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“I can’t say “you can be a hero even without power”,” echoes All Might's voice, cruel and daunting in Izuku’s ears as he sits on his bed, knees tucked into his chest.
“You have to consider what’s realistic.”
All Might is right , he knows that, knows he’ll always be quirkless and worthless and useless. He was the reason the sludge villain had fallen out of All Might’s pocket. He’d gotten in the heroes’ way when he’d tried to help Kacchan. He was a nuisance . A problem.
So why, he wonders, tears swimming in his eyes, why is it still so hard to give up?
It takes a while of pondering, of stifling sobs and clutching a battered notebook, for Izuku to come up with an answer that makes sense to him.
It’s because he doesn’t have proof.
Because this has been his lifelong dream, and he can’t bring himself to just throw it away without solid, undeniable proof. Objectively, All Might’s words are his opinion. As much as Izuku hates to admit it, All Might is wrong sometimes. His words are not proof that Izuku can’t be a hero, so they’re not enough for him to give up.
It’s that train of thought that leads him to a solution; he could try the UA heroics entrance exam.
After all, a rejection letter would be more than enough proof. The Gen-Ed and Business exams were on different days, so he wouldn’t be giving up his chance to get into UA altogether, either.
It’s a perfect solution. He’ll try the entrance exam, and when he fails he’ll have proof that he can’t be a hero, and he’ll give up.
(That’s what he tells himself; it’s a perfect excuse.)
-----
Izuku doesn’t train much for the entrance exam. What’s the point of training when he’s going to fail anyway?
But he does go on jogs every morning and every evening, and he does basic workouts he finds online and buys weights and a grip strengthener that starts to look worn in less than 5 months of him having it.
He studies 3 hours a day and does practice exams and goes over the syllabus 10 times to make sure he didn't miss anything because it won’t be undeniable proof if he doesn’t try.
(That’s what he tells himself; it’s a perfect excuse.)
-----
The day of the exam comes with dread pooling in Izuku’s stomach, making nausea roll through his body.
His hands shake inside his pockets.
Today is the day. The day he creates his proof.
The thought makes him want to cry.
He wonders if his proof is worth the awful feeling in his gut.
He knows it is. The closure will be worth it.
(That’s what he tells himself; it’s a perfect excuse.)
----
Strangely enough, the written portion of the exam isn’t really…hard. Izuku flies through the questions in each category, absolutely enthralled by how fun they are to solve.
He finishes half an hour earlier than any of the other examinees, and he only leaves 3 questions blank.
He wonders if that’s a good thing or a bad one.
Probably bad. After all, he’s Deku . Him finishing early probably means he didn’t write as much as he was supposed to.
(That’s what he tells himself; it’s a perfect excuse.)
----
Izuku is struck by the sudden urge to back out and give up when he hears that they’ll be fighting robots in the practical. And they’ll only be given 10 minutes to do it.
(Y’all I had to change so much of my idea because???? Wdym they’re only given 10 minutes??? What can I even make Izuku do in 10 minutes??? Bestie it would take me like 10 minutes to even get to the other side of the fake city,,, WHY IS THE PRACTICAL ONLY 10 MINUTES.)
He’s just a weakling, after all. There’s no way he’ll make it out of the exam alive.
But there’s no way to back out anymore. He’s already there, in the auditorium next to Kacchan, and he doubts they’ll let him leave at this point.
Either way, he needs his proof, so he boards the bus to the exam center without saying a word, stares at the giant doors in front of him and stands his ground, and runs when Present Mic says go.
It takes only three minutes for Izuku to give up.
To his credit, it starts well enough. He gets to the center only a little bit after the people with mobility quirks, because he hadn’t been caught off guard by the lack of a countdown.
He freezes when a one-pointer comes towards him, eyes going comically wide, but the robot’s attention is drawn away by a girl that claws at its neck.
Strangely, the robot pauses, even though the lights on its wheel and its ‘eye’ are still red, giving the girl a chance to tear it apart.
Izuku shakes himself out of his stupor, rushing towards another one pointer. He plans to aim for the neck, since that seems to be a programmed weak spot, and use some of the jagged metal pieces lying around to stab the robot’s eye. If destroying the eye doesn’t work, he’ll try hacking at the rubber pipes between the metal slabs that create the robot’s neck.
His theory is that Nedzu had programmed the robots to have weak spots where regular humans would; the ears, eyes, neck, temples, and so on.
Izuku is about to reach the one-pointer, and he can hear more examinees approaching the middle of the city, when the blue-haired boy with the engine quirk from earlier kicks the robot, completely destroying it right before Izuku can get to it.
“I apologize,” he shouts as he runs away, “But it’s every man for himself.”
And so Izuku stops as people begin to flood in, destroying robots left and right, and he gives up.
He knew it would go this way. He couldn’t even get a single point. He doubted he’d get one at all.
Really, what was the point in trying? He’d only tire himself out and get hurt. This was proof enough.
So he stops, and he watches for a little bit, because he has nothing better to do.
It’s then that he notices several odd details.
One; the robots are made of metal that is strangely weak and hollow.
The girl who’d stopped him from falling- Uraraka, if he remembers correctly,- is able to destroy robots by simply dropping them from a few feet above the ground.
Two; the robots are programmed to ignore and avoid anyone with a clear injury. (and likely anyone that is unable to move)
Izuku sees a two pointer turn to a boy, its eye flexing, and promptly turn around, presumably because of the bleeding gash on his arm.
Three; the robots do not go into the buildings.
Robots that aren’t engaged in fights seem to wander aimlessly, searching for targets, but they never enter the buildings that line the sidewalks of the fake city.
The last one is something Izuku figures he might as well investigate.
Izuku turns around and runs into a building- one with a green logo of a shopping car on it- and his eyes widen as he realizes that the buildings aren’t just for show.
The building, which he assumes is a grocery store, is dotted with items. He can see a few bags of chips and some soda in the snacks aisle, a few boxes of toothpaste in the ‘hygiene’ aisle and so on.
He runs back outside as Present Mic announces that there are 6 minutes left and finds that some buildings have logos like the one he entered, while others don’t.
There’s 3 with a red plus- they have medical supplies, he assumes- another with a green shopping cart and one more: a blue logo that he recognizes but can’t quite place.
He runs towards the building, ignoring the robots that try to come after him and the people counting up their points. (The numbers are so high. Even if he’d kept trying, he doesn’t think he’d have gotten anywhere close)
Izuku squints at the logo, staring intensely until he realizes it; the logo is one of a local hardware store in Musutafu.
He knows the stores have significance, and if this is the odd one out… It's special.
Izuku pushes open the door and finds that all the shelves are empty, except one.
He makes his way over to it quickly, feeling an odd sense of urgency, and finds 3 things.
A metal sword with a plastic handle, a taser, and rubber gloves. In a second, Izuku realizes what they are meant for.
If he were to use the sword to tear apart the metal or shatter the eye made of reinforced glass, he could stick the taser onto the wiring and kill the robots without being electrocuted.
… It's a viable plan. One Izuku feels like could actually work.
And it won’t be undeniable proof if he doesn’t try, right?
So he shoves the gloves on, grabs the sword and the taser, and runs.
The taser, on inspection, has multiple voltage options and an inscription on the back.
Izuku takes a second to read it before he runs back into the battlefield.
Even the largest of beasts you can defeat,
If you attack where they expect it the least.
Beneath the writing is a picture of the 0 pointer- which really doesn’t make sense- and there is an odd dot of black on the drawing’s foot.
Izuku ignores it, and runs out.
He carries out the plan he’d made; it works surprisingly well.
Izuku takes down as many robots as he can find, which isn’t really many, but he does his best.
He tries to help the people with injuries too, telling them that the robots won’t attack if they see the injury, telling them the buildings with the plus signs have first aid kits (he doesn’t know if that’s true but he figures it probably is), helping them through rubble and destroying robots that try to attack.
But, when the ground rumbles and he hears the groan of metal, when shrieks sound and people begin to run away, when he sees the giant robot and knows his time is up, he only has 18 points.
He knows it’s not enough.
He has his proof.
So he turns, goes to run with everyone else, when he hears it.
Over the sounds of the robot and the screams of examinees, he hears a girl’s voice.
“Help! Someone, please, help!”
Izuku freezes, and turns around.
There, trapped under rubble, the 0 pointer steadily approaching her, is Uraraka.
Just like before, like with Kacchan, Izuku’s feet move without thinking.
He can’t leave her there.
He reaches her side in seconds, but he doesn’t know what to do . The stone is too heavy for him to lift. Clearly, Uraraka can’t use her quirk, or she would’ve already.
And then, he remembers it: The 0 pointer on the taser. The dot on the foot.
Attack where they expect it the least .
And really, maybe he’s misconstruing it. Maybe that isn’t the intended message at all.
But Izuku has to try.
So he runs towards the zero pointer, keeping his eyes open through the dust even as they water, and he scrambles onto the robot’s gigantic foot, thankful that it doesn’t attack him.
He shoves the sword into the metal with each step he takes so that he doesn’t fall off, and makes his way to the middle of the robot’s foot.
Izuku feels like maybe he’s imagining it, but the robot seems to have slowed down since Izuku had climbed onto it.
Finally, he reaches his destination, coughs wracking his body, and is rewarded by the sight of a blinking red dot, like the ones every robot has, covered by what he assumes is reinforced glass.
With all the force he can muster, he drives the sword into the glass, shattering it.
He can hear Uraraka screaming his name now.
She’s asking if he’s okay.
It brings him no comfort; it just means the robot is close to crushing her.
Izuku turns the voltage of the taser up to max, and with a guttural, hoarse yell, he plunges it into the open wiring near the sword.
For a second, Izuku thinks he’s failed, that he’d been wrong and dumb to even try what he’d done. He thinks the robot will move forward, and Uraraka will die . (His adrenaline-addled brain doesn’t seem to realize that UA likely wouldn’t let an examinee die. To him, his failure means Uraraka’s death.)
But then the robot goes still, and when Izuku looks up, its eyes are gray.
“30 seconds left!” Izuku distantly hears Present Mic yell.
But, oddly enough, his vision is darkening at the edges, and he can’t focus on anything other than the sheer relief coursing through his veins.
He’s out before he can process what he did.
His last thought is that even if he didn't pass, at least he was helpful.
At least he was useful.
At least he got his proof.
That makes up for it.
(That’s what he tells himself; it’s a perfect excuse.)
(In the control room, Nedzu cackles with glee as he watches UA’s first quirkless hero course applicant uncover all the secrets he’s hidden in the entrance exam and use them to save other people.)
----
“I think it’s amazing that you even applied for UA!” His mother tells him nervously as he sits despondently on the couch, picking at his nails.
“It’s fine, mom, you don’t have to lie,” Izuku says, “At least now I know for sure I can’t be a hero. I can finally give up on that useless dream. Just like you want.”
He can’t help the bitterness that seeps into his last words.
His mother is silent for a second, before she speaks, quiet and sad.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and Izuku wants to burst out laughing.
Of course she’s sorry . Of course nothing’s changed since he was 4 and asking her, ever so hopefully, if he could be a hero.
Izuku looks up, startled when warm hands are placed firmly on his shoulders.
His mother looks back at him, tears and guilt and sadness swimming in her green eyes.
“I’m sorry I made you feel like I thought that. Even though I don’t like that you want to be a hero, even though I think it’s dangerous and it makes me worry… Izuku, I never wanted you to fail.”
The statement causes tears to pool in his eyes and roll down his cheeks, hot on his skin as his mouth falls open in shock.
“I know how much being a hero meant to you. And all I want- all I’ve ever wanted- is for you to be happy , Izuku.”
Izuku’s mom pulls him into a hug, letting his tears soak into her shirt, resting her chin on his shoulder.
“I’ll find another way,” Izuku mumbles into her shirt, “I’ll find a safer, better dream and I’ll be just as happy with it.”
It sounds like a lie, even to his own ears.
His mother just sighs, petting his fluffy green curls.
“If that’s what you want, baby.”
It is what he wants. He can be happy, even if he’s not a hero. After all, he wouldn’t be happy if his mom was always worried about him, would he?
(That’s what he tells himself; it’s a perfect excuse.)
-----
The letter from UA comes, heavy in Izuku’s hands, the red wax that seals it shut waiting to be broken; waiting to show him that he’s been rejected.
It’s proof. Proof that he’s not meant to be a hero.
This is what he’s been waiting for, been working for all these months.
So why is it so hard to open?
Eventually, Izuku’s frustration with himself builds and he ends up tearing it open.
A little metal disk clatters onto his desk, emitting a hologram that lights up his dark room.
Nedzu, principal of UA, stands in the hologram, a smile on his snout.
“Am I a dog? A bear? A mouse? Why, I’m the principal of UA!” He greets, his paws hidden behind his back. “Izuku Midoriya, you applied to the hero course as well as the Gen-Ed course. While you passed with flying colors in the written portion of both exams, you only managed to obtain 18 points in the Heroics practical, which is not enough to pass.”
Izuku knew that. He’d known that since the entrance exam.
It still hurt to hear far more than he’d expected, causing tears to pool in his eyes.
“If, of course, only villain points are being counted,” Nedzu continues, making Izuku look back up at the hologram, eyes wide as he wonders what that meant.
“Before I explain further, I think there is a video you should see,” Nedzu says, and a video appears to his side, beginning to play as Izuku rubs the blurriness out of his eyes.
Uraraka, the girl that had been trapped under the rubble, seems to be speaking to someone.
“Um, I just wanted to ask… well, you know the boy with the curly green hair and the freckles? The plain-looking one?”
With a start, Izuku realizes that she’s talking about him .
“He saved my life! But, um, I heard him counting his points a minute or so before the zero pointer came and he only had 12… And I know that’s not enough to pass so I was wondering if, um, maybe I could give him some of my points? At least enough to make up for the time he spent saving me!”
The girl squeezes her eyes shut and pleads, sounding almost desperate .
Izuku really doesn’t think he deserves that level of gratitude.
The video pauses, and Nedzu speaks. “The entrance exam was not graded only on the basis of villain points.”
The video unpauses and the person Uraraka had been speaking to comes into frame, and Izuku realizes it was Present Mic .
He pats Uraraka on the head, sounding almost fond as he speaks.
“You can’t give him your points even if you ask to,” he says with amusement, “Even if you could, there’s no reason to give him any, little listener.”
The video ends, and Nedzu continues. “After all, how could a hero school turn down someone who selflessly helps others, like a true hero should? To account for that, there are rescue points awarded by a panel of judges. Uraraka Ochaco obtained 30 rescue points, while you, Midoriya, managed to get a grand total of 75 rescue points.”
Izuku stares slack-jawed as Nedzu’s smile grows.
“On adding villain points, rescue points, and additional points for finding and utilizing the secrets I had hidden in the exam- very impressive, by the way- your total score comes out to be 108 points, the highest score this year, and the second highest in UA's history, only below the score All Might himself had obtained.”
The tears drop down Izuku’s face, and he finds that he’s too shocked to try to wipe them away.
“So, you have passed the exams for both Gen-Ed and Heroics. You are free to choose which track you want to take.”
Nedzu extends a paw towards him, tilting his head with a knowing smile.
“Welcome, Izuku Midoriya. This is your Hero Academia.”
If what was supposed to prove he couldn’t be a hero instead proved that he could … Then maybe All Might was wrong after all.
Maybe he could be a hero.
Maybe he didn’t need excuses to try anymore.