner him now, he'll waste another hour trying to explain it. You want to hear any of it, wait till then. I'm not talking about this twice today." Shouta turned away from the pro hero, stalking across the dirt back to the main building. "You want to corner him about it now, be my guest. Maybe he knows what this kid's got going on in his head with all this conflicting information."

Izuku was pretty sure his homeroom teacher hated him as much as the last one did. It was to be expected, he admitted, but that didn't make it any less disappointing to think about. Maybe it was because the ever present Nedzu in his own office was watching him with a direct eye that Aizawa kept his mouth shut and ignored him. Hell, if that could have just been the norm Izuku would have taken it. Being left to his own devices would have been better than the hawk over his shoulder than was his homeroom teacher.

Izuku could see the dark, ruby glint in his teacher's eyes during the assessment test from the corner of his own eyes. He saw how Aizawa's eyes squinted and watched him with hunger, one that reminded him greatly of Katsuki's. It was unnerving and a little bit distracting, but Aizawa didn't once approach him or get forceful with him so Izuku thought it no mind. He was going to have to get used to stares and glares if he wanted to be a public, quirkless pro hero, and if U.A. was going to be like every other school in that department then so be it. As long as nothing got physical, he wouldn't mind it one bit.

The tests themselves, on the opposite end of the spectrum, felt like just that; exercises that once ran Izuku dry and pouring sweat all at once felt rejuvenating to go in and out of. He remembered well what his scores were last year, back when he was effectively a twig, so passing through these tests like a knife through butter was a big morale boost to his head and heart. Even if what he could do was nothing stellar or mind-blowing, it was topping some of his old classmate's scores back in their last year of junior high.

But Aizawa was unimpressed. Along the tired and piercing glare was a blunt statement that he would be the black sheep of the class in these tests. This wasn't junior high anymore; this was U.A., a school where his classmates could use their quirks under their teacher's supervision. A test where they had to show off their physical capabilities would be enhanced when his classmates boosted their scores by using their quirks. He'd be left behind in near every department at the start; even when some quirks couldn't help in one place, they'd no doubt find stride in another. Anything he could do was average and boring and uninteresting and would leave him eating dust trying to stand out in a crowd. Aizawa was right; if he wanted to match up with his classmates and feel like a part of the crowd, he'd have to do more than average.

Standing at the plate, ball in one hand for a second go and his bat hanging in the other, all that doubt washed away. On his own he would be remised to think himself capable of holding even with most quirks, and he had no doubt his classmates would have a plethora of wonderful abilities at their disposal. But he wasn't on his own, not with the bat in his hands. It was technically his replacement for the quirk he lacked, but it was more of him than it was an accessory. Every hero used tools on the job in some way or another; even All-Might had to resort to more than just his bare hands to keep people safe and get the job done (Izuku hoped empty cola bottles wasn't the most of it). Had his hands been all Izuku had in the field, he probably wouldn't save or defeat anyone; but with near anything, he had a better chance than none to be a hero.

He was just himself and a baseball bat, but it was himself and a baseball bat that kept a kid from getting shot and his friend and Uraraka from being crushed by rocks. The one he had to work with now wasn't the one he found abandoned on a beach, but Izuku have every intention of putting it through as much work as the last and then some.

With a simple breath and a swing of his bat, he had done seemingly enough for Aizawa not to be rude. Blunt as his words were, Aizawa's follow up speech to the ball-toss-turned-baseball-whacking gave the impression that the man actually believed in Izuku. Vague and broadly claimed and built of maybes more than certainties, but belief all the same. Izuku took the words to his pride as he handed his bat over and changed back into the school's normal uniform. It followed him to the classroom he was to be in for the next year, and was his only company when the door opened to a room void of any other life.

Izuku checked the seating arrangement beside the door – familiarizing himself with the names of his classmates, rejoicing to see Ojiro and Iida, a disapproving grunt at the brief glance to Katsuki's name and smiling softly to see Yaoyorozu and Uraraka present as well – before he took stock in his designated seat. Being as early as he was to any class was not a commonplace for the green teen in his earlier school years, but the time allowed him to take out his phone, notebook and pencil and jot down what notes of the news he could.

The news was riddled with posts of heroes, all in a multitude of cases. A few heroes clearing out small skirmishes of criminals and robbers. Some hero interviews and one presenting a television show to detail the early years of professional and legalized heroics. A report of a hero found beaten in an alleyway, currently making a slow but sure recovery, promising to get back into the fight and let the rest of the world know never to let their guard down or let the enemy get the best of them. Another of a hero pledging to hunt down the perpetrator who had hospitalized the last one. Heroes plastered the pages of his phone's news, but it wasn't until the third page that his mind wandered to the man who was now his homeroom teacher whose hero persona was still a mystery to him. Sadly a simple search of Aizawa Shouta's name came up blank for any related searches to answer the question. Drat.

"Midoriya! Good morning!" The green teen snapped his head up at the call of his name, finding Iida a statue at the door and holding a hand up in a wave. He waved back as the taller teen checked the roster by the door and confirmed his own seat, before dropping into the chair in front of Izuku's desk. "Apologies I couldn't have joined you for the ride over earlier. Punctuality is key, especially at this school, but I doubted they would have allowed me to lounge around for an hour as you were meeting with the principal. I've only seen one other person on the campus, but I didn't have the time to talk with them on my way over. A bit rude of myself to have ignored them with the potential to be one of our classmates, but I was anxious to know that you were doing alright first and foremost."

"Oh, uh, thank you, Iida," Izuku replied with a growing smile. "That means a lot to hear. And I'm fine; I'm pretty sure I'm staying in this class. The principal didn't say anything to make me think otherwise and I'm pretty sure our homeroom teacher would have said so by now, so I guess I get to stay." Iida looked as relieved as he felt at the information. "Also we're not joining the opening ceremony and commencement. Sensei's taking us out for a physical assessment test instead."

It was funny how Iida's glasses slipped from his nose all on their own in his shock. They were fixed back into place when he gathered his composure to respond. "Skipping the opening formalities? Why would they allow such a thing at a school as prestigious as this? What is our sensei's reasoning for isolating ourselves from the principal's greetings and making acquaintance with our schoolmates?"

"I think he said it was pointless," Izuku muttered his response, squinting his eyes and tapping the pencil against the paper. "He didn't detail it like that but I think he still doesn't want to go to it. I can't tell whether he's just blunt or plain rude."

"Who?" Both boys turned their heads to the doorway, and standing in it was the tall girl with the ponytail Izuku remembered.

"Our homeroom teacher," Izuku answered, before gesturing a hand between the two other teens. "Iida, this is Yaoyorozu, girl from the mall. Yaoyorozu, this is Iida, guy from the beach. Finally get to introduce you two. Let's hope Ojiro gets here on time."

Izuku nearly jumped out of his own seat when Iida did, bowing a whole 90 to Yaoyorozu. "My sincerest apologies for having passed you up earlier. It was irrational on my part not to greet a schoolmate of mine and evidently a classmate on top of that. It's unbecoming of me to have greeted you properly."

"Ah-!" Yaoyorozu waved her hand through her sweat drop, just as taken aback from his forwardness as Izuku once was. "It's fine. You seemed in a hurry and I didn't want to pull you back from that. It seems we share a common friend anyways. Hello Midoriya."

The green teen greeted her back. "Sorry for not reaching out to you sooner. Didn't want to take up any of your time for your final exams."

"Oh, I wouldn't have minded," the tall girl brushed away his worry, seating herself in the desk beside his. "My parents don't have the hardest of tests for me and my studies. I had plenty of free time to get ready and make sure everything was ready for U.A. Time off to talk with you would have been a good pass time."

"I'll make sure to ask next time." He scratched his neck and grinned. He tiptoed around Yaoyorozu for quite a few reasons, but she had done little to present herself as a bad person. It really was just hesitance and nervousness that had him shoulder her in conversation; it wasn't her, it was him. He was lying to her face, after all, and had her lead the way in spread his lie to feel in place at U.A. It almost felt wrong to interact with her at all, knowing how he was treating her without her knowledge – as far as he knew, unless she was aware he was lying. "We have classes together now, so I guess I'll know better if I can." He still wanted to treat her like a friend, though.

"I'll make sure to let you know," she smiled back and looked to both boys. "What were you two talking about? It sounded about someone…"

Izuku carried on from where he left off: "Our homeroom teacher. He's a bit…blunt. And kinda lazy. He didn't strike me as a guy who wants to be here, or to teach us. I know U.A. is known for having everyone give their Plus Ultra into their work, and I think he's just being held hostage by the principal. And paid to stay." Izuku exaggerated a pout with wide eyes to help sell his joke, and he was pleased Yaoyorozu at least saw through it to chuckle.

Iida was not the same case, throwing a hand over his heart as though Izuku's words had it skip a few beats. "Midoriya, I doubt our principal would ever dabble in holding someone hostage and forcing them into labor against their will. Do you know what news of that would do to a school such as this, to the reputation it has built up over all these years?"

Izuku let the silence hang around them to blink slowly at his friend. "Iida," he opened, leaning forward slowly, "I don't know if you're playing along and being even more overdramatic than I am, or you're believing me at face value even though I'm being equally overdramatic. Either way, I see this as successful."

Iida, instead of throwing his hands about in appall, just lowered his head with a sigh. "I thought my delivery was clear that it was a joke," he muttered in defeat. "My brother, Ojiro and you keep telling me to loosen up but I guess it isn't quite as convincing coming from me."

"It's fine, Iida," Izuku reassured him with a pat to the shoulder. "We'll get there eventually. It's more believable coming from you than from Hatsume. Pretty sure nothing she's ever said is a joke."

The three teens were able to fall into a comfortable conversation as the clock ticked on, allowing Izuku's two separated friends to familiarize themselves with one another better. It was probably helped that they recognized each other's family name, their dialogue centered on their families and the ties to mutual they've met thanks to their families. Izuku was almost subjected to the role of a third wheel as they connected and got to know one another but he pitched in when a name he recognized excited him. It was good to know his separated friends could connect. Being at each other's throat wouldn't have been a welcomed repeat of his classmates the past few years.

Izuku spent more of the time while they conversed just counting the heads of everyone who walked into the classroom after them. A pink and red duo walked in – Ashido and Kirishima as they introduced themselves, respectively – and took seats beside his other friends, aptly enough their designated seats for the year. They were nice, opening the conversation over the difficulty of the written and practical portion of the entrance exams, but their eagerness to jump into a conversation over their quirks put him off and left him silent for most of the conversation. When attention turned to him and Yaoyorozu mentioned the strength of his own "quirk," he sighed and played along, shouldering the solemn look Iida gave from the corner of his eyes.

More and more trickled in overtime, distracting Izuku from his story and getting to recognize everyone else as they fell into their own isolated conversations. Three gentlemen in the front huddled in their own discussions, standing out with their bright yellow hair, circular elbows and towering height and limbs like wings. A tall, buff boy trailed in behind two girls, one with an orange ponytail and the other a long green drape of hairs resembling rose stems. A boy and girl of animalistic features, bird and amphibian respectively, entered together and stood by the front as they conversed. Another pair of opposite genders were locked in a conversation that jumped between Japanese, English and what sounded French with a purple-haired girl between them adopting the role of translator when either broke into the other language, or really when she could. One boy with hair split down the middle entered and was quick to walk to the back – Izuku assumed it was his seat on the chart – greeted briefly by Yaoyorozu with only a short and quiet greeting before isolating himself in silence.

It wasn't until maybe five minutes until the bell would ring that Ojiro entered the classroom, and to Izuku's surprise was engaged in conversation with the brunette Izuku had talked with at the entrance exam. Both were quick to pick him out of the crowd of other students and join their circle of conversation, Uraraka diving into her seat behind his and gushing over the school and city around it compared to her hometown, and the group of friends fell into the meet-and-greet they had started with. The pink cheeked girl was quick to consider Izuku a friend despite their little time together prior, but Izuku accepted the notion when her conversation circled around their friendliness to one another instead of attributing his actions to his quirk.

When the door opened for the final time before the bell, Izuku should have seen it as more obvious when the blond boy he grew up with entered the room but seeing him come in last still left him surprised. It took the blood moon eyes a moment to survey the room before they fell on him, the boredom behind their color swapped out with surprise and an aggressive fire as they recognized him. Despite the lively talk in the room didn't cease for a second, but the world around Izuku was muted as he locked eyes with Katsuki. The blond boy was itching to launch himself at the green teen then and there – Izuku could see his fists shaking by his sides – but he never got the chance before their homeroom teacher appeared behind him, shutting the room in silence and sending everyone to their seats, Katsuki included on the opposite side of the room from Izuku.

Despite having only talked with the principal that morning and shared his intentions of hiding his quirkless nature then, Izuku thought it intentional that he was seated around mostly unfamiliar faces bar the brunette sitting behind him. It had to be intentional that Katsuki was on the full opposite side of the room from him, two rows ahead to boot. It had to be intentional that after Aizawa threw a bag on the floor before them, instructing the class to change into their gym uniforms and meet him on the field outside, the teacher has singled Izuku out to follow him without changing and slapped a notebook in his hands with the instructions to note down his classmates' performances during the assessment test.

He thought little of the principal's intentions during their conversation, but Izuku had a growing suspicion there was something amok behind the scenes. Someone was trying to start a game with him, but Izuku had no interest in playing.

He held back the smoke in his ears from bursting as their principal called them into his office. As the bloke congratulated him and the shitty nerd beside him for passing U.A.'s entrance exam. As fucking Deku got praised by the bastard, even hesitant having to say how proud he was in him; in them both. He should've just been proud of him. It should have just been him. The first think Katsuki did when he and Izuku were out of sight of any teachers was grab him by the collar of his uniform and shove him against the wall.

"The hell was that all about?" the blond seethed between his teeth to the green teen. Deku blinked to recover from being slammed against a wall, his own hands latching onto Katsuki's arm to keep himself upright. "I thought I told you to back the fuck off! What fucking tricks did you pull to get your quirkless ass in U.A.? Who'd you pay off to get the title of first place and how the hell did you get points at all?!"

Emerald eyes stared into his rubies with surprise and confusion in their recovery, turning into fire and defiance as the grips on Katsuki's arm tightened. "I didn't pay anyone off," Deku muttered, pushing himself to stand while still stuck with his back to brick. "You know we don't have that kind of money."

Katsuki's free hand popped in his anger. "Bullshit! There's no way in hell someone without any real power could pass that entrance exam! Quit lying to me!"

"I'm not." Even as Deku pulled the blond's arm away, Katsuki refused to let the fabric out of his grip. "I took that test fairly, just like you did. Just like everyone else did. I passed because I did what they wanted us to do."

"No you didn't! I saw your score; you only got 15 points!"

"Combat points. I got Rescue Points as well. That's why I passed." It was an excuse in Katsuki's ears, grating on his nerves as his teeth did each other.

"Nobody cares about those bullshit points!" He sure as hell didn't. Underhand tactics like that wouldn't make for a hero, and why a school meant for them to become heroes wouldn't act or tell the truth from the start was equally stupid. "We were there to be grading on winning, not picking up after people who couldn't do shit for themselves! That's what Present Mic fucking said, none of that secret crap! You and those extras who couldn't stand up for themselves don't deserve to be at the top of that scoreboard!"

"Why, because I don't have my head up my rear?" The nerd's grip on him was tightening, and Katsuki's own grip loosened as Deku's fingers pressed into his sleeve and the arm below. "Beating people up isn't all a hero does, Katsuki. They're people for the people, not just themselves." The green eyes were a fierce burning passion of light, an undertone to the nerd's darker glare. "There isn't a hero who fights just for themselves like you. We're smarter than that."

There was something fishy about Midoriya "Deku" Izuku, and Katsuki didn't have a clue as to what. It bothered the ever-living hell out of him, but he was treading thin ice already just to have gotten into U.A. That didn't mean he wasn't going to go looking for clues.

He wanted to stop Deku from even entering U.A.'s gates so bad, holding back the urge to jump him at the exam and do just that. But he held himself back and took the exam and aced that fucker better than anyone could – or at least should have. Those rescue points were utter crap; the exam was about beating up robots and tallying up a score, not stepping in the way of others' work. People stayed out of his way, he'd stay out of theirs. He'd get to shine and stand victorious as he fucking deserved.

And yet there he was, in his room the day the acceptance letter arrived, watching on the projection as his name came up in second place because Deku had gotten more points than him in combat and rescue combined. The bastard hadn't gathered enough points form fighting the robots to have been considered for either of the heroics classes, so he somehow goes and "rescues" other examinees to make up for it? What kind of half-assed excuse was that, that he couldn't fight for himself but when there was someone else by his side he could do just fine? That's not how heroes worked. That's not how All-Might or Miruko or Endeavor made their names, by sharing the spotlight with someone else; they got their place by carrying their own weight. He deserved to be up there with them, above them the day he was officially a hero, not some quirkless nobody like Deku.

That nerd made it all the more aggravating when he finally got to U.A. and entered the classroom, finding the nerd already present in his seat and surrounded by all these other faceless extras treating him like he was some sort of equal. Like he could step up to the plate and beat the bad guy like any of them could without a quirk. U.A. knew better than to throw someone with no strength into a class made for the strongest, so why the hell did they include him even on their campus?

Katsuki didn't engage the nerd the instant he saw him in his seat, though. Some homeless guy in a sleeping bag – who was supposed to be their homeroom teacher but Katsuki didn't believe that for a second – made it just in time to announce his presence and get everyone in their seat, so he followed along and did just that; on the whole opposite side of the room from Deku. Katsuki doubted that placement wasn't intentional.

Not one to mince words, their "teacher" threw them a bag of gym clothes and had them change for a quirk assessment test, taking his leave out the door just as quickly as he entered. For a moment, Katsuki allowed himself to grin, elation filling his bones hearing the word "quirk" and knowing full well Deku couldn't apply himself to these test and would flunk each and every one of them.

Then the teacher singled Deku out and had the twerp follow him out to the field alone, no need for a change of attire necessary. Because the nerd had already taken the fucking tests.

He grumbled as he changed faster than the other boys and was out on the field before anyone else, bar the man claiming to be his homeroom teacher and the nerd flanking him. Katsuki didn't remember seeing it, but Deku had a notebook in his hands as he flipped through the pages with a dumb, confused expression. Guess it wasn't his.

The extras were quick to follow out, flooding the field behind Katsuki as the muttered and mingled with one another. They were quick to quiet when their teacher looked over, announced the tests they would be taking and quieted Glasses when he brushed aside the notion of joining the freshman assembly with the rest of the classes. Katsuki could respect his no-shit attitude, to push ahead and prepare to be heroes than meddling in pointless crap with people he was just going to leave in the dust on his way to the top.

The pink extra questioned why Deku – now seated in the dirt by their teacher's legs and scribbling away on the pages of the notebook – wasn't taking part in the tests, apparently suffering from memory loss when the gruff man explained it from the start. He reiterated his answer, even drawing it on to state, "He came an hour before any of you, so I ran him through the tests already. No point in having him go again and waste my time. Now get to it."

Katsuki kept his eyes on Deku in between each test, shooting through each and every one to keep his eyes on the nerd longer. He didn't dare approach, not while the gruff teacher continued to glare away any member of the nerd's posse when they approached, ringing them back into the crowd of other extras. The man was isolating Deku for a reason – more than just to keep their own attention on the tests and off of social interaction – and Katsuki reasoned it had something to do with his quirklessness.

No doubt the teachers knew about it, including their own, the principal, and All-Might. How the number one hero and the head master of Japan's greatest school of heroics let a kid with no quirk into the school was baffling. It didn't matter what little points Deku got from the robots he shouldn't have been able to defeat, nor his attitude to step up and protect others when they should have been strong enough to protect themselves as heroes; there wasn't anything close to enough in him that should have put him in the realm of considered. Why were none of them taking action over this?

His posse wasn't letting anything slip either, barely talking at all about Deku other than his place on the entrance exam and, in the case of Round Cheeks, how he had stepped up to protect others and save them from a deadly scenario. The latter was nothing but an overblown reaction; U.A. was the greatest school for heroics and in general across Japan for a reason and there was no way they would actually put someone in a scenario they would die. Maybe a tough one where they had no hope of winning on the horizon, but the school wouldn't dare gamble with lives or they'd have been shut down years ago.

Then they let it slip, during the ball toss as the girl with horns sent them flying with the ball attached, that Deku had done the exam with a bat, and suddenly things were starting to click. Deku didn't pass the exam beating robots for points with his own strength; he had to rely on objects and tools to get himself to the top. He couldn't do it on his own, needing something other than himself to get the job done. Deku wasn't actually strong, he was just acting like it. That's why he was sitting out the assessment tests, because it would show everyone just how weak and inconsequential he actually was, and the teachers were in on it? "Didn't pay anyone off," his ass.

Deku didn't acknowledge a single thing being said, keeping his head tucked down and his eyes on the papers in his lap, but Katsuki could see how his expression shifted when talk about him was loud enough. His lies were coming to light and sooner or later he was going to be exposed for the secrets he was keeping. The front he had would fall, and him with it flat on his face when it did. And yet he was still trying to hold it up, keep his façade strong even when he knew it was never going to work with him – Katsuki, the one who knew Deku for the coward he was – around.

The prick kept up his mask when the tests had ended and everyone headed back to change, all except himself and his small group of paid-off followers. Katsuki could see the strain in his smile, looking back over his shoulder. Deku knew he was in deep, that his scheme would fail and he would suffer the consequences of trying to lie his way into U.A. at all. None of the extras acted like they knew the truth, not even the ones Katsuki remembered from the exam by Deku's side. He was playing them all for fools, and they were all gullible to fall for the act. But not him, not Katsuki.

Deku wanted to make a game out of his hiding and cowardly tactics? Fine. Katsuki would play his stupid game, and he would kick Deku's ass and win and beat the nerd fair and square. It was only a matter of time.

Nedzu was enjoying a nice cup of tea with Yagi when Shouta barged into his office. Not barged, really; more so hastily entered had a far more equal tone to how he stoically carried himself. The door was open for less than a second as the underground hero appeared, keeping silent as the two staff present took in his present – one startled whilst the other calm.

Nedzu greeted his staff member with a smile. "Good afternoon, Shouta. Is there something you wanted to talk about?"

"Midoriya." The hero's reply was short as he took hostage the free chair and pushed it closer to Nedzu's desk. "I want to know what your game is with the kid."

Yagi perked up at the mention of the boy, the cup in his hands falling to rest between his knees. Nedzu only greeted the statement with a nod. "I take it the boy has made some developments. Yagi gave me a brief rundown of what he saw already, and I assume you can go into more detail about his performance on the assessment tests? I've got bullet points of my own I want to check off with your provided information—"

"Midoriya doesn't have a quirk," Shouta cut in abruptly. "I used mine on him for every test. He showed no signs of discomfort or disappointment. He took every test unbothered and passed them with average scoring for someone his age with no quirk to boost his strength. He runs like normal, has normal strength in his arms and legs, and breathes like every other kid. How many does that cross off?"

"A few." Midoriya's quirklessness was already determined, or at least predicted, in Nedzu's notes. His birth records and hospital reports detailed the genetic trait, and a meeting over the phone with Detective Naomasa solidified that the boy was quirkless when the mall was attacked, despite his impressive feats detailed and showcased on the news suggesting otherwise. An inability to react to having a quirk removed from his body due to Eraserhead's quirk fed into that story now. "The blood work from the entrance exam I had Shuzenji collect for me tells a similar tale. Four sources all telling me the same thing is far more believable than one alone. Anything more to add?"

The phone slammed on his desk didn't startle him like it did Yagi, but the principal was surprised nonetheless at the screen displayed before him. Shouta grumbled, "Mind telling me how a quirkless kid is able to hit a ball two thousand, five hundred and thirty-seven meters when my own quirk is active? It took until I put the bat in his hands for him to show anything like he did during the exam."

That fact only highlighted Nedzu's focuses more than it did settle them. Another event mirror to all those before it, playing 4D chess within Nedzu's temple. No quirk, but can stop a bullet with his bones. No quirk, but can rip through robots like butter. No quirk, but can top the farthest knocked baseball in the recorded world before and during the era of quirks. The facts told him the boy had no quirk, and the facts told him he could achieve impossible feats despite his genetic identity. Midoriya was two steps ahead of every play Nedzu made, leaving little leeway to pick up the pieces he'd lost so far.

"I-I hadn't realized it had gone that far," Yagi muttered out, gaze frozen on the phone's screen. "He kicked up quite a lot of dust, sure, but still…"

"It's very impressive," Nedzu commented, shouldering the two question glares of his two staff. "I'm happy you read into the situation and tested that yourself. Sadly" – the principal side-eyed the bat leaning against his desk, the one Midoriya had brought to school and used under Shouta's instruction – "I've had Maijima give it a once over already, and he's found little mechanical tampering on the bat to suggest it works on its own without a quirk. And I've been unsuccessful in finding anyone with the skillset to enchant or purify objects with enhanced super power. A skill set as specific as that is hard to find, and has probably been lost to time or is too far in the future for us to rely on."

"Meaning we have no real leads on how Midoriya is able to accomplish what he has and what he can, other than he does." Shouta sagged his shoulder, less in defeat and more in laze. "Of course we don't."

"There has to be something we're missing," Yagi suggested, and Nedzu agreed. Mystery shrouded a boy who was nothing but straightforward. "Has the boy or his family motioned to register a quirk in his records?"

"No," Nedzu quickly responded. "His documentation hasn't been tampered or updated in regards to his quirklessness. Only noting the wounds he's received; gunshot wound are terribly messy. It seems the boy is almost completely oblivious to his own feats or maybe he is hiding his wealth of self-knowledge under a child-like enthusiasm and determination. His mother hasn't made even the slightest acknowledgement of the situation or his abilities; she may be just as unaware of his strength or on his side in acting like nothing is out of the ordinary. Quite odd, I must say."

Nedzu saw how Yagi's body tensed and shuffled in place, how his fingers scrunched along his teacup, how his brows furrowed into the smallest of glares sent Nedzu's way. An exaggerated reaction, but not one completely unwarranted. "And what of his father?"

"Hisashi, yes." Nedzu turned to his own computer and clicked over one of the files he had open. The boy and his web of puzzles cluttered the principal's computer. "I had done a background check on him. An out-of-country worker who was last employed by Charter Design and Manufacturing. Used most of his profits to help provide for his family back home."

"'Was'? Is he no longer working with the company?"

"Deceased," the principal stated bluntly, cutting the blonde man short of further questions and getting him to sink back into his seat. "Passed away years ago in a work related incident. I found his obituary, scrolling around. The boy has no ties to the underworld or anyone once from it. A clean slate with a clean family. Your theory has come up empty handed."

Yagi displayed a mix of relief and disappointment as he settled back into his chair, cup resting against his stomach. The possibility of All For One was one they had to consider, but little evidence was available to prove it. The only man of his kind, left dead half a decade ago. Reassuring to know, for sure, but that was still only one of two pieces knocked in the game of Midoriya's abilities.

"I have no idea what either of you two are trying to hide," Shouta interrupted them, half-open eyes rolling between the two. "Frankly, I don't care, because it's obvious enough that we're still nowhere on getting the answer we want or one suitable enough to make up for it. The boy showed little sign or signals of snark or vile intentions, mostly respectful if shy in his attitude, so if he's staying, fine. This class so far has yet to prove themselves as shortcoming and undeserving, so if he keeps his mouth shut on being quirkless he'll fit in just fine."

"None of the students gave him trouble?"

"Other than fuel the lie he has for a cover up and giving him more attention when it should have been on the tests, no." Shouta's words were reassuring for Nedzu. With no reason to expel Midoriya other than suspicion and all quests ending neatly, the boy had every reason to stay. And he had a heart to justify his place equal to his strength, so it was a win-win for the principal of U.A.

"Good. Make sure Midoriya is treated like the rest of his classmates. His attitude is in line for any other good student, and hopefully that determination of his never falters. While his power may be unconventional, a reason will show itself sooner or later, and we'll keep our eyes and ears open for one. Wouldn't be the first strange instance our school has gone through with students before." Nedzu gave Yagi a quick glance during his speech, recalling the days of a boy once quirkless showing up to the exam with power he could use unrestrained. The blond sported a blush for being called out, but his expression still read somber. "Make sure young Togata is aware of the situation before Wednesday, Yagi. Can't have his excitement ruin the fun so soon."

Yagi nodded his head with a meek agreement, bus Shouta was quick to point at the principal. "What about this is supposed to be exciting?"

Nedzu was already scrolling through his tabs, taking in the headshots of students he passed by in the tabs. "Before we've questioned if our students have the attitude and aptitude for the daring and dangerous world of professional heroics. You've both put in the energy to put a stop to those unfit to take the challenge head on in the stages you found them in." Yagi flinched from the corner of his eyes, but Nedzu made no comment. "We've always found ways for our students to properly handle their quirks for the task, how they could follow their dreams even through compromise. And yet here we are questioning a student for the exact opposite points; one unwavering in their spirit but theoretically ill-equipped to become a hero. I'm almost unfamiliar with this ground of discussion and theory. Almost." A daughter to a wealthy family known throughout the heroics industry, the younger brother and son to a consistently successful family of heroes, a son to a professional martial arts and self-defense studio and a daughter of a construction family from the country side; a strange mesh of worlds in the friends Midoriya had chosen to have, as the classroom camera had shown him. "I always enjoy learning about the unfamiliar."

Midoriya was a key member to the game afoot; the player or a piece, Nedzu could not tell. The mastermind to his competitor or a pawn to the larger scheme of someone who had yet to reveal their face, Nedzu could not tell. Who else was in on the real truth – of his friends who knew him as quirkless and his friends pushing the narrative of his 'quirk' – Nedzu could not tell. But he always loved a game with a new set of rules. There was no fun without a challenge.