In Nezu's office, the scent of freshly brewed tea lingered in the air once more. Like this morning, the sweeping view through his eastern-facing windows offered a glimpse of the lush gardens stretching to the front gate. Only this time, the golden rays of the setting sun came from behind the office building, casting the H-shaped shadow over parts of the grounds and coloring the gardens with an orange hue.
The day's work was done, and the soothing light, combined with the rich aroma of his custom tea infusion, served as a reward for his hard work. Leaning back, Nezu savored this quiet moment, his paws cupping the tea. His evening routine echoed his morning one, with a slight adjustment—he now kept a meticulous headcount of departing students as they left campus. The habit comforted him, allowing him a glimpse into his students' schedules and peace of mind in seeing each safely depart.
As the last few students walked through the gates, Nezu noted that three students he would typically have spotted by now were curiously absent. Suppressing a twinge of anxiety, he pulled up the attendance logs, already suspecting the reason.
Indeed, Mirio Togata, Nejire Hado, and Tamaki Amajiki had requested permission to use Gym Beta after school hours, with arrangements for a staff member's supervision.
A welcome development, but not entirely unexpected. Nezu had noticed the talents of these students the previous year, recognizing the potential for a healthy rivalry that would push each of them to excel. All it had taken was some strategic separation of Amajiki and Togata, nudging the former toward Hado's relentlessly cheerful presence whenever Togata wasn't available. So long as Nejire was around, it seemed almost inevitable that Amajiki would be drawn out of his shell.
They were good kids, so Nezu felt reassured now that they had begun to form connections with each other. It bode well for their futures.
Though when the thoughts of their individual futures led to thoughts of the future of UA, Nezu found himself thinking of the moment of optimistic whimsy had experienced that morning.
It appears that highly awaited event that would turn things in his favor, wouldn't happen today.
As if summoned by the thought, the telephone rattled, vibrating the desk. Seeing the name of his caller appear on screen, he lept from his seat, and gripped the landline with his paws before deftly returning to his office chair.
"All Might?" he greeted with anticipation.
"I accept." It wasn't rare for the genius rodent to be caught off guard by the odd behavior of humans, but it was rare that he was caught entirely flat-footed.
"I'm sorry?" It was clear to him that the hero was not operating in the same context. However, the conviction in the man's words aroused his curiosity.
"The letter. You sent me an offer to teach at UA, did you not?" All Might continued, "I think its time that I start looking at shaping the future rather than preserving the now."
This unexpected development wasn't what Nezu had intended with the seeds he'd been sowing during there conversations, but it was far from unwelcome.
"While I'm glad you've come to that decision, I suspect you haven't actually read my letter, have you?" Nezu's subsonic rat giggles were not heard over the phone.
"... I have not," All Might confessed. "Let me do that now, actually."
"I'll give you your time," Nezu replied. "But before we get to that, why don't we talk about what caused this recent development?"
As the rodent listened, he realized that his unfounded optimism earlier that morning, was surely being rewarded.
And he was already beginning to scheme ways to take advantage of the situation.
Toshinori held back a sigh of frustration. He had hoped to spend a few quiet hours observing the event, but it seemed several of the heroes on duty were more interested in taking a break than doing their jobs. He couldn't blame them—if anyone understood how exhausting the life of a hero could be, it was him. But of course, that left him to pick up the slack.
The creases in his oversized shirt smoothed out as his lanky form bulked up, the power of his quirk surging through his muscles. His long blonde hair, which had fallen limply over his face, now stood upright, two locks defying gravity in the signature style known across the world. His once-tired eyes gleamed with youthful blue energy that almost outshone his iconic confident smile.
He had stumbled upon a robbery in progress—several stores hit in quick succession by a group of petty thieves, their latest target foolishly close to the stadium.
"HAVE NO FEAR, FOR I AM HERE!" His voice boomed down the street, and the effect was instantaneous. The panicking civilians paused, their fear replaced by smiles and cheers. The thieves, on the other hand, scrambled to flee, terror etched across their faces.
Taking them down had been easy—none of them seemed to possess any notable quirks, or if they did, they were smart enough not to use them. After all, the law came down far harder on villains than it did on common thieves.
But just as he was wrapping up, a new problem emerged.
Sewer Surfer.
This one wasn't just any petty thug. Sewer Surfer was notorious in the area—a villain known for his combat skills, and infuriating ability to slip away at the last second. Agile, durable, and surprisingly strong, he was the kind of villain who usually didn't go down without a fight. Worse, he was often the one who bought his allies time to escape by distracting or holding off heroes.
From what All Might had read in the reports, Sewer Surfer had the overconfidence that plagued many big-name villains—he relished taking on top heroes.
Despite this, the moment Sewer Surfer spotted All Might, he didn't engage, choosing instead to retreat in the face of the number one hero. Springing into action in a much more cunning way than expected. He launched streams of his foul-smelling slime in all directions, splattering it onto several civilians nearby. Then, with a deft flick, he threw the bags of stolen goods directly into the street, causing suitcases to scatter dangerously close to oncoming traffic. In the same fluid motion, he darted towards a nearby sewer grate, his escape route of choice that had earned him his moniker.
All Might cracked his knuckles, four urgent problems demanded his attention.
The criminals—two still active, a threat to civilians as they remained above ground. Said civilians, now covered in slime—was it harmless, or something worse? Then the scattered bags, lying like landmines in the street, threatening to cause a major accident. And finally, the villain himself, already inches from slipping into the underground maze, and as soon he was there, he might as well be gone for good. Sewer Surfer had unprecedented ability to lay low and escape notice once having escaped, which was impressive considering his unique physiology.
All Might's instinct was to rush after Sewer Surfer, but years of experience held him back. A younger hero might chase the villain and leave the others in danger. But All Might knew better—lives came first.
A sharp intake of breath filled his chest as he made his decision. He would have to be fast. Very fast.
With a burst of speed, All Might dashed toward the civilians. His arms spread wide, he clapped his hands together in a sharp "Florida Smash!" The air pressure created by his movements was perfectly controlled—a wind strong enough to blast the slime off the civilians, but gentle enough not to harm them. The goo splattered against nearby walls as the civilians stumbled backward, free from the muck.
"Stay calm, you're safe!" All Might boomed reassuringly, even as his eyes scanned the next target.
In a blink, All Might was at the street, snatching the suitcases before they could cause a pile-up. Without missing a beat, he hurled them with precise force, the bags soaring toward the two retreating criminals. They struck the back of their necks just as they reached the corner, and with a soft thud, both hit the ground, unconscious before they even knew what happened.
Three problems down. Now for the villain.
But Sewer Surfer had already vanished into the sewers, true to his reputation of being surprisingly agile. Most would consider it a small price to pay for ensuring civilian safety. After all, sometimes the bad guys escape, and you can't win them all.
Except All Might doesn't lose. And as a veteran in the field, he had learned a thing or two about chasing down slippery foes.
He ripped the grate from the ground and scanned the dark tunnel below. Especially in a panicked retreat, villains always left clues. Sure enough, a trail of slimy skid marks streaked along the south wall.
Heading south, huh? All Might mused, already anticipating the villain's next move. Most crooks, once they fled, overestimated the thoroughness of their pursuers. Sewer Surfer would likely bolt in a straight line, thinking distance was his best defense rather than hiding nearby.
All Might knew better.
Rather than plunge into the muck and give chase underground, he made a smarter choice. It was faster—and cleaner—to pursue from above. Running along the surface, he could cover more ground without damaging the infrastructure below. Plus, villains like Sewer Surfer had a habit of changing escape routes the moment they thought they'd lost their pursuer, so he was likely to resurface soon.
All Might clenched his fists, a grin spreading across his face. He dashed from grate to grate, his sharp eyes catching every clue of movement. To the untrained eye, this might seem an erratic chase, but All Might had done this dance plenty of times. And soon, sure enough, the villain's possible routes narrowed down to a single path, one he was heavily pursuing.
Suddenly, the sound of a grating voice cut through the air: "No point fighting, kid. You're only making this harder. Just let it happen—it'll be over soon."
All Might's eyes narrowed. It didn't matter if that voice was Sewer Surfer or not, he was certain the voice belonged to a villain—and said villain was attacking someone.
Rounding the corner, All Might's heart sank. A kid, no older than high school, was struggling beneath the Sewer Surfer's suffocating slime. All Might's eye caught vaguely familiar green hair, but...
There was no time to think.
In an instant, All Might sprang into action. This was no longer just about protecting civilians—it was about saving a life.
"Detroit Smash!" he roared, his fist rocketing forward with precision. He couldn't afford to go wide—this blow needed force, but it also had to be controlled. One wrong move, and he could crush the kid instead of freeing him.
His punch landed with a concussive blast. The sheer force of the blow didn't just scatter the villain—it splattered him across the street, chunks of slime flying in every direction as Sewer Surfer's body disintegrated into harmless puddles. Not enough to kill him, but enough to incapacitate him long enough to contain him.
With his other hand, All Might gently gripped the boy's arm, yanking him free from the remaining tendrils of slime without causing injury. As he pulled the boy to safety, the resulting air pressure from the punch ripped through the air, lifting debris and drawing the clouds overhead until they darkened, rain beginning to fall in slow droplets.
All Might ignored the droplets wetting his face, his eyes fixed on the boy. Something seemed familiar about the young man.
But now wasn't the time for such thoughts. The boy was in obvious need of medical aid.
"Hello, yes, this is Suto Takako reporting. Can you hear me, Mr. Miyagi?"
"Loud and clear, Ms. Takako, and we're live! I understand you're at the scene of a 'villain cleanup'? Did I get that right?"
"That's correct. As you can see behind me, the police have cordoned off this intersection and are in the process of cleaning up what looks—and smells—like garbage. But witnesses tell me this foul-smelling sludge is actually the remains of a villain who, well... was blown apart."
"Blown apart?" Mr.Miyagi chuckled. "Now that's a literal villain cleanup! But tell me quickly, is he still alive, or do we need to issue a content warning for our viewers?"
"No need for that, Mr. Miyagi," Takako reassured him. "The villain is very much alive—just... scattered. He's known as Sewer Surfer, a notorious heteromorphic villain made mostly of slime, only exception being his eyes and teeth. It's quite the grotesque sight as witnesses have told me."
"A slime villain? Yikes." Miyagi's shudder was audible. "But you called him notorious. This guy's made a name for himself?"
"Yes, he's no amateur. Sewer Surfer has built a reputation as acting as muscle for hire, often acting as the rearguard or vanguard for villain groups. He's durable, fast, and tough enough to hold off pro heroes while his allies escape. Then he slips away into the sewers—hence the name."
"Impressive! I'm reading here that he's even given heroes like Backdraft, Slugger, and even Death Arms trouble. This guy's no pushover."
Takako smiled. "True, Mr. Miyagi. But today was different."
"Oh? Who finally brought him down?"
"Witnesses say it was none other than All Might."
Miyagi gasped. "All Might? In Musutafu? That's big news—maybe he's planning a visit to his old school?"
"Possibly, I'm excited to see what he's planning. What's certain is that he arrived just in time to stop Sewer Surfer, who was attacking a young boy. A single 'Detroit Smash' was all it took to scatter the villain across the street."
"It's not the first time we've heard of All Might doing something like that, but hearing it again just reminds us how powerful he is. Sorry, one moment..."
"..."
"Apologies for the interruption, Ms. Takako, but we've just received an update on a sudden weather shift in the Shizuoka and Tokyo areas. Our viewers will want to know—"
"Actually, Mr. Miyagi, my report may be linked to that. Some witnesses claim that the force of All Might's punch was so powerful, it caused the sudden rainfall!"
A pause followed by Mr. Miyagi's laughter. "And people worry All Might's getting too old! If he's causing weather changes with his punches, I think we can hold off on that retirement party."
Toshinori Yagi muted the television, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he saw the boy's reaction to the news story. He was used to seeing his life events broadcast to the world, but watching the teen's slack-jawed expression was a reminder of how surreal it could be for someone new to this kind of exposure.
Still, even as he observed the kid—Midoriya, as the nurse had informed him—Toshinori couldn't shake the nagging thought at the back of his mind: Why am I still here?
He had no real reason to stay. The boy had been saved, the villain taken down. Normally, Toshinori would have left already, but something about Midoriya tugged at him, the same gut instinct that had saved him countless times in the field. It was telling him there was more to this boy than just being a victim of a villain attack.
"Um… sir?" Midoriya's voice pulled Toshinori from his thoughts. The boy was sitting up in his hospital bed, his body battered but clearly healthy. "I know how I ended up here, but... why are you here?"
Toshinori gave a gentle smile, one that felt more grandfatherly in his civilian form than heroic. "No need to worry, young man. I work for All Might, and I was sent to make sure your medical bills are taken care of—just in case your family couldn't afford them."
The shift in Midoriya's expression was almost comical. His initial worry melted away at the mention of All Might, replaced by wide-eyed amazement.
"Oh! That makes sense," Midoriya mumbled, his gaze drifting to the window. "All Might always looks out for people, doesn't he? I read once that some people get stuck with huge hospital bills after a hero saves them, but… never with him."
Toshinori felt a flicker of pride at the boy's words. Midoriya was right. Years ago, he had made it his mission to ensure no one he saved was ever burdened by debt. Too many families had struggled with medical bills they never asked for. With the wealth he'd earned over his long career, covering those costs was a small price to pay. After all, how heroic was it if you left their bank accounts in ruin after you save them.
He pointed a bony finger at Midoriya's sports clothes, recognizing the outfit. "I was at the Shizuoka Prefecture Athletics event earlier today," he said. Midoriya tensed immediately, eyes darting away. It clearly wasn't a subject he wanted to discuss. "Didn't go as planned, did it?"
Midoriya shifted, his hands clenching slightly. "I came last," he muttered.
"Is that so?" Toshinori asked gently, leaning forward. "You qualified at the local level, though. Which area are you from?"
"Musutafu."
Toshinori let out an impressed whistle. Being home to UA, this city was notorious for its competitive spirit and the sheer number of hero hopefuls who trained relentlessly.
"That's tough competition. You shouldn't sell yourself short, young man."
Midoriya's shoulders slumped further. "Yeah… but I blew it. The pressure—it was too much. I choked when it mattered most."
Toshinori studied him carefully. This wasn't just about a race. There was something deeper, a frustration that went beyond just the sport.
"This meant a lot to you," Toshinori said quietly.
"Y-yeah," Midoriya admitted.
"Why is that?" Toshinori prodded gently.
After a moment of silence, Midoriya looked up, hesitation clear in his eyes. Then, as if he couldn't hold it in any longer, he blurted, "Do you think someone without a quirk can be a hero?"
Toshinori felt a flash of surprise but quickly masked it as understanding dawned. The boy's anguish struck a chord in him, reminding Toshinori of his own younger self. He knew how delicate this moment was—the wrong answer could crush Midoriya's spirit.
"What do you think?" Toshinori asked, his voice calm but probing. He wanted to see what the boy truly believed, what lay beneath his uncertainty.
Midoriya's hands trembled for a moment before he gripped the hospital sheets tightly. "I don't know anymore." His voice wavered, but he pushed through. "I used to think… maybe. I watched Knuckleduster, and I always felt that if he could be a vigilante without a quirk, maybe I could be a hero." He paused, biting back a sniffle. "But I'm not like him. I'm not special."
Toshinori nodded slowly. He knew the man behind the mask—Knuckleduster, Iwao Oguro, had surprising strength and speed despite his lack of a quirk. But what few knew was that Oguro hadn't been born quirkless; his abilities had been taken from him.
Toshinori leaned back, the soft pop of his spine breaking the silence.
"So," he said slowly, choosing his words with care, "you think you need to be special to be a hero?"
Midoriya winced. "No… I mean, I know anyone can be a hero. That's what they say, right?" He repeated the words he had likely heard a hundred times, though disbelief lingered in his voice.
Toshinori raised a bony finger, pointing thoughtfully at Midoriya. "Then what makes you different? Why do you think you need to be special?"
Midoriya faltered, gripping the sheets even tighter. "I'm quirkless... too weak."
"So, being a hero is about power?" Toshinori pressed gently, watching Midoriya closely.
"No! Not really…" Midoriya's voice cracked with frustration.
Toshinori sensed he was losing Midoriya in the tangle of philosophical discussion. Teenagers didn't always have perfectly thought-out dreams, but those dreams were often fueled by strong convictions.
"Let's put aside what makes a hero, for now," Toshinori said softly, his tone firm yet comforting. He leaned in, his gaze steady. "Tell me—why do you want to be a hero?"
Midoriya's eyes widened slightly at the direct question. For a moment, he stayed silent, but Toshinori waited patiently, knowing the answer to this question was more important than any other.
Finally, Midoriya spoke, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "I want to be like All Might."
Toshinori raised a brow. He had heard those words before from countless others, their motivations often shallow or self-centered. But something in the way Midoriya said it felt different—genuine.
"When I was little, I saw a video of All Might's return to Japan," Midoriya continued, his hands still gripping the sheets. "It wasn't how many people he saved or how fast he was that amazed me." He smiled faintly, a faraway look in his eyes. "It was his smile. The way he made everyone feel safe, like everything was going to be okay."
All Might remembered that day. He had been hunting one of that man's goons, and a skyscraper's foundation had been tampered with to serve as a distraction.
The memory seemed to well up inside Midoriya. "When the other kids would shout, 'I AM HERE,' they meant it like, 'I'm here to win' or 'I'm here to save the day.' But I meant it differently. I wanted people to know that if I was there, they didn't have to be afraid."
Tears shimmered in Midoriya's wide, green eyes, but he didn't stop. "That's why I want to be a hero. I want to be someone who makes people feel safe and protected. I want to be the symbol that lets people know they don't need to be afraid."
Toshinori couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips, though it faltered when Midoriya's tears of sentiment turned into tears of sorrow.
"I-I guess I just finally realized today," Midoriya said, his voice breaking. "I can't reach that dream… because I don't have a quirk."
Toshinori let the boy cry in silence. The ambient hum of hospital equipment and distant traffic were the only sounds accompanying his grief.
An idea came to Toshinori as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, it was collateral for his disguise for the sport event, but it's information was genuine.
"Young Midoriya," he called softly, drawing the teen's attention. "I don't believe that people are defined by their failures."
Midoriya took the card, confusion flickering across his tear-streaked face.
"Keep that," Toshinori said, standing and moving toward the door. "If you ever feel like chasing your dreams again, give me a call. I'll see what I can do."
Before Midoriya could respond, Toshinori had already disappeared down the hallway, his long legs carrying him swiftly away, leaving the boy alone with the card—and his thoughts.
Having managed to convince his mother he was just out late with Katchan and everything was alright, Izuku retreated to his room and dramatically fell onto his bed. Exaggerating his fatigue provided a moment of catharsis, allowing him to sink into the comforting softness, even as conflicting thoughts raged in his mind.
After a moment, a realization hit him, and he scrambled for his phone, dialing the top number on his frequently called list. Sitting up at the edge of his bed, he anxiously awaited an answer.
A click indicated the call had connected. "Tsubasa?"
"Hey, Izuku." He sounded sickly and oddly tired.
Izuku's eyebrows shot up in alarm. "Are you sick? You were fine this morning."
"...No, my grandfather just flew me over in a helicopter. Turns out I'm airsick. I'm still coughing up chunks of vomit."
"Ew." Izuku's nose wrinkled. "Wait. That makes no sense—your quirk prevents that kind of motion sickness."
"Never mind that." Tsubasa sounded a bit defensive. "How did you do?"
"I blew it."
"That sucks." Only Tsubasa could make that sound genuinely comforting. "You'll get them next time, though."
Izuku swallowed hard. "There is no next time."
"What do you mean? There are still the entrance exams, and those are ten months away. I'm sure if you keep training, you'll have a chance."
"...I know." Izuku admitted, his voice shaky. "But what if Kacchan is right? I mean—"
"Screw what that asshole thinks!" Tsubasa yelled, followed by a cough and a gagging sound. "Sorry, found more slime."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes. Now listen, my grandfather doesn't like me being on my phone, so I won't be able to talk much for a while." Izuku's heart sank. "I want you to promise me something, okay?"
"I-I... sure, what is it?"
"And I want you to mean it."
"Yes."
"Never, ever give up on your dream of being a hero. If not for you, do it for me, yeah?"
"That's not fair! What if I can't—"
"The world isn't fair, Izuku!" Tsubasa yelled again. "I don't care if you can't; I want you to at least try, dammit!"
...
"Do what I didn't have the chance to do."
"What—"
"My grandfather says time's up. Please, Izuku, promise me."
"I promise! But you need to promise to call me whenever you can. I don't like this!"
"I know. Sorry, and thank you. I promise. I gotta go. Bye."
Click
That might have been the final drop in a dam on the verge of collapse, yet, to his surprise, Izuku found his well of tears had run dry.
Falling back onto his bed, he stared at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. He wasn't sure how long he lay there, paralyzed by a fog of emotions.
Once, when he was still close to Kacchan, Tsubasa had been little more than the chubby kid from the playground. But as primary school came around and Izuku's quirkless nature became painfully obvious, others drifted away. Others, except Tsubasa. He hadn't cared.
In time, as Kacchan grew distant, Tsubasa became a constant presence, their friendship as inseparable as Izuku and Kacchan's once had been.
As the memories washed over him—late-night talks about quirks, Tsubasa's laughter at his awkward jokes, the unshakeable encouragement whenever he doubted himself—Izuku realized how much he had leaned on Tsubasa. He was the only one who treated him as an equal and, perhaps, the only one who truly believed in him. In Tsubasa's absence, the path forward felt even more... impossible.
But as the fog of sorrow cleared, a flicker of determination took root. He had promised, and he would keep that promise.
As his gaze drifted up, the signed All Might poster above his bed seemed to shine with newfound meaning. Fate, he thought with a swell of awe, had to have led him to this moment.
Fishing the business card from his bag, he couldn't help but smirk as the Might Tower branding seemed to belong right there, amid his memorabilia—a symbol of possibility born of faith, both his and Tsubasa's.
He dialed the number, trying to steel himself. He'd planned to get straight to the point, to sidestep any awkward moments, but...
(I don't have a quirk. I want, I NEED a quirk.)
"Hello, this is Toshinori Yagi—"
"Mr. Yagi, do you think I can be a hero even without a quirk?"
"Oh! It's you, young man. It's pretty late," he chastised lightly.
"I know, I'm sorry. Also, I didn't mean to be rude with how I started the call."
"Never fear; I understand. Now, why are you asking this question?"
"I—I don't know. Originally, I just wanted to tell you I want to accept your offer, but..."
"But?" Toshinori prompted patiently.
"It feels like there's a very big part of me that still thinks I can't do it without a quirk... and you didn't give me a direct answer at the hospital."
"Indeed I didn't."
"And I want you to be honest, please. I don't want you to give me false hope. I've had enough of that."
"Very well. I'll tell you the truth." Mr. Yagi sighed deeply. "For a long time, I didn't think it was possible. Realistically, someone without a quirk is outclassed physically by even the most mundane quirk users. Plus, quirkless individuals face enough peril as civilians considering how fragile they are by comparison."
Izuku clenched his eyes shut, his heart bracing for the worst.
"However," Mr. Yagi continued, his voice steady, "I think meeting you changed that."
"What?" Izuku's eyes shot open, disbelief coursing through him.
"I'm serious, Young Midoriya. I had someone look into your record. Your physical abilities are phenomenal for a quirkless person. You have the talent and grit to become a hero. But what really convinced me is your heart, young man. Your conviction for being a hero resonated with me. Do you know who you sounded like when you told me why you wanted to be a hero?"
"Who?"
"All Might. And I should know, I know him better than most."
As hope swelled inside Izuku, tears began to prick at the corners of his eyes.
But it was what Mr. Yagi said next that shattered his composure.
"Izuku Midoriya, you too can be a hero."