Chapter Text
The moment the press conference ended, the three UA teachers sat around a laptop behind the scenes, watching it all unfold.
You must remember, Aizawa had been in class A for a reason. He had been a vigilante – a good one, at that. The thing is with vigilantes, is that the press makes sure to shine the worst light possible upon them. It had gotten worse recently, with philanthropists such at the Hero Killer, Stain, tarnishing the name. However, professional heroes were far from against working with a vigilante if push came to shove. But Aizawa had just been a kid, and although he did some good, he never would have gotten further if it weren’t for UA. He never would have passed the entrance exams for the hero course. Maybe he could have done what his newest student, Shinso, attempted: apply to general studies and trudge his way to the hero course the best he could by dominating the competition. Nonetheless, his class 1-A was the vessel he’d needed. He couldn’t say the same for a majority of his classmates, but it worked for him.
Now, teaching the class himself, Aizawa knew that many of the kids just viewed him as a licenced vigilante. Honestly, it’s how he viewed himself. He free lanced – worked alone or with other heroes and companies if they needed help in his area of expertise. Pretty much, a vigilante who wasn’t going to be arrested for doing the right thing. And… is also paid, so that’s nice.
And why is this important? Well, the thing is, Aizawa’s viewpoints hadn’t really changed. Real vigilantes nowadays were far and few between, but if he encountered one, he made sure to… slip up, and let them get away.
So, maybe he might have just… slipped up and forgotten to lock the door to Heights Alliance when he left for the press conference. He knew they’d notice, for sure. Aizawa couldn’t do much more than that. It’s not like they particularly needed the door to be unlocked, but it was more a sign of… respect.
Class 1-A was ready to graduate now.
Whether that would be into the hero course, or straight out into the deep end – the real world – a new breed of vigilantes. Well… that was up to them.
No more restraints. He’d taught them what he could. Sure, they could have listened a little more; paid the slightest bit more attention. But they were kids, what else could he say?
And them being kids, Aizawa did have his own opinion on the matter, and that was that they should stay in UA, train, be heroes. But he wasn’t in control. He never was that was the point.
The point was, the person who was supposed to be in control, was currently out of reach. If what remained of the class could work together; get out of UA; have the initiative to follow Yaoyorozu’s directions and let her lead them to Kamino, then, well, that’s their final exam. A kind of… replacement to the provisional licencing exam, which he’d always had his doubts about anyway.
Unfortunately, Aizawa wasn’t let in on many of the details of the operation. His job today was the opposite of what he was used to – he had to smile for the cameras and stall for time. He didn’t need to know any more than that.
The news coverage of the event also didn’t start anywhere near the beginning of the confrontation. By the time a helicopter was flying overhead, and he could finally see the destruction for himself, it could have been even twenty minutes since All Might arrived. At this point, he really didn’t have a clue.
All he could do was bite his lip and wait. Hair let loose, tie tossed aside, Aizawa had leant forwards towards the laptop’s screen as though that could get him closer to the action.
And he watched as Shoto fought for his life and freedom – as Midoriya stood there, lost.
He watched as his class appeared from seemingly nowhere to save their classmates. And it was Bakugo, Bakugo, who convinced Midoriya to come with him. And the unlikely pair, for just a moment, fought off the villain, nodded to All Might, and took to the skies alongside the others.
Eighteen figures hurried off into the distance, only briefly followed by the camera, before the fight at the forefront of everyone’s minds progressed.
Eighteen, how poetic.
Aizawa had leant back in his chair, hands on his head as he let out a breath that he didn’t realise he had been holding in.
They were out – they were ok.
All Might defeated All for One – barely.
It was clear to everyone watching, the world over, as he landed that final punch, that it was the last he’d ever make. He was still alive, yes, but his power wasn’t – it couldn’t have been, not after that.
Aizawa wasn’t the only one with a sense of unease, however, as All for One was detained and carted away. The man was still standing, as All Might had been. And with that immense power, would even a prison as infamous as Tartarus hold him?
It didn’t matter. That was a problem for another person, another day. Right now, Aizawa was driving back to UA, as quickly as the speed limit would allow (and sometimes a little beyond that). They’d been delayed for so long, getting out of that building where the press conference had been held. Reporters stopped them in their tracks too, as they tried to leave, a million more questions on their minds, likely from the sights of Midoriya’s hesitation, and then a class that was supposed to be held up in UA, not only somehow finding their missing classmates, but getting them out before the heroes could.
Another problem, for another day.
Aizawa drove through the gates to UA, glad to see no reporters here, waiting for them to return. He parked slowly and precisely in his space and let Nezu and Vlad exit the vehicle first. He sat there for a moment longer, hands still on the stirring wheel, staring blankly forwards and wondering.
He sighed, retrieved his key and got out.
The three teachers looked at each other, all thinking the same thing.
“Well, I will speak to you tomorrow,” Nezu spoke up.
“Aren’t we supposed to do something?” Vlad asked gruffly.
Aizawa turned his gaze to the path towards the dorms. “Just check up on what’s left of your class, Vlad,” he said as he put his hands in his pocket and started to walk away.
“What about yours?” he called after him.
Aizawa stopped. He tilted his head to meet Vlad’s gaze.
Not saying a word, he turned away and kept walking.
Height’s Alliance came into view from around the corner of the trees. The lights were all still on. Bastards always left the lights on when they left; made it look less suspicious.
When he reached the front door he hesitated, almost reaching for his keys. No, he’d left the door unlocked, hadn’t he?
With a final sigh, he resigned himself to his fate and turned the handle.
They laughed as they ran.
On the journey, Midoriya recounted everything that had happened to his class. From playing chess with a supervillain, to finding out who made the Nomu, to being offered a Quirk. They understood his hesitation, even if they didn’t quite get it before he explained.
But one thing was for sure, Midoriya had never felt lighter.
There was still some part of him which screamed that he’d missed out on something – a Quirk of his very own! But it was so far pushed back in his mind, that it didn’t really bother him. Because yeah, a Quirk would have been amazing. But… if he accepted it, he’d be carrying around this guilt with him for the rest of his life: that this power wasn’t meant for him, that this was something from a villain, a really, really horrible villain.
And well… why did he even want a Quirk in the first place? To belong? To… help other people and make a difference? Isn’t he already doing that?
In fact, as he swung from Sero’s tape, bounded over Ojiro’s shoulders, slid across Shoto’s ice and grabbed Uraraka’s hand to take the two of them zooming past Kacchan (much to his annoyance), Midoriya finally came to realise that he belonged here, with these guys – wherever they’d go. Not just one specific place, nor position in society that needed a Quirk. And the same went for the rest of them.
Together, they belonged.
And Midoriya belonged… Quirkless – if that made any sense. Maybe some would argue that he was never given a superpower, because he was strong enough without one. Not physically, that was. Evident by the fact he needed Tsu’s help to make it across a gap in the building. But hey, he wasn’t bothered. Not anymore.
He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but he’d always known that. People will always tell him that he can’t; the media’s eye will always be following him, trying to drag him down. It didn’t matter. They could think whatever they wanted. It didn’t change the fact that Midoriya was going to be someone who made a difference – a good one, at that. He’d save people, like he’d always wanted. And, maybe more importantly, he’d save people like him.
They could have done that however they wanted to. The world was their oyster. However, despite it all, the answer was clear.
And that’s why they took the train out of Kamino, no longer caring how people turned at stared at the group. They made it back to the city they now all called home and walked to that warehouse Shoto had once said they could use as a hideaway.
Then they laughed and walked past it.
They gave each other a hand and clambered back over the wall.
Wandered loudly through the woods –
And arrived at the front door to Heights Alliance.
Because the question Midoriya asked was –
Who else wants to be a hero?
“Now does anyone have any withstanding injuries?!” Iida insisted as they all walked inside, chattering over him loudly.
“Is anyone hurt?!” Yaoyorozu called out.
No, was the unanimous decision. Iida just sighed, dejected, but then caught Midoriya’s eye and smiled.
“I’m borrowing this, by the way!” Uraraka called out, waving Midoriya’s notebook in his face.
He sighed, but then faltered, “You know what? Why don’t you just keep it?”
Uraraka hesitated and blinked at him, “W-What? But it’s your –”
“It’s a little outdated,” he shrugged, grinning. “Might need to borrow it to copy a few things over, but if we’re going to be heroes, I think I better start on a notebook that doesn’t call half of us villains.”
“So… I can –”
“Do whatever you want with it – and I promise you can doodle in my new one too.”
She grinned wildly, “MOMO! You’re good at drawing, right?! Can you help –” and she scurried off to the far corner of the room with his – her – notebook in-hand.
Midoriya just stood there for a moment, gazing over them, hand still on the sword tucked into his belt. Eventually, he turned and walked up the stairs to his room.
He let the door creak open and turned on the light.
It felt like so long since he’d been back, like the person who lived here had been someone entirely different.
He rested his sword against his nightstand, tossed the grappling-bolt onto the floor beside it, and immediately got changed out of the dark clothing given to him by All for One. He skipped back down the stairs with a fresh notebook in hand, his pencil case under one arm, and the bundle of clothing under the other.
“Hey, Mina?” he called out.
“Oh – yeah?!” she yelled in response, looking up from whatever Yaoyorozu and Uraraka were doing to the notebook by this point.
“Could you do me a favour?” he asked as she approached.
“Sure!” she said, a little confused.
He shoved the clothing into her arms. “Melt it.”
She grinned, “SHOTO! Wanna set fire to something with me so my acid makes it go pretty colours?!”
He blinked at her, then at Midoriya, and then shrugged, “Sure.”
A group followed the two outside, closely tailed by Iida, who hesitated at the front door, about to tell them off about toxic fumes, and then shrugged, closing it behind them.
Midoriya laughed at the spectacle, shaking his head.
He then trotted through the common room area. Tokoyami and Aoyama were talking about fashion, Ojiro, Sato and Shoji were setting up the Monopoly board again, which Midoriya almost accidentally stepped on, and with all the shuffled about furniture, Midoriya somehow found himself sitting at a table near to everyone’s favourite window.
He opened the new book to the first, double page spread, glued down the first page against the back of the front cover, and started somewhat of a contents page.
This was disturbed by a distant knocking.
He looked up, leaned over, smiled.
He got up and hurried over to the window, throwing it open.
“Midoriya!” yelled Monoma as he did the exact same. He’d been knocking at his window.
“Hey,” Midoriya replied, leaning on the windowsill as Monoma lent out a little.
“Are you ok?!”
“Absolutely.”
“We saw everything on the news!” said Tetsutetsu, rushing to Monoma’s side. “What did that guy do to you?!”
“Funny story, actually,” Midoriya grinned, “You know that Quirk I pretended to have at the beginning of the year?”
“…Yeah?” Monoma frowned.
“Well, turns out that villain had that exact Quirk.”
His mouth fell open, “No way.”
“Uh huh! And he said he’d give me a Quirk.”
“Did you take it?!”
“Nope.”
“Why not?!”
Kendo huffed as she came into view, putting her hands on her hips, “Monoma – that was the right thing to do! And it must have been hard too!”
“Oh but come on!” Monoma retorted, “A Quirk! That would have been amazing! I would have done it.”
Midoriya simply shrugged, ever smiling, “Too much paperwork.”
Monoma shook his head in disbelief, “You’re a piece of work, 18.”
He laughed at the nickname, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The rest of class B left them alone to speak from window to window for a while longer. Midoriya shuffled the table up closer so that he could draw whilst talking. He got his classmates to come over and sign his book when he saw them too.
The group that had gone outside to set fire to Midoriya’s old clothes returned not long after, slightly singed, but grinning ear to ear. Midoriya was glad to see that Shoto was feeling ok. He went for a shower not long after, and when he emerged, looked like he’d never even gone to the summer camp at all.
They were probably all back an hour by the time their front door swung open.
Mr Aizawa walked in and stared at them all. They fell quiet.
He locked eyes with Midoriya, and Monoma glumly waved from their sister dorm building.
He let out a deep exhale and smiled back.
He didn’t need to say anything to tell them that he was proud, they could tell from the genuine expression on their face. He didn’t even need to say that they wouldn’t be putting the trackers back on, or that he wouldn’t be locking the door again. Or that in a few days their parents would be allowed to give them their laptops and phones back.
Instead, he simply nodded, turned, and left.
“HOW DARE YOU?!” Jiro screeched, throwing her bag onto the floor in the common room.
“Calm down, Jack,” Sero scoffed, rolling his eyes as he threw another cookie towards Kaminari’s mouth.
He missed and hit Bakugo in the back of the head. Before he could do anything, Kaminari snatched the discarded cookie off his shoulder and ate it in one go.
“You’re freaking disgusting,” he growled.
“You’re dwisgwusting,” Kaminari said with his mouth full.
“NO!” she yell shrilly, stomping her foot and making everyone laugh. “You left us out of the best mission we’ve ever had!”
“Of all time!” Hagakure added beside her.
Jiro pointed to her and nodded.
“Not much we can do about it,” Kaminari said, swallowing the cookie he had, ready for Sato to chuck him another.
“You guys were on the news and everything!” Jiro continued. “Why do I never get to do anything that I get to tell people about what the hell?”
“The Jiro conspiracy continues,” Shinso deadpanned in between sips of coffee.
She gave him a sideways grin, “Glad you guys are ok though,” she said to Shoto and Midoriya.
Shoto gave her a thumbs up as he passed.
Midoriya barely looked up from his laptop, because, well, internet.
Oh, my God, internet.
He loved the internet so much.
And it absolutely did not return the favour.
It wasn’t that long ago that staring at the mass of conspiracy theories, harsh articles and hateful comments would sink him even lower into his pit of despair. But the closer he got to his dream of being a hero, the more he searched for those messages with a crooked grin and an evil glint in his eyes, picking apart the trail each user had left on the internet, and with various alternate accounts, he slowly dragged those people down into their own little pit, which would become their metaphorical grave. The only one he didn’t explicitly stop was Mineta, because to be perfectly honest, a small part of him did feel a little bad for the way he kicked him out of UA. Midoriya knew that by giving him this false sense of freedom, Mineta could grow into a real media presence. The ex-class-A student would have to wait a while longer before he realised that he was the only one who never truly graduated. The group would be running him in circles for many years to come.
The world was changing. All Might had retired. All for One had been locked away in the highest security cell in Japan, if not the world. But after his injuries, All Might’s Quirk, One for All, finally fizzled out of existence within him, and he had no choice but to finally give up his mantle as number one hero. But One for All wasn’t gone forever. It was with Mirio now – or had been all along. Midoriya liked Mirio – he respected him. Midoriya had yet to have that conversation with All Might he had been promised back at Kamino, but he hoped Mirio would be there too. Midoriya knew that few heroes in the future would respect H1A, the hero team, but that was alright, they wouldn’t respect them in return, and that was their problem. Mirio would be one of the lucky ones.
For now, in All Might’s place, Endeavor stepped up. The vultures that were the press circled him just about as much as they circled UA and Midoriya’s class. Endeavor had a lot of dirty secrets, hidden skin deep, and with Shoto now officially and publicly taking a hero course examination, those secretive rumours started to stir once more. No matter, class A sat in waiting. Shoto knew it was going to be alright. He wasn’t doing this for his father. He was doing this for himself.
But at the moment, class A was in some kind of limbo. They weren’t the villain class anymore, but they hadn’t really graduated, not until they passed the provisional licencing exam, that was. It was going to be tough; they all knew it. Mr Aizawa was working them to the bone with training exercises, theory, laws, the lot. But they definitely needed it – the last bit, especially.
But for the first time, they felt… really at home at UA. It was no longer a prison, not by any extension of the situation. And others, at least the teachers, stopped treating them like the villains. Probably because they’d started actually paying attention in class, and it had been a good few months since they last chased Present Mic out their English lesson. At this point, his disdain towards them was more of a joke than reality.
Midoriya finally felt like he belonged somewhere. And that wasn’t because he was dangerous and needed to be dealt with or something. No… he belonged in this school – just like the rest of them did – a school for heroes.
With the backlash UA was facing for class A’s latest, and finally successful, escape attempt, Nezu finally went out and said that they were going to be taking that hero exam.
Oh, and one more thing –
“I’ll be changing the way class A works from now on,” Nezu said calmly, moving a brand-new chess board carefully off his desk as Aizawa sat down.
It had been the first thing the Principal said when Aizawa arrived. He blinked at him; it hadn’t been what he’d been expecting. “…Oh?” he replied cautiously.
Nezu simply nodded, smiling pleasantly, “As you know, the class 1-A system had been established long before I became the head of this institution. It has many positives, and we can’t deny that this current, very special class, is thankful for its existence – you included. But… it also has its negatives. I have been wanting to make amendments for quite some time, but never had the rhyme nor reason. I simply didn’t know how to go about it.”
“…Right,” Aizawa said slowly, putting his set of twenty, rather thick files down on the table before him.
“No need for that this time, I believe,” Nezu insisted, and so Aizawa shoved them to one side so the two could clearly see each other again.
After a moment of silence, Aizawa dared to speak up. There was a pressing question he needed to ask, but he thought he should build up to it first. “So… what’s with the chess board?”
Nezu’s constant smile grew a little wider, “Ah! Yes! Well, I have always been quite fond of the game. I had a meeting with Midoriya the other day –”
“–Wait, hold on –”
“–And he pointed out an older set of mine in the corner of the room! I got a new one and the boy is impressively good at the game for a beginner!”
“–You had a meeting with Midoriya?” Aizawa frowned.
“As it turns out,” Nezu said, getting up and making his way across the room to retrieve a kettle. Aizawa was wondering when the tea would make an appearance – “Whilst Shoto was held captive with the League, Midoriya was separated from him, and was kept in All for One’s lair. The police are obviously rather interested in what he has to say, so, I convinced them to let me coax any information out of him. He is rather eager to help.”
Ok, well, he probably could have at least informed Aizawa about this, but oh well.
Aizawa sighed, “At least he’s being cooperative.”
“More than that! He is a joy to converse with. He has so much to learn – a young, malleable mind, strong enough to have not been twisted and swayed towards ill intentions. So full of hopes and dreams that ever persist, shining brighter than ever. He is a representation of the future, of an era unlike our own. I am looking forward to seeing it unfold.” Nezu sat down with his cup, “Tea?” he offered.
“Err, no, thank you…”
“I have been asking Midoriya for his opinions on changes to the class A in the coming academic year. His input is invaluable.”
Well, it’s now or never.
“I do not plan on teaching class 1-A next year,” Aizawa mustered up the courage to blurt out.
There was a moment of silence whilst Nezu sipped at his tea once more.
“Indeed, you plan on teaching class 2-A,” he nodded with a smile.
“…Correct.”
“Yes, I do think it would be beneficial for our sprouting hero team to keep their teacher right through to graduation. I thought you would swap with Miss Midnight. Normally, she is the home room teacher for class 2-A, the hero course, and the substitute for class 1-A. Next year, I would like it if you took up those two roles. Deputy for the new 1-A, and remaining the main teacher for your current class, which, if all goes well, will become class 2-A.”
“Err… yeah.”
That went better than expected. Aizawa thought he’d first have to clarify that he wasn’t retiring, and then say that he would be if he wasn’t allowed to continue teaching his current class, and then swindle some sort of compromise. Well, this works too.
“Is that the change you are planning for next year?” Aizawa assumed.
“Not quite. Well, it is one of them,” Nezu admitted. “The class 1-A system is… a special case. No one has been quite sure what to do with it for some time. For, you see, it does make a positive impact. I am sure your current class would agree that they are glad they became a part of it. But it has some obvious flaws – flaws that are not easy to remove, without losing the positives along with it.”
“So… what do you propose?” Aizawa questioned, leaning forwards in obvious interest.
Nezu put his tea down. “I suggest that we remove the aspects that make the class feel like a punishment. No trackers, no limited access to technology nor the outside world, albeit it would be monitored. We remove the red bands from the blazers, and the numbers from the backs. (I did tell Midoriya this and he asked if their class could keep them whilst progressing onto class 2-A!) But keep the brick phones, I do find it quite entertaining, and it encourages communication. Moreover, we make participation in the Sports Festival optional.”
“Ok…” Aizawa replied hesitantly. “I see your reasoning behind this, but those systems are in place for a reason. The Sports Festival, for example. We don’t want desperate individuals causing trouble on purpose to get into the school. There needs to be a deterrent.”
“Which is why we no longer admit individuals causing trouble.”
Aizawa stared at him, “But… that’s the whole point –”
“No, no – the whole point of class A initially, was to stop future villains. I had a vision for something different, which I have been working towards for many years. I want class 1-A to be a group of individuals who were never necessarily villains. They are a group with real potential. This is a hero school, not a place for reformation. It is a place designed to raise the next generation of heroic ambition, from business to support to the heroes themselves. And whilst the other courses are places that people work towards, class 1-A will be the mismatched group of students who fell short of that – who were never looking for it. Yes, we would still admit the would-be villains, the vigilantes, the dangerous Quirks. But also the kids with kind hearts, stopping bullies in the playground, volunteering to help others, those who focus too much on caring for their families to care for themselves. No longer the class A threat, but… class A potential.”
Aizawa gave the Principal a look, “It’s sweet, but I don’t know if it would work.”
“Give it time,” Nezu nodded. “I believe in the notion. And I believe that, once our current class 1-A are fully fledged heroes, they will see those diamonds in the rough better than anyone else. After all, you are the same.”
“…Hm.”
They were quiet for a moment whilst Aizawa thought this over. Rather unprompted, a thought occurred to him, “So… you waited for this class to cause some trouble before you attempted to make this change? Why not just do it anyway? Why did you need this to happen?”
Nezu grinned – his signature, rather terrifying grin. “Oh, Eraser Head. It was because everyone would have the same reaction to you. No one would believe it was worth it. I needed people to back me up, people to believe in the same notion. And this class A are those people. Just a few more years, and they will graduate. They will recommend students for the class and those students will live and grow in great respect of the hero team, H1A. After all, class 1-A was made to stop the problem at its source, stop villains from becoming just that in the first place, and that can’t be done by just reforming twenty teenagers a year. They need someone to inspire them, and what better than a hero team of ex-delinquents, headed by someone without a Quirk at all? Living proof that no matter how lost you think you are, there is always hope. And even All Might couldn’t quite do that.”
Aizawa couldn’t help the slight smile that stretched across his face. He nodded, yeah, yeah – he could really see it now.
“I just had to wait for that leader to reveal themselves,” Nezu sighed. “Midoriya was the perfect candidate. I just had to manipulate the system to make it… just bad enough to attract the attention of the likes of him. I wasn’t quite sure how it would happen, but as soon as he managed to get Bakugo into the class, I knew he was exactly what we needed. I just had to jump through some hoops to give him a place too.”
Aizawa blinked, “You… you didn’t.”
He smiled a little wider.
“…You doomed this class from the start.”
“Perhaps I did. It took you long enough to start asking why Midoriya was really here.”
“Anyway, is there anything your class needs before the provisional licencing exam in a few days?”
“Oh, yeah, a new table.”
“…A table?”
“An arm-wrestling match went wrong. Don’t ask, I wasn’t there.”
“Ah, yes, why would I have expected anything else?”
The bus caught more than just a few sideways glances as it came to a halt outside the exam centre.
Of course, it was one of two buses. Class 1-B was going somewhere else, much to their disappointment, but Mr Aizawa had promised they’d have some joint training exercises soon enough, so they could duke it out then.
“We’re here, we’re here, we’re here, we’re here!” Mina sung, bouncing up and down in excitement.
“Behave yourselves,” Mr Aizawa warned as he opened the bus door. “Listen to Midoriya, don’t antagonise the other hero students –”
“– Yeah, yeah, we know!” Hagakure interrupted as they all strolled out of the bus one by one, a case containing their hero costumes in hand.
Mr Aizawa put his hand out to stop Midoriya as he reached the door.
He gave him a look, and said, “And don’t let them think that they’re better than you.”
Midoriya grinned.
They all lined up outside the bus without being prompted. Midoriya made sure to step on Kacchan’s foot as he took his place next to him. This prompted him to yell and tell him out much he hates him. Midoriya just laughed. It drew even more eyes.
They didn’t care.
Mr Aizawa stood in front of them, glancing at every one of them in turn. Eventually, he sighed, and said, “If you want to be a hero team, you need to work together. The exam changes every year, and I’ve heard they’re being tougher on giving out licences this year. They need a good crop of future heroes, especially after All Might’s retirement. However, hero teams hold a lot of promise. A lot of individual heroes have been teaming up as of late. It’s likely that they will reward teamwork in the exam today.”
He paused for a moment, perhaps about to say something more, but clearly thought better of it. After another, exasperated sigh, he smiled, an actual, genuine smile from Mr Aizawa – a real rarity, “Good luck, you’ll do great.”
They all smiled back.
After disbanding their line, they all wandered past their teacher, chattering away, and walking up the steps to the arena their examination was to be held in.
The other schools continued to point and stare. No one took notice, not even if they tried to talk to them. They were just too excited.
“Any plans ahead of the game, Gold commander?!” Kaminari asked eagerly, swinging his hero costume case by his side as he hurried up to Midoriya.
“Hm…” he said glancing around as the class quietened down to listen. “Well, I have a hunch we’re going to be targeted here.”
A few of them laughed.
“Well, we are known faces,” Shoto pointed out.
“And they know our Quirks from the Sports Festival,” added Yaoyorozu.
“Exactly,” Midoriya nodded. “So it’s likely, whatever the test is going to be, that they’ll all go for us first, and ignore the rest.
Uraraka gasped and clapped her hands together, “Then we could do the Kamino plan! If we need to immobilise a lot of people at once that is.”
“That sounds like a good plan to fall on,” Midoriya agreed with a sly grin. “We should also pair up. If we need to separate for some reason, you focus on protecting your partner!”
“I get Deku!” Uraraka yelled at the top of her voice.
“Aw! Why do you always get Midoriya?!” Mina complained.
“Because we’re a team!” Uraraka sung. “With matching grappling bolts!”
“Want to pair up, Shoto?” Tsu croaked.
“Sure,” he shrugged.
“Are you ok?” she asked.
“Just this guy with the cap over there giving me a weird look.”
Midoriya glanced over his shoulder at a group from Shiketsu Academy – probably the next biggest hero school from UA.
“Then we crush them,” Kacchan growled.
“Aw! Kacchan cares!” Uraraka said mockingly.
“YOU SHUT THE HELL UP, ROUND FACE!” and he threw a half-hearted explosion at her as she ducked behind Midoriya with a yelp.
“I am probably the worst human shield you could chose,” he deadpanned, coughing on the smoke.
Uraraka realised this soon enough and started to dart around the rest of their classmates whilst Kacchan chased after her, yelling.
Ignoring them, Midoriya stepped over to Shoto, “Are you ok though, really?” he asked.
Shoto sighed, “I’m really taking this hero exam, aren’t I?”
Midoriya grinned, “Looks like it.”
He raised an eyebrow, “And so are you.”
“I know!” Midoriya almost squealed. He cleared his throat, “I-I mean, I know.”
Shoto huffed out a slight laugh, “Dabi’s still out there. I wonder what he’ll think of this.”
“He’d probably be really annoyed, ribbit,” Tsu acknowledged.
Shoto nodded, “He’d say I was going against everything I believed in – everything I ever stood for.”
“Nah,” Midoriya retorted. “Don’t let them get to you – either of them. Both Dabi and your dad. You don’t do anything because of them, or for them, anymore, remember? Everything you do, is for you.”
Shoto smiled and nodded again, “Then let’s do this exam before I change my mind.”
“Good idea,” Midoriya laughed. “Come on, guys – guys – Kacchan, Uraraka, stop trying to kill each other you can do that later.”
“Yeah!” Uraraka yelled from ten feet up in the air.
So, maybe they weren’t all the best of friends. In fact, Midoriya would hardly call him and Kacchan friends. But… they tolerated each other. A rivalry that finally… worked. They were a team, all of them. All weak in some places, all strong in others. They were a unit no one else could hope to match.
And as they stepped into the exam centre – no tricks, no shortcuts, no illegal schemes – here, they were going to be heroes. Real heroes. For others, and for themselves.
It hadn’t been an easy journey. And the road ahead of them wasn’t going to be smooth sailing either. But Midoriya was counting on it.
The League was still missing – Dabi was still out there. Endeavor still needed to be knocked down a peg. And somewhere, deep a dark cell, an immortal man continued to smile.
No, it wasn’t over, and there were questions still to be answered.
But as Midoriya pulled on his hero costume and slid the sword into his sheath across his back, he knew that those answers were within reach.
He stepped out as a new person – the person he’d always wanted to be. And if anyone dared to look at him, wrinkle their nose and ask what the likes of him was doing here again, he’d stand by his class and he’d say:
“Why are we here again? Well, the answer is simple, isn’t it?
“We’re here to be our own heroes.”
