Chapter 29: Scholarly Hurdles
Nighteye's car was packed, Izuku noted. Before today, Nighteye seating four people was a fantasy. At most, it was just himself Nighteye, and an unfortunate plus one. Very few men and women could stomach the ordeal; but today, Gran Torino and Setsuna joined them. Had today not been such an important day, he doubted either of their additions would've caved. Even free rides have a cost, after all.
They made the commute in silence. Setsuna, bless her heart, had never had the misfortune to experience such recklessness, and Torino's constitution wasn't what it once was. Tensions were already high, and Nighteye's sharp turns and abrupt stops could snap a monk's meditation in two. Their silence was their weapon; they couldn't freak out if they didn't speak. As for Izuku, he was just anxious.
Izuku popped all the joints in his hand, working his way up to the elbow, his shoulder, and finally his neck. He weathered the death stare Setsuna was throwing him from the backseat, her ghost-white face visible in the rearview mirror—the cracks broke their honorary silence. As Nighteye's primary disciple, he'd been given the "honor" of shotgun, which only meant he had a front row viewing of Nighteye's insanity.
In all honesty, he would've preferred to swap with Torino; that way, he could've at least stressed with Setsuna together.
Today was the day. Almost five years to the anniversary, Izuku was about to walk into U.A. for the first time. They were the halls that Gran Torino used to teach in, Nighteye used to study in… All Might used to thrive in… the one's he'd dreamed of all his life. Even just the thought bore a hefty weight, one that made his heart squeeze and stub itch.
Not knowing what to do with his hand, he opened his phone to check for new texts. He bit his lip, finding none. He settled on rereading the recent ones.
Lemillion: Go get 'em, tiger. I'll be sure to say hi when I see you in the halls next semester.
Shoto: I wonder what the test will consist of. Father told me it used to be like an athletics competition, but apparently it's totally rehauled.
Mom: Good luck sweety! I'm going to make a cake for you when you get home. You've worked so hard, I'm sure you'll do great! Muah 3
Setsunasaurus: Wait, where are we meeting up? Nighteye's?
Izuku lingered on the latter two, double and triple rereading. Just seeing them brought a warm flush through his chest, easing his pulse and dulling the edge of anxiety digging into his heart. Whereas his mom's text was full of love, Setsuna's was almost empty by comparison. Yet they held similar places in his heart—his friend conveyed her support with her actions, rather than words. It was something he could relate to.
As for the former two texts, they did the opposite. His competitive spirit itched, crackling like a flame in his chest.
His quirk matched his feelings one for one, even the contradictions. One for All didn't bat an eye at his paradoxical emotions; within Izuku, it had always existed as a flame and an ocean anyways. It purred like an engine, hiccupping alongside his excitement like a floored accelerator. It was a part of his body and his feelings at once, his blood and his mind. It was cool, flowing with his mom and Setsuna, but hot, flickering with Mirio and Shoto.
He loved them for their encouragement—alongside everyone else who'd ever believed in him. The Tokages, the Utsushimis, and even Ms. Fujimaki wished him luck, even if Sasami had been subdued while doing so. Despite so many well-wishes, however, only one made his heart droop.
Therapist Fuji: Remember, success is not always guaranteed. You have worked hard, but should the unfortunate come and you fail, it won't be the end of the world. You are a trooper, my boy, and even if that can't save you from getting knocked down, it will guarantee your resolve to stand back up. Good luck and godspeed, Izuku.
It left him feeling a dull disappointment. The man was sweet as sugar, but his logical, pragmatic reasoning didn't help his consciousness today. Of course, Izuku understood on a grander scale that he wasn't guaranteed a spot in U.A.'s Hero Course, but he was prepared; perhaps more so than anyone else. In the last eight months alone, he'd grown leaps and bounds with his skills—he hadn't even considered losing until Dr. Fujimaki had mentioned it..
He was… confident. It wasn't a rarity for him to feel like this, but with how his self-worth waxed and waned like the moon, Izuku supposed he hit the jackpot on this occasion. Training kept him feeling good; and training had been better than ever since Togata had joined Nighteye as a full apprentice. Still, Izuku was teetering. Had he been in any worse a headspace than he was now, he'd be biting his nails, white as a sheet.
Another thing keeping him feeling good was the rearview mirror. Checking it reminded him of his dear friend, pale and nauseous. While her nerves seemed abundant, they were only exacerbated by Nighteye's driving. In reality, she too was quite confident. She was in the best shape of her life, and her chances were no lower than his own.
Izuku smiled to himself; she'd come a long way from early Middle School. As anxious as she appeared on the surface, he could see the way her shoulders kept firm, her eyes steady ahead. Her eyebrows, cute, neat things, had a focused scrunch. Shoulder-length waves refracted the light, burning viridescent in the sun, and their simple existence warmed him. He'd never thought she looked bad, but it was nice to see her all natural again; it felt like a bad chapter of a good book had finally ended.
It wasn't just them who had grown, though. Mirio had completed his second year at the top of his class, and Shoto had finally begun to wrangle his fire under control. His friends—and wow, how he loved to say that—were thriving. He, despite many hardships, was thriving.
So when he stepped out of the car, shoulder-to-shoulder with Setsuna Tokage, he didn't feel nauseous. It wasn't overwhelming, foreboding, or dismaying. Sure, his heart squeezed, but when did it not?
"So… what do we do from here?" Izuku asked, looking around. The campus was striking: grand, but concrete and functional. It looked the part of a top hero academy. Its pride was in its simple, expansive effectiveness. Broad sidewalks for larger students, massive entrances, and inviting infrastructure… Even the benches were impressive, in that they accommodated for all.
Not a single building was less than five stories, but even the tallest ones didn't loom overhead. They felt less intimidating than they did inspiring. Like yes, one day, you too will be able to reach these heights, and we'll show you how; like the difficulties of life weren't so far out of reach here.
"You see that building over there?" Nighteye asked, pointing to a squat, square building off to their left. The two hero-hopefuls nodded. "We'll sign you in, do your paperwork, and then you'll begin your knowledge exams. Then we'll reconvene in… is that the building, Sorahiko?"
Everyone's eyes drifted from their left to their right, looking at an oddball building. The grass surrounding the facility was sparse, mostly dirt, and there were construction trenches littering the property. The building itself stood out, given that it was far more cylindrical than any other. Whereas the previously mentioned building was a brick of beautiful glass, this building was a cone of concrete. Izuku almost mistook it for the Sport's Festival Stadium, but it was a quarter of its size.
The aesthetic was spartan; no decorations marred the smooth walls. The only hints of detail stood before the entrance; concrete statues, each a uniform cream color welcomed all who dared approach. They were of heroes, yes, but not ones Izuku recognized. They wore shield bucklers at the hip, spears across their back, and Hellenian helmets with horse hair plumes over their heads. Had it not been for the iconic capes they wore, Izuku might've mistaken them for ancient gladiators. Were these… Roman Heroes?
"Yea, didn't you check the brochure? Built the whole thing over the course of a month, just for the test." Gran Torino said, leaning against his cane. Just like Nighteye, he wore his hero costume; though unlike Nighteye, he stood out like a sore thumb. An odd feeling was born in Izuku's gut, one that he struggled to place. It was like a chimera of nerves and paranoia, but it wasn't strictly negative. He was curious and excited too; the structure didn't fit with his mental image of U.A., and he was excited to figure out what its purpose was.
"Fair enough. That is where the main test will be taken; we'll be there to support you, but we can't help you. After we sign you in, you'll all be on your own." Nighteye said.
"Don't get your panties in a twist, Sir. It's not like you were gonna help me if you could." Setsuna said, a small laugh floating on her voice.
Nighteye at least had the shame to be a little abashed. His shortness with Setsuna had waned over the years, but he never truly got around to appreciating her to her fullest. Still, even he could laugh at his own attitude sometimes. He stood there for a moment, taking the light insult on the chin, before a small grin settled over his face. Placing his hands on both their shoulders, he pulled them close enough to whisper in their ears.
"Good luck; you've already earned your place, in my mind. Even you, Girlie."
It did the trick. The lingering effects of Nighteye's driving drained from Setsuna's system just as Izuku felt that curious-paranoia fade. Only now did it dawn on him that they were to take serious exams; although he studied hard, that was just who he was. He hadn't dedicated specific energies to mastering U.A.'s expected material; he could only hope what he knew covered the bases. As for Setsuna, her trademarked shark grin swam onto her face, as confident and ferocious as ever.
"Dude, we are going to blow these nerds out of the water. I quintuple checked the exam material. Piece of cake."
"Good. You're a good fighter, Girlie, but I was afraid we were gonna lose you to academics." Gran Torino said, dry and not a hint of sarcasm in his voice. She spun to him, cheeks flushed and jaw dropped.
"Excuse me!?" She said, before Nighteye shut her up.
"We're going to be late at this rate. Let's go register." He said, marching off towards the square building. Torino was immediate in following him, leaving an ignited Setsuna and a laughing Izuku behind.
As they abandoned the children to their tardiness, the crowd grew thicker, obscuring the view of their teachers from them. Setsuna was still fuming, not wanting to follow, but as the crowd began to push past and shove them aside with their elbows, Izuku had enough. Grabbing the girl's bicep, he started along the treacherous journey of catching up. He suppressed a shudder as the contact sent a shock up his arm, sparking in his brain and muddying his thoughts.
She engulfed his mind, whenever they touched like this. Thoughts of her hung over him like an oppressive fog; a haze that made his heart race a little quicker and blood pump a little faster. It was… a crush. One he'd accepted, but didn't appreciate. It made being with her difficult, especially when they sparred. Sure, glancing blows and brushing strikes didn't impact him, but Izuku always lost when they grappled.
It dragged him down functionally, but also emotionally as well. He adored her, but at times it clouded him and robbed him of sense. Especially in these moments, when they were alone but for strangers, when all he could think of was her and not his surroundings. His feelings around her fluctuated like the ocean's currents, wild and untameable one moment, calm and serene the next. And even at the best of times, it hurt, because it was not meant to be.
He wished her the best, and he knew that was probably not with him.
His thoughts turned heavy as they broke through the crowd, finding Nighteye waiting for them with crossed arms and a restless, tapping foot. Torino was giving him an odd look; and only here did Izuku remember to let go of Setsuna's arm. Her face was pointed everywhere except his own as she slipped past him, joining Torino to file the rest of her paperwork. As she did so, there was a brief moment where the only people he could see were Nighteye and Setsuna.
It was one of those surprise-attacks that the unconscious mind uses against the conscious. The juxtaposition between Nighteye and Setsuna hit him like a hammer. Wires in his brain sparked, the all-devouring urge to reveal his secret waking up.
In the early days, he hadn't considered it. His life with Nighteye and his life with Setsuna had been split, kept apart by circumstance. Even if he had wanted to, he couldn't have. Everything was a danger, a possible trigger, and just talking about what'd happened would have sent him over the edge.
It'd been a fear with a short halflife. Years passed, and Izuku found that the pain bothered him less and less; and by the time Setsuna came to Nighteye's gym, he might've been able to choke the whole story out. Yet something held him back… something bigger than himself.
In some ways though, the guilt sat squarely on his shoulders. He'd never given her a full truth, in regards to his quirk, and his personal failings could be pointed at for that. She'd… he could remember it like it was yesterday, the bridge. How miserable he'd—they'd—been, and how she'd still mustered the power to save his life. Yet even now he could only offer half-truths and allusions.
His inability to come clean wasn't simple. He could take some solace in its complexity and weight, but it was still on him in the end. In recent times, when they were alone and close, the words would sit on his tongue.
"Hey, did you know that I have the country's greatest quirk? All Might gave it to me seconds before he died." Izuku might say, and then his own bluntness would wither his hypothetical admittance. He'd try again at a different time, different place, but nothing escaped his sealed lips.
"The Symbol of Peace gave me his power, and Nighteye's been training me to be his replacement." Sand on his tongue.
"Eight people live inside me, and our nine missions in life are to destroy a vegetated crime boss." Ash.
"I was the kid All Might killed himself to save; now I have to take up his mission." Soot.
Setsuna was many things. Reasonable, for one. Fun. Intelligent, talented, and dedicated. Bright. She was not, however, easy to talk to about such personal topics. Simple eye contact made him shudder, for one. The power she had over him was as great as the quirk that slept in his gut, and that wasn't even including the effect her skin had on him.
He didn't know what to say. None of these feelings were new, it's just that they'd only begun to make sense in his brain in the last few months. It was just… hard. Izuku didn't have a clue how it happened. She always stood close to him, no further than a few millimeters, and he'd never had a problem. In fact, he'd welcomed her warmth as a peace of mind he could find nowhere else. Yet one day, those previously insignificant millimeters felt all too close, that warm presence scorching and distracting.
It was here he decided she deserved to know. Izuku was almost embarrassed; she'd gone through so much with him that it should've been trivial. The fact that she was already clued in should've helped; her suspicions were obvious. To her, there was already a concrete connection, and all Izuku would have to do is throw her a bone. Setsuna could figure out the rest.
Yet it wasn't just shame and embarrassment that stopped him from sharing his secret. It was One for All itself.
As the group began walking into the building, the urge to tell her blossomed, growing from a simple sapling into a young yggdrasil. He turned on her then, the words on his lips spilling forth like a flooding dam.
"Set—"
"Stop!" Five yelled, manifesting beside him. Izuku's companions all looked at him confused. It was like an air bubble had been forced down his throat, his silence coerced and forced.
"C'mon, kid, you know that's a poor idea." Five said, his grip an iron clamp on Izuku's shoulder. "She's already knee-deep in our bullshit, and any further she falls she'll be exponentially more likely to get hurt. All for One may be on life support, but even as a vegetable he'd still manage to hurt you. Through her."
His words reverberated with power, like a second voice of sheer energy was layered over his own. The energy wasn't toneless and formless however; it had a physical motion in his gut, swaying like a ship. That swaying was jealous, and wanted nothing more than to hold the truth close to its chest. One for All—as it always did when he tried—shut him up. Five wasn't just speaking of his own will, but of the whole quirk's.
"All examinees, please report to your assigned floor to begin the testing. It begins in ten." An overhead speaker said, saving Izuku from his group's confused stares. A good chunk of the fellow students filed out of the lobby; if Izuku wasn't so swamped with inner conflict, he might've enjoyed peeking on his potential peers and their teachers. As it was, he was just glad when Nighteye shoved paperwork in his hand.
While he sped through the paperwork, Five stayed over his shoulder, lecturing him.
"Kid, I'm sorry. I know—I know. You feel bad, and want her to know the truth, which checks out. But it's like you forget the dangers of being in One for All's inner circle. There are less than twenty people alive who know about our quirk, and it should stay that way. Telling Mirio our name didn't count, but even that was almost too much. Every new addition is a security breach for us, and a personal risk for them."
If he was asked, Izuku would've denied how much harder he began to press the pen into his signature. Izuku loved One for All to no end. It'd been a part of him for so long, and such a massive part of him at that. He swore himself to it, and made a thousand and one promises on its behalf—but that didn't mean it couldn't frustrate him. Banjo especially.
Five, Izuku thought, projecting his thoughts as loud as he could manage. I'm strong now. We're strong now, the both of us. I can almost beat Nighteye, and Setsuna's getting closer to Gran Torino every day. We—especially her—can handle it.
"Those are in spars, kid. You know that. You're good, but you're not half as good as them at their best, and by no means are they the strongest. Even All Might was wary about this, and he was the strongest. This shouldn't even be an argument. You love her, so you won't endanger her more than we already have. It's how All Might stayed alive for so long—he chucked these feelings away for a better world."
It took more strength to not puncture the paper straight through than it would've to do so. On the outside, all someone might see was a twitch, but on the inside Izuku was fuming. Fire and brimstone raged through him as he turned in his paperwork. In exchange, the receptionist handed him a number; five, for his testing floor. He rejoined Setsuna, cold as a stone in the shade, spotting a four in her hand.
Five, Izuku thought, squinting. Get out of my head. The vestige winced, raising his hands in surrender.
"Hey, I'm sorry, dawg. I'm just trying to set you straight—"
No, I understand. But get the hell out of my head anyways.
"But—"
It took an odd mix of blinking, flexing his abs, and stirring One for All, but seconds later, Five faded away.
"Set." Izuku said, turning to her. She startled, surprised at being addressed.
"Yeah?"
Even as Five was dispersed, the words lay thick on his tongue like hummus. It was like the truth lay on one side of a meter thick door, and all he could do was bang and beg for it to be opened. That frustration remained aflame inside of him, but it burned a useless fire. He sighed.
"Good luck."
He gave Nighteye and Torino a serious nod, and then joined the last group of stragglers as they made their way to the fifth floor.
Much of what the proctor said went over his head, his mind somewhere else. For him, it felt like one moment he was in an elevator, and the next, he was holding a thin stack of paper and a ballpoint pen, the dedicated box for his name filled. Only here, after everyone had already started writing on their exam papers, did Izuku realize this was an English fluency test.
It didn't take much brain power, unfortunately. It was only mid-level, and Izuku already spoke perfect English. It left him almost bored, like taking a test in his native language; leaving him enough room for his thoughts to continue to wander.
Five wasn't… wrong. But neither was he. Setsuna walked a thin line, learning alongside Izuku and his mentors. Their closeness had been innocent and harmless at first, but as she began to spin more time with them, she seemed to feel more and more like a member of the team. That was a very dangerous pedestal to place one's head on, especially when the guillotine's edge alignment was so mysterious. Setsuna had joined them, trusted them, yet she didn't quite understand the risk.
Being a part of One for All's group was worse than being a normal hero. Some heroes, over the course of their careers, developed rivalries and nemesis. Very few came into the game already at war with a villain, and absolutely none started off with a Supervillain on their case. Setsuna… would be a magnificent hero. But her life would be extraordinarily difficult because of what company she kept.
That frustration from earlier had faded, but now, in its stead, a deep negativity was born. As Izuku moved onto the next test, Mathematics, guilt began to tug on his wits. Had it not been Algebra 2, a topic he'd mastered years ago, Izuku doubted he would've been able to breeze through it as he did.
They'd fucked up. Setsuna may only spend a handful of hours a week in the warehouse, but that alone was enough. They should've told her the moment she joined, the millisecond she stepped into the gym. The more he thought about it, the more screwed it was. It was like signing into the military as a paperpusher, not knowing they'd be stationed in a warzone.
Science was next; Earth, to be specific. Tectonic plates and magma vaults and mineral scoring were an afterthought even now as Izuku's guilt spiraled.
There was no one more trustworthy than her. That was the best way he could put it; she'd done far more than the bare minimum, surpassing his every expectation of another person. If there was a single human he would rather never lie to, she'd be in the conversation right next to his mother.
She'd almost lost a leg for him, even as he almost took a bullet for her. How much more did they need to grow for honesty to be out of the question? It was asinine, how close they were yet how far apart they felt.
He wanted to tell her; and she deserved to be told. To say he wasn't frustrated at the simplicity of the problem would be lying. They were stronger—better—than they'd ever been. There was no better time than now, and yet he was still stuck. Who could he tell, who could he confide in, if not her?
The words of Five echoed back into his mind; of All Might pushing away those feelings, of remaining solid and alone. Did he have friends? Did he ever have a chance for real love?
A darker ugliness than guilt stirred in his gut, thinking of all the chances the man would never get. The plastic of his pen bent under his grip, creaking just loud enough to remind him to stop. He blinked. All his answers were filled; a dozen students were already up and handing in their test.
His mind was blank as he followed their lead, grabbing the last exam packet. This one seemed to be twice as thick as the others; though he didn't give it a strong look before sitting back in his seat. When the proctor had accounted for all the students, only then did Izuku flip it open, looking at the content.
A shiver ran down his spine. A gleaming smile stared up at him, so fierce and bright that he had to squint. Hero Laws and Regulations; the final test. Of course.
He spent a long time staring at All Might's visage, lost in thought. Five's words played over and over in his head, a niggling of an idea growing. All Might's successor… was him. The words replayed in his mind like a chime, sharp and obtrusive, yet serene and soft.
"I have no regrets… …One for All." All Might had said. "I have no one to give it to, no successor, no son."
"It's how All Might stayed alive for so long—he chucked these feelings away for a better world." Five had said.
All Might had never taken a partner… not in a romantic sense. The sparse, rare few he did confide in, however…
They were all heroes, or in the same business. Nighteye. Gran Torino. If the old hero was to be believed, they also had a contact in the police as well as a friend in U.A.'s top physician, Recovery Girl.
Izuku wondered if One for All had ever fought All Might like it did him. He doubted it; All Might was One for All's favorite. The power had come easy to him, whereas it seemed to fight Izuku at every turn, even on the simplest of things. Still, even as All Might had told his closest confidants, those confidants had been self-sufficient, capable individuals. Heroes.
It reminded him of those old cartoons; those pre-quirk era comics. Where superheroes had been fiction, smoke and mirrors. Where the most dramatic forms of the modern profession were dramatized; where being a hero was dangerous, unlawful, and unforgiving.
Heroes, just like in real life, had secret identities. They lived in worlds where villains were far more abundant than themselves, and their identity formed a shield around themselves and their loved ones. Oftentimes, those shields even extended into their personal lives, hiding their truth from their loved ones just as they did their Villain of the Week's.
It'd been… a long time since Izuku had thought about old hero cartoons. As a child, he'd drunk them like a man dying of thirst; so much so that he might've drowned otherwise. For a second, Izuku pondered why he'd stopped. They'd been so important to him, some of his favorite things had been those comics. He…
Looking down again, he remembered. All Might. Staring at this image; a photograph, traced and colored in like a painting, he remembered.
Heroes would have unbalanced lives, rolling through lovers and family like a train that never stopped a station for too long. Hero-Citizen relationships dissolved faster than sugar in water; oftentimes, unless you were invincible, your only true friends were the heroes you partnered with and fostered.
Was it because they were only students? An indignation burned like a fire in his chest, thinking of Setsuna. Was she just not heroic enough? What is it you want, One for All? A Saint? There's few more heroic than her, yet his quirk was rebuking her anyways? Why?
Five might've been right about Nighteye being twice as good as them, but that didn't take away from their strength. He'd been training longer and harder than some pros do, and Setsuna wasn't far behind.
Was it her quirk? Her age? Was it him, and his inability to utilize all of his strength? Izuku screamed all these questions into the void, but he did not receive an answer.
Picking up his pen, he was careful to not squeeze too tight; it was already bent and awkward, and any more pressure might just snap the thing in two. In a fit, he flipped All Might's image to the back and began tearing through the questions.
It was like an insult. Quirk restrictions, license accruements, Samaritan limits, process and lawful arrests, it was the most basic garbage Izuku had ever seen. Fifty questions, half of them multiple choice and the other half written fell under his wild scribblings like a lightning rod, his pen furious thunder.
Five might've been right about one thing. He liked—perhaps loved—Setsuna, and would do anything to keep her out of danger. That didn't mean he'd treat her like a baby. They'd already betrayed her trust by keeping his secret from her, even as she laid her full faith before them.
He was done with keeping her out of the loop. Even if it meant her rejection, their separation, he would tell her, one way or another. One for All had bent the knee to All Might when he'd mastered it, and turned the quirk into his own. If it meant mastering the quirk and becoming its most powerful user to get its permission, then that was what he'd do.
The first step to that was clearing this test and joining class 1Z with Setsuna. They'd evolve beyond students; turn into real heroes, and he'd tell her. Everything. One for All, All Might, the Vestiges, even of his affections. It didn't matter to him if she didn't return them, so long as she knew. He didn't expect her to return them; it wasn't like he was her ideal partner. Still, dishonesty was a bad look on them both, and Izuku would not be seen wearing its ugly coat anymore.
This time, he was the first to turn in the test. Following him, not a single student turned the test in for another ten minutes. From what he'd seen, it was the fastest anyone had completed any of the exams, and he had no doubt Setsuna wasn't much further behind.
When the rest of the examinees caught up and Izuku was free once more, he reunited with his Setsuna. It was good to see a friendly face; most of his testing group had been stones of personality, quiet and under the radar.
The building guilt and frustration was still present when she attached herself to his hip, but now it was different. Whereas before they'd been obtrusive and imposing, now they were overshadowed by his resolution. Insecure thoughts clung to him like leeches, but even now his determination was plucking them, flicking them back to the fearful swamp they'd arrived from.
When Setsuna started babbling about the ups and downs of her exams, he felt different. His mind wasn't at ease, but he was no longer distracted by her simple presence or his overarching stress. Izuku felt in the moment; peaceful in his mind without Five's commentary. Laughter bounced between them as she told him of an over-excitable brunette, an uptight bluenette, and a gruff blonde that didn't seem to give a rat's ass about respecting the proctor. It seemed she had her hands full with personality; at the very least, he was happy she hadn't been bored.
It took a bit of wandering, but they found their mentors outside the building, waiting on a bench. Gran Torino glanced at Setsuna for a second, but his eyes locked onto Izuku's before either greeted the other.
"Finally." He said, his voice gruff and boiled. Torino leant into his cane as he stood, his short legs letting out a micro puff as his feet softened his fall to the ground. The bench was normal sized, to the small man's obvious chagrin. Izuku looked at him confused, an eye quirked.
"Uhm, excuse me? What do you mean?" He asked, looking from Torino to his other companions. Each gave him back the same look, like they were holding some knowledge he didn't. Nighteye pushed up his glasses, looking away as Torino shrugged and began walking away. Only Setsuna graced him with an answer.
"Well, you seemed kinda in your own head there for a sec. I was worried you were gonna fail 'cuz—"
"Ya look like yer balls finally dropped. Hurry on now." Gran Torino called over his shoulder, his voice growing further and further away as he continued to walk. A blush exploded onto his face just as Setsuna giggled beside him, a dozen onlookers's eyes now locked onto him. He pouted, just as Setsuna patted him on the shoulder.
"Forreal though, you seem better. What happened there? You seemed super tired this morning. Don't tell me they were handing out coffee on your floor and not mine."
She was no closer to him than normal, but at this moment he was hyper aware of her proximity. Her breath was on his jaw, tickling the mirror side of his scar, just as he could feel the warmth of her skin as it ghosted millimeters over his flank. His embarrassed flush faded a bit, but with her this close, it never went fully away.
"N-no, well… I guess that last test was a real eye-opener. We're—ah, we're, y'know, here. Here. At U.A., I mean. Makes me wanna show my best self at whatever the main exam is." He said, barely able to pull his eyes away from the depths of her own and point them towards the stone mystery. From this distance, a faint idea was budding, like Deja Vu. Was it hot outside?
"O-oh, yeah. I'm pumped. Let's do our best, yeah?" Setsuna replied, also turning her head to the same building. A redness blessed her cheeks, though with the way Izuku was sweating, that might just have been the weather.
Izuku could've sworn Nighteye rolled his eyes.
"Let's follow Sorahiko now." He said, cutting them off before any more small talk blossomed.
"Gotcha! We got this, dude!" Setsuna said, breaking off from his hip to follow; it seemed the exams beat her earlier resentment out of her. He watched her walk away, his feet not yet moving. She really was pretty.
The moment he took to admire her turned sour, however, as without her, the reality of his appearance seemed to attract onlookers. Being that this was a hero school, he'd forgone the prosthetic, but as the whispers slid into his ears like daggers, perhaps that'd been a mistake.
"Wait… is that one taking the test too? Why?"
"Hey, do you see that kid? Did he just come out of the exam room?"
"What's a cripple like that doing in a school like this?"
"Probably just someone's emotional support."
Perhaps he just had a good sense of hearing, or maybe the voices were less secretive than they thought. Every person who looked at him either double-taked or brushed his existence off, like he wasn't real. Izuku took their quiet insults on the chin, used to it, but his good mood dwindled a bit. He hadn't thought hero-hopefuls would be that cruel.
It didn't take long to catch up. Still, by the time he reached the entrance, Nighteye was impatiently tapping his foot outside, no Setsuna or Gran in sight. Slowing his speed walking to a stroll, Izuku gave Nighteye a questioning look.
"Where are they?" He asked, looking around. The only humanoids that remained were the statues, their marble capes frozen in a dramatic ripple. The tapping of Nighteye's foot slowed to a stop, but his arms remained crossed and stern.
"No one's allowed in unless their sponsor is with them—and that works backwards, too. The girl and Sorahiko are signed in; what were you doing that was so important as to waste everyone's time?"
Izuku's phantom forearm tickled; he scratched his nub. Nighteye's firm shoulders softened as his eyes flicked to his arm for a split second. The Pro Hero turned this way and that, looking at everyone still on the street. A good chunk were still staring. Huffing, he placed his hand on Izuku's good shoulder, steering him into the building.
"Sorry—"
"No, I shouldn't have left you alone. Let's just focus on the test."
It was only when they finally stepped into the building that it clicked. The feeling he got when he looked at this odd concrete building, that Deja Vu, that curiosity, it all made sense in a millisecond.
It'd collapsed centuries ago, but one of the old wonders of the world, The Colosseum, was an obvious inspiration.
A massive dirt circle was crowned by stadium-like seats, the stands filled with dozens upon dozens of heroes and hero-hopefuls. Izuku squinted, unable to make out any of the spectators opposite to him, but he thought he might've seen Ingenium to his left. The roof was littered with massive lights, reminding him of an astronomer's model in the Aerospace Museum across Tokyo. Each light was a burning star, illuminating everything almost as well as the very sun might.
"Wow…" Izuku said, his voice breathy and light. Nighteye nodded beside him. Turning around, Izuku noticed there were no more students lining up behind them.
Nighteye took out his wallet, flicking his license out with a finger. Izuku watched, wide-eyed as he slipped it through a greeter's machine like a credit card. The machine made one, two, three beeps of increasing magnitude, and then the world went dark.
Gasps wrang across The Colosseum, teenaged and adult voices grating against his ears alike. As for Izuku, he remained calm, but only with the help of Danger Sense, which didn't even tickle.
As soon as Izuku's eyes adjusted to the darkness, a single beam of light shot into the center of the facility. Two hard blinks later, and Izuku's jaw dropped. His eyes were only able to make out each detail one by one, but when they did, it felt like a blast from the past.
A blonde tuft of hair, a leather jacket, and a microphone was all he could make out from this distance, but it was enough.
"Helllloooooooo Listeners! Colleagues and hopefuls alike, welcome to the very first U.A. Z Class Exaaammmmmmm!" Present Mic screamed, his voice booming around the stadium like a bomb. "With Sir Nighteye, we've got all who've registered for the test! Let the slaughter… beginnnnnnn! Contest One, Bakugo Katsuki, come on dowwnnnn! Your first opponent is… drum roll please… Pro Hero Snipe!"
Izuku felt his jaw drop even further, scraping against the floor. Not only was his old classmate here, but…
"Wait, we're fighting pros?"
Chapter 30: Continental Commingling
Present Mic's announcement rebounded across the facility, doubling and tripling through Izuku's ears. Each echo hit harder than the last. Katsuki? Snipe? A rush of apprehension sloshed through him, anxious debris piling up in his throat.
Izuku almost tripped as Nighteye grabbed him by the elbow, hauling him up into the stands. His eyes were still adjusting, but after a moment or two in the darkness, they found themselves an empty section, no Setsuna or Torino in sight. He blinked again, hoping for some familiar face, but the nearest spectators were awash in anonymous darkness.
While they were collecting themselves, the objects of Izuku's surprise manifested. Out from behind Present Mic came Snipe, appearing just like Izuku's casual research suggested. Snipe was by no means a favorite of his, but he couldn't help but admire the man's swagger. Like Eight, he studied overseas in the Americas; and his suit was proof.
Like a classic pre-quirk era cowboy, Snipe wore a sash of crimson over his midnight compression suit. Accenting the blue-black shirt were beige baggy pants, solid gloves, knee braces, and more buckles than he had any right to own. The crown of his hero suit, however, was the dramatic cowboy hat with a large "S' burned into its face. Dreadlocks and a leather muzzle situated opposite sides of his underbrim, giving him the aura of a country-born outlaw.
While it was mostly for aesthetics, Snipe's suit gave off the impression of a competent crime-wrangler. Half of his approach to heroics was his appearance, and his suit was the perfect accent piece. Not only did it look like he won bar fights and kept cattle, it seemed as though he'd conquered his herd through intimidation alone.
A custom revolver rested at his hip, never more than an inch from his palm. It was bulkier than a typical handgun, with more chambers in its cylinder than a revolver.
"Welcommmmme Snipe! As our resident sharpshooter around U.A., Snipe's been an advanced long-ranged tactician for years, as well as our Algebra teacher! Although the only man of our faculty to not be a U.A. graduate, he's just as rough and tough as the rest of us!" Present Mic boomed, swinging his thin arm around as if to show off Snipe like a well-earned trophy.
A scarce few students dared clap, even as the room had turned a few degrees colder. Izuku expected many were in his boat; none of them had prepared to fight pros. Noticing the tension, Present Mic stepped aside, abandoning the mic to Snipe. Izuku groaned; Snipe's interviews were infamous.
Snipe tapped on the mike for a second, fumbling for a good grip.
"Uh… testin'? 1 2 3? Can y'all hear me?"
Not a single response from the crowd.
"C'mon, man. I just did a whole bit; the mic's fine." Present Mic whispered, elbowing the western Hero.
"Whoops. Anyhoo, it's as Mic said. I'll be taking on our first examinee… uh… Bakugo? Where's ya at, partner?"
Izuku scanned the dark crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of his childhood friend, but found nothing. Snipe tapped on the mic, creating an obnoxious knocking sound that echoed across the cavernous stadium.
"Bakugo… Katsuki? Bakugo Katsuki, where are ya? Let's be clear, y'all; if you're a no-show, you're gonna get cut."
Mummers broke out from the crowd, wondering where the first victim was; but all of a sudden, Izuku heard it. The sounds of struggle; a pop and a crackle, flesh banging against fabric and angry muttering from far behind him. The middlemost light illuminating the center stage twisted, slicing through the stadium until it landed on the highest seat behind them. Izuku, at that moment, felt like a fish out of water.
Best Jeanist stood far above, his denim strings entangling a young blond. Katsuki was thrashing in place, even as the threads cocooned him. It was a scene out of a dream; Kacchan trapped by the third greatest hero in Japan was one thing, but what drew Izuku's true gaze was…
He bumped an elbow into Nighteye's ribs.
"Sir, what's with that haircut?"
Nighteye might not have laughed, but Izuku would never miss a chortle from the man. But even as he jested at his childhood playmate's expense, Bakugo's thrashing stopped, his bull-headed attempts to get free slowing. His eyes, crimson pools of blood, searched through the crowd as if looking for something.
He didn't know how Katsuki saw him; he was still in the cover of darkness, but he was certain. It was the way he stopped struggling, the way his eyes hardened on Izuku's own. In the brief window he stopped his rampage, Jeanist leaped through the air, carrying Katsuki down towards the stage. Their backs remained illuminated as the spotlight followed, highlighting their arc as they landed beside Snipe.
Katsuki turned one last chin over his shoulder, glaring at Izuku. The sensation was eerie; like a person making eye contact with him in his dreams. Before Izuku could tell if it was anger or something else in Katsuki's eyes however, his shoulders slumped and his attention returned to the stage.
A single denim thread stole the mic from Snipe, flicking the device into Jeanist's hands. Katsuki took the time to rub his head with a righteous fury, pulling it out of the neat comb-over it'd been in.
"Hello, Heroes of U.A. I come to offer you this young talent; although I'm afraid to say he isn't mine. What you are about to witness is his own talents, I am merely a shepherd of the Connection Program." Jeanist said, before tossing the mic back to Present Mic. With a feather weighted pull, the third greatest hero swung back into the crowd, leaving his "student" alone.
More mummers broke out, even now. Izuku looked at Nighteye, the question not yet even formed on his tongue before the man responded.
"The Connection Program gives exceptional students with no connections the chance to participate in 1Z. Unlike us, they are not a mentor-student combination. That does not, however, mean that Jeanist is just handing this chance out. The boy must be exceptional to have earned his eye."
Izuku leaned back in his chair, intrigued but not surprised.
"I-I guess that makes sense. Kacchan was always the best around. Though he never would've given himself that haircut." Izuku said, just as Nighteye's eyes widened.
"You know him? I trust Jeanist's observation of the boy, but what do you know of his skill?"
"W-well yeah. I used to stick around him when we were little; he was his own little gang boss. Beat every kid he ever fought with. "Specially me…"
Nighteye shifted, his intrigue warping into confusion.
"He… abused his quirk on you? Am I understanding you right? Why would he come to be a hero? Why didn't you report him?"
Izuku said nothing as Present Mic backed off the stage, allowing Katsuki and Snipe some room. He began to count down, starting from ten and getting subsequently slower with each count. Izuku struggled to respond as the weight of the room grew thick; as Present Mic drew closer to one, the tension seemed to rise. The crowd, just like him, was dialed into the exchange
It was only when Present Mic got to the last letter that Izuku could find his voice again.
"One! Go, go, go!"
"Kacchan… was an asshole who made all the mistakes powerful kids do. But if there was anyone All Might inspired more than us, it was him."
The millisecond Present Mic's count ended, Snipe's revolver was already in his hand. One shot fired; a second, a third, and a fourth bang went off in quick succession, blasting through where Katsuki had been standing.
Or at least, the crowd thought those last three bangs had been bullets. It'd only taken three cracks of Explosion for Katsuki Bakugo to reach the pro hero, both palms jammed together in the man's face before unleashing a fourth.
The following explosion sent Snipe flying into the wall, the stone cracking from the force. Yet the Western Hero didn't waver, and fired off two more shots. Izuku's stomach was doing flips as Katsuki took both head-on, both missiles pelting his shoulders. The force sent the young man stumbling back, but he never fell. From this distance, Izuku couldn't hear them, but not even he could miss the way Snipe paused to tip his hat to the guy.
"Oh." Nighteye said, watching Katsuki tank Snipe's rubber bullets and still dashing around with impunity. "I see."
In one blink, Katsuki would be on the defensive, tanking some bullets and blasting others off-course. In the next, he'd be on Snipe's flank, launching blast after blast in his face. Still, while he seemingly eclipsed the hero in maneuverability, power, and durability, his ultimate downfall was Snipe's cape. As far as Izuku knew, he hadn't changed its composition in recent years, and that meant two things: it was force resistant, but more importantly, fireproof.
It was like a liquid shield, hanging on his left side. No matter how much Katsuki wailed onto the man, the cape countered him. By Izuku's estimate, he'd need at least quintuple the firepower to completely overshadow its unique design, something he knew the guy could only do after saving up several pints of sweat. Even still, a single heavy blast would knock the man out should Katsuki land one on his right flank.
Unfortunately for him, that seemed improbable. It was hard to tell if the blond even noticed, but Snipe was kiting him the whole while, always walking clockwise around him. The rare times Katsuki got on his vulnerable side, Snipe would force him to backstep with his rapid-fire pistol, and then the cycle would repeat.
After almost five minutes of this, Katsuki's knees finally caved, his right falling to the earthen stage's floor.
"He may not have been much of a protector back then, but his desire to crush villainy far exceeds anyone else's." Izuku said, looking at the young man as he struggled to his feet. Thoughts of that embarrassing day on the train surfaced, reminding him how Katsuki knew of his greatest failure. The shame that filled him was immense; but more than that, a small gratitude bloomed within. It was obvious that Katsuki hated him, yet he'd never told a soul. Without Katsuki's sealed lips, Izuku's life might've gone far worse in the meantime.
His thankfulness stayed strong, even as the guy slapped away Snipe's helping hand. He stood on his own, slouched, gruff, and exhausted. Perhaps to the other heroes present, he appeared the opposite of heroic, but appearances mattered little to Izuku nowadays. Deep down, Izuku knew the truth of his character, even as he managed to hide it so well.
Izuku liked to think a sliver of that true self shined through as Snipe took the mic and slapped him on the back.
"Well, that was a lot darn harder than I thought'd be. I can't say I expected this, comin' from a Connection Kid, but he's the real deal, folks. Bakugo… uh… Katsuki, you've got my seal of approval. Welcome to 1Z, bar you commit any felonies in the next thirty days."
Nothing obvious changed about the boy's posture, minus the tiny flick of his chin. Illuminated crimson eyes met darkened green ones for one last second before Katsuki nodded, shook Snipe's hand, and wandered off.
"Hmm. Watch out for him when he joins your class. He seems to be a wild one." Nighteye said, thumb and forefinger on his chin. Izuku nodded, but said nothing. He'd be doing more than just watching out for the guy, if his instincts were right. A long talk was due.
"Well that was some darn-tootin' entertainment, wuzznit? Who knew that kid was such a powerhouse, and here I thought all he could make was firecrackers!" Present Mic said, sliding back onto the stage. Even though Snipe wore an anonymous mask, nobody could mistake the death glare he gave the Radio Hero. Present Mic gave the furious stare no more attention than a fly on the wall, going with the flow of the moment instead.
"Alrightie then, as for our next examinee, it'll be Whirlwind's very own son, Inasa Yoarashi! Inasa, come on dowwwwnnnn!"
Izuku's eyes bulged, hearing that introduction. Whirlwind had a son? Taking the test today? Huh. He thought Whirlwind was an older hero; basically retired nowadays.
"Oh hell yeah!" A voice screamed, almost as loud without a mic as Present Mic was with one. The spotlight swiveled, pointing towards a human-cannonball hurtling towards the center. The young man was massive; bigger than some of the adult heroes Izuku'd seen that day, and the speed at which he hurdled to the floor was frightening. Right before he hit the ground and broke every bone in his body, however, a massive gust of wind pushed him aloft, slowing his descent to nothing. He hovered in the air for a moment, his winds carrying his bellowing laugh across the colosseum. "Yo Mic, who am I fightin'? I'm so freaking pumped! This is way better than I was expecting!"
Present Mic laughed at the boy's enthusiasm just as Izuku cracked a grin. The energy was infectious.
The spotlight swiveled back up to the stands as a loud whistle went off, drawing the crowd's attention. Izuku's eyes turned to saucers as the light revealed Whirlwind—and presumably Inasa's mother. She was gorgeous; her youth clung to her like a second skin, her neat expression only marred by the blinding white crescent she called teeth. As for the hero himself, he was grey-haired with wrinkles carving grooves through his face by the dozen. Izuku blinked, looking to Nighteye.
"Isn't that a little… weird?" Izuku asked, to which Nighteye elbowed him.
"Don't be rude. They seem like a lovely couple. But yes, it is."
"Oh my, I love to see such energy!" A feminine voice called, a slender figure waltzing out of the shadows. Midnight looked as good as any video Izuku'd ever seen; perhaps better. Her skintight leotard was far less revealing than it was a few years ago, but it hid none of her shape or volume. At least nowadays she covered her private parts. It surprised Izuku that they let her dress as she did, even if she was as modest as he'd ever seen her. She was supposed to teach children, right?
Inasa didn't even bat an eye at the notorious seductress, instead letting himself fall all the way to the ground. His knees barely bent to absorb the impact, yet he seemed no worse off than before.
"As for this vigorous young man, we've chosen to challenge him with our most vigorous woman! Midnight graduated in one of our best classes of this century; and I would know, because we were in the same class! Let me tell you something folks; just because she has a disabling type quirk, don't expect her to be a pushover in combat. She's a total monster, just the perfect match for boy wonder!"
"Alright!" Inasa exclaimed, just as loud as Present Mic.
"Fufu, this is going to be fun." Midnight said, slipping the mic out of the blond's hand. "I'm expecting… big things from you, Whirlwind Jr."
With a wink, she tossed the mic back to Present Mic, and the countdown began.
"Ten…"
Izuku's clothes began rustling, a small breeze upsetting the hem of his shirt. His bangs began to sway alongside them as the timer continued to go further down, the power of the breeze inversely proportional to how low the number went. Around five, when Izuku was squinting so as to avoid any flying dust, his pocket buzzed.
Setsunasaurus: Dude. dude. Dued. rbo. I can't tell if I'm in love with her or creeped out by her
Izuku Midoriya: She's certainly pretty. Where are you? Where is Gran?
Setsunasaurus: We found shoto. Endeavor's as touchy as always. I can't believe you have the balls to still train with that guy sometimes
"Four…"
Setsunasaurus: hello
Setsunasaurus: that was shoto btw. Also ur not allowed to say she's pretty. Midnight is for the ladies. Shoto definitely agrees.
Setsunasaurus: yes I am shoto and I agree
"Three…"
Izuku began to curl into a ball. Without a good grip on his shirt, the speeding winds were liable to rip it off his back. It was wild to think a kid had this much power; those Whirlwind genes must really shine.
Izuku Midoriya. Of course it was. And why can't I call her pretty? It's just a fact. It's not like I'm swooning over her.
"Two…"
Setsunasaurus: There's a limited amount of pretty girls in your life, and you're already at max capacity. She is mine
Izuku felt his face grow warm. Her confidence always wowed him. He confirmed Nighteye wasn't reading over his shoulder, but the man was far too busy keeping his glasses on his head to spy on him.
Izuku Midoriya: Max capacity? I think I've got room to expand; I wouldn't want my mom to get lonely.
Setsunasaurus: i hate you
"One!"
It was like swimming underneath a huge wave. The entire air pressure of the colosseum distorted, ripping loose clothing free and throwing people from their seats. Curses and yelps rang through the stadium, though no voice grew louder than the roar of wind in their ears.
The earthen floor of the arena ripped free, ground into dust to give tangible strength to Inasa's personal tornado. Izuku fumbled as he almost lost grip of his phone; and in his haste to retrieve it, his seat. Tumbling forward, he almost pitched over the railing before Nighteye sacrificed his glasses to pull him back.
He looked back to the man, no longer seeing the spotlight's reflection in his glasses. A note of embarrassment ran through him.
"My bad!" Izuku yelled over the wind, choking as debris caught in his throat. Nighteye didn't reply, only reaching into his coat pocket to pull out a new pair.
In the center, it was like a wrestling match between globulous bulges of air. Behind Inasa was dirty brown wind, revolving like a generator as he gathered more and more power. As for Midnight, she had surrounded herself with her own fumes, forcing Inasa to create a pocket around her if he didn't want her sleeping power to spread. His control astonished Izuku; Inasa kept their powers separated like oil and water. It was quite a feat to not let any of the woman's quirk seep into his own; wind-type quirks were infamous for their wild and unpredictable nature.
As the stalemate dragged on, two things became clear. Whirlwind's son was a genius, and Midnight's skill far outstripped the media's perception of her. Even as the gap in their sheer strength grew apparent, Midnight stayed calm. Even as Inasas began throwing air-drills towards her defenses, and began compressing her fumes more and more, she remained the epitome of confidence and grace.
If Izuku were to judge by sheer size, Inasa had generated at least quadruple the strength of Midnight. His tornado encompassed her own and then some; but more than that, it began to eat away at the woman's protection. Instead of ripping it apart like a normal tornado would, it seemed the boy's inner winds did more to compress than pull. Midnight's bubble dwindled, shrinking from being house-sized to a room, and then from a room to a refrigerator. By the time Inasa stopped, the thin wisps of pink in the air condensed into a pink blob.
"You can't keep playing defense, lady! Let's see some moves!" Inasa yelled, his voice ripping through the stands just as his stray winds did. Not a soul misheard him.
Throughout it all, however, the soft thuds of laughter began to echo. The roaring wind should've drowned the voice out, but like Inasa's, it surfed on the wind currents, spreading throughout the colosseum.
"Oh heavens! How I adore such youth!" Midnight said, her giggle tickling everyone's ears. "I wonder how cute you'd be asleep in my arms!"
Her arm was like a shank; ripping a tiny hole in the prison Inasa made for her, but it was enough. His compression of her gas only extended a foot it seemed, and the second her fingertips inserted themselves into the more conventional airflow of his hurricane, her pink powder escaped.
His power worked against him here, drawing forth the full force of her quirk into his own. It spread like a flood, pouring into the core of his hurricane and the stands alike.
Izuku didn't sense anything from Danger Sense, however. Even as he scrambled to pull his shirt up to his nose, he felt nothing. His research had shown him that Midnight's sleep-inducing quirk took seconds to incapacitate women, but should it enter a man's system, they'd be out in a blink.
Yet the wall of pink never reached them. Instead of Inasa's winds carrying it into the stands, it stopped far before it even reached the closest spectator. Izuku was amazed as it slowly retreated, alongside the massive indoor storm. From the sheer sound, Izuku calculated no loss in strength, yet there was no more breeze in the stands. At a glance, it appeared to have faded, but that was wrong. In fact, it seemed Inasa's tornado had actually compressed, only to spin faster.
He drew all of Midnight's sleep-gas onto himself, a small bubble of nothingness protecting him like an astronaut's helmet. As amazing as that was at a glance, what truly impressed Izuku was what he did next.
The tornado began to warp, spinning faster and faster as it began to elongate and thin out. What once was a colosseum-wide hurricane had now turned into a pink drill, no wider than a person was tall.
"You're so awesome, Midnight! But I'll have to pass!" Inasa roared, before seemingly grabbing the tapered bottom of his creation and twisting. Like spinning in place with a rope, the thin tornado was pulling with the motion, wrapping around him like a roll. The final product was a sphere twice as long as his wingspan; it was obvious the sheer effort he was putting into holding it together, but even then, he didn't try to make it an endurance match of things.
In one glorious motion, he slammed one foot into the dirt, twisted his waist, and threw the massive pink orb through the colosseum's exit. It exploded with a dull thud; the only sound in the stadium were the dull cries of surprised pedestrians. A hush had fallen over the in-house spectators.
No one said a word; no muttering tickled Izuku's ears, no enthused announcer interrupted the moment. For a brief second, everyone sat in quiet awe, imagining what kind of monster Whirlwind's son would become.
The object of everyone's attention was huffing and puffing, one knee planted on the floor, yet it wasn't in defeat. Midnight snatched the microphone from the stunned Radio Hero, marching into the midst of the arena alongside Inasa Yoarashi. She helped him to his feet, even as he towered over her.
"Well…" Midnight began, her confidence facade cracking for a second. "Snipe said it best. I didn't quite expect this… But this kid is cool! I concede! Welcome to 1Z! And for your first lesson… Meet me somewhere private. I wanna instruct you on how to appropriately manage my… assets. Throwing sleeping gas outside doesn't work as well in the real world, champ, but it'll work here! Congrats."
She went in to shake his hand, but before she could manage the professional gesture, Inasa snatched the mic. It jumped from her hand to his, rustling the loose dirt alongside it.
"Thanks for the opportunity, U.A.! I'm excited to join, but I'm even more excited to work with all you guys in the stands! Plus Ultra!" He said, putting the mic far too close to his mouth. Izuku winced, wishing he had the capacity to cover both his ears with his hands instead of one. With his outro completed, Inasa slapped Midnight's palm, guided her into a clean knuckle-pound, and leaped back into the stands. Midnight was a good actress, but even she couldn't hide how razzled he left her. Eventually, she settled on sighing into the mic.
"Ah… youth. Mic?"
Passing the microphone back to the announcer, she left the way she came, hips swinging. Present Mic seemed to brim with excited energy.
"Wow, what a match! Careful, folks, I don't wanna alarm you, but that might've been our best one of the night! Who woulda thought the students would've gotten a slot twice in a row? Let's pray our next hopeful has half as much energy as Whirlwind Jr! Next up, Yoru Sashimi!"
Despite how snappy Present Mic was, the rest of the crowd was still lagging behind. Many had begun muttering amongst themselves, wowed. Even Izuku, as focused as he was, found his excitement bubbling over.
"Wow. That guy was a total monster. Did you know Whirlwind had a son, Sir?" Izuku asked, watching as a tiny redhead dropped into the arena. Nighteye shrugged.
"Not really; though it's definitely a good thing. I presume you know his story? He was one of the top ten heroes back when All Might was still a newbie. It was a real shame when he fell out of the public eye. He did good work, and if today's performance meant anything, his son might be even better. Looks like there's gonna be real competition for Valedictorian, isn't there?"
Izuku nodded, pulling out his phone. He felt a bit scandalized by Setsuna's last response, only catching it as of that moment. Staring at the message again, however, birthed a small yearning in his chest; he wanted to watch the test with her.
Izuku Midoriya: Can we meet up? Not that there's anything wrong with Nighteye, it's just…
Setsunasaurus: Gotcha, nerd. signal beam: incoming
Halfway across the stands, a tiny phone light appeared, drawing his eye. Poking Nighteye's shoulder, Izuku nudged him in the light's direction.
"That's our group, Sir. Let's head over before any of us get called down." He said, to which Nighteye frowned.
"Are the Todoroki men with them?" He said, his eyes squinting as the phone's light refracted both yellow and red to the seats adjacent to it. Izuku nodded.
"Yeah. I wanna meet up before any of us fight. Strength in numbers, right?"
"Feel free, but I'm not joining you. If you go now, this is where we part. I'd rather not ruin your day with mine and Endeavor's squabbling."
Izuku bit his inner lip, having forgotten. They never did quite like each other, even as they continued to work on the Crow together. Izuku hesitated; he wanted his mentor's support all the way through, but if it was him or Setsuna…
"Alright. Wish me luck, sir. Thanks for everything." Izuku said, throwing out a hand for him to shake. Nighteye stared at him, face blank, before slipping his palm into Izuku's own. He said nothing as his eyes began to glow, the purple light standing out in the darkness of the stands.
Without such a glow, Izuku might not have been able to see the frown that suddenly marred his expression.
"Focus on what I've trained you in… but don't forget that we're not done. The path of mastery is one we'll continue to walk together, regardless of what happens tonight. Show them your best self, and good luck."
"...Yes, sir."
Izuku found himself mirroring his master's frown as he left, his mind turbulent. Did he use Foresight? What was with the ominous goodbye?
Being so focused on himself, he didn't notice the walking hazard that was the spectators before him. His foot caught on the shoe of another, sending him sprawling.
Before he could trip all the way, however, a hand caught him, armored and cold to the touch. Izuku's eyes widened as a sudden flare of light from the arena illuminated the Jet Hero, Ingenium's silver armor reflecting the light with a mirror finish. When someone spoke, however, it came from his left, rather than his mouth.
"Be more careful, immediately! This is no palace to wander like some wayward prince! Take this exam seriously, or leave!" A voice said, indignant and not at all matching Ingenium's cool aura. Izuku blinked. The brief second he'd seen both their faces, it was staring at two clones; bar the speaker's softer cheeks and glasses. Did Ingenium have a son?
"S-sorry. I'll be more careful. Good luck in your test." Izuku replied, before hurrying away. While the younger man didn't seem hostile, Izuku was in no mood for his energy. Uptight, proper guys like him always had the most volatile reactions to his disability. Either they bent over backwards for him or bared their teeth; and he didn't want to risk either.
He followed Setsuna's light like a lost sailor, her phone a gracious lighthouse. Focusing on it allowed his mind to ease, her presence overriding his discomfort. Stepping onto the tier seats above them, he sat behind Setsuna and Shoto.
"Hey guys, how we feeling?" He asked, leaning forward just as an explosion rocked the arena.
"Well, I'm sorry to say, but Mr. Sashimi is out cold! Condolences to the family, but I'm afraid we have our first failure of the exam. He'll receive in-house care, of course, as well as compensation for emotional damages. Powerloader, any thoughts?" Present Mic said, passing the device to the winning hero.
"Young Yoru ova' here made the classic mistake of relying on power over technique. Perhaps he might make a better addition to 1A, or even General Studies, but he's just not a fit for the technical masterminds of 1Z. Hard Failure, good luck next time."
"Youch, he's harsh." Setsuna said, spinning in her seat to look at Izuku. Shoto mirrored her, though only with the swivel of his chin.
"Powerloader is an honest man," Endeavor said, his gravel voice startling Izuku. As the man spoke, his stubble began to burn, illuminating his face. "It was why he never cracked the top 100. In any case, it's good to see you, Midoriya. Pray my son doesn't take the last spot before you can even perform."
"Don't be an arse, Todoroki. There will be plenty of stinkers, just look at that Yoru brat. I doubt there's enough talent in this arena to fill a standard class, even if they were lenient." Gran Torino said, muttering from the opposite side. Endeavor snorted, extinguishing the flames on his mustache.
"Allow me to be competitive for my trainees, old man. Lord knows neither of them will say anything themselves."
"That's where you're wrong, father." Shoto said, speaking up for the first time. "Izuku?"
"Yeah?"
"You saw the Yoarashi guy, right?"
"Y-yeah? He was kinda hard to miss."
"Well, so far, he's the only one to actually beat a teacher. That blond guy got in because Snipe liked him. I intend to surpass that."
That surprised him; Shoto was usually never so expressive. The shy kid he used to tutor in math may have grown out of his awkwardness, but never quite his passiveness.
"O-oh?"
"Indeed. Whirlwind's son may have won, but I will be the first to incapacitate a teacher. The fastest, at that. Besides you, I doubt anyone else can even dream of it, so be warned. I will be taking the top spot in our class. No offense, Set"
Setsuna gave a low whistle as he finished his speech, adding in a slow clap for emphasis.
"Damn, Todo. Where's all this aggression coming from?" She asked. "Did pop spit in your tea?"
The mountain of a man shifted, his mustache suddenly lit once again.
"What was that?"
Setsuna squeaked, breaking into micro pieces and reassembling beside Izuku. She rested her palm on his shoulder, placing her chin over it like Izuku was some sort of shield. On autopilot, Izuku placed a hand on her knee, as if that would protect her from the Hellfire Hero. Endeavor didn't leap over the seats, however, intent on turning her to ash. After a moment of glaring at her, he shrugged, giving it up.
"It's coming from nowhere. I've just made the decision now." Shoto said. Far below, Present Mic was announcing the next challenger: Juzo Honenuki.
Setsuna retracted her cheek from Izuku's own, leaning back in her chair. Izuku missed the warmth, brief as it was.
"Be real, Icy-hot. You just want a good performance here just so you can make up for your math exam, right?"
A puff of flame burst to life in Shoto's eye—to which he clamped down with a hand, wide-eyed and indignant.
"No! I'll be fine. The test wasn't that hard."
Izuku raised an eyebrow.
"Wait… it was just Algebra 2. Don't tell me all my efforts were for nothing." Izuku said, just as Endeavor gave his son a side eye.
"I put Chica through college just for you to fail an Algebra 2 test?" He muttered, before turning back to the arena in a huff. "Midoriya. Revise with my son before school starts."
"I did not fail! It was just… a little hard. It's been years. It'd be fresher in my mind if you hadn't made me take it so long ago, father."
"Excuses. You think you can defeat a professional when you can barely manage angles and graphs?"
Their attention shifted back to the arena then, Shoto fuming in silence. Izuku and Setsuna's shoulders touched, the steady contact keeping him warm. Being back in her presence had erased any lingering unease Nighteye had imparted upon him. Together, they watched as one by one, examinees either passed or failed.
Honenuki was excellent, to Izuku's surprise. His quirk was the perfect counter to Cementoss, allowing him to almost melt any attack the Concrete Hero threw at him. Even as the matchup was favorable, his skill was obvious. Izuku never caught what hero sponsored him, but it was obvious that somewhere in this grand hall, a mentor was watching with pride.
A dozen other hero-hopefuls came and went, and while most of them left rejected, Setsuna cheered for them all, especially the girls. A ginger girl, Kendou, caught their eye as soon as she stepped into the light, and boy did she not disappoint. While her actual quirk finesse was rather lacking, her combat skill was just as good as theirs, perhaps even better. She never did end up fully subduing her opponent, Ectoplasm, on the count of his clones, but she came close, and for that, she was accepted.
Ingenium's clone, as it turned out, was actually a little brother, rather than a son. In the moment, Izuku felt dumb, but he consoled himself. They really did look alike, after all. The brother, despite the stick up his butt, was quick on his feet. For him, fast was an understatement. His opponent, Present Mic, used sound wave attacks, and he still managed to dodge half the time. Not that the boy was faster than sound of course, far from it, but should he strengthen his quirk enough… Thoughts for later.
It was quite an entertaining fight. Present Mic never once let go of the microphone, giving a running commentary all the while.
"Woah! Careful with those things!" He'd say, just barely weaving his head out of the way of the boy's devastating kicks. More than once, a misplaced kick had shattered walls where Present Mic once was. It was quite fascinating to see his skills up close; the Iida family had a long history as heroes, but every generation's fighting style was different. Years ago, the Iidas had used their internal engines to power support gear. Now, they powered exhaust pipes that propelled them at high speeds.
Though the Iida boy never got a clean hit in, he was accepted. Izuku doubted Present Mic would've been conscious to accept him if he had.
Following the youngest son of the Iidas, there were a string of failures. Four students left sourly, each with amazing quirks, but none of the talent Izuku'd seen so far today. Should they pass the standard practical, they might be quite good in the future, but as they were, it was hard to watch. Izuku wanted to march down there himself and correct their form himself, but by the time he would've reached them, they'd already fail.
He supposed not everyone had trained for this test equally.
That string of failures stopped, however, upon one girl's arrival.
Present Mic denoted her as Momo Yaoyorozu, and boy was she something new. Perhaps she wasn't the strongest, nor the fastests or most durable, but her fight was the most interesting. She seemed to be a street-level fighter, capable of punching above her weight class depending on the moment. Her hand-to-hand skills were quite nice, on par with Setsuna's, but where she truly shined was in her tactics and quirk usage. Creating anything out of nothing, she could go from unarmed to holding a baseball bat in a second. It appeared she had a nonlethal preference in weaponry, but more devastating contraptions were within her reach; only coming out as a last resort.
She seemed to be a jack of all trades, rather than a master, though she more than made up for her shortcomings. Bo-staffs, baseball bats, riot shields, and even a scimitar later, she was still up and fighting, though winded. Even when her hero-opponent finally acquired a hard-earned upper hand, however, she whipped out one last weapon: a large artillery rifle. It was quite the sight, seeing a professional hero concede to a young girl with a canon. Setsuna elbowed him in the side when she did so, cupping her hand over his ear to whisper in it.
"Bitches love cannons. Never forget."
Her giggle attracted the attention of Shoto, but she waved him off.
The following fighter was another Connection Kid, but his skills seemed closer to Katsuki's than those four failures from earlier. Though, to be fair, that gap was rather wide.
Neito Monoma… That boy gave Izuku a heart attack. The first thing he did, walking into the arena, was shake his opponent's hand. Innocent enough, at a glance, but the second their hands touched, the fight began. He took the hero's quirk and used it against them, fighting like he'd used it all his life.
Deep in his gut, he felt something lurch; an instinctual recognition, but it wasn't painful. Closing his eyes was a challenge; he didn't want to miss a single second, but it was necessary. Though he'd banished Five back into the static of his thoughts, One for All was still at his fingertips, its will still infused into his bones. He listened to it like the radio; feeling out the way it reacted.
It was tense, but not fearful. Though the power, at a glance, felt ominous and infused with the essence of their enemy, it was nothing. Monoma did not steal the quirk; only copy it. As for his morals, while they very well could've been skewed, no sixth sense in his stomach proclaimed him evil.
One for All felt no true kindred, no connection with the boy. If Izuku had to put it into words, the worst of it felt like Deja Vu.
He lost badly. Though he used his copied quirk like he'd had it all his life, his opponent did the same, only his life had been longer. Still, he was accepted on the basis of his quick thinking and flexibility. Izuku had no qualms with the decision, despite the boy's obvious self-satisfaction.
As the seventh addition to 1Z came back to the stands, Izuku could feel a change in the air. A weight settled over the crowd, the air growing crisp and heavy. Izuku's ears rang in the absence of the spectators' small talk. Their instincts had synced, a hivemind forming around an expectation they pulled from the air like magic. Even Present Mic, ever so boisterous, respected the tension.
"...Alright folks; we've gone through our list. Of our thirty applicants, only seven have passed. Not a single Connection Kid remains; our final three are all of U.A.'s ilk. We've had some amazing talent thus far; Whirlwind's Legacy, a goddess of creation, a walking time-bomb, and even a perfect copycat. Yet here in the announcer's booth, the most anticipated hopeful has yet to come. We were gonna save it for the end, but it's time to throw the good crowd a bone, yeah?"
He raised the mic to the crowd, as if to receive an all-encompassing "Yeah!"
There was no such response; only gelled interest thick with anxiety. He lowered the mic.
"Thought so. Alright, Listeners. Shoto Todoroki! Your opponent is the ever-dangerous, yet ever-graceful Space Hero: Thirteen!"
Shoto stood, just as the crowd let out the breath they'd been holding. No spotlight was necessary; Endeavor's proud flame burned bright beside them, illuminating their entire group. Neither Pro Hero said anything to the boy, but Izuku and Setsuna were sure to slap him on the shoulder, wishing him luck. He said nothing, but gave them a single, long look. It was veiled with a hundred mysteries, but that was fine. Shoto wore his stoicism like an especially thick coat, but Izuku'd learned to see through his thinnest parts.
He was excited.