Chapter Text
Izuku stood tall and rigid, trembling from the effort of making sure that he stayed exactly how he was so that he didn’t give Aizawa-sensei a reason to take back the declaration that he wasn’t going to expel anyone today. He was more than familiar with how teachers like him worked. They would take any excuse to punish any student who they felt stepped out of line, which was usually him. He’d hoped that having a Quirk would change that, but, well. Aizawa-sensei had been very clear about his opinion of Izuku, and he doubted that his performance in this test helped.
Izuku could see his name emblazoned at the bottom of the class, despite that he’d scored at or above average in nearly every category. Only a few of his classmates had Quirks that applied to every category, and he usually outdid most of the ones who weren’t applying their Quirk.
Was Aizawa-sensei grading purely on how much Quirks were applied to the tasks? But then why would Hagakure and Ojiro rank higher? Maybe he weighted some tests more heavily than others, rather than ranking them equally. Or maybe injuries were penalized and his broken finger tanked his score. Could creative use of a Quirk be part of the criteria too? It wasn’t exactly creative of him to use a superstrength Quirk to hit something as hard as he could. Or…
Maybe he did deserve it. His Quirk control was awful, and even if he was still standing afterwards, on the field, he’d be taking up precious time with the medic. His method also meant that he had limited times that he could use his Quirk, meaning that he could render himself effectively Quirkless through repeated use.
He knew very well what heroes thought of someone being Quirkless on the field. Death Arms and All Might had both been clear: they were a liability.
Whatever the cause, the outcome was the same. He was by far in the most precarious position in the class. He would need to be careful, work harder, and not make Aizawa-sensei angry.
“Wasn’t it obvious? Of course it was a ruse.” Yaoyorozu’s cultured voice echoed over everyone else’s exclamations of shock.
Well, he supposed that made sense. For her, it probably was, with how skilled she was with her-
“That is exactly the kind of overconfidence that gets heroes killed, Yaoyorozu.” Each flat word landed like a slap. “If you keep making that kind of mistake, it doesn’t matter how good you are with your Quirk.” He saw several other high scoring students flinch. They’d gotten the message. “You’ll be a liability on the field, and I don’t graduate liabilities.” Yaoyorozu was so still that he didn’t even think that she was breathing.
Aizawa-sensei’s cold declaration chilled him to the bone. If even the highest scorer was vulnerable when she misstepped… what did that mean for everyone who had scored lower than she had?
It meant that even if he was in the most danger, nobody here was safe.
The silence set in, heavy and suffocating. Nobody wanted to be the next one to say or do something that would draw attention. Yaoyorozu stood alone, distress mounting in her expression as the tension built.
A very familiar sound, the hitch in a person’s breathing right before a sob, cut through his thoughts. Without even thinking about it, Izuku’s feet moved him over to Yaoyorozu’s side, and he set a hand on her back. He could feel the curve of her spine where her shoulders were curling in on themselves, trying to make herself a smaller target. “It’ll be okay, Yaoyorozu,” he whispered. “He didn’t say that he’ll expel you. We just have to do better. It will be okay.” He willed all of the belief that he had in her and her amazing Quirk into the last sentence, hoping that she’d hear it.
Yaoyorozu turned to him, tears gleaming in the corners of her eyes, and just stared at him for a moment. Her face was a kaleidoscope, shifting through expressions that held fractals of emotions that would take someone with more information than he had to analyze. Shock, confusion, a fleeting hint of anger, all with a complex tangle behind them that he wouldn’t know how to pick apart if he tried. Izuku forced his face into a trembling smile, the same one that he used to comfort bullying victims- when they were willing to let him comfort them, at least. It was the least he could do for her. It was the most he could do for her.
Her face settled, the lines of it firming with determination. Her spine straightened under his hand, shoulders squaring. Hesitantly, she smiled back, swiping a hand across her eyes to clear them. “You’re right, Midoriya,” her voice carried no sign of her tears. “I’ll do better.”
Izuku suddenly became acutely aware of the fact that he was touching a girl, and tried to drop his hand back to his side as casually as he could. He could swear that Yaoyorozu’s smile faltered for a second, but it was probably his imagination.
“If everyone is done, we’re going back to class. Don’t think that this was the hardest test you’ll be doing this week. We’re only just getting started. Don’t fail.” Izuku flinched at the reminder that Aizawa-sensei was right there. The whole class was right there and they’d seen everything that he’d done. He hoped that none of them thought that he was weird or a creep, but he’d understand if they did. Honestly, it was probably only that they didn’t know he was Quirkless that Yaoyorozu hadn’t shaken him off in disgust.
It was only in the locker room, changing back into his uniform, that it really hit Izuku what Aizawa-sensei had just told them. He was going to keep testing them. Other teachers might too, but Aizawa-sensei absolutely was going to. Even more important was what he hadn’t told them. He’d never said that other failures wouldn’t lead to expulsion.
Based on the soft chatter around him, he didn’t think that this had really sunk in for the others. Mineta and Kaminari were holding a quiet but animated conversation. Izuku caught a fragment about “realistic breasts”, and tried to tune out the rest. Iida was talking to himself about how educational the test had been and what he had and hadn’t expected. Perhaps it was a self-soothing method for the stern teen, but Izuku wasn’t sure. Sero and Sato were having a cheerful argument over what the best ice cream flavor was.
Maybe they hadn’t had teachers like Aizawa-sensei before- or they hadn’t been the target of one. A few students were as silent as he was, but he wasn’t sure it was for the same reasons. Maybe Koda and Shoji were just quiet? They seemed to be that way in general. Todoroki was too, but there was something… off about the way that Todoroki was quiet. Not in a bad way! But like he maybe expected something bad.
Kacchan was… complicated. He was changing silently, but the look on his face was one that Izuku was uncomfortably familiar with. He was mad. Very, very mad. He hoped that Kacchan wouldn’t be able to catch him alone today.
A rough hand landed heavily on his shoulder. He jerked around to see Kirishima’s beaming face. “That was totally manly, dude! You were faster than any of us to go and comfort her! Maybe I should take lessons from you on it!” Kirishima laughed, patting Izuku’s shoulder stiffly.
False bravado, a corner of Izuku’s mind provided. His hand on Izuku’s shoulder was too heavy and awkward, and his expression was clear in the way that they only are when someone is being very deliberate about the emotion that they’re expressing. He wasn’t sure what Kirishima’s bravado covered, but at least it didn’t seem to be disgust? Otherwise, he wouldn’t be touching him, right?
Izuku waved his hands in front of his face. “It- it was nothing really! I just- she needed someone, and I moved without thinking.” he confessed.
Kirishima’s smile grew even wider, baring the boy’s razor sharp teeth. Whoa. Was that a vestigal mutation, or did it have something to do with his Quirk itself? If his Hardening had something to do with enamel, that could open up a lot of avenues for analysis and improvement. “That’s what manliness is, bro!” He thumped his chest with his other fist for emphasis. “Just watch, bro! I’ll be just as manly as you are before you know it!”
Was this how you got rivals?
Izuku mustered up a smile of his own, this one as big and confident as he could. “I look forward to it!”
The section of his brain dedicated to monitoring Kacchan whenever they were in the same space processed a quiet snarl from the other end of the room. Not angry enough to do something, not yet, but he’d have to monitor to make sure that didn’t change.
He finished dressing in his uniform as quickly as he could, and escaped the locker room. He hurried down to the nurse’s office to get his finger healed. It had faded into the background while his mind was on other things, but now that he didn’t have anything to distract himself with, it hurt horribly. After Recovery Girl gently terrorized him with the potential consequences of relying on her too heavily, he made his way back to the classroom to pack up.
The Kacchan-monitoring part of his brain stayed active the entire time that he was packing up, Kacchan’s eyes seeming to bore a hole into his skull every time that he looked away. It was terrifying, honestly, but there wasn’t anything that he could really do about it. He wished that he could borrow Hagakure’s Quirk. Just for ten minutes. He fled the room as quickly as he could.
To his confused relief, Uraraka and Iida were both right on his heels. If he could just stay with them until the train, then he could probably avoid a confrontation with Kacchan today.
“What did you think about the test?” Uraraka hurried alongside him, keeping pace right next to him. “That was crazy for a first day, wasn’t it? I mean, it was so cool how we were able to use our Quirks, but it was so scary!”
“Did you remember to go and get your finger healed?” Iida interjected seriously. “It’s important to make sure that you’re in top condition when you’re training to be a hero.”
“I’m okay!” Izuku assured them. “Recovery Girl fixed me up just fine, see?” He waved the formerely injured hand, which Iida accepted with a crisp nod and Uraraka with a more reluctant one.
They then turned to each other, and began speculating on what was in store for them all tomorrow, occasionally turning to loop him in on their conversation. He tried to keep his responses friendly but short, so that they wouldn’t get annoyed with him. It seemed to work: both of them stuck with him.
It made him a little uneasy how easy it was for them to brush off what Aizawa-sensei had said and done today. He didn’t want either of them to be expelled! Both of them would make incredible heroes someday, and expelling them would rob them of the opportunity and the entire world of having them as heroes. He had to convince them to take this more seriously. But he had to do it without scaring them about it. If he paralyzed them, then they wouldn’t do anything, and they’d be expelled. But if he couldn’t get them to take it seriously, they wouldn’t work hard enough, and they’d be expelled. How could he help them?
“Have either of you had your Quirks analyzed?” He regretted the words the moment that they came out of his mouth, but he couldn’t take them back.
“Of course!” Iida chopped briskly through the air. “My counselor made sure that I got a full workup to make sure that I could utilize my Quirk to its full potential. I am still growing, so I cannot use some of the same methods that the adults of my family do, but I am determined to do the best that I can with what I can do!”
Izuku nodded, chastised. He should have expected that. The younger son of the Iida family must have had access to the best of the best, and with his Quirk being nearly identical to his brother’s, he had ready access to an incredible source of knowledge. Thinking that he could provide anything new to him was the height of arrogance.
He noticed too late that Iida had stopped mid-chop, blinking at him. “You know who my family are?” his tone was more curious than it was accusatory, but Izuku still winced.
“Ah- sorry! I assumed, based on your name and your Quirk, that you might be the younger brother of Ingenium? He often boasts that his little brother will be an even better hero than him- but maybe you’re a cousin? I’m so sorry for assuming-”
“No, no!” Iida was beaming, his hands chopping even faster than before. “Ingenium is indeed my older brother, and I am honored by his confidence in me. It does, however, leave me with a great deal to live up to, especially given that you are correct- many resources have been invested in me, and I cannot let those gifts go to waste. And you, Uraraka? Your Quirk is most impressive!”
The girl flushed, and looked away awkwardly. “I- no, I’m afraid that I haven’t.” she admitted. “I’ve worked with it the best that I could, but our counselor didn’t have much information for me. All I’ve got is trial and error.”
A dozen questions lept to his lips. “What kind of tests have you run?” he pulled his notebook out of his bag, pulling a pencil from its binding. “Do you know your maximum load? How fast you can propel things? Do you know the mechanism behind it?”
Uraraka blinked. “Um. Mostly just picking things up and uh, using my Quirk on them. I don’t know exactly the answers to most of those, but I can guess weight pretty well by material and volume. I think my maximum is around 5000 kilograms, but I could be off.”
“You’ll want to test that,” he pointed his pencil at her. “And also see if you can get that limit up. If you could lift up fallen buildings, then your potential for rescue in a disaster zone would be nearly unmatched. Oh- but if you’re not interested-” Izuku backpedaled at the overwhelmed look on the girl’s face.
“Oh, no, no!” She shook her head vigorously. “I want to be a rescue hero, actually! Thirteen is one of my favorites.”
“That’s awesome!” Izuku gasped. “They’re underrated because their Quirk is alarming to some people, but their record is incredible. Their ability to rapidly remove large debris does operate in the field in ways similar to how Zero Gravity will, though you’ll need to find a place to put it afterwards, but they’ll still have so much to teach you!”
“Really?” she squawked. “I didn’t know that’s why they weren’t higher ranked. That’s awful! I thought that they just weren’t marketing or something.”
Izuku shook his head, then had to tuck back a curl that fell in his face. “They’re honestly pretty good at it! It’s hard to establish as family-friendly a reputation as they have with their Quirk, but they’re definitely climbing uphill when it comes to people’s starting perception of Quirks that destroy matter. It’s honestly really inspiring to see-” he bit his lip to stop the ramble.
An awkward silence descended. Izuku was very suddenly aware that Uraraka thought that he was going to keep going. Oh no. He’d messed it up again-
They'd reached the school gates without Izuku noticing. Students streamed past them toward the train station. Iida paused, turning to face them both.
“Would you two happen to have some time this afternoon?” Iida’s tone was thoughtful, tapping the side of his nose in the same way that Ingenium did when considering his answers in interviews.
“Yeah!” Uraraka piped up. “There’s not too much homework today, so I’ve got some time. What about you, Deku?”
“Deku?” Izuku parroted dumbly.
The girl blinked. "That's your name, isn't it? I heard the blond boy call you that."
“Oh!” Izuku flushed. “Oh, um, my name is actually Midoriya Izuku. Kacchan is just… that’s what he calls me to be mean to me.”
Uraraka’s face fell, then brightened. “Well, I think it sounds like Dekiru! ‘You can do it!’, you know? It fits you!”
A blush crept up his neck. “Um. Thank you. You can call me that if you want?”
“Great!” she cheered, slinging an arm around his neck. “So Dekiru, are you coming with us?”
Weakly, Izuku smiled his first real smile of the day. “I’d love to! Where are going, though?” He probably should have asked that before agreeing. “And I’ll have to text my mom and tell her when I’ll be home,” he tacked on.
“How filial!” Iida exclaimed. “I was hoping that you two would be willing to come with me to the Iidaten agency for a short time. Some of Midoriya’s questions reminded me of the ones that I myself was asked when my Quirk was being analyzed, and so I believe that it may be a good idea to see if we can get them answered. They have a large Quirk training area that I believe would allow for us to do some testing. I am not sure how long this will take, but I’m sure that you have some idea, Midoriya?”
Two pairs of expectant eyes turned to him.
At this point, nothing that Izuku had ever experienced gave him any context for this. Iida wanted to give him and Uraraka space to work on analyzing her Quirk? And Uraraka looked like she was happy about this idea? They didn’t think that it was weird? They wanted to make it easier and work on it together with him?
He blinked away the tears, and began scribbling in his notebook. If they had this much confidence in him, then he refused to betray it. He’d do a good enough analysis that Uraraka would be able to improve as a hero. He was going to help.
The second that tears had started to brim in the eyes of the Yaoyorozu heir, Shota knew that he had fucked up. She definitely needed a kick off of her pedestal for her sake and for the sake of her classmates, but if she broke down now, it would be very difficult to get her to live up to her potential. He wouldn’t take what he said back- the class would take him less seriously, and he hadn’t said anything false. Unfortunately, that left him with very few viable options.
Movement caught his eye. The bone breaker was striding over to her with more steadiness than he’d seen in the kid this whole time, Quirk or no Quirk. In only a couple of minutes, he settled her nerves and redirected her from the edge of a breakdown to determination.
…that was an incredibly valuable skillset. Shota revised his estimation of the kid’s potential upwards. It also worked very well to cover one of Shota’s biggest deficits when it came to dealing with people, students or otherwise. If the students had someone who they could turn to when he went harder on them than they could tolerate, which was admittedly not uncommon when he was still learning their limits, that would be a major asset to the class as a whole.
He’d keep the kid at least until the Sports Festival to help the rest of the class out with the emotional turmoil of the first few weeks. If his Quirk control didn’t improve, Shota would boot him then. In the meantime, he’d use the kid’s skills to force the rest of the class higher and harder than they’d be able to without support, and gauge their limits more accurately since he had the space to go beyond them.
If he did kick the kid then, he’d suggest the transfer exam for Management. Anyone with a knack for managing overemotional teenagers with superpowers would do equally well at managing overemotional adults with superpowers, which seemed to be most of the job for management at hero agencies.
Shouta let the class go with a warning, keeping an eye on the bone breaker and the heir. Her shoulders tensed back up, but she didn’t seem on the verge of crying again. Bone breaker kid flinched, but had no other visible reaction. The rest of the class seemed uneasy, but not upset. Good. He wanted them to feel like their places weren’t guaranteed just because they’d passed a biased test. He was more than ready to replace any student who wasn’t good enough to keep themselves alive. If they wanted to keep their places, they’d have to work for it.
With that settled in his mind, he turned to walk away. Unfortunately, he was interrupted.
“Aizawa-kun,” All Might stepped out from where he’d clearly been watching the class. His signature smile was plastered on the same as always. Shota didn’t like that he couldn’t see the man’s eyes. The eyes gave you a considerable amount of information about a person. Not being able to see them was… unnerving. Frankly, he didn’t know why it didn’t creep more people out.
“All Might,” Shota returned flatly. “So you were watching. I’m glad that you like wasting time.” You’re wasting mine right now, he added mentally. See, Hizashi? He could be professional.
All Might studied him. “Last year, you expelled an entire class of first years. You discard those who do not meet your standards. And yet you go back on your word about Midoriya. You sense his potential as well…?” the older hero trailed off meaningfully.
Shota exhaled deeply. “And I would do it again,” he met the senior hero’s eyes. “He doesn’t have no chance. But if he doesn’t improve rapidly, I will follow through. There’s nothing crueller than allowing someone to chase a dream they can’t catch.”
With that, he turned and walked away, deliberately ending the conversation. He had a nap to take before patrol.