Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Good morning, kiddos. In case you forgot from yesterday, my name is Kojima Daichi, and I’m your homeroom teacher.”

Kojima stood in front of the blackboard in parade rest, his stance mirrored by the class. He scanned the room with appraising eyes, letting the silence stretch until it became unbearable.

Finally, he moved, walking up and down rows, correcting postures as he went.

Izuku swallowed hard as he passed– but Kojima didn’t do more than glance and nod in Izuku’s direction.

(Izuku had to fight to keep a proud smile off his face.)

“A few things we didn’t go over yesterday, in all the rush to get you to the auditorium; I also teach Japanese Sign Language, one of several electives available to you after Hero Basic Training. I expect to see at least half of you there– being able to communicate silently can be the difference between life and death, after all.” He made it back to his original position. “I’m also Deaf. Do not shout my name if you want to get my attention. If I am facing the blackboard, raise your hand and wait until I turn around like a normal person. If I’m at my desk, raise your hand first and wait a moment. If I don’t look up, then you have permission to approach the desk, but do not touch me. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied.

“Good. You may have noticed the syllabus on your desk, but not a schedule– do not look at it, keep your eyes forward.” He let the words hang in the air briefly. “There is a reason the schedule is not there. How many of you attended cram school in the past?”

Several hands rose into the air, including Izuku’s– although he hadn’t attended cram school since he stopped going to Aldera.

Kojima nodded. “Starting next Monday– seven days from today– you will only receive academic instruction during the evening. This is because Hero Basic Training will take up most of your day; from 0500 to 1700 hours, you will devote yourselves to becoming heroes. From 1730 to 2000, you will study. Over the next few days, you’ll take a series of exams– if you score high enough, you can test out of a subject. Tests will be offered weekly to students chosen at the teacher’s discretion. Your score when testing out will be the grade you receive for the semester, but not your final. If you are dissatisfied with your grade, you can retake the test at any time until Basic ends. Considering how highly teamwork is valued at this school, I’m sure you’ve all made the connection that you will be expected to help each other study and pass. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir,” a couple students answered, but most of the class– including Izuku– stayed silent.

Kojima curled his lip. “I guess not,” he said scornfully. “Let me correct that now– as a student at Shiketsu, it is your duty to ensure that your teammates succeed with you. If one of you fails, you all fail, and will have to take remedial lessons during summer vacation as a group. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

Some brave soul at the front of the room– a boy with incredibly spiky pink hair– raised his hand.

“State your name before your question,” Kojima said with a nod.

“Yakiyama Hitora, sir! Why are we expected to help each other?”

Izuku winced, already preparing for Kojima to blow up at him– but to his surprise, Kojima grinned.

“Great question,” he said. “Take your seats. This is your first lesson.”

As they sat, Kojima leaned back against his own desk. “I’d like to answer your question with another question– who is the Number One Hero?”

(…Was that a joke?)

No one answered– it seemed everyone was thinking the same thing. A few people glanced around.

Kojima raised an eyebrow. “No one in here knows who the Number One Hero is? Do you all live under rocks?”

Finally, Takeshi raised his hand.

Kojima pointed at him. “White hair– name, then answer.”

“Takeshi Kenzo, sir. All Might is the current Number One Hero.”

Kojima nodded. “Correct! Now, does All Might work alone?”

Izuku couldn’t stop his hand from shooting into the air.

“Freckles– name first.”

“Uh, Midoriya Izuku, sir! All Might doesn’t currently have a sidekick, but Sir Nighteye was his sidekick for nearly ten years– their partnership ended about six years ago, give or take. All Might’s also worked with David Shield in the past, with David Shield being the credited designer and manufacturer for some of All Might’s first costumes.” He had to all but clap a hand over his mouth to keep himself from continuing to babble.

Kojima nodded again, looking pleased. “Also correct! Thank you, Midoriya. Now, what about team-ups? Does anyone know anything about that?”

A beat of silence. Izuku’s hand crept back up.

“Midoriya?”

Izuku swallowed nervously. “All Might doesn’t team up with other heroes very often, but he will work with heroes that are already on the scene if they were there first. I think the most recent was a couple months ago– a villain with a cactus-like mutation had broken out of custody during transport and taken someone hostage in Mustafu. All Might worked with Kamui Woods and Death Arms to apprehend him.”

(He remembered reading the news that day and losing his lunch in the same hour. The news outlet couldn’t name the hostage because he was a minor, but all it took was one blurry photo to know that the hostage was Katsuki.)

(Izuku didn’t like Katsuki one bit, but that didn’t stop him from empathizing. Even a year later, Izuku still woke up sweating, the phantom sensation of sludge suffocating him lingering for the rest of the day.)

A few of his classmates glanced at him curiously.

(Oh, gods, he did it again, didn’t he? His class was going to hate him because he was creepy.)

(He should’ve kept his mouth shut.)

“Very good, Midoriya,” Kojima said approvingly. “Now, Yakiyama, to answer your question; the reason you are expected to help your classmates is because no one– not even the Number One Hero– truly works alone. There is always someone else helping them, whether they are side by side in battle, or one is in the shadows coordinating things. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Yakiyama grumbled, ducking down.

“Beyond that, I don’t expect many of you will need much help. You all did well on the written part of the entrance exam, after all, and a fair number of those questions were college level. What’s that saying…? Getting in is the hard part. Still, considering the unorthodox approach to academics, hosting a group study session every so often wouldn’t be too difficult, would it?”

“No, sir,” the class answered.

“Exactly! Moving on– your schedule during Basic.” He turned to the blackboard and began to write.

0430 - First Call
0500 - Physical Training (PT)
0600 - Breakfast
0630 - Quirk Training
1200 - Lunch
1230 - Training
1700 - Dinner
1730 - Cram School*
2000 - Personal Time
2100 - Lights Out

Izuku blanched immediately. 

That was… a lot. He could see one of his classmates, a girl with blue hair, counting on her fingers, trying to conceptualize how much time was going to be devoted to training.

(The answer was ten hours, by the way. Technically. Eleven if you counted physical training, and thirteen and a half if you counted cram school.)

“This will be your schedule for a total of nine weeks, Monday through Saturday. The rest of this week will be devoted to making sure everyone remembers how to march, making sure everyone’s physicals are decent, et cetera, et cetera.” He took a moment, scanning the room once more. “Alright,” he said, sounding just the tiniest bit exasperated. “Everyone take a deep breath, right now. I’m serious, take a damn breath.”

Izuku inhaled slowly, holding it for a moment before letting it go.

(He tried not to focus on how he could feel almost everyone do the same.)

“Good. I’d like to remind everyone here that every single one of your upperclassmen has survived this training– and so has every single Shiketsu Alumni. You will also survive. You were accepted into this school for a reason, after all.” Kojima leaned against his desk again. “Now, any questions?”

The girl sitting beside Izuku– Izuku immediately recognized her as the other first year that had gotten pulled out of orientation– raised her hand.

(His eyes caught on how uneven splotches of skin on her face were significantly lighter than the rest, like the pigment had been sucked out of it. There was a name for it, he knew, but he was blanking on it.)

“Tokoshi Yua, sir,” she said as soon as Kojima pointed at her, not even waiting for him to address her first. “Why is there a star next to cram school on the schedule?”

“Great question, Tokoshi. That would be because the time allotment for cram school will also be used for various tasks, such as meeting with your therapist, your quirk counselor, your mentors, your instructors from basic, and whoever else needs your time.”

…What?

That wasn’t just making academics difficult, that was making it impossible. There was no way to succeed without help—

Oh.

His classmates began to shift nervously. Beside him, Tokoshi’s face pinched so hard he was slightly worried she’d hurt herself.

Kojima’s smile was mischievous. “Looks like most of you figured it out. Have fun with Hero Basic Training, kiddos. It’s sink or swim, and I really hope you know how to swim.” He glanced at the clock. “And we’ve got some time before your next class, so break for socialization or whatever.” And with that, he sat at his desk, pulled something out of his ears– hearing aids, Izuku figured– and turned his attention to a stack of paperwork.

For a moment, no one moved.

Someone at the front– a plain looking boy with black hair– let his head fall onto his desk. “I’m so screwed,” he said mournfully. “It takes me forever to learn something even when I study. I’m gonna fail. Wish I could’ve known you guys, but unfortunately, I’m going to die.”

A couple nervous chuckles rose from the room. Takeshi turned sharply at his desk– the one closest to the door– to look at the class.

(He made eye contact with Izuku before he spoke, his eyebrows raised like he was asking a question.)

(Izuku didn’t know what the question was, though.)

“You guys heard Kojima-sensei, though,” Takeshi said firmly. “If one of us fails, we all fail– but if our senpais can do it, so can we. We just gotta be smart about it.”

Someone scoffed. “What, you’ve already come up with a plan? No offense, but we have no idea who you are or what you can do.”

Takeshi looked at Izuku again.

Izuku felt a pit preemptively form in his stomach.

“I don’t have a plan yet,” Takeshi said, “But Midoriya-kun over there was in my dorm during the Live-In Trial, and I can almost guarantee he’s got at least the bones of a plan already.”

Izuku felt the blood drain out of his face as everyone turned to look at him.

(Well, this was nice while it lasted. Unfortunately, this was how he died.)

The silence stretched like taffy as his classmates stared at him expectantly, seconds passing like minutes.

“W– well,” Izuku stuttered, feeling nauseous, his brain struggling to catch up. “I don’t know about a plan, but if anyone already knows which subjects they struggle with, we could coordinate rotating study sessions led by people who feel confident in those subjects. I’m not sure how much use it’ll be this week, especially since we don’t have the exam schedule, but over the next couple weeks, as long as we stick with it, everyone should improve at a reasonable rate.”

Yakiyama clicked his tongue, tilting his head to the side. “Yeah, and when are we supposed to do that?”

Izuku’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that obvious? We’re supposed to use our personal time. They’re still testing us. They want to see if we’re willing to put the team above ourselves.”

His words were met with silence, but most of his classmates seemed like they were at least thinking about it. Across the room, Takeshi grinned at him.

When lunchtime came, Izuku made a hasty retreat to the courtyard to think, almost unaware of Takeshi following him as he started writing in his notebook.

(Takeshi might’ve tried talking to him, actually, but Izuku was too lost in his own head for it to even register.)

He settled onto a section of grass that was directly in the sun. Takeshi sat beside him. 

(He was tangentially aware of when Yoarashi and Shidori joined them, with Yoarashi handing Takeshi a bento before placing another one beside Izuku. He heard the three of them talking to each other, but didn’t pay attention.)

(He needed to think.)

“So, uh… what exactly is Midoriya-kun doing?” Yoarashi eventually asked, voice pitched low in a comical approximation of a whisper.

Takeshi hummed. “You know, I’m not actually sure.”

“I’m planning,” Izuku mumbled, not looking up.

“Planning what?” Shidori asked.

“Study time.”

For a second, no one said anything.

Then, Takeshi prompted, “What about study time?”

“If we only use personal time during Basic Training to study, no one who doesn’t pass the exams this week will pass, unless they were only a few questions short of testing out of the subject. One hour a day, six days a week, nine weeks total. Fifty-four hours to study for and pass four exams, each with the cumulative knowledge of a trimester of school. It’ll never work. So I’m fixing my plan.”

“Your… plan?” Yoarashi asked hesitantly.

“Takeshi-kun volunteered me for making the plan for everyone passing academically,” Izuku said, voice dripping with exasperation as he flipped to a clean page to continue writing. 

Takeshi shrugged, unrepentant. “Seems like you got it handled, though?”

Izuku ignored him. “Fifty-four hours is… maybe enough time to cram an entire course, but not four of them, which implies we’d have to add Sundays. If everyone studied for sixteen hours every Sunday, we’d have an added one hundred and forty-four hours– one hundred ninety-eight hours divided by four would be forty-nine and a half hours. It’d be cutting it close, but it’d be doable.”

Izuku paused as Shidori choked hard enough that Yoarashi started hitting his back. After a second, Shidori held up a thumbs up. “Sorry,” he coughed.

Takeshi, however, was leaning forward, arms resting on his legs. “I’m following so far,” he said. “Keep going.”

Izuku took a breath. “Now, this is also assuming that we’re actually expected to finish a trimester’s worth of curriculum in nine weeks with no breaks,” he clarified. “Considering the trimester doesn’t end until mid-July, though, it raises some questions– especially when you take into account that Shiketsu does have a Sports Festival, which should take place during early to mid-May.”

Takeshi nodded. “So you’re thinking we’ll get time off for the Sports Festival?”

“No idea,” Izuku sighed, “and that’s part of the problem. I can’t account for what I don’t know. Also, asking everyone to study for sixteen hours every Sunday on top of the training we’ll be doing is… kind of insane. We have the added benefit of everyone passed the same entrance exam, so most of us will probably test out of up to two subjects, but I adjusted my math to assume that the average person needs to cram for three classes, which changes our time to approximately ninety to one hundred twenty-six usable hours, or thirty to forty-two hours per course, not including cram school.”

He flipped to the next page. “Assuming the people who tested out of each subject are willing to tutor, we’d have the best chance of getting everyone up to speed with focused studying every week night, plus two four hour study sessions on Sundays. Best case scenario, one to one ratio of student to tutor. Expected ratio is three, maybe four to one, though, depending on the subject. And, aside from Sundays, everyone will have to be studying at the same time. Sundays will have half and half rotation.”

He winced. “But none of this properly accounts for recovery times from training or burnout, and I’d need to know where everyone is at academically to properly coordinate, but I doubt everyone will be okay with telling me their scores on the exams.”

Takeshi leaned back. “Alright, then I’ll get the scores,” he said simply.

Izuku froze. “You… what?”

“I’ll get the scores. And help coordinate, if you want.”

“Oh,” Izuku said, dumbfounded. “That’d be really helpful.”

“Can our class get in on this?” Shidori asked. “I mean, we had the same idea of just cramming during personal time, but this is…”

“Brilliant,” Yoarashi finished for him. “And insane. But mostly brilliant.”

Izuku shrugged. “Sure, whoever wants to join is more than welcome to.” He turned his attention back to his notebook.

I still need to get the actual course material, he thought. The subjects are pretty standard– algebra, biology, modern history, and literature– but I should still check the library for any textbooks the first chance I get…

“Midoriya-kun,” Yoarashi said, waving a hand in Izuku’s line of sight to get his attention. “Lunch is almost over, and you haven’t even touched your bento.”

“Ah, right! Thanks!”

When they made it back to the classroom, Izuku felt the expectant eyes of his classmates on him like a full body itch. He stopped in the doorway abruptly, stomach churning; Takeshi hardly seemed fazed as he deftly stepped around him, moving to his desk with fluid ease.

“Alright, Midoriya-kun and I talked,” he said as he sat. “We’ll be going over the plan tonight, as soon as everyone’s back at the dorm, but heads up that I’ll need to know everyone’s scores after the exams.”

Izuku, by comparison, felt mechanical as he finally worked up the courage to walk across the classroom. As he sat down, he noticed that Tokoshi didn’t even look up from her book, even as the rest of the class protested what Takeshi had said.

(Oddly enough, that was a relief.)

He didn’t have time to dwell, though– as soon as the bell rang, Kojima was walking through the door, and everyone was scrambling to their feet to stand at attention for what felt like the millionth time of the day.

“At ease,” Kojima said as he reached the blackboard. “Hope you all got enough to eat, kiddos, because you’re off to training next. We’ll march to the locker rooms, then meet at the track– everyone remembers where the track is, yes?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Great!” Kojima said, clapping his hands together. “First row, out into the halfway. We’ll get you in formation before we go.”

There was a shuffle as the first row moved towards the door. Kojima sighed, but he looked more amused than exasperated. “We’ll work on it,” he mumbled. “Second row, out you go.”

On and on it went, until all twenty of them were out in the hallway, with 1-B filing in behind them. Once all of them were in place and ready to go, Kojima barked, “Forward, march!”

(Marching in the hallway instead of outside was an experience– every scuff of boot against linoleum echoed through the space like an accusation. Izuku could feel every asynchronized step like a blow against his awareness.)

(Kojima was wearing his hearing aids, and while Izuku didn’t know a thing about 1-B’s teacher, he was sure that both of them could hear every single mistake.)

(At least he didn’t seem to be the only one aware of that. The entire group moved with anxious energy, and every step got more and more precise until they were almost fully in sync by the time—)

“Halt!” Kojima called.

Left foot, and stop.

Six people stopped incorrectly. Two of them stumbled.

Izuku took a deep breath, willing himself to stay still.

But Kojima didn’t even comment. “Girls’ locker room is there,” he said, gesturing to the left, “and boys’ is there,” as he gestured to the right. “If anyone forgot their gym clothes in the dorm, you’re expected to grab them, change, and still get to the track within five minutes. The locker you choose will be the one you have for the rest of the year. Stick close to the door– middle of the room is for second-years, and the ones in the back are for the third-years. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

Kojima nodded. “See you in five minutes. Dismissed!”

Everyone began to scramble all at once– some to the girls’ locker room, some to the boys’, and a handful of students turning and booking it down the hallway to get to the dorm and back before time was up.

Izuku didn’t have to search long to find a locker. Before he knew it, he was jogging outside, heading towards the group that had congregated at the track.

(There were too many people, though– not all of the first years were out yet, but there were already at least ninety people waiting.)

(But no teachers.)

(What was going on?)

“Midori-babe! How’s your first day going?”

Izuku nearly jumped out of his skin as Utsushimi and Amano– also wearing gym clothes– split from the group, jogging up to him. “Senpai? What are you guys doing here?”

“This time block is used for training all three years,” Amano said simply. “During the first week, everyone trains together, more or less. Next week we’ll start splitting into year-specific training.”

Izuku nodded. “That makes sense.”

Utsushimi pouted. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Ah, sorry!” Izuku said, flushing. “It’s been… eventful?”

Amano snorted. “Sounds about right. Come on, we should start warming up before the teachers get here.”

Izuku didn’t say anything as Amano started leading them through movements– leg swings, windmills, lunges, and a few other exercises that Izuku felt goofy doing. Utsushimi caught his eye once while they were skipping in place and grinned at him– Izuku had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from giggling, especially after he looked back at Amano, whose facial expression was so focused it was comical.

Finally, Amano glanced at his watch. “Alright, we should probably—”

One of the other students interrupted him by shouting, “Form up!”

“—get into formation,” Amano finished with a sigh. “Let’s go.”

“Why? What are we doing?” Izuku asked, even as he hurried to catch up.

Utsushimi clicked her tongue. “Midori-babe, how far can you run without breaks?”

Izuku blinked owlishly at her as they settled into formation. “Uh, probably about three and a half kilometers? Maybe four? Why?”

Utsushimi brightened immediately. “Oh, good! You’ll be fine, then. No worries.”

“Okay…? So we’re gonna be running?”

“To start with, at least,” Amano said with a nod.

Just as he spoke, three golf carts drove up. Two of them were full of teachers, but the last one– which had that medical symbol with the snakes on it– was driven by Nurse Kusuriya.

“Stand at attention,” Amano said quickly. Izuku felt his posture improve involuntarily.

“Attention!” one of the teachers called, making the rest of the group straighten. “Are we missing anyone?”

After a second of silence, someone in the back called, “No, sir!”

“Good,” the teacher said, jumping out of the golf cart.

(Izuku vaguely recognized him, but couldn’t tell how. He didn’t think he’d ever met the man, but he looked so familiar…)

 “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Endo Yasuo. I am one of four instructors for hero training. Everyone should be properly warmed up– we’re going to be headed towards Training Ground Beta. We’ll jog for two kilometers, then march the rest of the way. First-years, stay with your mentors! We will be on a trail through the mountains. There is a rail for most of it, but if you pass the rail, you will fall a very long distance. Don’t be stupid, and you’ll be fine. Ready?”

“Yes, sir!”

Endo got back into the golf cart. “Then let’s go! Double time, move it, move it, move it!”

The group began to jog immediately– with the upperclassmen to help guide them, even the first-years fell into the steady rhythm of it quickly.

“How far is the training ground?” Izuku asked as soon as they passed the treeline.

“About eight kilometers,” Amano replied.

Izuku winced. “Oh.”

“You’ll be fine,” Utsushimi said cheerfully. “I could barely run one kilometer before my first day, and you said you can run nearly four. Two kilometers should be no sweat.”

“Yeah, but what about the rest of it?”

“You’re thinking too far ahead,” Amano said. “Focus on the now. For now, we run. Let us know if you feel nauseous. We should have warmed up enough for it to not be a problem, but it happens. We’ll break formation for it.”

“Won’t we get in trouble?” Izuku asked.

“Nope,” Utsushimi said. “Pretty sure I puked on my first jog, actually. It’s fine.”

They lapsed into an odd, unpleasant silence after that, punctuated by each thud of feet against the ground. Izuku was just starting to miss his headphones and music when someone up front began to… sing?

And he nearly jumped out of his skin when the upperclassmen around him echoed each line.

Hey, oh!
What’s goin’ on?
Gotta big fight headed right downtown!
Hey, oh!
Who do we see?
Looks like All Might’s cleaning up the scene!

“What’s happening?” Izuku asked Utsushimi.

She raised an eyebrow. “Singing, obviously,” she said playfully. “It’s a running cadence. Helps keep us focused and not bored out of our minds.”

Hey, oh!
What’s goin’ on?
Got another big fight goin’ down!
Hey, oh!
Who do we see?
Seems like Endeavor’s wrecking the streets!

As they ran, the song seemed to go down the hero rankings, pointing out some trait about each hero; Hawks and his wings, Best Jeanist and his… well, jeans. It wasn’t what Izuku would like to be listening to, but it was easy to get swept into the energy of it.

It almost made the time pass faster, too. Just as the second kilometer marker came into view, Amano said, “The transition might be jarring. When you hear the teacher call march, transition when your foot hits the ground.”

Izuku barely had enough time to ask, “What does that mean?” before a teacher called out, “Quick time, march!”

His foot hit the ground. He felt the upperclassmen shift to that their next step was slower.

Izuku didn’t shift fast enough, though. Amano reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him into step.

(He wasn’t the only one– he felt as more than a dozen of the upperclassmen grabbed their first-years to stop them from crashing into the people ahead of them.)

“Like I said, jarring,” Amano said with a slight smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. Fix your posture.”

Izuku immediately stood up straighter.

“Jeez, you’re so harsh on him, Amano-kun,” Utsushimi teased. “Let the poor boy breathe.”

“He seems to be breathing fine to me,” Amano deadpanned. “Do you think you’ll be okay for the rest of the—”

Behind them, three students broke from formation, one of them yelling “Aegis!” as another bent over to vomit. A teacher immediately jumped out of the golf cart and ran to them.

At the same time, nearly all of the upperclassmen began to shout encouragement over their shoulders, voices overlapping– Izuku could pick out more than a few “Don’t give up!”s and “You can do it!”s through the noise, but most of it was lost.

Amano hummed. “Good on them to make it until we stopped running. Most of the vomiting happens between the first and second kilometer. And this year there’s only one.”

“Seems like a good sign to me,” Utsushimi said cheerfully. “Last year there were three.”

“Ideally, there’d be none,” Amano said, more to Izuku this time. “Hence the long warm up. But each person’s tolerance varies, and if they’re not used to running long distances…”

“Hope he’s okay,” Izuku said softly.

Amano looked at him inquisitively. “They will be. Komatsu-sensei went to check on them. She’s good at that kind of thing.”

Utsushimi snorted. “She’s got better bedside manner than Hiratsuna-sensei, that’s for sure.”

“Don’t be rude.”

Utsushimi laughed. “How was that rude? I didn’t say anything bad about Hiratsuna-sensei. If it seemed like I did, it’s because your brain made the connection, Amano-kun.”

Amano’s ears immediately turned pink.

Before the conversation could continue, though, another chant– slower than the last one– started.

Earthquakes
Or landslides
We’ll be there
In the blink of an eye
Tsunamis
Or typhoons
We’re heroes
We’ll save you.

The group that had called Aegis eventually caught up and rejoined the formation, and the rest of the march passed uneventfully– but by the time they got to the training ground, Izuku’s legs and back burned.

(Amano wasn’t harsh by any means, no matter what Utsushimi said, but he certainly didn’t hesitate to let Izuku know when his posture was slipping.)

(That said, Izuku was partially convinced that after walking so long with his back as straight as it was, it would be permanently stuck that way. He’d never be able to bend over again.)

The training ground was impressive, to say the least– a massive sprawling network of obstacles crawling around steep inclines with no discernable start or end. Ropes hanging from steel bars, climbing obstacles taller than most apartment buildings– and some just as wide, as well– with uneven hand and footholds, massive rope nets and ladders that were so tall there was landing padding at the bottom, even odd looking sections of barbed wire held maybe sixty centimeters off the ground with worn paths underneath– if you could imagine it, it was probably there, somewhere.

“Halt!”

Left foot, stop.

“At ease!”

Left foot out, hands behind his back.

Amano looked proud when he glanced at Izuku. Izuku couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face.

“Welcome to Training Ground Beta,” Endo said, jumping out of the golf cart again. “This is where you first years will spend most of your time over the next few weeks. Here, you will learn how to navigate many different obstacles quickly and efficiently– but more importantly, you will learn trust. Trust in yourself and your capabilities, as well as how and when to rely on your teammates. Unless given prior permission, you will not use your quirks here. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Excellent. I’d say it’s time for a demonstration.”

Without further instruction, six students stepped out from formation neatly. Izuku recognized one of them– Ozawa from orientation– but none of the others.

“Those are the remaining Platinum Nine,” Utsushimi whispered. “Ozawa Yumi, Matsuda Yoko, and Akio Tadashi are third years; Yabe Akira, Ando Ryo, and Hizume Asami are second years.”

Endo grinned. “We’ll do something easy– tough one, low crawl, monkey bars, swing-stop-jump. Sound good?”

“Yes, sir!” the six said immediately.

One of the other teachers stood. “Three, two, one, go!”

The six of them darted off, heading towards one of the obstacles that was as tall as a building. The first one to the mat– a boy with massive black wings and ink-black hands– didn’t hesitate before jumping onto a rope, climbing up with significantly less difficulty than Izuku would expect, despite not using his wings at all. As soon as he made it to one of three horizontal beams, he got his knees onto it, boosting himself up faster before swinging himself over the top beam– leaving him facing a series of spaced wooded bars, almost like rafters, with nothing underneath.

(Well, that’s not entirely accurate– there was a net underneath, but that didn’t stop the way Izuku’s heart hammered in his chest. One wrong step and that boy could end up with broken bones.)

(Assuming he didn’t catch himself with his quirk, that is. But Endo said no quirks, right?)

He didn’t share Izuku’s trepidation, though. Just as another one of the six started climbing up the rope, the first boy began running across the beams, each step confident– and much faster than Izuku would be comfortable with.

At the bottom, the remaining four students were cheering.

“Let’s go, Yabe-kun! Go, go, go!”

“C’mon, Akio-senpai! You’ve got this!”

Amano leaned towards Izuku just as the boy with wings reached a wide, massive ladder, leading higher into the air.

“Yabe-san is the one with wings,” he said softly. “Akio-san is the one on the rope.”

Izuku nodded. Akio reached the top of the rope while Yabe was only halfway up the ladder. As Akio started crossing the beams, Ozawa started climbing the rope.

And she climbed fast. She was already swinging herself over to the beams before Akio had even finished crossing, and just as Yabe had reached the top of the ladder. Yabe swung himself over the top– seemingly uncaring that he was at least ten meters in the air– before beginning to climb down rope netting.

It only took a handful of minutes before all six of them were done with the first obstacle– and to Izuku’s surprise, none of them went off to the next before the last was done, each of them stopping as soon as they hit the ground to shout encouragement to the rest of the team.

For the low crawl– which was exactly what it sounded like, with them dragging themselves underneath the barbed wire, bodies so low they were all practically eating dirt– they all went at once, each in their own lane. The silence compared to before was nearly deafening.

Then, someone from formation shouted, “Keep it up! Show us why you’re platinum!”

Almost immediately, everyone in the formation began to shout in support.

Once again, the group waited until everyone was done– but there was only half a minute delay between the first and last ones done at most. They took off again, heading towards what appeared to be standard monkey bars, but taller, and with no ladder up or down.

(Izuku saw the problem immediately– one of the members of the group was definitely too short to get up there, unless she had some sort of jumping quirk.)

(But, again– no quirks.)

Two members of the group immediately crouched, though. She stepped into their cradled hands, and they boosted her up until she was able to reach the bars. It took her a second to build up momentum, but once she did, she blew through the bars in practically one breath.

“That’s Hizume Asami,” Utsushimi said quietly. “She’s in my class. Wicked fast.”

“I can see that,” Izuku agreed.

They went on like that, shortest to tallest, and off they were again, headed towards more ropes.

(Izuku was already mourning his upper body mobility– there was no way he’d be able to do any of those exercises and be able to move again, ever.)

(Also, how was this easy?)

The two ropes for this obstacle were attached to another wooden frame, but on one side of the frame was a horizontal beam, sitting just above shoulder height for Izuku.

The first person that reached the obstacle– Yabe, again– grabbed a rope, pulled it back, and jumped.

As he swung, he climbed up the rope just a bit more, his legs reaching out in front of him to catch on the beam.

(Hizume was the second one there. Her feet caught on the beam almost as soon as Yabe’s did– but instead of immediately trying to right herself like Yabe, she pushed back off, swinging again before landing on the beam almost perfectly.

After landing on the beam, both of them jumped off, and the next two ran up.

“Not bad. I see you guys weren’t slacking off during break,” the teacher who counted them off said as they ran back towards the formation. All of them were panting, but each sported a satisfied grin.

“No, sir!”

The teacher turned back towards the formation. “First-years, I’m Shimoda Ren, one of the instructors that will be handling your training. In less than a dozen weeks, you will be able to run that same course with as much efficiency as these six.”

The six students standing behind him glowed with pride.

“Mentors, get ready to guide your first-year through the tough one. First-years, if you’re not cheering for your classmates, you’re doing it wrong,” Shimoda said.

“Yes, sir!”

“They all seem tough,” Izuku murmured. “Which one does he mean?”

“The first obstacle they ran is called ‘The Tough One,’” Amano clarified.

“Oh,” Izuku said, not really processing the words. “That makes sense.”

Then he blanched.

“Wait, but– I don’t have enough upper body strength to—”

“Yes, you do,” Utsushimi said immediately, placing a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Remember how I said I couldn’t even run a kilometer before my first day? I made it through The Tough One. And you’re, like, jacked compared to me. You’ll be okay.”

“Platinums, go ahead and get into position,” Shimoda said.

None of them said anything as they settled themselves at various points of The Tough One– Yabe immediately took off into the air, then sat himself down at the highest point of the obstacle, somehow managing to sit cross-legged on the beam; Akio began to climb the rope, followed by Hizume and one other student. Hizume and the other student stopped just past the rope, while Akio ran across to wait by the ladder. Ozawa settled herself by the landing mat at the beginning of the obstacle, while the last of the six went to the landing mat at the end.

“Would anyone like to volunteer to go first?”

Izuku felt him move before he saw him– a few rows in front of him, Yoarashi, towering over most of the other students, shot his hand into the air.

Shimoda grinned. “Brave one, aren’t you? What’s your name?”

“Yoarashi Inasa, sir!”

“Yoarashi, come on up.”

Yoarashi, flanked by his two mentors– a boy with long white hair tied into a bun, and a girl with pink hair, also tied into a bun– walked up to the starting mat.

Shimoda looked at him appraisingly. “You can start when you feel ready. Remember, no quirks,” he said with a nod.

The girl turned to look at him. “You want one of us to go first?”

“No need!” Yoarashi exclaimed, already bounding towards the rope like an excited puppy. As soon as his hands touched the rope, the upperclassmen in the crowd began to cheer, echoed by the first-years after a short delay.

Izuku really shouldn’t have been surprised by the ease Yoarashi was able to hoist himself up with. He wasn’t nearly as fast as any of the Platinums, and had to adjust his grip more than a few times, but he reached the top without much fuss. Hizume grabbed onto his arm to help stabilize him as he swung over.

“Take it at your own pace, buddy!” the boy with white hair yelled over the crowd as the girl with pink hair started climbing the rope. “You don’t have to run across!”

Yoarashi gave him a thumbs up, but didn’t seem worried. While he didn’t run across, his steps were quick and sure.

He cleared the course with the same amount of ease. As soon as his feet hit the landing mat, the crowd began to cheer even louder.

Yoarashi visibly preened as he moved to the side, ears pink as he panted.

“Alright, who wants to go next?” Shimoda asked as soon as Yoarashi’s mentors joined him.

Takeshi was the next to raise his hand. He didn’t clear the course as fast as Yoarashi did– especially when crossing the platform– but he moved confidently.

(Meanwhile, Izuku was shaking in his boots. There were so many bodies around him, each one of them moving in some capacity– some just taking deep breaths between shouts, some jumping in place.)

(Each landing echoed in his skull.)

On and on it went– a couple more students volunteered, including Yakiyama and a boy with scaled arms from Izuku’s class, as well as a boy and a girl from Class B, but after that, they started going through the formation like it was a line.

A solid number of his classmates struggled– a boy with a goat-like mutation had the hardest time with both climbing the rope and descending the netting, likely on account of having hooves instead of feet; the boy with the axolotl-mutation struggled similarly on the way up, but darted across the beams even faster than Yabe did; a plain-looking girl that might have been in Izuku’s class seemed to have started crying while on the ladder– but everyone seemed bolstered by the cheering of the crowd.

And then it was Izuku’s turn.

He stepped up to the mat, swallowing hard as he looked up.

(It looked so much taller from the bottom.)

He wasn’t surrounded anymore, but he could still feel—

Amano placed a hand on his shoulder. “How do you want to tackle this, Midoriya-kun?”

Izuku’s mouth felt dry. His heart was beating too fast– was it supposed to be able to beat that fast? “I don’t– I don’t know,” he said, his voice raspy from the pressure in his chest.

(Behind them, the crowd’s cheers– muted, since none of them had started the course, but still present– sounded like it was underwater.)

Utsushimi stepped up onto the landing mat, winking at him as she passed. “I’ll go ahead of you,” she volunteered, “and Amano-kun will be right behind you. You’ve got this, babe.”

(The absurdity of the wink was almost enough to dampen Izuku’s panic, but not quite.)

(He couldn’t breathe. Maybe he should say something.)

(But how? He couldn’t breathe.)

“Hang on,” Amano said, just as Utsushimi’s hand touched the rope. He looked over to the teachers. “Aegis– he needs a minute.”

Shimoda nodded. As Amano led Izuku to the side of the course, the person behind him moved to start.

“Breathe, Midoriya-kun,” Amano said. “In for four, out for four. I know you know how to do this.”

Izuku nodded, trying desperately to slow his breathing.

He could feel Amano’s heartbeat, he could feel each breath Utsushimi took.

“I’m– I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened, it’s just—”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” Utsushimi said softly. “It’s okay. You’re not the only one who’s panicked doing this. You’re okay.”

“I panicked the first time,” Amano said softly.

Izuku’s eyes snapped to him as his brain screeched to a halt.

Amano scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I know, it seems unlikely,” he said with a sigh. “But I did. Except I was up at the top when it happened.”

Izuku blinked. “Like…?”

“At the top of the A-Frame, the ladder part,” Amano said with a nod. “I had one of the Platinums next to me, but he couldn’t get me to slow my breathing– I nearly passed out before one of my mentors got to me. It happens.”

“But… no one else has…”

“Yet,” Utsushimi interrupted quietly. “And also, only technically. Didn’t that Tanaka girl start crying?”

Amano nodded. “Looked like it. Not sure if that was panic so much as just fear, but yes.”

Utsushimi waved her hand dismissively. “Basically the same thing,” she grumbled. “And while we can hope that no one else will panic, it’s intense. It’s okay. Catch your breath, and you’ll go when you feel ready.”

“Didn’t you say we could tap out of exercises?” Izuku asked mournfully.

Utsushimi exhaled slowly, sending Amano a pleading look.

“You can, if you really think you can’t handle it,” Amano said slowly. “But you’ll be asked to clear The Tough One more than once over the course of Basic. Will you tap out every time?” He paused. “Listen, Midoriya-kun– I know you’re scared. That’s normal. But Utsushimi-san and I have the utmost faith that this is something you can do– you just have to take the first step.”

“And you know what they say; the first step is always the hardest,” Utsushimi added, almost cheerfully.

Izuku looked at the course. The person who was behind him– a girl from Class B, probably– was already on her way down the netting. A boy from Class A was already stepping up to the mat, brow furrowed with determination.

(From the group that had already finished, Izuku could see Yoarashi watching him with concern.)

He swallowed.

(He wanted, more than anything, to be a hero. He wanted it so badly that it felt like it was choking him.)

(How was he supposed to be a hero if he couldn’t even clear one stupid course?)

(Instead of that thought kicking him while he was down, though, he was flooded with determination.)

(Maybe he didn’t belong here. Maybe it was a fluke that he had gotten accepted at all. Maybe he got insanely lucky.)

(But what’s stopping him from earning his place now?)

“I can do it,” Izuku whispered, too quiet for them to hear. He took a slow breath.

(His eyes burned with unshed tears. His hands were still shaking. His chest still felt a little weird.)

“I can do it,” he said again, louder. “But I… Can you guys go with me? Like…”

(What a stupid question.)

His mentors didn’t seem to share that thought, though. Amano looked at Utsushimi, who grinned broadly. “I’ll climb the rope first and wait for you at the top– once you’re there, we can wait for Amano-kun to catch up, then cross the platform together. Sound good?”

Izuku swallowed again– his throat was so dry– but nodded resolutely, a wobbly smile spreading on his face.

(He could do this. He had to.)

(And he’d do it with a smile, just like All Might.)

They walked back to the first landing mat just as the boy from Izuku’s class crossed the beams.

Amano clapped a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Midoriya-kun. We can do this.”

Izuku let out a weak chuckle. “Don’t say that until we reach the end. I might still chicken out.”

Utsushimi looked at him with calculating eyes. “No, you won’t,” she said, like it was an undeniable truth written on his face.

The boy from Class A was already halfway down the net.

(Izuku’s stomach churned.)

As soon as he landed, Utsushimi was scrambling up the rope far faster than Izuku could ever hope to.

“Let’s go, Camie!” someone from the crowd yelled.

“Hell yeah, way to get back in the game, Midoriya-kun!” someone else yelled.

Utsushimi swung herself over the beam, then leaned over to grin at Izuku. “C’mon, Midori-babe, show that rope who’s boss!”

He stepped onto the mat, then jumped as high as he could, wrapping the slack around his feet. Inch by inch he climbed, the rope burning against his hands, his arms shaking and his back aching from the strain.

(The noise went quiet under the rushing in his ears. He was looking up, but only to see where he was putting his hands– he could hardly see Utsushimi at all.)

“Knees on the beam, babe, c’mon,” Utsushimi said, loud enough– and close enough to his ear– that it shocked him out of whatever zen he was in. He looked down– oh, he was very far above the ground– to see one of the horizontal beams near his hip.

He got his knees onto it, then started pushing himself up. Utsushimi grabbed one of his arms as he swung himself over.

Hizume gave him a broad smile. The crowd beneath them cheered louder.

“LET’S GO!” he heard Yoarashi cheer. “HELL YEAH, MIDORIYA-KUN! YOU’VE GOT THIS!”

“We still waiting for Amano-kun?” Utsushimi asked just as Amano started hauling himself up the rope.

“I sure– hope– you are,” Amano grunted as he climbed.

Utsushimi rolled her eyes, leaning back over the beam to watch.

Izuku could only manage a glance– they were too far up and he was going to fall– but nearly snickered as soon as he saw that Amano had his tongue sticking out in concentration.

Amano swung himself over the beam a moment later. “Alright,” he said, chest heaving. “All at once? We’re going at your pace, Midoriya-kun.”

Izuku nodded.

(If he were anyone else, he would have to look down for this, otherwise he really would fall.)

(But his quirk was practically haywire with the way it was obsessively mapping everything in his vicinity– the trees, the birds, a handful of lizards, the people around him.)

(But most importantly, the beams below him.)

He took his first step. On either side of him, his mentors did the same.

He didn’t cross the platform quickly by any means. Each step was careful, calculated, and painfully slow, but the ladder inched closer with every move, and that was good enough for Izuku.

He reached out with a shaking hand, his own heartbeat prominent in his fingertips, right next to the steady drum of Utsushimi and Amano’s pulses.

His hand wrapped around a rung of the ladder.

“On three?” Amano asked.

Izuku nodded.

“One,” Utsushimi said.

“Two,” Amano said.

“Three,” Izuku whispered.

Don’t look down, don’t look down—

“You’re doing great,” Amano said beside him.

Izuku looked down.

Nausea overcame him immediately, halting him in place as the world spun around him dangerously. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“You okay?” Utsushimi asked.

Izuku could hardly hear her above the roaring in his ears, but managed a nod.

“C’mon,” Yabe said above them, voice soft but warm. “You’re almost there, keep climbing. You can do it.”

Izuku didn’t dare open his eyes.

He could feel the ground beneath them, and it was too far.

He reached anyway, counting down each rung as they got closer to the top until—

There were no more rungs to reach for.

“Okay, next part is the hardest, but you’ve got this,” Utsushimi said. “Amano-kun and I will go first– just do what we do.” With that, she continued to climb, her torso curving to wrap around the beam as she did, before swinging a leg over and placing her foot on the netting. Her other leg went over just as easily, and she climbed down to give Amano just a little bit more room.

He followed without a word, his movements more sure than Izuku ever felt just standing.

“Your turn, Midoriya-kun. You can do it,” Amano said.

Izuku nodded, swallowing down the bile that rose up.

He did his best to emulate their movements, hunching himself over the beam as he swung his legs over.

(The net rocked precariously underneath his feet. Nausea rose instantly.)

“Take a deep breath, hold it, then breathe in again. Don’t breathe out until after the second inhale,” Amano said quickly.

That’s a new one.

Izuku nodded again, doing as directed.

It was odd how quickly the feeling of I’m gonna die lessened– it didn’t go away, but it muted into something almost manageable.

“Alright, down we go,” Utsushimi chirped.

Izuku moved almost mechanically, his eyes still shut. The rope swayed with each movement and every errant bit of wind, but besides the mounting motion sickness, he was… mostly fine, actually. Still terrified, but the ground wasn’t that far now.

(He could probably fall from this distance and only get a couple bumps and scrapes.)

(Unless he landed terribly wrong. Then he might snap his neck. But that was neither here nor there.)

Finally, his feet touched the landing mat, and the crowd cheered.

Izuku opened his eyes just as he felt Utsushimi lunge towards him, stumbling back– and falling, thankfully onto the landing mat– as she tackled him with a hug.

(For the briefest moment, he was gripped by full-body terror. Not the I’m falling terror, either, but the oh god, someone is rushing towards me, this is how I die terror.)

“I’m so proud of you!” Utsushimi cheered as she climbed off of him, offering him a hand up.

Beside them, Amano was smiling so wide it looked like it hurt. “Great job,” he said. “Next time, though, maybe don’t close your eyes? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Pfft,” Utsushimi snickered. “It’s part of his quirk! He could still see, right, Midori-babe?”

“Ah, kind of? Not like… see, it’s more of a feel, but… yeah?”

“See? It’s fine, Amano-kun. You worry too much.”

“She says, like she didn’t give me the most panicked look ever when she saw that his eyes were closed,” Amano deadpanned, but he was still grinning. “C’mon, let’s get out of the way.”

“Lies! Lies and slander, Midori-babe, don’t listen to a word he says!” Utsushimi protested as Amano led them away.

Surprisingly, marching back to the main campus wasn’t as difficult as the march up. Sure, his body was already beginning to ache, and there was a haze of exhaustion that had settled around his mind like fog from the adrenaline, but the rhythm of boots hitting the ground was a drum in his skull– easy to follow, easy to get lost in.

(He noticed the looks his mentors kept shooting each other over his head, but he pretended he didn’t. It was easier that way– especially when he didn’t know why they seemed worried.)

(And unless one of them said something first, he was too tired to deal with it.)

He barely remembers stopping at the locker room, or even the cafeteria– truly a testament to his exhaustion, considering his quirk was almost docile as he made his way back to the dorm, bento in hand. 

Still, he was relieved when he felt that the dorm was all but deserted. Only two other people were there– someone that was in their room, and Tokoshi, the girl that sat beside him in class, eating at the table.

She spared him a quick glance– likely just seeing who had come in– before turning her attention back to her book.

Izuku swallowed. On one hand, he didn’t want to disturb her– and, if he was being honest, he’d much rather eat in his room, give himself time to recover in relative solitude. On the other hand, he wasn’t sure he was allowed to eat in his room.

And he was supposed to be trying to make friends, right?

(Maybe she wasn’t the best person to try to make friends with, though. Her entire vibe was just so… detached. At best.)

He winced internally as he spoke. “Uh, hi. Do you know if we’re allowed to eat in our rooms?”

Her eyes flicked back up to him, expression nearly blank beyond the undercurrent of annoyance.

(He had to suppress a shiver– her eyes, a piercing purple, seemed to pick him apart in a single breath.)

She looked back down as she shrugged. “Don’t know. Haven’t reached that part of the handbook,” she said, lifting the book she was holding slightly.

Izuku actually winced then. With everything that had been going on, he hadn’t had the chance to even read the first chapter of the student handbook.

(Although, considering Tokoshi had been reading it throughout the day, he didn’t really have an excuse, did he?)

“Probably not a good idea to test it, then,” he said softly, moving to sit at the table with her.

(If she noticed that he sat at the chair furthest from hers, she didn’t mention it.)

Much like earlier, Tokoshi seemed to largely ignore Izuku’s presence– which Izuku certainly wasn’t going to complain about. He was still too tired to do much more than shove food into his mount on autopilot as he scrolled through his phone’s notifications.

Mom:
You all look so handsome! Thank you for the pictures! Have a great first day, I love you!

Izuku texted her back without thinking too much about it, sending a quick message without much substance.

(He should probably set up a time to call her regularly. It was probably lonely, being at home with no one around– maybe he should check that she’s eating regularly?)

(Granted, it’s only been two nights, but he still worried.)

(And considering how busy he’s about to be, if he doesn’t schedule it, he’s probably going to forget.)

He finished eating just as people started coming back into the dorm. Some of them didn’t even glance at Izuku and Tokoshi before heading to their rooms, but most of them stopped in the common room, packing in like sardines.

Ten, twenty, twenty-four—

Takeshi, Shidori, and Yoarashi all came in together.

“Midoriya-kun! There you are!” Yoarashi shouted, despite Izuku being just four meters away from him.

Takeshi seemed to realize the same thing, considering he began to snicker softly.

“Great to see you,” Shidori said drily, not even facing the direction Izuku was in.

Takeshi began to cackle.

(On the other side of the table, Tokoshi snorted softly.)

“Hey, guys,” Izuku finally said, fighting his own smile. “Er, Shidori-kun…”

“I’m facing the wrong way, aren’t I?”

“…Yeah.”

Shidori sighed, but he was still grinning as he turned around—

—But not enough to be facing Izuku properly.

Takeshi fell silent, though his face quickly became red with the effort it took.

Picking up on the sudden quiet, Shidori said, “This is the best you’re getting. Takeshi-san, you’re allowed to laugh.”

“No, no, I’m good,” Takeshi wheezed softly, sounding a bit like a deflating balloon. “Anyway, Midoriya-kun, I ran your plan by everyone from our year I could find in the cafeteria, but you’d probably explain it a bit better,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards the group in the common room.

Izuku looked over slowly, already feeling the eyes on him.

(Gods, he was tired. Couldn’t they do this tomorrow?)

He didn’t let his displeasure show, though. “Oh, yeah! Let me just…” He pulled his notebook from his bag. “Like I said this morning, we’re definitely going to have to use our personal time. I’ve come up with a rough timetable that will account for the majority of study time, Sundays included.”

A few groans came from the group. Izuku winced in sympathy. “If anyone already feels really confident in certain subjects, go ahead and let me or Takeshi-kun know—”

“Or me!” Yoarashi interjected.

“Or Yoarashi-kun,” Izuku tacked on with a nod, “so I can start writing out who will lead study sessions. There’s a few kinks that’ll have to get worked out as we go, probably, especially considering I’m trying to schedule in proper rest periods for everyone. Which is… a lot.”

“So, what’s the schedule look like?” someone from the crowd asked.

“One hour study sessions Monday through Friday during personal time, Saturdays off, and rotating four hour study sessions on Sundays by subject,” Izuku replied. “And that’s the gist of it, too. There’s not really much more planning to do, just coordinating.”

For a moment, no one said anything.

Then someone– a boy with silver hair– began to laugh loudly. “Man, that’s not nearly as bad as Takeshi-kun made it seem! He was acting like we’d have to study nonstop every day after training.” He made his way over to Izuku, still smiling broadly. “Seiza Kirito, by the way,” he said, jabbing a thumb towards his chest. “Good to meet you, brainiac!”

Izuku’s face flooded with warmth. “Er, Midoriya Izuku. Nice to meet you, too– I’m really not much of a brainiac, though. And we are going to be studying nearly every day.”

Seiza waved him off. “Yeah, but it doesn’t sound that bad. Just lots of hard work.”

“Speak for yourself,” someone else– a girl Izuku didn’t recognize– said. “I should’ve gone to Ketsubutsu or something.”

“Hey, no guarantee they’re not doing something similar,” another person piped up. “I mean, don’t all hero schools have basic training? Sure, maybe most of them aren’t as intense as what we’re gonna be doing here, but it’s probably not much better.”

“Or maybe it is!” someone else chirped. “But maybe this is why Shiketsu’s basically the best of the best.”

“Best of the best if you ignore Yuuei, you mean.”

“Yeah, but Yuuei’s insane. Making us fight robots for the practical? The robots had lasers! At least Shiketsu’s exam gave people without combat training a fighting chance. And I heard they throw their students into combat training on the first day.”

Izuku tuned out as the conversation grew, turning back to his empty bento.

Across the table, Tokoshi snapped her book closed before heading to the hallway without a word, looking annoyed.

Izuku bit back a sigh. Would it be rude of him to leave, too? There were so many people.

“Guys, guys!” Takeshi called, raising his voice to be heard over every other conversation. “I don’t know about all of you, but I’m beat, so I’m heading to bed. Remember to let me, Yoarashi-kun, or Midoriya-kun know what you’re good at and what you struggle with in the morning, yeah? Alrighty, good talk, goodnight.” And with that, he walked to the hallway, shooting Izuku a sly grin as he passed.

Izuku scrambled to his feet immediately, following Takeshi in a hasty retreat. “Yep, goodnight, guys!”

A few people called goodnights and goodbyes behind him as Izuku all but ran to his room.

As soon as his door closed behind him, he practically fell into his bed, exhaustion weighing him down like lead.

(If this is what the first day looked like, he was kind of dreading what laid in store.)

(At the same time, though, warmth bloomed in his chest as he remembered the obstacle he had successfully cleared today, and the way his mentors never lost faith that he could handle it.)

(So maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.)