The noise of Esuha's streets had long since become something like breathing to me — familiar, constant, almost invisible. The last rays of sunset painted the sky in crimson-orange as our patrol with Fat Gum neared its end.

Saved a bus again.

Caught a thief again.

Put out a fire again.

And again — I couldn't help directly.

I tried to catch up to the bus as Crashhopper, but even if I had — then what? I wouldn't have had the strength to stop it. And I couldn't just crash inside at that speed. In the end, a hero with a strength-based quirk stopped the bus.

Then I tried to catch the thief — still as Crashhopper — but he had a quirk that nullified physical force. None of my hits landed. He was stopped by someone with a fire quirk.

During the fire, I turned into Spitter. Sticky, caustic slime did put out flames — but too slowly. The building was big, and by the time I was ready to shoot again… the "Water Hose team arrived. Their quirks were much more effective. Once again, I just stood and watched.

And when a thug tried to shoot a civilian, Fat Gum reacted first — stepping in between them and taking the bullet. I tried to help too — transformed into NRG — but I was too slow to get there in time.

Ten minutes later, we were already heading back to the agency.

"You did great today," Fat Gum said, clapping me on the back.

"Yeah, thanks," I replied out of habit.

I've long since realized: arguing with him is pointless. No matter how many times I tell him I didn't do anything, that my powers fell short — he always replies the same way: effort is what matters.

My name is Izuku Midoriya. I'm 24 years old. I've spent six years as Fat Gum's assistant and partner — and just as long officially registered as a licensed hero. I studied three years at UA — the best hero academy. I graduated… but never fulfilled my dream. The dream to help everyone with a bright smile on my face. I tried, honestly. But my quirk — it just doesn't suit that goal. I'm just a good sidekick. That's all.

My quirk is called "Form." Yeah, not the flashiest name, but I was five when I came up with it.

I guess I should explain. If you don't know what a quirk is — listen up.

It all started two hundred years ago, in the Chinese city of Qingqing. A glowing baby was born. Then people began appearing with superpowers — wildly different, from harmless to destructive. They were called "quirks," and now around 80% of the world's population has one.

But with great power came problems. Those who used quirks for evil threw the world into chaos. The police couldn't handle it, and then came the first heroes — ordinary citizens with quirks who stood up to protect others. Over time, it became a profession.

My quirk grew a device on my wrist — looks like a big, heavy watch. Black and grey, with a green hourglass symbol on the face. It lets me transform into ten different forms. Each with its own abilities. Sounds cool, right? In reality, it's not that simple.

Each transformation lasts a maximum of fifteen minutes. Then it goes into cooldown — five minutes. If I cancel a form early, I have to wait a full minute before choosing a new one. Sometimes that minute feels like forever. And not all forms are suited for real combat or rescue.

Like the three I mentioned earlier.

Crashhopper — one of my favorites. A mix between grasshopper and mantis: green skin, spikes, strong legs, horns, long neck. It jumps well, and a headbutt from a fall can knock down trees. Fast. Agile. But… I'm useless without momentum. My strike is weak unless I've got space to leap. Against the thief, I couldn't land a scratch — he was immune to blows.

NRG — a humanoid made of pure energy inside a heavy containment suit. Powerful. Shoots energy beams. Melts metal. But I'm slow. Really slow. And to shoot, I need to charge up and stay still. By the time I'm ready — the enemy's already gone.

Spitter — a creature like a round, pufferfish-like alien. Spits out corrosive slime under high pressure, can knock people down or douse fire. Can breathe underwater. But… my cooldown's long. Not enough for a big blaze. And using it in the city is risky — no guarantee I won't hit a bystander.

So yeah. Lots of forms — little use. Especially compared to what others can do.

Seems I started rambling again. Fat Gum and I are heading back to the agency to fill out reports and go home. That's my second least favorite part of the job. Reports are hell. You have to write down everything you did. Or didn't do.

And the first? First place goes to the media. Interviews, public appearances, cameras. I got lucky — thanks to my role, I rarely end up on screen.

No matter how much UA tried to teach us how to handle the public outside of fights — I never got the hang of it.

POV — 1 hour 45 minutes later

An hour had passed since we got back to the agency. We'd just finished. The sun was long gone, and the streets had mostly emptied.

I said goodbye to everyone and headed home. It didn't take long — I'd purposely rented a place near the agency. As I approached my building, I heard the familiar creak of the entrance. Old panel housing, gray and peeling plaster. Plenty of these in the city center — cheap but holding up. The elevator hadn't worked in six months, and the smell of fried food from the street reached all the way up to the third floor.

When I opened my apartment door, the familiar dimness greeted me. A one-room place, almost empty: a futon in the corner, an old mirror leaning against the wall, and a small, outdated TV. No coziness. No warmth. I'm rarely here and never stay long.

As I passed the mirror, I caught sight of myself. Looked standard for a hero — my costume hadn't changed much since first year. Dark green jumpsuit, red belt, black pads on knees and elbows, white gloves, red boots. The only difference — I'd gotten rid of the mask with the ear-like extensions. I'd made those to resemble the hair of my idol. Replaced it with a simple black domino mask.

Taking it off to let my face breathe, I got a better look at myself. Still the same face people always called plain and childish. Still a bit round. Still the freckles. Still the green eyes and wild dark-green curls that refused to be tamed. Only difference now — the dark circles under my eyes. That's why I started wearing the mask in the first place.

Sighing, feeling tension in my body, I muttered:

"Maybe I didn't play the hero today, but a full day of patrol and then reports — it wears you out."

I decided to take a hot bath before my night patrol. Quickly grabbed some instant noodles from the cupboard and a kettle. While the water was boiling, I went to start the bath. On the way, I turned on the TV to a news channel. Some story about a celebrity dating a hero. Didn't care much, but maybe I'll watch it later.

Turning on the hot water, I went back to the kitchen, took the kettle off the stove, poured the noodles — and went to lie in the bath for ten minutes.