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    Summary

    Oh, my god, he thought blankly, detachedly, hands hanging uselessly out in front of him. I just talked to a girl.

    “You didn’t actually say anything, though,” someone said, and it sounded older, maybe by a couple of years, less pubescent than most of the kids his age.

    Izuku looked around, cheeks reddening as he realized that some upperclassman must have witnessed his disaster story unfold, but he didn’t see anyone that looked any older than the students here to take the exam, like him. Maybe they had poked fun and walked away right after and he had missed them?

    “Give the kid a little credit, Leader, this is his big day,” another voice chided.

    “Tch,” the first voice—Leader?—said. “I still think it was pretty pathetic.”

    “Oh, for sure,” the other voice replied. “He’s like an overstimulated chihuahua, but we’re the only two here right now, and I can only take so much of your pessimism before I try to defenestrate you. Or myself. Or both of us.”

    -

    Or, what happens when Izuku can hear all the past users of One For All talking in his head, All. The. Time.

    The answer? Chaos. (And a lot less bone-breaking)

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