Chapter Text
After days, long, tortuous days, Cale was finally allowed to leave the house.
Although calling it a “house” was a bit of an exaggeration. It was more of a big apartment, rented conveniently close to U.A.
As Kim Rok Soo, he would have thought it was big for one-person-turned-two, but to Cale Henituse, someone who had gotten used to living in literal castles and mansions, it was……
It was tiny.
Cale hadn’t known he had claustrophobia up until this moment, either.
Thankfully, though, on the last day of the week, he got let off the hook and was free to go with Aizawa to the store for some last-minute shopping.
“Tomorrow is the first day of school,” Aizawa said, watching as Cale browsed through the bookstore, “Are you ready?”
Flipping through a history book, Cale popped open a button of his shirt to let off some heat as [Record] overworked his brain. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
Resisting the urge to snatch the book away and order the boy to stop using that damn power, Aizawa just shook his head: “Are you sure you don’t have a Quirk? That doesn’t look like you are Quirkless to me.”
Snapping the book shut, Cale rolled his eyes: “Who knows.”
They had been going back and forth over this issue about a hundred times already, since Cale refused to say if he had more than one power.
At first, they had naively thought the boy only had the restorative power to his name, but then Cale engaged in a three-day research spree and his credibility was once again shot to dust.
Aizawa had an unsettling feeling that this was going to happen a lot more times.
He fell silent as he watched Cale go through another book.
After a while, Cale pressed his lips together.
“Are you sure I can’t just go to General Education?” Cale asked hopefully.
Aizawa smirked: “Sorry kid. Nedzu’s order.”
Cale scowled: “You know damn well I don’t want to be a Hero.”
Aizawa shrugged: “And you know it’s out of my control. Remember what Nedzu said?”
Cale made a weird face.
“You’ll do wonderfully ,” Nedzu had excitedly claimed.
Of course, Nedzu had paid for that. Dearly.
Nedzu had then given up 75 thousand yen a month to Cale as tithe so as to not suffer anymore.
Then it had been Aizawa’s turn.
Three days in a row, he had doused Aizawa’s morning coffee with salt, pretending not to know it wasn’t sugar.
Every time Aizawa wanted to take a shower, Cale made sure to go first and use up all the hot water.
One time, under the pretense of trying to cook, he had almost blown up Aizawa’s kitchen.
Cale had even managed to flood his toilet two times.
Aizawa soon saw through Cale’s innocent mask, however. So of course, he had also tried his best to get even with Cale, because Aizawa was nothing if not a petty, petty man.
At first, Aizawa had tried to capitalize on Cale’s laziness by forcing him to study. Nedzu’s thick, dusty, boring history books had arrived at his suggestion.
Too bad it had fallen short since Aizawa hadn’t anticipated Cale’s eagerness for information, though he probably should have.
But Aizawa wasn’t one to give up easily.
After a few days of observation, he had found out that though Cale looked cold, he had been especially susceptible to puppy dog eyes.
So Aizawa did a test.
He was well aware that his fashion sense was “too exquisite for our poor mortal minds”, as Hizashi liked to call it, which, rude, but he wanted to see if he could use it offensively.
So he had gone and bought Cale the shiniest, prettiest, cutest cat-printed clothes he could find.
Cale’s face when he opened his closet had made Aizawa’s entire week.
To this day, Cale still hasn’t figured out that Aizawa had intentionally caused the Wardrobe Malfunction Incident, and Aizawa would always be secretly proud of it.
Cale wasn’t the only one who could play innocent, after all.
Cale narrowed his eyes at Aizawa. For some reason, he felt like he had just been scammed, but he didn’t know why.
Aizawa tilted his head in question.
Cale stared at him some more, but had to drop the gaze when Aizawa’s façade remained inscrutable.
Privately, Cale decided to wake Aizawa up an hour early tomorrow.
Bastard would be a wonderful accomplice.
“Anyway,” Not giving away what he was thinking, Cale began, “Is 1-A going to have 21 students? Won’t 1-B feel unfair?”
Aizawa shrugged: “You are a recommended student. Nedzu’s personal recommended student, at that. The first of your kind. Figure we just tell them you chose 1-A and leave it at that.”
Cale raised a judgmental eyebrow at him: “And letting me monopolize all of their dissatisfaction? Gee, how generous of you.”
“You’re very welcome,” Aizawa smirked.
Cale rolled his eyes.
“How am I gonna be able to learn when I’m effectively Quirkless though?” Cale asked, more of a last-ditch attempt at getting himself ejected from the class than any real offense towards the possible non-Quirked Hero students.
“Relax,” Aizawa assured him, “You’re not taking anyone’s spot in the class. We just need to get your body up to shape and you’ll be good.”
Cale did not feel assured.
“Can I decline?” Cale refused to pout, but the urge was there, “Let me decline. I didn’t come here to train.”
Aizawa grinned openly: “Too bad it’s out of both of our control.”
5 AM, Cale vindictively thought, he would wake Aizawa up at 5 AM.
------------------
Cale woke Aizawa up at 5 AM.
Needless to say, Aizawa was pissed, even before he came into the class he may not even keep.
“If you’re gonna be hunting for buddies,” Aizawa grounded out, lying in the middle of the hall in his trusty sleeping bag because he had already run out of fucks to give, “then do it elsewhere.”
The two kids in front of them sprang apart immediately, terrified.
Cale swallowed down his laughter.
Stepping over the yellow caterpillar on the floor, Cale entered 1-A. According to the seating chart, he’d be sitting at the back, near the window.
Perfect.
(Something inside him whispered ‘The Protagonist Seat’, but he viciously squashed it down.)
(He was not the Protagonist. He was not. He was not.)
As the class settled down, Aizawa rose out of his sleeping bag, looking less like the hobo he actually was and more like a demon from hell. Cale would feel bad about scaring his would-be classmates, of course, if he actually cared.
He didn’t.
“It took you lot eight seconds to settle down,” Aizawa glared at all of them, “Life is short, kids. You are all lacking in common sense.”
Everyone blinked at him, uncomprehending.
“I am your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shouta.” Aizawa continued, “Pleasure meeting you.”
More silence.
The displeasure on your face was a bit obvious, teacher!
“Now, wear these, and shove off to the P.E. grounds.” Then, from his fucking sleeping bag, Aizawa pulled out their gym uniforms. Cale didn’t want to know where those had been because what the fuck.
One by one, class 1-A filed out of the room with much confusion. Cale made sure to stay behind just a little, taking his time to observe everyone in the classroom.
There was a theory he had been juggling in his mind for a few days now.
There was a reason that motherfucking God of Death had put him here, and he had no doubt it lay with 1-A.
Oh, he hadn’t known, at first. But after Nedzu tried so hard to shove him here? Even taking the pains to create an extra spot in the class for him?
Yeah, there wasn’t any doubt. Not anymore.
And if there was one thing he knew from his previous transmigration, it was that the world he was in had a Plot, and with it, a Protagonist.
(THAT WAS NOT HIM–)
In his world, it had been Choi Han. This world? Something told him that person would be one of his classmates.
Taking into account the country he was in – that was, Japan – and the way Quirk had dominated society, he hazarded a guess that the genre would probably be either Shounen or Shoujo, depending on the gender of the Protagonist. Definitely Action, Fantasy, and Hero. School Life, because U.A. was an actual school. Adventure?
Cale hoped there would be Comedy. Preferably not at his expense. Hopefully no Drama.
First, he ruled out all of the obvious Mutation-Quirked kids.
Not that he had anything against them, of course, it was just that familiar as he was with Japanese Manga, he could tell they didn’t fit into the usual criteria regarding the Protagonist.
Which, props to them, really. It sucked being the Protagonist, Choi Han could attest.
So, that was students number 2, 9, 11, and 14 out.
(Ashido Mina, Kouda Kouji, Shouji Mezou, Tokoyami Fumikage, [Record] whispered.)
He was a bit iffy about number 3 (Asui Tsuyu) and 16 (Hagakure Tooru), because the former was aesthetically pleasing enough to be the Protagonist, while the latter’s narrative would be quite interesting, being literally invisible as she was.
He wasn’t sure if it would be interesting enough, though.
Number 19 (Mineta Minoru) jumped off his chair to the floor, and Cale mentally crossed him out as well.
The Protagonist could be short, he thought, but not that short.
That still left him with more than 3/4th of the class.
Truthfully, for guys, he was leaning toward number 15 (Todoroki Shouto) being the Protagonist. No one had stood out quite like him.
He had weird bi-colored hair – though everyone’s hair was kind of weird – he had a scar covering 1/4th of his face, which belied some kind of tragic backstory, and he looked handsome enough.
Cale was also pretty sure he got in on recommendation, so there was that.
For girls, he……actually had no clue. He hadn’t had much experience with Shoujo to be able to judge.
Cale could see they were all aesthetically pleasing (?), but in his totally unbiased opinion, Ohn would look to be more of the Protagonist than any of them.
Oh well, he would find out sooner or later, he hoped.
(Hopefully soon enough for him to stay far away from them.)
Humming, Cale slowly got up to change as well, ignoring the glare Aizawa sent his way.
And then Midoriya Izuku broke his fucking finger to launch a ball 705.3 meters away, and Cale just knew that that?
That was, without a doubt, the Protagonist.
----------------------
It started out simple.
Aizawa declared anyone who finished last would get expelled. Cale immediately decided to not do anything at all, because no one was getting that spot instead of him.
Cale was slightly afraid his glee was a bit too visible, though, because he could have sworn Aizawa was smirking at him.
Either way, Aizawa gave a speech, repeating the school motto that was just the direct opposite of what Cale believed in, and then the test was on.
Iida Tenya, who he was pretty sure had a Hero brother, finished the 50-meter dash in 3.04 seconds.
Cale finished at 49 seconds. And since he was the 21st student, everyone had to watch as Cale leisurely walked to the finish line.
Cale refused to feel bad about it.
He knew why Aizawa was glaring at him, but really, the Pro Hero should have anticipated this from the very start.
The rest of the test went smoothly as Cale tried his best to flunk.
Watching the class, Cale was reminded of the Wolf children. He hadn’t gotten much chance to interact with them during the war, but in the two months after when the children would show up every day to his farm, they had talked a lot more.
These children, Cale couldn’t help but think, were a lot like those Wolves. Willful, determined, and struggling to control their more dangerous abilities.
Of course, the Wolves were much more skillful and powerful, but that was only because they had a hell of an instructor and (too) many chances to practice.
These kids were good, for their ages that were.
The maybe-Protagonist kid stood out, starkly so. But even then, he was only ranked 2nd.
The first ranker, amazingly, was student number 20, someone who he had guessed to be a young lady from a rich family in her own rights.
Yaoyorozu, Momo.
Quirk: [Creation]
So long as she memorized and understood its chemical make-up, Yaoyorozu could materialize virtually any non-living object from any part of her body.
A Quirk that verged on God’s territory.
If that wasn’t a Protagonist-worthy Quirk, he didn’t know what was.
Unless there existed some kind of Quirk that completely fucked with the natural law, like something that interfere with the Quirk factor for example, then Yaoyorozu had just become the most probable Protagonist in this universe.
Of course, at times things wouldn’t go his way and there might actually be some Quirks that broke the natural laws, like time manipulation, dimensional travel (if there was, he wanted their address, immediately), etc. Hell, even the ability to give or take Quirks, because why the fuck not, right?
Still, at this moment, first-ranker [Creation]-Quirked Yaoyorozu Momo was the best candidate he could think of to fill the spot of the Protagonist.
And then, because life was a contrary little bitch, it turned out that the Protagonist’s Quirk was the very, very generic (and boring) –––––
––––– [Super Strength]
Cale hated everything.
(He, of course, suspected that it wasn’t that simple – because it never fucking was – but he lacked evidence to prove otherwise.)
(For now.)
The first clue Cale had that he might have the wrong target came from Aizawa himself.
The hobo, whether it was because of his lack of sleep or because he was simply irritated, decided to single out a boy and harshly lecture him in front of the whole class.
Any deviation from the norm? Yeah, red flags.
Dark green hair, a petite frame that belied the defined muscles underneath. Looking like a cinnamon roll, the boy was pretty unassuming, compared to the Protagonist in Cale’s imagination.
But what did he know? Choi Han had looked unassuming too, before he pulled out his sword and chopped off his enemies’ limbs, that was.
The boy – Midoriya Izuku – was shaking in his boots. Cale didn’t know what he was so afraid about, since Cale was soundly dead-last, at this point.
Either way, Aizawa was looking pissed, and the poor boy looked defeated.
But as the boy prepared to throw the ball again, Cale lightly frowned.
He had been wrong. That wasn’t a defeated expression. That was a desperate one.
With a loud “SMASH!”, Midoriya launched the ball an impressive 705.3 meters away.
Cale’s eyebrows flew up into his forehead. And he knew without looking that Aizawa was impressed as well.
Unfortunately, his awe didn’t last.
Because when the dust settled, it was clear how Midoriya could nail such a bombastic throw.
Midoriya’s index finger was purple and swollen.
He had broken his finger, throwing that ball.
Cale stared, horrified, at the Protagonist (because there was no doubt about it now).
Why? Why? He wasn’t in any danger of being expelled! Why would this child casually treat breaking a finger like a casualty he had to overcome?
What the fuck was wrong with Midoriya Izuku?
“Sensei!” Midoriya curled his broken finger into a fist, “I can still move!”
And Cale wanted this boy in therapy yesterday.
Even Choi Han, who had survived alone for tens of years in the forest full of monsters, had never treated his body this shitty.
Cale looked around. Every single person acted as if this was something to be celebrated. Like a child breaking himself for a test was something to be proud of.
Plus Ultra, right?
Suddenly, Cale felt sick.
His nausea unfortunately made him miss Bakugou Katsuki blasting his way towards Midoriya like a demon from hell, though. Thankfully, Aizawa put a stop to that.
Normally, Cale would be more interested in how [Erasure] worked, but right now, Cale could only focus on the swollen, purplish finger on the hand of the Protagonist.
Something told him this wouldn’t be the last Cale saw of it.
-----------------------
“Time to present the results,” Aizawa deadpanned.
Cale smiled when he saw his name at the bottom of the list.
Aizawa caught his eyes, and smiled as well.
Suddenly, Cale had a very bad feeling.
“Oh yeah,” Aizawa said with savage glee, “That whole “expulsion” thing was a lie.”
Cale: “……?!”
The class: “……?!”
“It was a logical ruse,” Aizawa grinned like the bastard that he was, “To pull out your best performances.”
That. Fucker.
Cale knew damn well Aizawa had expelled an entire fucking class last year. Cale also knew his “potential”, as Aizawa liked to call it, was zero.
Why the fuck was he still here?
Cale narrowed his eyes at Aizawa, who smiled at him secretly, then surreptitiously glanced at the corner of the field.
Aizawa knew Cale knew that was where the camera was.
Cale clicked his tongue.
Nedzu.
Of-fucking-course.
Taking the chance to slip away, Cale made his way to the Principal’s office.
It seemed like it was time for a little chat.
--------------------
“Who is Midoriya Izuku?” Cale cut in directly.
Nedzu, who was preparing tea cups for both of them, stopped. Immediately, Cale noticed that his gaze had gone considerably cooler.
“Oh?” Nedzu nonchalantly made a questioning noise, “Whatever do you mean?”
They both knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Midoriya Izuku,” Cale said again, “Who is he? And please don’t feed me some bullshit about how he was just a normal teenager, because we both know he isn’t.”
Nedzu tilted his head: “I don’t know what you mean, I’m afraid.”
Cale snorted.
Nedzu clasped his paws together.
Cale rolled his eyes.
“Look,” he began, “In case it wasn’t clear from our previous conversation, I have transmigrated several times.”
Nedzu smiled like he had expected it. Cale ignored it for his own well-being.
“And some of those times,” Cale said, “I got transported into a modern world. Which is where my knowledge of the internet comes from, since I’m sure you’re curious about that too.”
It wasn’t, but since the lie-detector wasn’t here, he could say whatever the hell he wanted.
“It did have us concerned there for a moment,” Nedzu freely admitted, “We were afraid you had been given artificial memory and sent here for some nefarious reasons, and the fact you’re so comfortable and at ease in this world hadn’t done much to mitigate such fear.”
‘At ease?’ Cale wondered who the fuck they were watching, because it certainly wasn’t him.
This world freaked the fuck out of him.
Instead of voicing it aloud, though, he just raised an eyebrow: “And you still decided to put me in your prized Hero class?”
Nedzu smiled at this. “Aizawa-kun has vouched for you.”
“Tch.” Cale turned away.
Who the hell asked him to? What if Cale turned out to really be a sleeper agent?
Was Aizawa dumb?
Of course, they were both ignoring the slight suspicion in Nedzu’s voice that revealed his concern over the possibility of Aizawa having been compromised, as was polite.
“Okay, it’s nice to know you’re not a spy.” Nedzu said, not bothering to hide the miniscule doubt still embedded in his mind, “But what does that have to do with all of this?”
“Hmph,” Cale huffed.
“If there was something I’ve learned from my previous transmigrations,” He answered, absolutely done, “it’s that there will always be a special somebody that either has some kind of legacy to carry or a mission to finish or a destiny to fulfill.”
“All I am asking is which category Midoriya falls into.”
Nedzu’s eyebrows had risen up on his forehead.
Cale stared at him: “Well?”
“Uh,” Nedzu blinked, “And you want to know this, why?”
Cale grimaced. “There is a reason the God of Death had dropped me in this place, and I’m about 98% sure it’s something related to Midoriya.”
Nedzu leaned forward: “The God of Death? You mean the Shinigami?”
Cale squinted.
“Yes? No?” He shrugged, “Not really sure, but probably.”
Nedzu grinned: “Tell me more.”
Cale smirked: “After you answer my question, Nedzu-san.”
Nedzu narrowed his eyes at Cale. Cale stared back, unafraid.
Nedzu’s lips twitched up in a smile: “What do you plan to do with the information, once you’ve got it?”
Cale sighed, leaning back against the chair. “Nothing, to be honest,” He answered truthfully, “I plan to stay far, far away from him.”
“Ho?” Nedzu raised an eyebrow.
Cale clicked his tongue, annoyed despite himself. “Oh I’ve learned, alright, I’ve learned. I’d rather get beaten up than intervene in the course of someone like him ever again.”
His life would have been so much easier had he just let Choi Han beat him up at the very beginning.
“Now, Midoriya?” Cale grounded out.
Sensing Cale’s patience reaching its limit, Nedzu calmly poured them tea.
“I’d say,” Nedzu said, after a while, “that Midoriya-kun has a lot riding on his shoulders.”
“So, all three, then.” Cale deadpanned. “Fucking figures.”
-------------------
The next day started off suspiciously normal.
They had normal classes, if only a little bit dramatic because they were taught by Heroes who had personas they had to uphold.
Cale cheated a little with [Record], since he had been out of school for almost 30 years and hadn’t had photographic memory back then.
Lunch was passable. Not bad, but certainly not anywhere as good as Beacrox.
Cale chewed through his food, and thought that even the apple pie was more bitter than he was used to.
The afternoon was when the “Hero” in “Hero Class” made itself known.
“We are doing–” All Might yelled, very dramatically, “Battle Trial!”
Cale blanked out.
The second day of class, and they were doing a Battle Trial.
Cale could feel himself developing an eye twitch.
This was going to end horribly, Cale just knew it.
--------------------
Cale looked at himself in the mirror.
He never thought he’d wear this again, but apparently, he was more sentimental than he wanted to admit, because when Support asked for a design, he had unconsciously chosen this outfit.
An outfit anyone in his world would recognize.
A black, form-fitting suit, made with Kevlar-like material, specifically designed to withstand wear and tear. Whether it would be as knife-proof as he had asked would have to be tested later.
Criss-crossed over his body were a white belt and a red sash, each of which denoted his position as the Commander of the army. An army of one, now, Cale sardonically thought, since he had no one (left) to lead.
Over it Cale wore a thigh-length coat with a subtly embroidered Roan’s coat of arms, glinting red in the right light. It was bullet-proof, fire-proof, as many things-proof as he could think of. He did think about making the whole suit the same material as the coat, but for now, he just had to settle with just this.
Both the suit and the coat were highlighted with golden buttons, tassels, and fancy embroidery.
To complete the ensemble, Cale pulled on the matching combat boots and gloves.
Stretching out his hands, Cale couldn’t help but smile. Everything fit him to a T, and for one moment, he could imagine his family here, fighting by his side.
There was a certain symbolism in the outfit he was wearing, Cale silently thought. A uniform he used to wear during the war, one that he was wearing now to become a “Hero”.
Cale resented the implication.
(Each day he thought that he couldn’t hate this world more, and each day he found himself unpleasantly surprised.)
He dropped his eyes down, fingering the golden turtle insignia engraved on the buttons in nostalgia.
Of course, he wouldn’t want to be caught dead wearing this, once he finally got himself home. His hyung-nim would get ideas and think that Cale had changed his mind about the empty Prime Minister position, when Cale never would.
Though Cale had promised he would help Alberu out a little, before he got transmigrated. Guess even the Gods wanted Alberu to suffer the horror of paperwork, then.
Smiling slightly, Cale dropped his eyes to stare at the content in his case. After thinking for a while, Cale just shrugged and closed the lid.
He wouldn’t be needing them anyway.
(Regret, Cale later learned, tasted as bitter as it always did.)
----------------
Cale expressionlessly observed his classmates around him, earlier good mood utterly vanquished.
Just– Who the fuck approved these designs?
The eye twitch returned, as his eyes roved over their costumes.
Midoriya was wearing a neon-green jumpsuit that probably wouldn’t survive today, with a mouth guard and a similarly-colored hood with two appendages sticking straight up. Cale appreciated the boy’s idolization of All Might, but wasn’t this a bit……much?
Todoroki, the boy Cale had once mistaken as the Protagonist, wore a white suit with the entire left half of his body encased in ice, complete with a glowing red eye. It was downright hideous.
Yaoyorozu looked like she barely even had any clothes, Hagakure had no clothes, and Mineta wore a reinforced diaper, which, why?
Kirishima had also elected to stay bare-chested, because it wasn’t like it was enough of a target, right?
Cale could even count at least three of his classmates wearing what he was very certain were street clothes. Ones that were not even made with reinforced materials like Cale’s either.
And none, bar a very few, of the students had sufficient armor on their bodies. They were going to fight, and they had no protection.
Cale inhaled, trying to calm his temper. This. Just. This fucking world. He had barely been here for a month, and he’d already wanted out.
Cale was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe their costumes were padded. Maybe they were all made with the same Kevlar-like material as his uniform. Maybe, just maybe, his classmates actually possessed an inkling of common sense.
But no. Cale’s eyes were well trained to spot armor on anything that moved, and now they were telling him that most of those costumes were spandex at best.
It wasn’t even knife-proof what the fuck.
They were doomed, Cale suddenly realized. They were all doomed.
And then All Might dropped the bomb, and Cale became convinced that yeah, they were all going to die today.
Because they were playing Heroes vs. Villains. Indoors.
Whoever decided on this battle plan should have their teaching license revoked and then fired.
Cale looked around. Everyone seemed pumped up, all ready to go. No one seemed to question why the fuck they would be fighting indoors when they could easily just play Tag outdoors.
Fine. Fine.
Cale raised a hand. “All Might-sensei.”
He made sure to virtually shove his hand in front of All Might for good measure. It was probably rude but he, again, was out of fucks.
“I see you, I see you, calm down young Henituse.” All Might laughingly stepped back. “Now, what do you want to ask?”
Cale, in the most level voice possible, asked: “Are we seriously fighting indoors without knowing what not to knock down inside a building first? In case, you know, the building collapses on our heads?”
Several children paled at his words.
Iida Tenya stepped forward immediately. “Cale-san raises a valid concern, All Might-sensei! Shouldn’t we learn about safety protocols first before attempting anything destructive?”
“Ahaha, well,” All Might scratched his cheek. Cale had the awful feeling that it had been All Might who had chosen this battle plan. “Don’t blow out any load-bearing walls and we’ll be fine!”
They were so fucked.
“Anyway!” All Might tried to divert their attention, “Your teammates and opponents will be chosen by lottery!”
How could Cale convey to All Might how little comfort that brought to any students here?
Apparently, All Might was someone who was used to bulldozing his way towards his destination, since apparently Cale’s very valid question isn’t enough to deter the stubborn man from initiating this deathtrap. Cale had guessed, but it was all the more disappointing to see.
Iida stopped All Might before the matchups with another very valid question: “Sensei! What are we going to do about the fact that there is an odd number of teams?”
All Might stuttered, looking nervously at Cale. Cale sighed.
……Did All Might even have a teaching license?
“Maybe one team will have three people?” Cale took pity on him.
All Might immediately regained his confidence. “It might be a little unfair, but then again so is life! Young Henituse will join team A automatically!”
Cale nodded placidly. They were going to die anyway; might as well go without useless complaint.
So Cale joined team A. Which turned out to include Uraraka Ochako and Midoriya fucking Izuku.
Cale took it back.
He would like to switch teams.
Their opponents for this exercise would be Iida, who was his teammates’ friend, and Bakugou Katsuki, who seemed to have a personal vendetta against Midoriya and was not afraid to act on it.
Cale would like to switch teams immediately.
But when had life ever listened to what Cale wanted?
Cale was busy debating on the chances of a toilet retreat, when Uraraka approached him.
“Cale-san,” She smiled shyly, “It doesn’t seem like there is any penalty like with Aizawa-sensei, so I’m relieved.”
Cale nodded, a bit glum. He was so close to getting expelled that time too.
Spotting something from the corner of his eyes, Cale turned and snorted. “He doesn’t look relieved to me.”
He pointed at the sweating Midoriya.
“Deku-kun!” Uraraka worriedly exclaimed, “Are you alright?”
“Y…Yeah!” Midoriya shakily smiled back.
“You don’t look alright!” Uraraka frowned.
Midoriya began to infodump, which Cale really, really didn’t need. He then followed with an exclamation. And a fist bump. Cale had never seen anyone do that unironically before.
It was official. This world’s genre was definitely Shounen.
His life was a fucking joke, and Cale hated it.
--------------------
“Cale-san,” Midoriya said, “I’ve been meaning to ask, but what is your Quirk?”
Seeing Cale staring at him, Midoriya quickly folded into himself, muttering apologies all the while.
Cale frowned.
“Midoriya,” He said, voice crisp, “I don’t mind. Stop apologizing.”
“Sorry!” Midoriya blinked. “Ah! Sorry. No, wait, sorry. Ah! So–”
Cale held up a hand to stop the verbal vomit. Midoriya fell into thankful silence.
“You can consider me essentially Quirkless for the duration of this exercise,” Cale said placidly.
Midoriya stopped short.
Cale and Uraraka walked several steps further before they realized Midoriya had fallen behind. At one, they both turned back to look at him.
Midoriya was staring at Cale with something like shock in his eyes.
“Quirkless?” He whispered. His jaws trembled as his hands shook.
“Midoriya?” Cale frowned.
Midoriya blinked rapidly. His throat bobbed once, twice, then tears welled up in his eyes.
“Deku-kun?!” Uraraka took a quick couple of steps towards him. “Deku-kun, what happened?”
“Sorry,” Midoriya quickly buried his face in his arms, “Sorry, I– I don’t know what came over me.”
Cale had a feeling that it got to do with the word “Quirkless”, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.
(And he was not going to figure out why. That way laid terrorism and a secret organization and centuries-old myths and a goddamn war that Cale was definitely not participating in again.)
The bell rang, cutting off what Cale was about to say.
Pressing his lips together, Cale sighed.
“Come on,” He gestured to the building, “Let’s get this exercise over with.”
“Un!” Midoriya and Uraraka nodded.
----------------
Midoriya’s entire strategy seemed to be him holding back Bakugou while Cale and Uraraka went to retrieve the weapon.
Normally, Cale would be all for it. Getting out of the Protagonist’s way as he duked it out with his childhood friend? Sign him the fuck up.
But there was something…… almost delicate about Midoriya Izuku. Something that screamed desperation. Something that made him jump at loud noises and cringe into himself when spoken to.
Something hurt.
(Something like a child who used to be named someone else, who had given up and given in at the place he once called home, who had to learn how to breathe during suffocation and stitch himself back up after violence.)
Cale could comfortably throw Choi Han at different things because even though he didn’t look like it, Choi Han was ancient. He had already survived on his own for tens of years. He was experienced, assertive, and most importantly, strong, both physically and mentally.
(It wasn’t just anyone that could turn an enemy’s attempt at psychological torture into a therapy session, after all.)
Midoriya, though, was just a 15-year-old boy.
(Lock had been the same age, but he was twice as tall and thrice as sturdy, compared to this boy.)
There was a reason, Cale thought, staring at Midoriya’s back, that he was here.
(No one had saved the child that Kim Rok Soo once was. He had had to save himself.)
There was a reason the God of Death had directly interfered with yet another world’s Plot.
A change of air had Cale snapping his head up to see Bakugou swinging from a corner to face them, lips pulling back in a deranged grin.
Cale felt Midoriya lunge at him and Uraraka, and followed the boy’s momentum to the floor, pulling his coat over to cover them all.
BOOM!!!
“Wah!” Uraraka yelped.
“He nearly got me……! Thank you, Cale-san.” Midoriya coughed. “Are you okay, everyone?”
“I’m fine,” Cale kept his eyes on Bakugou. “Focus, please.”
“Dammit Deku,” Bakugou grounded out through the dust, “Don’t dodge me!”
“I thought so……” Completely different from the shaking, nervous boy from earlier, right now, Midoriya looked preternaturally calm. “With me as his opponent, Kacchan’s priority would definitely be ––––––”
“––––––To beat me up!”
Cale narrowed his eyes at Bakugou. He didn’t like the sound of that.
Evidently, neither did Uraraka, as she also stayed behind to glare up at Bakugou.
Bakugou pulled his hand back, grinning savagely: “I’ll blow you away, Deku!”
(“.......you worthless-!” The man that was supposed to be his uncle reached for him, hatred in his eyes and violence in his fists.)
Fingering the empty holsters, Cale didn’t flinch, didn’t panic. He just clicked his tongue. He shouldn’t have left the weapons behind. He had severely misjudged the situation.
As a thin silver light began manifesting from Cale’s hand, Midoriya unexpectedly grasped hold of Bakugou’s swinging arm, flipped him over his head, and slammed him into the ground.
(Midoriya wasn’t Kim Rok Soo. Cale took comfort in that fact.)
Cale could feel a smile twitching at his lips, but he ignored it and dispersed his power. Using the split second where Bakugou was too stunned to move, Cale moved to loop the capture tape around Bakugou’s flying legs.
Midoriya, like a true Shounen Protagonist, instead of pressing his advantage, decided to stop and monologue.
Cale stopped smiling.
Bakugou reacted quickly and jumped away in time, blasting Cale back from his person in one smooth move.
Meanwhile, Midoriya just Kept. Talking.
Cale was glad the Protagonist was growing up from the scared boy he had been minutes ago, but was this necessary???
One of these days, Cale swore, he was going to hammer into Midoriya’s head what common sense meant.
“Now!” Midoriya screamed at Bakugou, “I’m the “Deku”, whose vibe is “never giving up”!!!”
Yeah, no.
Cale turned and pulled the staring Uraraka away.
Let Midoriya have his mano-a-mano with Bakugou. They had an exercise to finish.
-------------------
They arrived just as Iida got into his villain persona.
“I,” He intoned imperiously, “Am now……Quite evil.”
Uraraka cracked up.
Clicking his tongue, Cale immediately moved to hide in another place.
“So you’ve come, Uraraka!” Iida gestured at the spotless room, “Knowing your Quirk, I have moved to counter you!”
“Now there’ll be no little tricks you can try!” Iida was smirking behind his helmet. “You’ve made an error in your calculations, “Hero”!! Fuhahahahaha!!!”
Cale had to give him props for the Villain laugh. At least, it was miles better than what the White Star had been capable of.
“Midoriya,” Cale said into his earpiece, “Uraraka blew her cover. Iida had cleaned out the entire room, so she can’t use her Quirk effectively at the moment. He hasn’t spotted me yet, though, so concentrate on your fight.”
And to Uraraka, he instructed quickly: “Lure him to put the core near the southwest corner of the room.”
As Iida inched towards Uraraka, Cale inched around the pillar, careful to keep his presence from Iida’s watchful eyes.
Before they could enact their plan, though, the building shook.
BANG!!!!!
After the tremors passed, Cale took a quick peek out of the window and widened his eyes.
There was a hole in the side of the building.
Cale’s first thought was that Midoriya was in deep trouble.
(Midoriya wasn’t Kim Rok Soo…..right?)
Cale’s second thought was that who the fuck had had the bright idea to let Bakugou use a bomb?
Cale’s third thought was, why had All Might not canceled the goddamned exercise?
“Midoriya,” Cale hissed, “Midoriya, do you copy?”
Cale was getting angry, and he didn’t like it.
“Midoriya!” Cale called.
No response.
(There were patches of memories missing from his childhood, ones that were not caused by the mercurial nature of memory but by something physical - hard, heavy, and painful.)
(Kim Rok Soo had never gotten those memories back, even after gaining [Record].)
Either the earpiece had fallen out during whatever the fuck had happened, or Midoriya was currently unconscious and thus, unresponsive.
(Or he might be dead, the cynical part in him coldly observed. Cale had to shake his head hard to get rid of that horrible thought.)
(Midoriya was the Protagonist. He wasn’t going to die so easily, Cale tried to convince himself.)
Either way, not a good sign.
“Uraraka!” Cale snapped, patience running out, “Get Iida away from the core, as fast as you can. Now!”
“Un!” Uraraka’s determined reply sounded through the earpiece.
Setting his eyes on the objective of the damned exercise, Cale let the wind billow through his hair.
He didn’t need a lot. Just enough to make him run faster than Iida could get back.
[Don’t overdo it.] The Thief whispered. [Your young body had shrunken your plate as well. Don’t overdo it.]
Cale had no intention to overdo it at all.
The moment Iida got out of range of the core, Cale ran.
Around him, the wind roared.
Iida turned back just in time to see the coat of arms shining blood red on the black uniform of a Cale that had suddenly appeared, hands already touching the objective, face looking like it could be carved from stone.
“Wah?!” Iida gasped.
Cale breathed, waiting to see if All Might would call it.
But one, two, three seconds passed by, and still no call.
Cale twisted his lips down.
It seemed that Midoriya’s situation was much more serious than he thought.
“We won, correct?” Cale waited until Iida nodded, before he broke into a run out of the room and headed downstairs.
Uraraka and Iida blinked at each other for a few more moments, before they too ran off after him.
They came to the scene just in time to hear Midoriya scream for Uraraka.
Cale’s heart dropped.
Mind spinning, Cale snapped out the capture tape, used it like a lasso and swung for Bakugou’s wrist. Using the hold he had on the tape, Cale yanked.
Bakugou’s arm came flying back, hand pointing straight at the ceiling.
At the same time, Midoriya angled his arm up.
BAAAANG!!!
A deafening explosion shook the building, as the combined force of Bakugou’s and Midoriya’s Quirks blasted through all five floors and the top ceiling.
Cale breathed out lightly in shock.
Dangerous. Like flying loose fucking cannons, the both of them.
Cale carefully observed the huge hole in the ceiling. Thank the Gods for small mercy, because the explosion had been directed straight up, so no major load-bearing pillars had been taken out.
Still, that just meant the floor where Cale, Iida and Uraraka had been earlier was absolutely devastated.
Cale didn’t want to think about what might have happened had they not left when they did.
Tracing the capture tape to Cale, Bakugou’s face twisted in rage: “What the fu–”
He cut himself off as he stared confusedly at the sight of his teammate and their opponents all standing together.
Cale had no time for this shit. “All Might-sensei,” He grounded out, pissed beyond all measures, “Would you please announce the result so we can end this fucking exercise?”
“Ah – Right!” All Might stammered, “The Hero team wins!!!”
Fina-fucking-ly.
From the hidden pocket of his coat, Cale whipped out his phone and called Aizawa.
---------------
Cale had only had to mention the word “Battle Trial” to Aizawa for him to be rightfully concerned.
So in the 5 minutes it took for Aizawa to swing his way to the training ground, Cale stood with the rest of his team as the class commented on their actions in the exercise.
(If Cale had brought his weapons, if he had been prepared, then none of this would happen.)
(Why were you always caught off guard, Kim Rok Soo?)
Somehow, Cale had earned himself an MVP (it was okay, since only a child broke his arm, right?), since he was the one who actually won his team the victory. It would have been Iida, but Iida had failed to account for Cale, and thus gracefully conceded his defeat.
Cale noticed that All Might had said nothing about excessive force to either Bakugou or Midoriya, who had to be carted away because he had broken his arm.
Again.
Within the first two days of school, the Protagonist had successfully broken himself twice on the altar of…… getting better grades? Cale didn’t get it, but that didn’t stop Cale from feeling as though Midoriya needed therapy.
Desperately.
(What caused a child to be so desensitized towards such pain? Cale knew the answer intimately, and would rather he never did.)
Aizawa arrived in a blur of demonic red eyes and boiling fury.
“All Might,” He tried saying it calmly, gave up halfway through, then just gritted the name out, “A word, please.”
All Might looked suitably terrified.
Good.
Together, the teachers went out of earshot.
Left alone, the class started buzzing.
“Wonder what that’s about?” Kaminari Denki whispered to Mina Ashido.
“I think Aizawa-sensei is pissed,” Sero Hanta said to Kirishima Eijirou.
“It’s understandable, I think. All Might-sensei hadn’t done such a,” Yaoyorozu Momo stopped meaningfully, “good job leading the class so far after all.”
“He should have noticed team A winning sooner, kero.” Asui Tsuyu said.
“It’s not entirely his fault though,” Ojiro Mashirao smiled sheepishly, “Midoriya’s fight with Bakugou was a bit too captivating.”
“I notice that you had been very fast back then, Cale-san,” Iida stared intently at Cale, “May I ask what your Quirk is?”
“It’s not a Quirk,” Cale explained. “I just happened to hide nearby, and jumped out when you were out of range.”
“I see,” Iida pushed his glasses up, “It seems that I need to have more situational awareness, then.”
Uraraka furrowed her brows. “I wonder what Deku-kun had been calling me for.”
Chatter chatter.
Cale let the conversations drift around him as he kept his eyes on where Aizawa had dragged All Might to.
--------------
“Now,” Aizawa felt his eyes burn with the need to use his Quirk on this bumbling fool, but bravely resisted, if only because his class was watching, “You have 5 seconds. Explain.”
All Might gulped.
-----------------
Aizawa was not satisfied with the explanation.
Scratch that, Aizawa was downright livid.
“What on Earth,” He grounded out, voice still carefully low to avoid the hearings of his more sensitive students, “possesses you to think that giving ignorant children permission to engage in indoor combat is a great idea, huh?”
All Might stuttered: “I– I thought that as Heroes-to-be, they will be faced with situations like this more often. I just want to give them a head start.”
Aizawa was not impressed.
“By throwing them off the deep end?” He raised an eyebrow. “All Might, you know that had things gone the other way, your first day of teaching might have ended in body bags, right?”
“We– Well– Thank God it didn’t?” All Might flinched, but still had the gall to answer.
Aizawa resisted the urge to palm his face. This was why he didn’t like All Might. He might have respected him as a Hero, but as a person, and more specifically, as a teacher, the guy was a mess.
Every single other teacher in this school had worked hard for their degree and teaching license. Aizawa didn’t like the fact that All Might could easily get the job without any training just because he was the Number One.
Being a good Hero didn’t equate to being a good teacher. And to impressionable first-year high schoolers, what they needed at this moment wasn’t someone to hype them up on Heroism.
(Society did that plenty already.)
What they needed right now was someone to hold them back, to show them restraint, to guide them onto the right path, to protect them from themselves.
What they needed was a teacher.
A role that All Might had just failed very spectacularly.
Looking at his oblivious face, Aizawa sighed.
“All Might, no, Yagi,” Aizawa said slowly, “You honestly can’t realize where you’ve done wrong?”
Aizawa had protested vehemently when All Might became U.A.'s teacher. He had protested even more when Nedzu, the crazy bastard, decided to give All Might the role of becoming the instructor to a class as important as Foundational Hero Studies.
Too bad no one had listened. And now here they were.
Though he guessed even Nedzu couldn’t have predicted how much of a mess All Might could make in just one day.
“I think it turned out o…kay?” All Might’s voice was tinny.
At once, they turned to see the disaster behind them. The once-pristine building was now teetering on the verge of collapse.
All Might shrunk in on himself a bit.
‘Good,’ Aizawa meanly thought. He hadn’t created a lesson plan for all 21 of his students, only for 4 of them to die on their first official day of class.
‘No, wait, it was 5,’ Aizawa abruptly realized, ‘Cale was in there, too.’
Suddenly, Aizawa was even more furious.
He hadn’t spent days saving Cale from his own self only for the boy to die because of some buffoon’s stupidity.
Since All Might’s action had hit him where he hurt, Aizawa decided to hit All Might where it hurt, too.
“All Might,” he whispered, “Midoriya is in the infirmary. Again.”
All Might flinched.
“Why did you let it get that far, hmm?” Aizawa’s eyes burnt into All Might’s, “What reason could you have possibly had to not stop the exercise when you should?”
“The moment Bakugou pulled out those damn grenades of his – and mark my word, I’ll be having a talk to Support about this too – you should have intervened immediately. So why didn’t you?”
“I– I–” All Might seemed to not know what to say. “Young Midoriya had seemed to be on the verge of a breakthrough, so I just–”
Aizawa stared at the man. It was a completely expected, yet completely unacceptable reason.
Everyone knew All Might was biased towards Midoriya. Which was a feat, considering the school year had barely even started.
Everyone with eyes could see that he cared for the boy more than he should have, even though they were only supposed to meet for the very first time today.
Frankly, Aizawa was not paid enough to delve into the personal connections of the Number One Hero. When something did concern his students, he had just made sure said connection was not of something sinister, then moved on.
It was, quite frankly, none of his problems.
It wasn’t always a sin to favor someone more than the rest. Hell, Aizawa was guilty of it himself, as reluctant as he was to admit that.
It became his problem, however, when that connection threatened the safety of several other of his students.
“You talk about Midoriya,” Aizawa said quietly, “But what about the other kids, All Might?”
Yagi’s heart dropped.
“Had Cale not led Iida and Uraraka out of the room when he did, those three children would have been caught in the blast that had decimated the entire building.”
Thinking about this, Aizawa could still feel his heart pounding from the adrenaline.
“You know what would have happened, All Might?” Aizawa’s jaw clenched. “They would have been dead.”
Yagi flinched.
Aizawa looked up at the eyes of the Number One. “So what about them, All Might? Why should they pay the price for Midoriya’s emotional growth? Why should they be in danger just for Midoriya’s development? Why should their lives be so insignificant,” He hissed, “compared to Midoriya’s?”
Yagi’s Adam’s apple bobbled, but he didn’t make a sound.
“Had one thing gone wrong today,” Aizawa reiterated, just in case he hadn’t managed to impress the severity of this situation into this blockhead’s brain, “They would be dead.”
“And it would have been on Midoriya’s head. Him and Bakugou’s.”
And just like that, all the steam seemed to run out of him.
“All Might,” Aizawa tiredly said, “They’ve just started high school, and they would have already had their classmates’ blood on their hands.”
“It would have destroyed them.”
(Oboro’s hand peeking out from amidst the debris, and young Aizawa wished he could have screamed and screamed and never stopped.)
Yagi was shocked still.
Aizawa stared at him silently.
“My problem with you,” he said, “wasn’t that you played favorites. My problem with you was that ––––”
“––––Your favoritism has endangered my students.”
“Iida Tenya deserves better than this. Uraraka Ochako deserves better than this. Cale deserves better than this. Bakugou Katsuki deserves better than this.”
Aizawa stared into All Might’s eyes, and delivered the final blow.
“And Midoriya Izuku, deserves better than this.”
Looking at the shocked Hero, Aizawa said frankly: “I cannot, in good conscience, be comfortable leaving my students in the care of someone who won’t protect them the way they should be protected.”
“You might have wanted Midoriya to grow, All Might, but was it really worth it to grow at the price of a broken limb? We are meant to protect these foolhardy children from themselves, yet all I can see here is you encouraging them to break themselves on the altar of Heroism.”
Aizawa looked at All Might coldly.
“I don’t care how far you’ve managed to go with a mindset like that,” he said, mercilessly, “But while U.A.’s motto speaks differently, we don’t do that here, All Might.”
“Or at least, I don’t do that here.”
All Might reflexively covered his side. Aizawa knew that was where his career-ending wound was.
Was it a dick move to take a dig at something so personal? Probably.
Did Aizawa regret any of it? Not even a little.
Just because All Might managed to survive didn’t mean his students would. Aizawa would like to see them alive until long after his own death, thank you very much.
Closing his eyes, Aizawa took a deep breath.
He opened them again once he calmed down.
“I will be talking to Nedzu, after this.” He decided. “Your punishment for reckless endangerment would be decided then.”
All Might, thankfully, didn’t attempt to protest. Because Aizawa wasn’t sure he could resist decking him in the face otherwise.
“For now, I will help you carry out the rest of the lesson.” Aizawa’s voice was unyieldingly cold, “Will that be alright, All Might?” He damn near hissed.
All Might just meekly nodded.
Huffing out an irritated breath, Aizawa whipped around and stalked back to the class.
--------------------
Cale, who had overheard everything courtesy of the Wind Elementals, nearly gave Aizawa a round of applause upon his return.
Instead of alerting the man to his power, though, Cale just decided to look at him approvingly.
Aizawa seemed to squint at him. For some reason, Cale thought that the man was actually looking him all over instead.
Thankfully, he turned away.
“Alright class,” Aizawa clapped his hands together, “I was called here to personally evaluate All Might’s teaching method. I was supposed to be here from the beginning, but I was caught up by something troublesome. Apologies.”
It sure sounded credible.
Not that everyone bought that bullshit though, Cale silently observed.
Some of the sharper students, like Yaoyorozu, had raised an eyebrow in doubt. Evidently, they were just as well aware as Cale himself that the true reason Aizawa was called here was to clean up after the mess All Might had made of this lesson.
Still, enough of the class believed that bald-faced lie for the exercise to proceed smoothly forward.
Aizawa took full control of the class, starting off by giving a lengthy lecture on what not to do inside a building, personally leading them inside a new one to point out exactly what they need to take notice of, reiterating again and again about the safety procedures that must be upheld.
Not going to lie, that made Cale feel a little bit better about U.A., as a whole.
Oh, he still thought the school sucked ass, of course. Willful child endangerment had never endeared anyone to him.
Of course, Cale was a bit of a hypocrite, talking about child endangerment like that. He had, after all, made the executive decision to let a 4-year-old onto the battlefield, endangering many more children under his care by pulling them into the war. But that was his cross to bear.
(Before, when he woke up in the middle of the night by nightmares he never wanted to remember, his children’s presence reminded him that he had made the right choices.)
(……He didn’t have that luxury now.)
This society was warped, Cale had realized in his research binge. The concept of Pro-Heroism, the concept of Heroes v. Villains, the concept of the Symbol of Peace……
It was all warped.
And U.A. was the prime example of this deformity.
(Depravity.)
A school for Heroes-wannabe. A high school, for Heroes-wannabe.
Had Kim Rok Soo even known what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, at the tender age of 15?
He hadn’t.
Kim Rok Soo had just been struggling to survive, then.
Had Lock known what he would be dedicating his life to, at 15?
He had.
At the cost of his entire tribe and an inter-continental war, he had. And Cale knew Lock would rather he never did, if only so his family would be alive.
Would the children averaging 9 years old and the Wolf children know what they will be willing to stake their lives on, when they turn 15?
They wouldn’t, Cale had long since decided, because Cale would give them all the options in the world. Cale would make it so that they could do whatever they wanted to do, travel wherever they wanted to go, become whoever they wanted to be.
(No matter the cost.)
Payback, Cale had reasoned, for dragging them needlessly into his deathmatch with the White thing.
War won’t touch their future, Cale had sworn, long, long ago.
And yet, here, in this seemingly modern, peaceful world, at 15, children were already expected to fight and die for their ideals.
(Ideals that society had tried its best to propagate, at that.)
Thousands of Heroes were produced every year. Thousands of Heroes died every year.
Most of them were these new, impressionable, recently graduated children.
Cale knew what the more jaded people would secretly call them.
Cannon-fodder.
In this “war” against the skewed status quo, these children were mere cannon-fodders, always meant to be expendable, always meant to be disposable, always meant to be the place-holders until someone more important came along.
These poor, gullible souls went to war without even knowing it was a war. They were told they were saving the day, but instead were actually upholding the system that churned out more people willing to kill those like them.
Had they known they would die for nothing? Cale would sometimes wonder.
Had they known that nothing would change?
Or was society so successful that they had all died believing they had made a difference?
Cale didn’t know which one was worse.
Society had been grooming them towards Pro-Heroism since their very birth. And “Hero schools” were its last step before the official induction.
U.A. was a proud, prestigious Hero school, whose motto was to push further beyond one’s boundaries.
Cale, when reading about this, had to wonder about the average lifespan of its alumni.
Boundaries existed for a reason. As someone who had (occasionally) disrespected his own boundary, Cale could confidently say that there were limits that shouldn’t be crossed.
(His family would shed tears of blood if they knew he actually thought like this.)
(……When did his thoughts get so vicious? Cale shuddered, before forcefully ejecting it from his mind.)
Limits could be tested, of course, like Cale had done that time he used [Instant] to kill the White Star. But to full-out “Plus Ultra” it like U.A. recommended?
That way laid the morgue.
Morbid, but true. Push your boundaries too much, and you would burn out and die. That was the rule of all worlds.
Of course, U.A. had proven its superiority with the No.1 and No.2 Heroes all being its graduates. So there just might be some method to its madness.
But the only reason U.A. had been able to keep itself out of hot water with parents was because of Recovery Girl’s mere presence.
Without Recovery Girl, U.A.'s casual child endangerment disguised as training methods would collapse in on itself.
And going from being seriously injured to being healed then being injured then being healed again and again was not good for anyone’s mental health. At best, it was fostering body dysphoria.
At worst, it was torture.
Cale would know. He had used the exact same method on Venion Stan, after all.
Someday, those kids who graduated from U.A to become fully fledged Heroes, when they became injured again, they wouldn’t understand that they had to let their bodies heal because they had become so used to having Recovery Girl put them back together near instantly. And so they, unknowing or simply not caring of their limits, would go out, still injured, to try and “save the day”. And in process, endangered both themselves and the people they were supposed to be protecting.
They thought they were invincible, utterly undefeatable.
They would be wrong.
This was why he didn’t like U.A. Most of his complaints about the school were really complaints about this damn society as a whole, but the “training method” here was what he actually took offense with.
Because while it might have helped those children become better Heroes, it had completely neglected their emotional health in the process.
To hear that Aizawa disagreed with this was a balm he hadn’t known he needed. It was nice, he guessed, to know there was a reasonably reliable adult around, since that meant he wouldn’t have to constantly struggle to make sense of this warped world.
Cale just hoped this would last.