Let's backtrack a little.
My name is Rin Kirigaya, and I live in a world where eighty percent of the population have quirks—unique, superhuman abilities that range from the simple to the downright bizarre. In a world like this, where heroes are idolized and villains constantly lurk in the shadows, people like me grow up dreaming of one thing: becoming a hero.
But dreams like that don't come easy.
Besides, this story isn't about me. I guess there isn't really a singular story happening here. Everyone has their own path, their own challenges, and in a world like ours, those paths intertwine more than anyone can imagine.
But if there's one thing I'm certain of, one thing that ties everything together, it's this: it's about thestrongesthero the world has ever seen.
My hero, Izuku Midoriya.
Act One: Origins
Ten Years Ago…
"So, you see over here," the doctor pointed to an x-ray on the lightboard, highlighting a specific area, "your son is missing the joint on his pinky toe, indicating that he is going to get his quirk eventually."
Izuku's eyes widened in surprise, his heart racing with a mix of excitement and disbelief. He looked at his mother, then back at the doctor.
"Young Midoriya's a late bloomer!" the doctor added with a reassuring smile.
"Izuku!" his mama exclaimed, her voice trembling with joy as her eyes welled up with tears of relief. "Did you hear that? You're going to get a quirk!"
Infected by mama's overwhelming happiness, Izuku felt his own eyes begin to water as well. "I-I'm really going to get a quirk?" Izuku asked, his voice shaky with disbelief.
The doctor nodded, still smiling. "That's right, young man. You're just a late bloomer. But there's no need to worry anymore."
Izuku Midoriya, it turns out, was the perfect blend between his parents.
His hair, for one, was a lighter green—a vibrant forest green, softer than his mother's dark emerald but not as stark as his father's white. It was as though someone had taken a paintbrush and blended Hisashi's pale hair with Inko's deep green, creating something entirely unique.
In the sunlight, his hair shimmered almost like the canopy of a forest in early spring—soft, yet full of life. His mother often ran her fingers through it, finding comfort in the familiar texture that reminded her so much of her own, while Hisashi saw the resemblance to his own hair in the way it lightened when hit with light.
Even little Izuku's freckles were almost a direct match to All For One's own.
Of course, little Izuku had no idea. To him, his freckles were just a part of who he was, something he'd had for as long as he could remember. They added to his boyish charm, a reminder of his innocence and youth. In a world where quirks defined people, the freckles on his face were one of the few things that made him stand out—quirk or no quirk.
He had his father's nose, sharp and defined, a feature that seemed to anchor his face with a sense of seriousness, even when his expressions were full of childlike wonder.
But his eyes—those were all his mother's. Large, expressive, and full of emotion, they were the kind of eyes that revealed everything he felt, whether he wanted them to or not. Inko's eyes had always been a mirror to her heart, and Izuku had inherited that same depth of feeling, wearing his emotions openly for the world to see. Whether it was excitement, fear, hope, or even doubt, you could always see it in his eyes, glowing with an intensity that never seemed to fade.
His quirk, hopefully, will also be a careful blend of them both–PullandAll for One.
Hisashi Midoriya carefully laid his beloved son down in bed, the child's small body sinking into the soft mattress, tired from the long journey to Garaki's. Izuku's breathing was steady, the rise and fall of his chest the only sign of life as he slept peacefully, oblivious to the weight that pressed upon his father's shoulders.
Hisashi, standing over him, was met with a flood of emotions—so strong, so contradictory, that he almost felt paralyzed by them. The overwhelming desire to protect his son surged inside him, to shield him from the cruel realities of the world, to ensure that Izuku could live without the burdens Hisashi himself carried. But right alongside that was the instinct to nurture, to foster the strength within Izuku that could someday help him survive what has to come.
Hisashi's eyes lingered on his son's sleeping face, so innocent, so pure. Izuku had no idea of the complex web he was already entangled in. Hisashi's mind briefly flickered to Garaki—the doctor who knew too much, who held too many secrets. And yet, Izuku was spared from that, for now.
For how long, though?Hisashi wondered, his expression hardening. He gently brushed a stray strand of green hair from Izuku's forehead, his fingers trembling just slightly.
As if sensing his father's thoughts, Izuku's eyes slowly blinked awake.
"Papa?" he murmured. He hasn't seen him all day, after all. Hisashi has been busy with other matters.
Hisashi hushed softly, "go back to sleep."
"I'm missing a joint in my pinky toe!"
It was too late to stop the smile forming on Hisashi's face, a rare flicker of warmth breaking through his usual self. "Is that right?" he asked, though he already knew the answer. Garaki had given him the news long before it had reached the rest of the family. He crouched down next to Izuku, his eyes narrowing playfully as he pretended to study his son's feet with exaggerated focus. "Your joint in your pinky toe?" His voice trailed off in mock seriousness, mumbling to himself as if this was a grand mystery that needed solving.
Izuku, sitting on the edge of the bed, grinned widely, barely able to contain his excitement. "Yeah, Papa! The doctor said I'm going to get a quirk! I'm just a late bloomer, that's all!" His little face was alight with joy, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his small shoulders.
Hisashi nodded slowly, rubbing his chin in mock contemplation. "Mmm... a late bloomer?" He looked at Izuku and couldn't help but chuckle softly. Despite everything he knew, Hisashi allowed himself to just be a father, basking in his son's happiness.
Izuku's eyes sparkled with hope. "I'm going to have a quirk, Papa! I'll be able to help people—just like you!"
Of course, that was what Izukuknew. Hisashi helped people. In a way.
The words hung in the air for a moment, and Hisashi's smile faltered slightly, just for a second. Izuku's innocence, his unshakeable belief in the world, inhim—stung. But he quickly recovered, ruffling Izuku's messy green hair.
"That's right," Hisashi said, his voice softer now. "You're going to be strong, Izuku. Stronger than you know."
To Hisashi's surprise, Izuku's joyful expression began to falter, his bright eyes clouding with uncertainty. The shift was sudden, the excitement draining from his face as his small hands fidgeted in his lap. He bit his lip, his voice coming out quieter now, laced with worry.
"What if—what if I don't get a strong quirk?" Izuku asked. "Like- like All Might's? I wouldn't be able to be a hero."
Here it goes.
"Why would it matter?" Hisashi asked softly, still playing with his son's unruly hair, trying to keep his tone light but sincere. "I would love you even if you were quirkless."
Izuku looked up at him, his wide green eyes shining with surprise. His little hands stopped fidgeting, and he blinked up at Hisashi as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the quiet sound of their breathing, the weight of Hisashi's words sinking in.
It would change his plans, sure. Hisashi knew that much. Izuku's future, the expectations, the path he had thought of for his son—it all revolved around quirks and power. But as he looked at his son now, the vulnerability and hope in his eyes, none of that mattered. Hisashi hadn't had a family since the First holder ofOne For All,and here was his chance to finally have something real, something precious.
He'd like to think he'd love his son even if he was quirkless, even if it wasn't true.
"I would love you no matter what," Hisashi repeated, this time with more certainty. "Always."
Izuku's eyes brimmed with tears, but this time, they weren't from fear or sadness—they were from relief. His little shoulders relaxed, and a smile crept back onto his face. He nodded slowly, as though he was accepting the words, even internalizing them. But his expression changed so quickly—just like always.
One moment, he was overwhelmed, the next, he was bouncing with newfound determination. "And forever!" he added with a sudden burst of energy, the certainty in his small voice almost humorous given how much it contrasted with his earlier doubts.
Hisashi chuckled softly, warmth filling his chest despite the complicated emotions swirling within. His son could switch from one emotion to the next in the blink of an eye, but that was just who Izuku was—his heart as big as his dreams.
"Always and forever," Hisashi agreed, giving his son a gentle smile.
Izuku grinned, wiping away his tears, as if the weight of the world had lifted off his tiny shoulders. Hisashi watched him, feeling a surge of pride, but also a quiet ache. For now, though, this moment was enough.Always and foreverwas a promise he could keep for today.
Seven Years Ago…
"Hisashi, maybe it's not that bad…" Inko struggled to keep up with her husband, taking double the steps the man took in stride. "You know what they say," she continued, "boys will be boys."
Izuko, his son, has been hurt.
And it was by thatboyagain. The one Izuko calls hisfriend. Katsuki Bakugou.
"But," she began, her voice faltering as she tried to find the right words. "But... Izuku never complains. He always forgives Kacchan. Maybe it's not as bad as we think..."
Hisashi stopped abruptly, turning to face her, his eyes flashing with anger. "Inko, our son came home with bruises yesterday. Again. Today, he's in the nurse's office. He forgives that boy because he's tookind. Because he doesn't want to cause trouble. But how long do we let this go on?"
Inko's shoulders slumped. She knew he was right. Every time Izuku came home with new scrapes and bruises, he waved it off with a smile, saying that Kacchan didn't mean to hurt him or that it was just an accident. But deep down, Inko worried about the growing distance between her son and his peers—especially Bakugou.
And Hisashi? He was done waiting for things to change on their own.
"I won't let Izuku keep getting hurt like this. Not anymore," Hisashi said firmly. "I'm talking to the boy's parents."
Inko nodded quietly, but inside, her heart ached for Izuku. He looked up to Katsuki, always had. Even when Katsuki pushed him away, Izuku kept running after him, hoping one day his admiration would be returned.
But how much more would Izuku have to endure before something broke? How long before his kindness and forgiveness became scars too deep to heal?
As they reached the front door of their home, Inko sighed softly. "I just hope… Kacchan can change. For Izuku's sake."
Hisashi nodded, his expression not changing. "For all our sakes."
Inside the nurse's office, Izuku sat on the edge of the bed, swinging his legs lightly, a sheepish grin plastered on his face. His arm was bandaged, and a few scrapes dotted his knees and elbows, but he shrugged it off like it was nothing. His wide, apologetic eyes flicked between his parents as they entered the room.
"Ah-ah! Papa, Mama! It was an accident," he said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, trying to downplay the situation.
Inko's heart clenched as she rushed to her son's side, immediately checking over him despite the nurse having already done so. "Izuku, sweetie, are you sure? That looks like it hurt," she fussed, her fingers hovering over the bandages as if her touch alone could soothe the pain away.
Hisashi, however, stood a few steps behind her, his arms crossed and his expression far less forgiving. "Anotheraccident?" His voice was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. He wasn't buying it—not this time.
Izuku's sheepish grin faltered slightly, but he kept up his sunny demeanor. "Yeah, Papa! Kacchan didn't mean it! We were just playing, and I guess I got in the way, that's all."
Inko exchanged a worried glance with Hisashi. Izuku had used this same excuse too many times before. His injuries were always "accidents," and Bakugou was always "just playing." But the pattern was becoming harder to ignore.
Hisashi sighed, crouching down to look Izuku in the eyes, his expression softening but still firm. "Izuku, we've talked about this before. You don't have to keep pretending it's okay if someone hurts you. Even if they're your friend."
Izuku's face fell a little, his usual spark of optimism dimming. "But… Kacchan's not trying to hurt me. He's strong, and sometimes things just—just happen. But it's fine! Really!" He looked between his parents, desperation creeping into his voice. "I want to be strong like him one day, so I can take it!"
Inko's heart broke a little at her son's words. Izuku admired Katsuki so much, but it was clear the admiration came at a cost.
Hisashi exhaled, his frustration evident. "Izuku… strength isn't just about enduring everything. It's about knowing when to stand up for yourself. You shouldn't have to get hurt to be strong."
Izuku bit his lip, unsure of how to respond. He knew his parents were worried, but in his heart, he didn't want to cause any more trouble. To him, Kacchan was still his friend.
"What happened?" Hisashi demanded.
Izuku flinched, his wide eyes dropping to the floor, guilt evident in the way his small hands fidgeted. Hisashi saw it immediately and sighed, sitting down on the bed next to his son. The tension in the room eased as he pulled Izuku into his lap, feeling the weight of the day settle in. His green hair, always unruly, was even messier now, sticking out in all directions.
Inko, standing beside them, smiled softly as she gently ruffled their son's hair, her touch tender and comforting. Instantly, Izuku curled into Hisashi's embrace, hiding his face in his father's chest like the young boy he was.
Seven. Izuku was seven.
"Izuku," Hisashi said again, this time much softer, the frustration in his voice replaced with concern. "What happened?"
For a moment, there was only silence, save for the ticking of the clock in the nurse's office. Hisashi felt his son trembling slightly, and he tightened his arms around him, trying to offer reassurance. Inko sat down beside them, her presence calm and steady, waiting patiently.
Izuku's voice was barely a whisper when he finally spoke. "Kacchan… he was mad. I don't know why. But I tried to talk to him, and then he just… exploded. I wasn't fast enough to get out of the way." He sniffled, curling further into his father's chest. "It wasn't his fault. I got in the way."
Hisashi exchanged a glance with Inko. His jaw tightened, but he kept his voice even. "Did you do anything to make him angry?"
Izuku shook his head quickly, burying his face deeper into Hisashi's shirt. "No, Papa. I just wanted to help him with his schoolwork."
Inko's heart broke a little more at her son's innocence, his desperate need to believe that Katsuki wasn't intentionally hurting him. "Izuku, sweetie, sometimes… sometimes people aren't always kind, even if they're your friends."
"But heismy friend, Mama!" Izuku insisted, his voice muffled but determined. "Kacchan's just strong, and I'm not strong enough yet. I need to be stronger so he won't have to protect me all the time."
Hisashi closed his eyes, he knew Izuku's heart—he was too kind, too forgiving.
"Listen to me, Izuku," Hisashi said gently, placing a hand on his son's small shoulder. "Being strong isn't just about physical power. You don't have to keep getting hurt to prove anything."
Inko nodded in agreement, her voice soft as she added, "And real friends don't hurt each other, Izuku. Not like this."
Quietly, their son admitted something else. "He called me a deku because I'm quirkless." Izuku whispered, his voice muffled from where he hid in his father's chest. The word, though soft, hung heavily in the air.
"Izuku," Hisashi said firmly, though his voice remained gentle, "you arenotuseless. Not now, not ever. No one has the right to call you that."
"But..." Izuku's voice trembled as he looked down at his hands. "He's right... I don't have a quirk. I can't do what he does. I can't be strong like Kacchan."
"Why does it matter?" Hisashi said.
Izuku's head snapped up toward him, his eyes wide with shock. The boy was crying again. His cheeks were streaked with tears, his small body trembling, big and fat tears rolling down his cheeks. His breath hitched, and he looked at his father like he couldn't believe what he had just heard.
"Why does it matter what he says about you?" Hisashi continued.
Izuku's lip quivered as he stared at his father. He tried to speak, but his voice cracked. "Because..." He wiped his face with his sleeve, trying to hold back the sobs that were threatening to overwhelm him. "Because without a quirk... Iamuseless. Everyone thinks so. Kacchan and the others..."
"You're not," Hisashi said simply, his voice taking on a firmer tone, the gentleness slipping away. Frankly, he'd had enough of Izuku getting bullied like this. His son needed to learn. He needed to be strong—strong enough to face the 's eyes hardened, and he stood up, his posture rigid. Izuku, still sitting on the bed, looked up at him in confusion. His eyes widened, a flicker of distraught washing over his face, but he didn't dare move. His arms were still lifted, waiting for the comforting embrace he was suddenly deprived of.
"Papa?" he asked softly, his voice small, almost trembling.
Hisashi didn't look down at him. He stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable. "No son of mine is a deku," he said.
Izuku flinched.
Hisashi's next words came like a challenge. "Prove it."
Izuku blinked, his heart sinking. "P-Prove it?"
Hisashi turned toward him, his gaze sharp. "Prove to me that you're not a deku. Show me that you're not weak. That you can stand up for yourself. Show me your strength, Izuku."
The room fell into a heavy silence. Inko watched, her eyes wide with concern, but she remained quiet, unsure of how to intervene. She knew Hisashi's frustration had been building, but this—this was different. Her mouth opened to speak, but Hisashi met her eyes and shook his head. There was a lesson to be learned, here.
Izuku sat frozen, his heart pounding in his chest.Prove it?He didn't understand. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed toprovethat he wasn't weak when the one thing he lacked—his quirk—was the very thing that seemed to make him weak in everyone's eyes?
Tears welled up again, but this time, Izuku tried to hold them back. He felt hot and warm all over, and there was a tightening feeling beginning to grow in his chest.
"I…" Izuku stammered, his voice breaking. "I don't know how…"
Hisashi sighed. Without saying another word, he extended his hand toward Izuku. "Come on," he said curtly, his tone still sharp. "It's time to go home."
Izuku stared at his father's outstretched hand, his mind racing. His small hand trembled as he reached out to take it, desperate for some sense of reassurance, some small gesture of comfort. He squeezed his father's hand tightly, hoping—praying—for something.
Papa doesn't squeeze his hand back.
Izuku sat alone during recess, his notebook open in front of him, but his pencil barely moving across the page. His usual scribbles about heroes and quirk analysis were absent, replaced by a few faint, unfocused lines. The weight of his father's words still clung to him, a heavy fog that clouded his mind.
Prove it.
He didn't know how. And every time he thought about it, his chest tightened with that same uncomfortable feeling from the night before. His pencil slipped from his fingers, rolling off the bench and onto the ground.
"Oi, Deku!" Kacchan's voice rang out, cutting through Izuku's thoughts like a sharp blade.
Izuku flinched but didn't look up. He could feel Kacchan's presence drawing closer, along with a couple of other boys who usually trailed after him, snickering at whatever Bakugou said.
"You just gonna sit there, scribbling in that stupid notebook all day?" Bakugou sneered, stopping in front of Izuku and glaring down at him. "What are you writing? Huh? More notes about how you're going to be a hero? Don't make me laugh. Any time a villain's gonna go through you, you're just gonna run to yourdaddy."
Izuku kept his eyes fixed on the ground, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the familiar sting of tears welling up again, but he fought them back.Not now. Don't cry now.
Kacchan didn't wait for a response. He bent down and snatched the notebook off the bench, flipping through the pages with a bored expression. "Look at this crap. You think taking notes on heroes is gonna help you, quirkless loser? You can't seriously be thinking about applying Yueei, are you?" Bakugou's voice was dripping with disdain, and the other boys behind him laughed.
Izuku's hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he didn't move. He didn't fight back. He never did.
"Give it back, Kacchan," Izuku muttered, barely above a whisper, his voice trembling.
Kacchan smirked, holding the notebook just out of Izuku's reach. "Why should I? It's not like you're ever going to use this stuff. You're just wasting your time,Deku." He tossed the notebook to one of his friends, who caught it and tossed it back, the group laughing as they passed it between them.
Izuku's stomach twisted into knots as he stood up, trying to grab the notebook from the air. His movements were frantic, but every time he reached out, they threw it just out of his grasp.
"You know what?" Kacchan said suddenly, catching the notebook in mid-air. "I'm doing you a favor."
"No!" Izuku shouted, his voice desperate as his hand shot up, reaching out in panic. He knew exactly what Kacchan was about to do—he was going to use his quirk on the notebook. But this time, something felt different. As the desperation surged through him, Izuku felt a strange warmth filling up his body, starting from his hand and flowing through his body. It wasn't just panic—it was something else, something unfamiliar. Something that didn't exactly feel likehis.
His breath caught as he watched Kacchan try to ignite his quirk. But… nothing happened.
The notebook remained intact in Kacchan's hand, untouched by the usual sparks and explosions that should have lit up its pages.
Kacchan's eyes widened, confusion flashing across his face. "What the—?" he muttered, looking down at his hand as if something had malfunctioned. He clenched his fist, but no crackling explosions followed. He stared at the notebook, then at Izuku, suspicion creeping into his expression. And something else– uncertainty.
Izuku stood frozen, his hand still outstretched, his body trembling from the rush of adrenaline. He didn't understand what was happening—why didn't Kacchan's quirk work?
Bakugou's eyes narrowed, frustration bubbling under his skin. "What did you do, Deku?" he growled, his voice low and menacing. He stepped closer to Izuku, his fists clenched, but still no sparks ignited. "Howdid you stop me?"
"I-I didn't…" Izuku stammered, his voice shaking as he tried to process what had just happened. His heart pounded in his chest, and that strange warmth still lingered inside him, like a pulse of energy he didn't know how to control. He glanced at his own hand, half-expecting something to happen, but everything felt normal.
For a moment, Bakugou just stood there, his gaze locked on Izuku, searching for some explanation. The other boys behind him exchanged confused looks, unsure of what to make of the situation.
"You're lying!" Kacchan snapped, taking another step forward, his face twisted in anger. "You think you can mess with me, Deku?"
Izuku shook his head frantically, backing away. "I-I didn't do anything, Kacchan! I swear!"
Kacchan glared at him, his frustration boiling over as he tried to summon his quirk again, but once more—nothing. The air around them was still, devoid of the usual crackle of explosions that always accompanied Kacchan's anger.
Katsuki Bakugou was having ashittyday. And it was all that quirklessDeku'sfault!
The moment he got home, the old hag—his mom—had laid into him, blaming him for that little loser getting hurt.Again.As if it washisresponsibility to babysit Deku every time the kid decided to stick his nose where it didn't belong.
"Katsuki, how many times do I have to tell you? You're gonna hurt someone if you don't learn to control your temper!" his mom had yelled, her voice sharp and grating.
He hated it. Hated when she looked at him like he was the one causing all the problems. Likehewas at fault just becauseDekualways found a way to get hurt when he didn't evenwantthe kid hanging around in the first place!
And now, as he stormed down the street, his fists clenched in anger, Katsuki's mind raced with frustration. Deku had always been a nuisance, always tagging along, always looking up to him with those big, stupid eyes, always thinking—like Katsuki was less than him. Like he looked down on him even ifhewas taller! It made his blood boil.
He didn'twantDeku around. He and his friends didn't ask for the kid to join them when they were playing, and they definitely didn't need him getting involved. But Deku just wouldn't stay away. It was like hewantedto get hurt.
"And now the old hag blames me," Katsuki muttered under his breath, the frustration bubbling up again. He kicked a loose can on the sidewalk, sending it flying. "Like it'smy faultDeku's a weakling."
But today was worse. Katsuki's usual irritation had been mixed with something else—confusion. And that only made things worse. When he'd tried to burn Deku's notebook, his quirk hadn't worked. It was the first time in his life he'd felt something like that—helpless.
The thought made him grind his teeth.
"What the hell is going on?" he muttered to himself, his fists sparking faintly as he clenched them harder. He'd felt the usual surge of power when he activated his quirk, but when he tried to blow up Deku's notebook… nothing. No explosion. No flames. Just… nothing.
"Deku," he growled under his breath, his anger twisting inside him. "What did you do?"
"I swear, Kacchan!" Izuku exclaimed, his voice trembling as he held his hands up defensively. "I didn't do anything! I don't know what happened!"
Katsuki's glare intensified, his teeth grinding as his fists clenched, but still, the expected explosion didn't come. The crowd's murmurs grew louder as they watched, some looking concerned while others whispered amongst themselves.
"Stop lying!" Katsuki snapped, his voice low but furious. He took a step closer to Izuku, his eyes blazing with frustration. "You're hiding something, aren't you? You didsomethingto my quirk!"
"I didn't, I swear!" Izuku pleaded, his voice cracking as he tried to explain. "I don't evenhavea quirk, Kacchan! How could I—"
"Shut up!" Katsuki interrupted, his anger boiling over. He couldn't stand it—the confusion, the humiliation of his quirk failing him in front of everyone, and worst of all, the idea thatDekumight have something to do with it.
The cafeteria's attention made it worse. Katsuki could feel their eyes on him, watching, waiting for something to happen. His pride was burning, and he had no way to release it.
"Deku," he growled, his fists shaking at his sides, "you're going to pay for this."
"Kacchan, please!" Izuku stammered, backing up even more. "I didn't do anything! I don't know what's happening either!"
Before Katsuki could respond, a teacher's voice cut through the tension. "Bakugou! Midoriya!"
Both boys froze as Mr. Sato pushed through the crowd, his expression stern. The crowd quickly dispersed, students and bystanders moving away from the scene as the teacher approached.
Katsuki clenched his fists tighter, his jaw set, but he didn't say anything as the teacher glared down at them.
"This kind of behavior is unacceptable, Bakugou," the teacher said firmly. "Whatever is going on, you're not going to solve it like this."
Izuku let out a shaky breath, his heart still pounding in his chest. He glanced nervously at Katsuki, who stood rigid, his anger barely contained.
"Both of you, back to class. Now," the teacher commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Shaking with anger and humiliation, Katsuki stomped back to his class, his fists still clenched tightly at his sides. Every step felt like an explosion waiting to happen, but his quirk was still acting strange.
How the hell did that happen?he thought, teeth gritted in frustration. He had never felt so powerless before, especially not in front of Deku. The quirkless loser had donesomething,even if he swore he hadn't. There was no other explanation for why his quirk was–isfailing.
The weight of the crowd's stares and the teacher's scolding still burned in his chest. Katsuki wasn't used to feeling out of control. And now, in front of everyone, he had been made to look weak. His footsteps echoed loudly in the hallway as he tried to clear his mind. The frustration kept bubbling up, the anger twisting inside him with no outlet.
Deku,Katsuki thought bitterly, his fists shaking harder.It's his fault.
The humiliation gnawed at him, making him feel smaller despite the rage swelling in his chest.I'll show him.Katsuki knew that whatever happened today wouldn't be the end of it. Next time, there wouldn't be any confusion or weakness. He'd prove once and for all that he was stronger than everyone else—and Deku wouldn't stand in his way.
As he reached the door to his classroom, Katsuki paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His classmates would see the anger on his face, but he couldn't let them see the doubt. No one could know what had happened, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let anyone think Deku had gotten the better of him.
I'm the best,Katsuki reminded himself, pushing the door open with more force than necessary. He walked in, ignoring the curious glances from his classmates, and headed straight for his seat, slamming his bag down on the desk with a loud thud. No one said a word, sensing the storm brewing just beneath the surface.
Katsuki sat down, gripping the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white.Next time,he thought, his eyes narrowing as he stared ahead.Next time, Deku's going to know exactly who he's messing with.
He doesn't see Izuku Midoriya till the walk home after class.
As he made his way down the familiar path home, he spotted Deku standing by the stoplight at the crosswalk, his small figure hunched and still. The green light on the walk sign was already blinking, urging pedestrians to cross, but Deku didn't move. He just stood there, frozen, as though something was weighing him down.
Katsuki narrowed his eyes, his frustration from the day bubbling up once more.What's he doing now?
But then. Then he sees it.
Tiny sparks.
Tiny sparks coming out of Izuku Midoriya's hands.
Faint but unmistakable, tiny sparks flickered fromDeku'strembling hands. Katsuki's breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened as he stared at the faint glow coming from Deku's fingers. For a moment, he thought he was imagining things.No way…
But it was real. Those tiny sparks danced and flickered around Izuku's hands, just like the ones Katsuki had seen countless times when he used his own quirk. Except this wasn't his quirk—it was coming fromDeku.
Katsuki's fists clenched at his sides, his heart pounding. Anger surged through him, hotter and fiercer than before. He looked at his own hands and willed, willed for his quirk to activate.
Nothing.
He was– he was–
And then he saw it.
Deku had spotted him.
Deku's eyes went wide with fear, as though he realized what Katsuki had just discovered. He fumbled awkwardly, his hands instinctively darting behind his back, trying to hide the sparks that had danced from his fingers just moments before. But it was too late.
Katsuki had seen it.
Katsuki's mind raced, a storm of confusion, anger, and disbelief swirling inside him. But one thing remained clear—one word, cutting through everything else like a knife.
"Thief."
"Ka-Kacchan," Deku stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes wide with shock. He could see the fury in Katsuki's expression, could feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a flame about to ignite.
"Give it back," Katsuki growled, his voice low and dangerous. His fists shook at his sides, still refusing to spark, and the humiliation only fueled his anger. His quirk wasn't working.Deku—the quirkless loser—had somehow taken it.
Deku stared at him, his breath catching in his throat. "W-What? I didn't—Kacchan, I don't know what—"
"Shut up!" Katsuki roared, his voice cracking with rage. "You stole it! You took my quirk!" His eyes were wild, filled with a burning intensity that made Izuku freeze on the spot.
Izuku felt guilt gnaw at his insides, twisting his stomach into knots.Thief.Kacchan had called him a thief. And even though Izuku had no idea what was happening—had no control over the strange sparks that had come from his hands—Kacchan's words made him feel like it was all true.
He had a quirk.
After all these years, after being reminded constantly that he was weaker, different,lessthan everyone else… Now, suddenly, there were sparks dancing from his hands, and Kacchan—who had always been so strong—was standing there, powerless.
"I-I don't know how… I don't…" Izuku mumbled, backing away slowly, his mind racing. He didn't know how to explain it. He didn't understand it himself.
But Kacchan wasn't listening. His world had narrowed down to one simple, painful truth: Deku had something thatbelongedto him. The rage bubbling inside him boiled over. "I said, give it back!" he shouted, lunging forward. "You- youVILLAIN,"
Izuku flinched, stumbling backward, his mind in chaos. "Kacchan, I swear—I didn't mean—"
Katsuki's fists were shaking, his eyes burning with the intensity of someone who had been betrayed. "Youdon't get to have a quirk, Deku!Youdon't get to take what's mine!"
Izuku's heart pounded in his chest, guilt and confusion swirling together. He didn't know what was happening—why he had a quirk now, why Kacchan's quirk wasn't working—but the weight of Katsuki's words pressed down on him like a lead blanket.
Kacchan's about to hit him. No– he was going to kill him for stealing his quirk. This, Izuku knows. So he does what comes first in mind (later, he will wonder why,whywas this what came first to his mind). He runs.
"GIVE IT BACK!" Kacchan roars, chasing after him.
"I don't know how!" Izuku screamed back, stumbling over his feet as he bolted down the street. His breath came in ragged gasps, his mind spinning with fear and confusion. How could he give back something he didn't even understand?
A car honked loudly, the blaring noise sending a shock of adrenaline through him. Izuku barely had time to glance sideways as a car swerved to avoid them, tires screeching on the asphalt. The vehicle nearly clipped him, the force of the air from its speed brushing against his skin as it sped past.
"WATCH IT!" the driver yelled, but Izuku didn't stop, didn't look back.
His legs were burning, his heart thundering in his chest, and he could hear Kacchan's footsteps right behind him, gaining on him. There was no escape. Izuku could feel it—Kacchan's anger, his need to take back what he thought was stolen. And as much as Izuku wanted to explain, he didn't even know how to begin.
Why do I have a quirk?The question echoed in his mind, mixing with the fear that Kacchan was going to catch him, going to hurt him—maybe even worse than he ever had before.Why do I haveKacchan'squirk?
"I didn't do anything!" Izuku shouted over his shoulder, his voice cracking with desperation. "I don't know what's happening!"
But Kacchan wasn't listening. His mind was set, and his anger was blinding. All he could see was that Deku—weak, quirkless Deku—had something that didn't belong to him.
"I'll make you give it back, Deku!" Katsuki roared, his voice hoarse from the effort of chasing him.
Izuku's chest tightened with panic, and he ran faster, his feet barely staying under him as he dodged another pedestrian, the world blurring around him. But no matter how fast he ran, the guilt and confusion clung to him like a second skin. He didn't know what was happening—why everything had suddenly changed.
All he knew was that Kacchan's rage was real, and it was chasing him, relentless and unforgiving.
Izuku tore the door open, slamming it shut behind him with a bang that rattled the walls. His breath came in ragged gasps, his legs trembling from the frantic sprint. He barely registered his father's surprised voice calling out, "Izuku!" as he raced past, his mind too consumed by the terror and confusion swirling inside him.
He didn't stop. He didn't think. He just bolted straight to his room, slamming the door shut and locking it with shaky hands. The click of the lock was barely audible over the pounding of his heart. He pressed his back against the door, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, his chest heaving with every breath.
For a moment, everything was quiet. The sound of his heartbeat echoed in his ears, drowning out the world. His mind raced, replaying everything that had just happened—Kacchan's furious face, the sparks from his own hands, the chase, the accusations.
Thief.The word echoed in his head, making his stomach twist with guilt. How could he explain something he didn't even understand? He hadn't stolen Kacchan's quirk—he didn't even know how tousea quirk, let alone take someone else's.
But that didn't matter. Kacchan had been ready to hurt him—no,killhim. The look in his eyes, the rage behind his words… Izuku knew that if he hadn't run, something terrible would've happened.
Someone would have gotten hurt.
His hands were trembling as he stared down at them, again, sparks came about. Loud and bright, just the same way it's always been whenever Kacchan uses his quirk.
How did this happen?
A knock on the door jolted him from his thoughts.
"Izuku?" His father's voice came through the door, muffled but filled with concern. "Izuku, what's going on? Are you okay?"
Izuku's breath hitched. He didn't know how to answer that. He wasn't sure if hewasokay.
"Izuku, open the door," his father's voice came again.
For a moment, Izuku hesitated, his fingers hovering over the lock. He didn't know what to say—how could he explain what had just happened? How could he explain the fear and guilt eating away at him?
I have a quirk. But… I shouldn't.
Before he could make a decision, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, followed by a familiar voice, filled with rage.
"WHERE IS HE?!" Katsuki's angry scream rang out, making Izuku flinch.
His father's voice, calm but stern, tried to intervene. "Katsuki, wait–"
But Katsuki couldn't be stopped. "DEKU!" he bellowed, his voice closer now, the fury in his words unmistakable.
Izuku's heart pounded in his chest. He scrambled away from the door, retreating to the far side of his room, his body shaking as Kacchan's voice grew louder. He could feel the rage seeping through the walls, the threat of violence lingering just outside.
"Izuku!" His father's voice sounded more urgent now, a note of panic slipping through as the situation quickly spiraled out of control. Footsteps thudded through the house, growing closer by the second.
Izuku pressed his back against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest. His breath came in shallow, quick gasps.
"WHERE IS HE?!" Katsuki's voice was closer now, just outside the door. The handle rattled violently as Katsuki tried to force his way in, slamming his fist against the wood. "Come out, Deku! You can't hide forever!"
Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sound. His father's voice rose in the background, but all Izuku could focus on was Kacchan's rage—so raw, so terrifying.
But.
But it wasIzukuwho stopped Kacchan from blowing up his notebook, humiliating the boy in half of the student body.
Izuku who had stolen his quirk.
"Give it back!" Katsuki roared, pounding on the door again. "I know you're in there! You can't steal my quirk and hide like a coward!"
Silence.
Then,
Katsuki's breath was ragged, his fists still pounding on the door. "Hestolemy quirk! I know he did! Thatthief—" His voice cracked with a mixture of rage and desperation.
Izuku's heart sank at Kacchan's words. His papa was going to think he was a thief, too. The realization settled over him like a heavy weight.
No.
Izuku was a thief.
"I don't—" Izuku's hand gripped his chest tightly, his fingers clutching at his shirt as though it would stop the pounding in his heart. His eyes were wide, panic and guilt battling inside him as he pressed himself closer to the door. "I didn't mean to!" he screamed, his voice trembling. "I don't know how to give it back!"
There was a moment of silence, the air thick with tension.
"Izuku!" Hisashi called out again, his voice sharp but laced with concern. His tone was calm, but there was urgency in it—he needed answers.
Katsuki, on the other hand, wasn't calming down. "Come out, Deku!" he demanded, his fist slamming against the door again. "You stole it! Youtookmy quirk, and I'm going to—"
"Enough, Katsuki!" Hisashi's voice boomed, cutting through Kacchan's rage. The pounding on the door stopped for a moment, the heavy silence that followed making Izuku's heart race even faster.
"Izuku, open the door," Hisashi said more gently this time, though the worry was evident in his tone. "Tell me what's going on."
Tears welled up in Izuku's eyes as he tried to steady his breathing, his mind racing. He hadn't meant for this to happen. He didn't even understand what had happened.
"I don't know how…" Izuku whispered to himself, but the words didn't feel like enough. His papa, Kacchan—they both thought he'd done something terrible, and even though he didn't understand it, the weight of that truth made him feel smaller than ever before.
On the other side of the door, Katsuki's breathing was still heavy, but he wasn't pounding anymore. The tension in the air was thick, the silence between the three of them stretching on.
"Izuku," Hisashi said softly but firmly. "Whatever is going on, we'll figure it out. But you have to open the door."
Izuku's hand hovered over the lock, his fingers trembling. He wasn't sure if he could face them—his father, Kacchan—after everything. He wasn't sure he even knew how to explain what he was feeling.
But slowly, hesitantly, his fingers turned the lock.
Hisashi stepped inside, he didn't look furious as Izuku had feared. Instead, his brows were knitted with concern, his eyes searching Izuku's face and body for any signs of harm.
Without hesitation, Hisashi gently grabbed his arms, lifting them slightly as he looked him over from head to toe. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice low and steady, though his worry was evident.
Izuku shook his head, his lips trembling. His father's touch felt safe, grounding him, but the guilt still churned inside his chest.
"Show me."
Izuku's gaze flicked nervously from Katsuki, who stood behind his father, fists still clenched and eyes burning with barely contained rage, then back to his papa. Hisashi's eyes were steady, filled with worry but not judgment, and it gave Izuku the courage to move.
Slowly, Izuku raised his trembling hands in front of him, unsure if the sparks would return. For a moment, nothing happened, just the quiet stillness of the room. But then, faint and flickering, the tiny sparks began to dance along his fingertips—just like before.
His father's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn't pull away. He kept his hands on Izuku's arms, steady and calm.
Katsuki, however, wasn't calm. "See?" he barked, his voice harsh and accusatory. "He stole it! That's my quirk! That quirkless loser stole it from me!"
Hisashi glanced at Katsuki, his face still composed despite the outburst. "Katsuki, enough." His voice was firm, the kind of tone that made it clear he wouldn't tolerate any more accusations without understanding what was really going on.
Izuku's breath hitched as he stared at the sparks, his heart hammering in his chest. "I-I don't know how this is happening, Papa," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean to… I didn't… I didn't steal anything. I'm- I'mgood."
Hisashi's eyes flicked from the sparks to Izuku's face, and Izuku heard something, then, a familiar phrase his papa tells him on the occasions where Izuku gets in trouble.Good boys don't ask how to be good.He didn't say it outloud, but Izuku could see the thought behind his papa's ruby eyes.
Izuku flinched at the familiar phrase, one that was often said around the house, a constant reminder of his father's expectations. He swallowed hard, the guilt swelling inside him like a storm. Hisashi kept staring at Izuku's hands, a quiet intensity in his gaze.
"Alright," Hisashi murmured, his voice low. "Now, give it back."
Izuku's eyes widened. "But—"
"Izuku," Hisashi's voice cut through the fog of Izuku's thoughts, growing more stern, his eyes locking onto his son's with an intensity that made Izuku's chest tighten. "How did you get it?"
Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think—what happened?His mind raced, desperately searching for an explanation. What had he done? How had this all started?
He remembered… his hand was up. He had raised it to stop Kacchan from destroying his notebook. There had been this feeling—a strange, unfamiliar sensation. It wasn't fear, not entirely. It was deeper than that, something inside him pulling, demanding that somethingchange.
His heart pounded as he recalled the exact moment. The memory was hazy, but there was one thing that stood out.
It was aPull.
That's what it felt like, deep in his chest. A force that tugged at him, like he was reaching for something that wasn't his but was somehow within reach. And then, before he knew it, the sparks had started, flickering at his fingertips. They hadn't been there before, but somehow, he'dtakenthem. He didn't mean to—he didn't even know how—but in that moment, something had happened.
"I… I had my hand up," Izuku stammered, his voice shaky as he forced the words out, his eyes still shut tight. "There was this feeling in my chest. It was like… like a pull." His voice trembled as he tried to explain something he barely understood. "I don't know how, but it felt like I was… reaching for something."
Hisashi's gaze didn't soften. If anything, the sternness deepened, though he remained quiet, letting Izuku speak.
"I didn't mean to, Papa," Izuku whispered, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to take anything, but it just… happened."
Kacchan's fists clenched tighter at Izuku's confession, his eyes narrowing. "So youdidsteal it, Deku!" he snarled, stepping forward, but Hisashi quickly raised a hand, stopping him from getting any closer.
"Katsuki," Hisashi said in warning, his voice calm but commanding.
Kacchan huffed, but he didn't move, his frustration boiling under the surface.
"Okay," Hisashi said quietly, his voice contemplative, as if he was piecing together something in his mind. He glanced down at Izuku, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he slowly raised his gloved hand. "Let's try something."
Izuku hesitated, his heart still racing, but he nodded. His father's calm, measured tone gave him a sliver of reassurance, even though the fear of the unknown still gnawed at him. With a trembling breath, Izuku raised his hand, mimicking the motion he'd made earlier—the same way he had when it all started.
"Just like before," Hisashi instructed softly, his eyes never leaving Izuku's face. "Focus on what you felt when you said there was a pull. But this time, I want you tostopif you feel it again. Don't reach."
Izuku's breath hitched as he slowly lifted his hand, fear and confusion swirling in his chest. His fingers twitched, the memory of those tiny sparks still fresh in his mind. He didn't want to do this—he didn't want to hurt anyone or steal anything. But his father's presence grounded him, keeping him steady.
Katsuki stood in the background, his glare sharp, but he didn't move. His fists were still clenched, but he watched with a mix of frustration and wary anticipation.
Izuku took a deep breath, focusing. He tried to remember the exact moment when it had happened—the feeling of something pulling from within him, like an invisible force reaching out. His mind focused on the sensation, but this time, he was more cautious. He didn't want to repeat what had happened before.
For a moment, nothing happened. His hand remained still, no sparks, no strange energy. But then, just as he had feared, he felt it again.The pull.It was faint at first, but it was there—an invisible thread tugging from somewhere deep inside him.
"I feel it…" Izuku whispered, his eyes wide with realization.
"Stop," Hisashi said gently but firmly. "Don't follow it. Izuku, you have topushinstead."
Izuku's heart raced as he screwed his eyes shut, trying to focus. He wanted to follow his father's instructions, to push whatever that strange pull was out of his body, but the sensation was overwhelming. It was like trying to stop a river with his bare hands—it kept surging forward, relentless.
The feeling was almost familiar.As Izuku stood there, trembling and trying to push against the pull, he realized it wasn't entirely foreign. It felt like something he had experienced before, like the gnawing sensation in his stomach when he was too thirsty or when he hadn't eaten after a long day.
It was hunger.
But this wasn't a hunger for food or water. This pull, this strange force inside him, felt like a hunger forsomething else—something deeper, something essential. And the more he tried to resist it, the stronger the sensation became, as though the pull was trying to consume, to take from what was around him.
"I… I can't," Izuku stammered, shaking his head frantically. His breath quickened, and he looked up at his father, his wide eyes filled with fear. "I don't know how to stop it. It's too strong."
Hisashi nodded, solemn and focused. "Alright," he said quietly, his mind clearly working through the situation. He reached out, grabbing Katsuki's hand despite his immediate protests, and then gently took Izuku's trembling hand on his own.
"I don't want to touch Deku—" Katsuki snapped, his voice full of defiance.
"Hush," Hisashi interrupted firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Both boys fell into an uneasy silence, though Katsuki scowled, and Izuku's hand trembled in his father's grip. Reluctantly, they complied, their hands clasped together, the tension between them palpable.
"Now, Izuku," Hisashi said, his voice more determined than before. His eyes bore into his son's, calm but insistent. "Try again. Feel into Katsuki's quirk, the way you did before, andpush it out.Don't pull—just push."
Izuku's breath hitched as he nodded slowly, his heart still racing. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of Katsuki's hand in his. The pull was still there, deep within him, like an instinct, like the gnawing hunger he had felt before. But this time, he concentrated onnot pulling.
Instead, he focused on pushing.
He concentrated on the sparks he had seen before, the power he had felt surging from Kacchan earlier in the day– then to him. He could almost sense it now, lingering just beneath the surface of his skin, like a flickering flame. But instead of pulling it toward him, like before, Izuku tried to imagine it flowing back into Katsuki's hand, returning to its rightful place.
For a moment, nothing happened. Izuku's hands trembled, the pull growing stronger, urging him to take. But then, with a deep breath, he focused harder—on pushing it away.
Suddenly, something shifted.
"Keep going," Hisashi encouraged, his grip firm but reassuring. "You're doing it."
Izuku's face scrunched in concentration as he felt the energy flow. Slowly, steadily, he pushed the feeling back, forcing the quirk out of his body and back into Katsuki's. He could feel it, like a weight lifting, like a flow of energy reversing its course.
Katsuki's fist sparked—this time, the explosion was small but real.
"There!" Katsuki exclaimed, his voice a mixture of anger and shock. "It's working!"
Izuku opened his eyes, sweat trickling down his forehead. He could feel the pull coming back up, the hunger rearing. Almost like it wanted the quirk back.
Hisashi nodded, satisfied but still cautious. "Good. You're getting control, Izuku."
Katsuki ripped his hand away the second he felt the quirk return fully, scowling. "Don't youeverdo that again, Deku!" he snapped, glaring at Izuku. "If you try to steal my quirk again, I'll—"
"Katsuki, enough," Hisashi said, cutting him off sharply. "This isn't something Izuku meant to do."
Katsuki gritted his teeth but didn't argue further, still shaking with barely contained frustration.
Izuku, breathing heavily, looked down at his hands. The pull was still there, faint but manageable. He had done it. He had pushed the quirk back.
"I… I didn't mean to," Izuku whispered, his voice shaky. "I'm sorry."
Hisashi's gaze softened for a brief moment, but his words came out firm, almost automatic. "Good boys don't steal other people's quirks."
Izuku flinched at the familiar phrase, the words cutting deep even though he knew his father didn't mean them in the cruelest way. But still, they stung. He wasn't a bad person. He didn't want to steal anything, least of all Kacchan's quirk. But that's what it felt like, didn't it? Like he had taken something that wasn't his.
Kacchan's glare didn't help. "Youbetternot steal from me again, Deku," he muttered under his breath, his fists sparking again now that his quirk had returned to him.
Izuku's shoulders slumped as he nodded weakly, guilt gnawing at him. "I won't," he whispered. "I promise. It willneverhappen again."
Present Time…
Izuku Midoriya sat at the back left of the class, near the window. He came early with All Might-– since the hero was now also the school's newest teacher. His thoughts raced as he stared out the window, watching the early morning light spill across the school grounds. His real quirk—Polarize—had been quiet. But even so, Izuku could still feel its faint presence inside him, like an itch in his hands that he couldn't quite scratch.
Who in their right might thought it was a good idea to send him off to a High School filled with powerful quirks?
Right. He had no one to blame but himself. Izuku wants to be a hero.
He took a deep breath, gripping the edges of his desk as the door opened again. His heart sank as he saw who entered.
Kacchan.
Izuku grimaced, his body tensing as Katsuki Bakugou walked through the door, his usual scowl etched onto his face. The air around him practically crackled with his explosive energy, a warning to anyone nearby to stay out of his way. Izuku quickly averted his gaze, hoping to go unnoticed.
Kacchan's presence was always a storm waiting to happen. Ever since the incident with their quirks—ever since Izuku hadtakensomething from him, even accidentally—the tension between them had been palpable. Izuku knew Kacchan still didn't forgive him. The look in his eyes that night, the anger and betrayal, haunted Izuku's thoughts.
Katsuki's gaze briefly swept across the classroom, his eyes landing on Izuku for a fraction of a second. There was no acknowledgment, just a flicker of annoyance before Kacchan turned away, heading to his seat.
"Tch."
Slowly, more students began to trail into the room, their chatter filling the space as they settled into their seats. Everyone seemed so confident, so sure of themselves and their quirks. The ease with which they moved, joked, and interacted with one another made Izuku feel a little out of place.
"TAKE YOUR FEET OFF THAT DESK, NOW!"
The sudden shout jolted Izuku out of his thoughts, and his eyes wandered back to where the commotion was happening—Kacchan.
Another freshman had marched up to Katsuki's desk, glaring at him with ferocity. The boy, wearing wire-rimmed glasses and standing tall with a serious expression, looked like he wasn't about to back down.
Kacchan, of course, looked completely unfazed. His feet were casually propped up on the desk, his posture relaxed as though he hadn't just been called out. He smirked, a spark of amusement lighting up his eyes as he stared at the other boy, clearly enjoying the confrontation.
"And who the hell are you?" Kacchan drawled, his voice laced with disdain. "You got a problem with me, four-eyes?"
The other freshman's expression didn't waver. "I have a problem with you disrespecting this prestigious school and the desk that countless students before us have used to strive for greatness!" His voice was firm, full of conviction.
Izuku winced internally. He knew that tone, and he knew that it wouldn't sit well with Kacchan.
Kacchan's smirk grew wider, more dangerous. "Prestigious, huh? Looks like you're way too uptight for your own good." He swung his legs down from the desk but stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving the other kids.
"Let's start over!" said the other boy, "I'm Iida Tenya from Somei Private Academy."
Kacchan raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Somei Private Academy, huh? Never heard of it," he said dismissively. His eyes gleamed with amusement, as though Iida's formality was nothing more than a joke to him.
Iida didn't falter, though. "It's one of the most prestigious schools in the country," he said firmly, his voice resolute. "I came to Yueei because I wish to become a hero who follows the rules and upholds justice."
Midoriya couldn't help it—he snorted. He hadn't meant to, but the combination of Iida's rigid formality and Kacchan's dismissive attitude made the sound slip out. It was small, barely audible, but it was a mistake.
Instantly, Iida's head snapped toward him, his serious expression tightening. "What?" he demanded, his voice sharp with surprise and mild irritation. His glasses caught the light as he twisted fully to face Midoriya, his posture as straight and intense as ever.
Midoriya's heart jumped into his throat, and he immediately regretted making any sound at all. "Ah, I—uh—nothing! Nothing, really!" He waved his hands frantically in front of him, his face turning red from embarrassment. "I didn't mean—"
"You clearly found something amusing about my statement," Iida said, eyes narrowing, his voice stern. "Please, enlighten me as to what was so humorous."
Kacchan, watching the exchange, smirked. "Yeah,Deku," he added, his voice dripping with mockery. "Go on, let's hear it."
Midoriya panicked. "No, no, I just—" He stumbled over his words, his face flushed as he tried to backtrack, but Iida's intense stare didn't falter.
"Laughing at the idea of becoming a hero who upholds the rules and justice is no small matter," Iida said firmly, pushing up his glasses as if to emphasize the weight of his words. "A hero must possess both strength and a sense of duty."
Midroiya felt like shrinking into his seat. "I wasn't—I didn't mean to laugh at that! I-I just…" He took a deep breath. Now really wasn't the time to talk about what he thinks. "I'm sorry," he said simply.
Before the situation could get any worse, the door slid open, his gaze shifted abruptly from Kacchan to another student who had just entered the room—a girl with long, sleek black hair that reached down to her waist and bright hazel eyes.
She walked with an air of calm confidence, her expression composed as she glanced around the room. There was something commanding about her presence, like she was used to people paying attention when she entered a room.
His mind, ever the analyst, immediately kicked into gear.Emitter type,Izuku thought instinctively, assessing her demeanor and quirk energy.A powerful one.
And then, to his horror, he felt the familiar sensation rising sluggishly within him—thepull.It was faint but unmistakable, a hunger that stirred at the sight of her quirk energy joining the mix of their classmates'. Izuku quickly squashed the feeling down with a metaphoricalsmash,just as he had practiced. He couldn't afford to lose control here, not now.
"Good morning!" Iida Iida's voice cut through the quiet, his formality returning full force. He seemed to recognize the girl, and he bowed slightly as he introduced himself. "My name is Iida Iida from Somei Private Academy. It's a pleasure to meet you!"
The girl turned her attention to Iida, smiling warmly. "Kirigaya Rin," she introduced herself with a polite nod.
Izuku glanced at her again, taking in her composed demeanor.Kirigaya Rin.