Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku practically buzzed as he stepped through the doors of Dorm Complex C, heart pounding in his ears, quirk reaching out as far as it could and curling against everything in its radius. At his mom’s insistence, he had a bag packed with an extra blanket, hand warmers, and a thermos with hot tea- with instructions to replace the tea once it got cold. 

He was one of the first people there– a smattering of applicants waited in the common room nervously. One turned abruptly when he entered.

“Midoriya-san! I can’t believe we’re in the same group!” he hollered.

Izuku smiled. “Yoarashi-san, right? Good to see you again!”

Yoarashi bowed deeply. “I am honored to be here!”

Izuku placed his bag down gently and sat on the ground next to the TV. He scanned the group– none of the students were anyone from his original group, it looked like. 

He nearly winced. He hoped that they were just at a different dorm.

More students filtered in slowly. Then, at 3:00PM exactly, an older boy walked in.

‘Walked’ was being used subjectively. It was closer to a stiff military march. He stopped in front of them, feet shoulder length apart, hands behind his back.

“Welcome, applicants,” he said. “My name is Amano Kaoru. I will be entering my third-year this upcoming semester, and I am your house leader. Over the next five days, I will be watching how you conduct yourself as you face multiple challenges in line with Shiketsu’s curriculum. Some tasks will be physical. Others will not be. All of them test who you are, not just what you can do. As you can see, there are twenty of you here. There are a total of one hundred applicants participating in the Live-In Trial.” He scanned the room. “Please announce your name and quirk.”

No one moved. 

Then, a casual looking boy spoke. “Guess I’ll get this started,” he said with a smirk. “I’m Fujimori Kaito. Quirk: Werecat. Basically,” he held out a hand, and it turned into a large cat’s paw. “I can turn into a cat. Divine-sanctioned fursona, yeah? Pretty good for stealth.”

Amano sighed. “Please do not demonstrate your quirks.”

Fujimori grinned. “Sorry, senpai.”

A girl that was bouncing with nervous energy went next. “Um, hi! I’m Utsushumi Camie. My quirk is called Glamour. I can, like, exhale clouds that create visual illusions. Super jazzed to be here, seriously.”

They went around, one by one, until it was just Yoarashi and Izuku left.

Yoarashi glanced at Izuku, then boomed, “I am Yoarashi Inasa! My quirk is called Whirlwind! I can manipulate the wind! I am so honored to be here!”

Amano wrinkled his nose. “Please do not shout indoors.”

“I am very sorry!”

Izuku bit back a snicker. Seemed like shouting was Yoarashi’s default, then. 

All eyes turned to him, though, and he went red. “Um, hi?” His voice cracked, and he winced. “I’m Midoriya Izuku. My quirk is named Mind Force– I can, er, move stuff with my mind?”

They stared at him. He wanted to crawl into a cabinet and disappear.

“Thank you,” Amano said. “Your paperwork should tell you exactly which room is yours. Please proceed there and change into your provided uniform. If your uniform doesn’t fit, please see me. We will be leaving for orientation in exactly forty-five minutes. I expect everyone to be prompt.”

He walked past them and into the dorm.

For a second, no one moved. Then, Yoarashi began walking forward, and everyone followed.

Izuku looked down at his paperwork, double checking his room number. C-2B.

He mapped out the building with his quirk instinctively as he made his way there: solid foundation, reinforced beams, subtle seismic reinforcement. Smart. Standard.

His room was small and spartan. Wooden flooring, a bed in one corner, a desk in another, a closet with a body-length mirror by the door, and a small half bathroom. Underneath his bed was a minifridge, cabinet, and microwave. If he had to guess, these were actual dorm rooms, repurposed for exams. 

He dropped his bag, and something tugged at the edge of his awareness.

An odd, empty space. Just below the northwest quadrant of the dorm.

He paused, turning in that direction.

Not a pipe, not a maintenance shaft– too wide. Not a cellar– too clean. And why would a dorm have a cellar?

It felt like… an entrance. A door, maybe. Leading down.

He stared for a moment, then shrugged and reached for the uniform that laid on the bed. He didn’t have time to play detective.

The uniform fit a bit snug– he guessed that they were using his previous school records, but he had put on a fair amount of muscle since dropping out of his junior high– but the hat didn’t fit over his hair at all. After the third attempt– it popped off of his head almost comically, like his curls were actually saying “no”– he sighed and left his room. 

He found Amano sitting in the common room, back ramrod straight, sipping a cup of tea. He raised an eyebrow as Izuku approached.

“Um, Amano-senpai,” Izuku started hesitantly. “My hat doesn’t fit?”

Amano blinked slowly. He didn’t say anything.

Izuku winced, putting the hat back on his hair. After a second, it popped off with a quiet poomf.

Amano’s lips twitched. “I see,” he said coolly. “Well, you can forgo the hat for the Live-In Trial. I’d recommend either a haircut or a lot of hairpins if you’re accepted.

Izuku nodded, face flushing. “Yes, sir,” he said quietly. 

Amano led them to a training field. The other applicants were around as well, but each group was kept separate. Izuku was a little surprised to see that the girl’s uniforms had pants instead of skirts, but he supposed it made sense. Shiketsu was big on uniformity. 

“Form four rows of five!” Amano barked. 

There was a moment of confused shuffling before the group began to arrange themselves into five uneven rows.

“No speaking,” Amano ordered, voice softer, but still traveling well. “Stand with your feet together, toes turned out slightly. Place your arms down at your sides, thumbs along trouser seams.”

There was a slight shuffle as they did their best to listen.

“Keep your back straight, shoulders back, chin level, eyes forward. This is standing at attention.” Amano ordered as he began to walk through the lines. He paused here and there, correcting posture with a gentle hand. “You will do this when an instructor approaches you. You will be ordered to do this by relevant upperclassmen. This is dignity, honor, and respect.”

Izuku was stiff as a board when Amano reached him. Amano looked unimpressed. “Breathe, Midoriya,” he said softly– not quite gentle, but not unkind. “You’ll do yourself no favors if you pass out.”

Izuku nodded jerkily.

“No fidgeting,” Amano said to the group. “Root yourself to the ground. You are a tree. You may bow when the wind dictates; otherwise, remain still. Am I understood?”

A couple students, including Izuku, answered with a hesitant, “Yes, sir.”

“When you are asked a question by an instructor or relevant upperclassmen, you are to respond with ‘sir, yes sir,’ ‘ma’am, yes ma’am,’ ‘sir, no sir,’ or ‘ma’am, no ma’am.’ Am I understood?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Excellent.” 

They stood in agonizing silence as Amano continued his inspection. Izuku’s fingers itched to move. 

He took a deep breath, focusing on his awareness instead. The sakura trees near them were in full bloom, the different petals drifting through the air lazily. Around him, he felt as his dormmates twitched or fidgeted.

He was surprised to feel a few others nearly as still as Amano himself. Most of the group fidgeted, shifted, or wavered– but Utsushimi, Fujimori, and a girl whose name escaped him held perfect form.

How?

Amano returned to the front of the group. “Step out with your left foot so that your feet are shoulder-width apart. Clasp your hands behind your back, right hand over left, thumbs crossed. Remain silent.”

Another shuffle as they did their best to comply. Fujimori struggled for a second, it felt like, but fell into the stance easily again. Utsushimi and the other girl shifted stances perfectly. 

Izuku did his best not to look like an idiot. 

Amano began walking through the lines again. “This is parade rest,” he told them. “You will stand like this when told to be at ease. You should be still, but not rigid. A sapling instead of a tree. Am I understood?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

Amano returned to the front, hands still clasped behind his back. “Shiketsu is not simply a hero school. It is a standard. How you move reflects how you think. How you stand reflects how you act. And how you bow reflects who you are.”

His steady gaze swept across the line. “We begin with marching.” 

He moved to the side of the group. “When ordered to march, you will step forward with your left foot, heel first. Your arms will move naturally at your sides– do not exaggerate. Do not bounce. Your posture must remain straight. March as though every step is observed from above.

He paused, allowing the group a second to digest the information.

Left foot, Izuku thought. Don’t screw this up.

“When I say ‘forward march,’ the first step will be your left foot. I will then call ‘halt.’ You will stop with your left foot landing first, right foot coming beside it. Eyes forward at all times.”

Amano pointed toward the perimeter of the training field. “We will go in rows. Front row, prepare.”

Izuku was in the second row. His heart hammered in his throat.

The front row started forward on Amano’s cue– awkwardly at first, like baby deer trying to synchronize legs.

Izuku tracked their steps instinctively, noting who struggled with rhythm and who self-corrected after the first few paces. Fujimori stumbled, grumbling under his breath, but corrected quickly. Yoarashi took an unsteady first step, but caught the rhythm on the second easily, like it was as natural as breathing.

Amano’s voice cut through the air. “Halt.”

The row froze. A few staggered steps, one accidental shoulder bump. Amano let them return to formation silently. “Next row, forward march.”

Izuku stepped forward. Left foot, heel first. His arms moved with his gait, but he kept his shoulders squared, back tight, eyes locked ahead. He could feel the tension in his body like coiled springs. Utsushimi was two people away from him, moving with uncanny ease, almost like she’d done this before.

“Halt.”

Izuku stopped cleanly– almost. His right foot scraped just slightly, enough for him to feel it. Amano didn’t say anything.

He definitely noticed, though, Izuku thought glumly. He exhaled through his nose, pulse thrumming, already replaying it in his head for improvement later.

In the fourth row, the girl whose name he didn’t know moved with the same ease as Utsushimi. Precise. Deliberate. Experienced.

That made three. Three students in his group who held themselves like they’d done this before.

His skin prickled. Staff kids, maybe? 

He filed the thought away for later. Right now, he needed to focus.

Amano returned to the front. “The bow is not simply a greeting. It is a weapon. It can disarm, demand, and declare intent. Heroes in Japan are expected to demonstrate humility and respect with every action. Attention!”

Several of the students flinched. Some of them stood at attention immediately. 

Izuku did his best.

Amano surveyed them again. Always watching.

“We will now practice three bows.” He raised a hand, one finger lifted. “The fifteen-degree bow: greeking or acknowledgement. Hands at sides, nod from the waist, not the neck.” 

He lifted a second finger. “The thirty-degree bow: apology, gratitude, moderate respect. Deeper, slower. Spine straight.”

A third finger. “The forty-five-degree bow: profound respect. Rarely used. This is for heads of agencies, victims’ families, or when requesting a second chance.”

Amano demonstrated each one– perfect angles, no wobble.

“We will practice now. Fist: fifteen-degree bow. On my mark.” A beat. “Ready? Bow.”

A wave of half-synchronized movement followed. A few were too shallow, others bent their necks instead of their waist. Izuku definitely overcompensated and dipped too low.

Amano’s voice was smooth and unbothered. “You are not dipping a tea bag. Reset.”

A few students stifled laughter. Fujimori snorted audibly.

Amano raised an eyebrow. “Fujimori. Demonstrate.”

The boy immediately bowed– perfect thirty-degrees. An apology.

Amano nodded. “Acceptable. Everyone, again.”

After several cycles, Amano stepped forward again. “These movements are small, but they are where poise begins. If you cannot control the way you walk, how can you control your quirk? If you cannot control your posture, how will you carry civilians to safety? If you cannot bow… then you do not understand your role.”

He clasped his hand behind his back. “You are not the center of the world. Remember that. Dismissed for now. Dinner is at 1730.”

He turned and walked towards a group of other upperclassmen and a couple of adults. The group hesitated, then dispersed, stiff-limbed and sweaty. Izuku made his way to a bench on the edge of the field, wishing he had a water bottle to help him cool down.

Izuku was glowing. Sure, his back ached and his calves were sore, but he felt so proud– like he was part of something bigger than himself, like he was already on the way to becoming a hero.

“Man, Amano-senpai’s kinda intense, huh?” Utsushimi said. Izuku turned– she was standing with a couple of other girls. “Not gonna lie, I’m kinda into it. You think he’s single?”

Izuku snorted despite himself, shaking his head. Shiketsu was so open about their no-dating policy– crushing was just wishful thinking.

He tilted his head back, plucking a few sakura petals from the air with his quirk. He spun them around slowly, focusing on the fine motor control, letting the following chill wash over him like a balm in the sun. His eyes slipped closed.

“Should you be doing that?”

Izuku flinched, his awareness pushing outwards too fast on reflex. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew it was Utsushimi. He let the sakura petals slip out of his grasp.

“I– uh, sorry?”

She grinned. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not planning on narcing or anything. I was just worried– weren’t you the kid who passed out after the CTAT?”

He blinked. “…Were you in my group?”

She nodded. “Came out of the gates right as you hit the ground, babe. Your lips were, like, blue.”

Strange– he didn’t remember her at all. Although, to be fair, the CTAT was taken with one hundred examinees. It’s possible she slipped through the cracks.

Of course, that’s not what he focused on. “B–babe?!” he squeaked, turning painfully red.

Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Sorry, I call everyone babe. And what can I say? You’re a cutie.”

His brain did the dial-up tone. “I– I, uh, I’m not– looking to date?” he stammered, voice tight. 

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, none of the cute ones ever are.” She plopped onto the bench beside him. “Anyway, Midoriya, yeah? What’s your quirk really do?”

He blinked. “Uh, telekinesis, basically?”

She nodded. “Uh-huh?”

His mind was still blue screening. “I can, er, move stuff with my mind.”

She tilted her head. “You said that earlier, babe. Come on, get technical with me. What’s it do?”

Technical. He could be technical. “R–right. I’m better at fine motor control, but the more precision I exercise, the more strain it causes on my mind, but it goes in the opposite direction– the heavier the thing I lift, the more strain. Like, bloody noses, bleeding from my ears, one time from my eyes?”

She nodded again. “That explains the blood,” she said. “What about your lips turning blue?”

He blinked. “I’m– not really sure? I mean, I’ve noticed before that I start to feel cold the more I use my telekinesis, but I’ve never…” He trailed off. Blinked. “Oh. Oh. My dad had a fire quirk. My mom has a telekinesis quirk. My telekinesis is using my internal body temperature as fuel. How have I never figured that out before now? I was literally just messing with my quirk to cool down!”

She grinned. “You’re pretty smart, Midoriya-kun. Next time, though, maybe some water instead?”

He flushed. “Er, yeah. I was just… my legs were tired, and I don’t have a water bottle with me—”

She rolled her eyes, then hopped to her feet. “Come on,” she said, “let’s head back to the dorm. Get you into an air conditioned room, get you some water, yeah?”

He got to his feet. “Yeah,” he said softly. 

—

They filtered into the training field at 6:00AM sharp– most of them still wiping sleep from their eyes, gym uniforms messy. Utsushimi and Fujimori looked just as tired as the rest of them.

Why am I paying attention to them? Izuku groaned to himself. It’s not like they’re secret agents or something. Focus!

Amano was in his standard uniform, looking just as crisp and put together as the day before.

“Attention!”

Half of the group, including Izuku, snapped to attention immediately. The other half, including Utsushimi, waffled slightly, too groggy to really process the command.

Amano narrowed his eyes. “I expected better,” he said, scanning the group. “Perhaps a run will wake you up? Five laps around the track. Go!”

Izuku broke into a run immediately, Yoarashi, another boy– he introduced himself as Hoga during dinner– and the girl who was a little too good at marching, Kagawa, hot on his heels. The rest of the group followed sluggishly.

Yoarashi kept pace with Izuku, despite likely being able to go faster. He grinned and gave Izuku a thumbs up, but didn’t say anything.

A good call, honestly. Amano seemed like he was in a bad mood today.

They were among the first finished– a few stragglers were lagging behind hard. One of which was Utsushimi.

“Pick up the pace, Utsushimi!” Amano barked. “How do you expect to make it into this school if you can’t even run laps?”

Izuku winced. Harsh.

When she finished up, panting heavily, Izuku moved to her side. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

She gave him a tense smile and a thumbs up. “Yeah. This is way before I’m normally awake,” she said.

Izuku nodded. 

“Now that you’re all awake,” Amano said, “attention!”

The group snapped upright immediately. Amano took a moment, inspecting their posture one by one, then called, “Parade, rest!”

Left foot out. Hands clasped behind back.

Amano inspected them again.

“Acceptable,” he said, slowly, “if you weren’t trying to enter Shiketsu. Maybe another school would accept your shoddy posture, but Shiketsu will not. Am I clear?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“We are not going to play today,” Amano continued, voice dripping with contempt. “If you wish to attend Shiketsu, you must earn your place. You will march to Gym Alpha. Get in formation!”

They scrambled to comply.

“Forward march!”

The group was silent as they moved forward, all too aware of Amano’s eyes on them. When they reached the gym, he called, “Halt.”

Two people, both behind Izuku, stumbled.

Amano sent them a withering glare, exhaling sharply through his nose. Instead of saying anything, however, he pivoted sharply and walked forward, opening the doors to the gym. As the cold air washed over them, a hush fell over the already silent group– like everyone collectively held their breath.

It looked like a war zone designed by an engineer with a personal vendetta against physics; towering walls, spring-loaded platforms, and shifting metal panels embedding in the ground. Overhead, a skeletal frame of scaffolding stretched like a ribcage, pulleys and cables dangling sensors low. At the center of the field stood a glowing red panel marked ‘START.’

There were no clear paths– just a mess of vertical or horizontal space, like a cruel puzzle someone had shaken until the pieces fell apart. 

He watched a set of floor panels rotate, wobbling slightly like it was one misstep away from tilting. Izuku reached out with his awareness, and– yep. The entire thing could and would tilt. 

Also– were those cannons?!

Izuku’s mouth went dry.

“This is a team-based mobility assessment,” Amano said sharply, arms folded behind his back. “You will move in groups of five. Your pace, coordination, and adaptability will be measured. You fall behind, your team suffers. You hesitate, your team sufferers. You fail, your team suffers.”

A sharp clang echoed from the scaffolding above. Something shifted. Cables pulled tight. New walls slid into place with a shhnk.  

The course was alive. Watching. Waiting.

Izuku could feel the breeze above them– no, not breeze. Turbulence. Some of those vents weren’t just fans, they were testing response to aerial displacement.

He swallowed hard.

“This isn’t a playground,” Amano added, eyes cold. “This is a simulation of a chaotic environment. Urban collapse. Hostile conditions. No heroes work alone.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “Impress me.”

Amano called out teams. Izuku’s team, made up of him, Yoarashi, Hoga, Utsushimi, and a girl named Kikuchi, were set to go last.

They watched from parade rest as the other teams struggled. 

Someone took a wrong step, and the floor moved. 

Someone made too much noise? A flashbang went off, burning Izuku’s eyes. Someone fell behind? A buzzer went off, and the entire team got time added to their clock.

Izuku’s awareness was dialed up to eleven, throbbing behind his eyes.

Amano wasn’t joking around. One wrong move, and your team suffered.

Finally, it was their turn.

As they approached the start panel, Izuku blurted, “Let me take point,” then flushed.

Kikuchi blinked. “No offense, Midoriya, but why?”

“My quirk,” Izuku said. “I’ve got an awareness field. I can see where parts are going to move, I can keep track of all of us. I can do it.”

His stomach lurched. He couldn’t stop imagining what would happen if he messed up.

Yoarashi shrugged. “Alright. I don’t have a better idea.”

They stepped onto the panel, and the course shuddered. Izuku winced against all the movement in his awareness– vibrations, tension in cables, tilting plates– but forced himself to suck in a deep breath.

Focus.

The path opened ahead of them. The ground was made up of square panels. He probed, then jumped forward. 

The first two panels held steady under his feet. “Next one tilts!” he said, jumping over it. He landed safely on the fourth tile, continuing on, calling the changes as he felt them.

At the back of the group, Utsushimi wobbled. Before he could call out a warning, a gust of wind blew– his senses went fuzzy for half a second. When he turned, Yoarashi was looking at Utsushumi. 

“You okay?” Yoarashi asked.

“Yeah. Thanks.” Her voice was soft. 

The panels shifted downwards, Izuku looked up to see guns.  

A red light blinked, then the first one fired. 

“Move!” Yoarashi shouted. A gust of wind picked up—

The paintball splattered midair.

Unfortunately, the wind jerked the cables overhead, and foam debris began raining down. 

The turrets locked on, ratcheting into rapid fire.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

“Watch the red lights!” Izuku called. “They fire in sequence!”

They scrambled forward, trying to dodge debris and paintballs in the same breath.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Hoga tackled Kikuchi, shielding her as he got pelted with paintballs. Utsushimi screamed. 

Izuku planted his feet. All at once, the debris around them froze, locked in a telekinetic hold. He winced as cold washed over him, bringing the debris in front of the paintball guns.

Blink. Blink. Blink.
Thud. Thud. Thud.

The paintball bullets rained hell on the debris wall. 

“Go!” Izuku shouted. “I’m right behind you guys, go!”

His teeth were chattering. He was holding so many objects up, keeping them still as they were pelted with ammunition. 

“Midoriya,” Yoarashi said, appearing beside him. “We have to go together.”

Izuku took an unsteady step forward. The debris in the air wobbled. 

A single drop of blood fell from his nose.

“I can’t,” Izuku gasped. “I can’t walk and hold it at the same time, I have to stay grounded.”

“Midoriya—”

“Yoarashi-kun,” Hoga called, “Is your wind strong enough to pull him to us?”

Yoarashi hesitated, then nodded resolutely. He ran to the edge of the section safely.

“Ready, Midoriya?!” Yoarashi yelled.

Izuku took a shuddering breath, reaching up to wipe the blood from his nose. He nodded.

As soon as the wind began to shift around him, he let his grip on the debris go. Foam began to rain down again, but the turrets were unable to keep aim on him as he was suddenly swept off his feet, slamming directly into Yoarashi’s chest a split second later. Yoarashi’s arms came around him, steadying him as he blinked the haze away from his brain.

“You’re shivering,” Yoarashi pointed out.

Izuku waved his hand. “I’m fine,” he said. “We need to keep moving, the clock is ticking.”

“That’s some quirk,” Kikuchi murmured.

Izuku gave her an uneasy smile.

The next obstacle was a series of spring platforms. Hoga stepped forward. “I’ll go first,” he said, taking a running start before jumping onto each platform in quick, unsteady succession. He staggered as he landed, but turned and gave the group a wide smile and a thumbs up. “There’s air currents!” he called. “I think they’re to knock us off balance!”

Kikuchi went next, nearly slipping on each platform. Wind cushioned her, keeping her on course. Izuku looked to the side– Yoarashi was wearing an intense look of concentration.

“Definitely air currents,” he said. “I can’t neutralize them and keep you guys stable at the same time.

“Just keep us stable then,” Izuku said, stepping forward. He hopped in place for a second, trying to chase the cold from his limbs, then took a running start, leaping from platform to platform. The air currents were difficult, but not impossible– more than anything, they screwed with his perception, making him rely only on his sight to know where the next platform was.

He undershot the last jump.

Just before he could plummet to the ground, however, a strong gust of wind pushed him up the final bit. Hoga’s hands wrapped around his wrist and hauled him to his feet firmly. 

“You okay?” Hoga asked.

Izuku nodded.

Utsushimi went next. The first few jumps were okay, but the last jump tripped her up as well, the air currents knocking her off course. Izuku grabbed her with his telekinesis instinctively, another bolt of cold shocking through his system like a lightning strike. Another gust of wind came from below– probably from Yoarashi, to help push Utsushimi up– and Izuku staggered against the decreased perception, his hold on Utsushimi slipping a fraction.

Hold it, Izuku begged himself.

Hoga placed a firm hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Yoarashi, can you neutralize the wind?!”

All at once, the wind was routed away from them. Izuku breathed out a sigh of relief as he brought Utsushimi the rest of the way forward. She smiled gratefully as she landed. 

He grimaced back. His ears were ringing slightly as Yoarashi made his way across perfectly.

The walls around them shifted, locking them into a narrow corridor littered with obstacles. The lights flickered.

Izuku stepped forward, probing. His perception bent weirdly around some of the obstacles– like they weren’t really there. “Some of these are fake,” he announced, already beginning to walk forward. He swung himself over a half-wall, then walked through the next easily. 

Holograms.

Utsushimi was right behind him. He wasn’t sure what triggered it, but suddenly, light flooded the room. All of them cried out, covering their eyes.

He felt as Utsushimi nearly collapsed, curling into a ball.

Her pulse was too fast. Her breathing was ragged.

Izuku stepped forward immediately. “Hey, hey, hey, breathe,” he said. “It’s okay. This is just a training exercise, breathe.”

She clutched onto his shirt, gasping, eyes wild. Suddenly, Amano’s voice crackled through speakers.

“Pathetic,” he said. “You really expect to make it into Shiketsu if you can’t handle simple training? How will you ever become a hero?”

Utsushimi’s breath hitched.

Anger pooled in Izuku’s gut. “Back off!” he shouted. “She’s having a panic attack! How can you call yourself a hero if you can’t exercise basic empathy?!”

The group went silent. 

He turned his attention back to Utsushimi. “It’s gonna be okay,” he said again. “You’re okay. It’s just training, you’re safe.”

She inhaled sharply, shaking, but nodded.

The speakers crackled to life again. “Finish the course,” Amano chided. “The clock is ticking.”

“You think we don’t know that?!” Izuku snapped back. “Sorry for trying to be a decent person, jerk!”

He was shaking, too. Not from the cold that still gripped his body, but from pure adrenaline and fury—

And also fear. He just talked back to the house leader. He called him a jerk. The guy who’s grading him. 

He was never getting into Shiketsu now.

His breath hitched, but he grit his teeth as he pulled Utsushimi to her feet. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get this over with before Amano-senpai finds another thing to hate us for.”

She nodded jerkily. 

He took one stumbling step forward. Then another. Then another.

He could do this.

They made it to the end of the course. 

The students flocked around them– some focused on Utsushimi, who was still shaky, but doing better, while others crowded Izuku, talking over each other excitedly.

Too much.

His breath caught in his throat again. He was going to get thrown out, he knew it, and there were too many people around him, and—

“Give him space!” Hoga snapped suddenly. He grasped Izuku’s shoulder firmly, then steered him away from the group. “Easy, easy, easy, buddy,” he murmured, setting Izuku down on the ground like a doll. “Deep breaths. With me– four in, four out.”

Izuku took gasping, shuddering breaths, trying to keep it timed. Hoga kept talking to him in a low soothing tone, but one thing stuck out in the haze of Izuku’s mind.

“You did the right thing, dude.”

He let out a sob, curling into a ball.

I did the right thing, but at the cost of my dreams.

Amano didn’t say anything, barely even looked at him when they were dismissed.

He made it back to the dorm in a daze, and curled up into a ball in his room.

There’s always Ketsubutsu, Izuku thought glumly. 

But what’s the point?

Someone approached his door– not Amano. A girl.

She knocked. He stood with a sigh, already mentally preparing to be told to get the hell out.

He opened the door.

Utsushimi stood in front of his door, wringing her hands slightly. She smiled slightly when she saw him, eyes kind and concerned.

“I talked to Amano-senpai,” she started, and Izuku flinched away from her.

“My things are already packed,” he sighed.

She blinked. “What? No. You’re not in trouble.”

He froze, his mind screeching to a halt. “…What?”

“You’re not in trouble,” she repeated. “This is like– like boot camp, right? But it’s still a test. He can’t come and tell you that you’re not in trouble or else it’ll make everyone think he’s approachable. So I’m here to tell you that you’re not in trouble.”

He stared at her for a second, blinking owlishly. Then he asked, “Why is he able to tell you that I’m not in trouble?”

He felt her heart stutter. If he wasn’t so wired up, he might not have caught it, but as it stood…

“You’re a mole,” he breathed.

She smirked. “I told you you’re smart, Midoriya-kun,” she said. “I’m gonna have to report that you figured me out, but they won’t hold it against you. Especially considering my stellar acting skills. If anything, it’ll, like, be a point in your favor—”

“You weren’t acting, though,” he interrupted, then winced. “Sorry.”

She had frozen, eyes widening slightly. 

She glanced down each side of the hallway. “Can I come in?” she asked softly.

He blinked, but nodded, stepping back to let her through. She went and sat at the desk chair immediately. After a moment of deliberation, he sat on the bed, just across from her.

“I wasn’t acting,” she confirmed quietly. “I was supposed to be, though.”

“What happened?”

She pursed her lips, then nodded. “I dunno. Anxiety’s weird. Sometimes someone yelling at you feels real, even when it’s not. Sometimes you’ve heard the things they say before.”

He looked down at his hands.

Deku. Useless. Weak.

“I think you know what I mean,” she said. 

He nodded.

After a moment, he asked, “So, why did you come to tell me I wasn’t in trouble?” he asked. “I mean, anyone would’ve put two and two together, right?”

She smirked. “You’d be surprised,” she said. “But… mainly because you were kinda freaking out? Shiketsu’s entire thing is intense, but they’re not trying to traumatize you. Most of the time.”

He snorted. 

Her grin grew. “So, yeah. Figured it was better to go out on a limb to exercise empathy than it was to just… let you deal.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Hey,” he protested weakly. 

She shrugged, eyes alight with mirth. “Don’t talk back to Amano-senpai like that again, though,” she warned. “He does have a reputation he’s gotta keep up for the rest of the trial. He’ll actually have to do something next time.”

He nodded. “Got it.”

She paused, looking contemplative. “I don’t know how to ask this without giving away too much,” she started.

Izuku blinked. “Fujimori,” he said after a second. “And another girl. I don’t remember her name. Black hair, brown eyes?”

She gave him a deadpan look. “Do you know how little that narrows it down?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, that’s fair,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” she replied. “But why do you think them?”

“They moved too well yesterday,” he said. “Fujimori did the best at hiding it, but all three of you moved like it was second nature.”

She nodded. “I wonder if anyone else caught that,” she mused softly. She stood. “Well, gonna have to report that, too. Not confirming or denying anything, for the record, but…” She shrugged. “You know.”

“Wait,” he said as she reached the door. 

She turned, eyebrow raised. 

“Do I gotta… like, avoid you guys now? Since I know?”

“Nah,” she said simply. “My test is already over. Just, like, react as honestly as you can to them, if you get caught in their zone. Integrity, you know?” She gave him a pointed look.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he breathed.

“I know,” she replied. “You don’t seem like the kind of person. But, you know. Obligated to remind you, and all that.”

She slipped out the door without another word.

He didn’t sleep that night. 

That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence by any means, but it was extra frustrating considering ‘lights out’ meant that the lights literally would not turn back on. He was stuck using his phone’s flashlight to write in his notebook, noting the different quirks he’d seen so far.

He was in the middle of writing his theories on Yoarashi’s quirk when the lights suddenly switched on, a siren blaring– he nearly jumped out of his skin, his quirk pushing everything off of his desk.

He rushed out of the room.

Amano was already standing in the hall as everyone poked their head out, eyes wide.

“Attention!” Amano barked.

A solid 80% of the group snapped to attention immediately. 

Amano closed his eyes, took a breath, then continued. “You all have one hour to secure supplies and reinforce the dorm common area for a mock villain attack,” he said. “Points will be docked for not being in standard uniform. Your time starts now.”

Izuku jumped back into his room immediately, rushing through putting his uniform back on, then heading to the common room as fast as he could.

In the common room there were four other people. Amano, Utsushimi, Fujimori, and the girl whose name Izuku still couldn’t remember.

Amano stared at him impassively. Utushimi grinned as she made her way towards him. 

“Her name is Kagawa,” she said helpfully.

You’re not even trying to hide it anymore, Izuku wanted to say, but he felt doors opening and people coming out behind him. He wasn’t at all surprised to feel Yoarashi among the first of the examinees to barrel into the common room.

When they were all crammed into the space– too many bodies pressing against Izuku’s awareness, as always– Amano stood up. “Attention! This is a Level 3 Shelter In Place scenario. Supplies can be found in the storage bunker in the Main Building. Structural integrity of the dorm is currently stable.” He paused, surveying the room. “But leadership is critical in the first minutes of crisis.”

Then, still expressionless, he slapped a hand to his chest. A burst of red liquid popped like a ketchup packet in a microwave.

“Oh no,” Amano said, deadpan. “I have been critically wounded and am unable to lead.”

For a long moment, nobody moved. Izuku wasn’t sure everyone was even breathing.

Then Yoarashi burst into action. “We should form two teams!” he announced. “One for securing supplies, the second for fortifying the dorm!”

“But how will the second team get back in?” a boy asked, looking around nervously.

Yoarashi frowned. “Good point. Very well! A small team to secure supplies first, and the rest of you shall wait here for our return!”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” a different boy said.

Hoga stepped forward. “We don’t have time to debate,” he said. “We have less than an hour. Yoarashi-kun, your quirk enhances your mobility, right? Does anyone here think they can keep up with him?”

The group shifted nervously. Then Fujimori stepped forward. “If I’m in cat form, definitely.”

Thankfully, two other students stepped forward after he did. 

Yoarashi grinned broadly. “Very well! We should depart immediately!” 

And he raced out the door.

Hoga looked around. “We can start with fortifying windows,” he said. “Spread out, look for furniture that we can move into here.”

They scattered.

Izuku made it halfway down the hall when he remembered the weird tunnel.

If it’s hidden, maybe we can hide?

He swallowed down a wave of anxiety. 

He wasn’t supposed to wander. He knew that. This was a test.

But– what if the tunnel was meant to be used?

I’ll only go down for a second, he thought. Back in time to help if there’s nothing there.

He took off towards the door.

It was exceptionally well hidden, despite being on the floor at the end of a hall. The wooden floor was completely seamless– the only thing Izuku could note about the floor there specifically was that there was nothing under it.

But there was no visible handle or latch. Nothing to grab onto to pull it open. Not even hinges.

An external opening mechanism, maybe?

He looked around. The only thing that stood out to him was the light switches on the wall, just before the hatch.

Two light switches.

He paused.

Then he flipped one switch downward. The lights in the hallway turned off. 

He winced, quickly flipping it back on, then flipped the second switch. 

There was a barely audible click.

The seam in the floor shivered. Then the hatch rose, silent and smooth, revealing a ladder swallowed by darkness.

Izuku paused to look behind him briefly, then climbed down.

When he reached the bottom, he was far enough down that he couldn’t even sense the dorm anymore. He turned to face the tunnel.

His first thought? Spooky.

The tunnel was dim, lit by emergency lights only. He fished his phone out of his pocket and turned the flashlight on.

He took off in a jog, not wanting to waste any more time than absolutely necessary– but his instinct was rewarded. He made it about thirty paces when something licked at the edge of his awareness– a room with… beds?

Bunk beds, specifically. And cabinets, and a miniature kitchen. The walls were incredibly reinforced– like they’d been waiting down here for a war.

A bunker.

He turned and sprinted back to the ladder. He had to tell Hoga.

The common room was a buzz of activity, furniture being dragged, windows being covered. Hoga stood in the center coordinating calmly but firmly. 

Izuku stumbled into the common room, panting like he had just run a marathon. Hoga turned immediately, brows knit in concern. “Midoriya? Where were you?”

“I’m sorry—” Izuku gasped. “I know I wasn’t supposed to– I just, there was this weird space, and I thought maybe it was a shaft or a crawlspace or something but then there was a ladder and– I’m really sorry I ran off—”

“Dude, breathe, it’s fine. Just start helping out, yeah?”

Izuku waved his hands in front of himself quickly. “Right– wait, no. I found something. There’s a hidden tunnel under the dorm and it leads to an underground bunker. Like, a real one! Beds, storage, I think there might be supplies? Like a full-on shelter.”

From the couch, Amano choked on his tea. Some of the students dropped what they were holding. Several turned to look at him in disbelief. 

Hoga blinked at him. “…There’s a what?”

The door burst open. Yoarashi rushed in, carrying a duffel bag, followed by the three other examinees who followed him. Fujimori was still in the form of a cat– much larger than Izuku thought he would be, honestly. Fujimori’s shoulders were up to Izuku’s hip. His coloring was also interesting, with the fur from his neck down to his paws being almost identical to the color of their uniforms, despite the white fur of his head– with a duffle bag nearly the same size as him slung over his back.

“We’ve returned!” Yoarashi announced. He froze, taking in the shocked faces around the room. “What did I miss?”

“Apparently there’s a bunker,” one of the students muttered.

Fujimori morphed back into human form, brushing stray fur off his sleeves. “Oh, yeah, I was wondering where that hatch went,” he said, fishing a granola bar out of his duffle bag. “Lemme guess, Midoriya found it?”

“Yeah,” someone else whispered.

Amano put his head in his hands, but didn’t say anything.

Thankfully, Hoga had recovered. “Okay. A bunker,” he said. “Midoriya, did you see how many beds? Is there power? Any locked doors?”

Izuku nodded, his mind running circles around him. “Nearly forty beds, I think, and minimal power. I didn’t actually look at it– as soon as I sensed it I turned around. Thought I should report first.”

Hoga nodded. “Alright. Everyone, new plan: team two, continue fortification. Team one, follow Midoriya to evaluate the bunker for use as emergency fallback. Midoriya, you’ll lead.”

Izuku flushed. “But I led in the last exercise!” he protested.

Hoga waved him off. “You found the bunker, Midoriya. You get to show the way.”

Izuku winced, but nodded. He glanced at Yoarashi’s team, all of whom were putting their spoils down. 

Yoarashi gave him a broad grin. “After you, Midoriya-kun!”

“R–right,” Izuku mumbled. He turned and went back down the hallway.

He hadn’t bothered to close the hatch back up on his way to Hoga, so it was still waiting for them when they reached the end of the hallway. 

Fujimori whistled. “Damn, that seems pretty high-tech,” he said. 

They went down the ladder one by one, and Izuku turned his phone’s flashlight back on.

Their footsteps echoed sharply in the narrow tunnel, each one louder than the last. The tunnel circles slightly, lined with dull, reinforced metal on the walls and floor. Faint, flickering lights illuminated the tunnel from slits in the ceiling– just enough to see, but not feel safe.

The tunnel split. Izuku turned confidently, the bunker visible at the edge of his awareness. They followed him silently. 

It didn’t take long before the tunnel opened into a square chamber the size of two classrooms. One of the lights was blinking slightly– like the bulb was about to die.

The entire bunker felt… ominous.

The walls were concrete, reinforced with steel crossbars. One wall was lined with bunks, triple-stacked. Each bed had a thin mattress and emergency blankets, vacuum-packed in plastic.

On the opposite wall, there was a small kitchen next to two large metal cabinets. One had the universal first aid symbol, the other had a sticker depicting a jar. One of the students accompanying them moved forward, pulling the cabinet open– revealing it to be packed to the brim with canned food. 

At least, Izuku assumed it was canned food. Most of the labels were faded beyond recognition, and he didn’t recognize some of the brands at all.

Everything was covered in a layer of dust. Fujimori sneezed.

On the far wall, across from them, was a desk with a radio and some sort of panel in front of a map detailing… different evacuation plans? Routes, in the event of an attack. How long to shelter in place during the events of chemical or biological warfare. How long it takes for radiation to dissipate. 

There was a water tank with a filtration system tucked into a corner, next to another metal door.

Fujimori trailed his fingers along a wall, knocking gently. “Huh. This isn’t just steel. That’s lead under there.”

The last member of their team, the boy with blue hair, raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

“My mom’s a contractor,” Fujimori said with a shrug. “Lead’s not cheap. Usually only used for radiation shielding.

There was a beat of silence.

Izuku narrowed his eyes at the ceiling vents. “The seals on those… they’re designed to close. Completely. That’s airtight design.”

Yoarashi spoke behind them. “This door only locks from the inside. No way to unlock it outside.”

The blue haired boy clapped a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Dang, dude, you weren’t kidding when you said bunker. This place looks like someone made a survivalist YouTube video into a government facility.”

Izuku nodded, looking around the room with wide eyes. After a moment, he said, “We should head back. There’s probably only like… twenty more minutes before time is up.”

Fujimori stepped forward. “I can move the fastest,” he said. “Is there anything specific I should tell them?”

Izuku swallowed. “I know we’re supposed to shelter in place for the drill,” he started, “but wouldn’t it be better to evacuate here? To avoid combat with villains in the first place? The group should just head straight here.”

Fujimori nodded. “Makes sense to me,” he said. He jogged towards the door, morphing into his cat form– his clothes melted seamlessly into fur, which explained his coloration– and bounded down the hall.

Yoarashi moved beside Izuku. “Good call,” he said earnestly. “The best fights are the ones avoided, right?”

Izuku grinned. “Right.”

They didn’t wait long before a throng of bodies brushed the edge of Izuku’s awareness, then trickled into the bunker. 

Fujimori had a shit-eating grin as he carried Amano bridal style; Amano looked like he was chewing on a lemon. 

Fujimori shrugged at Izuku’s inquisitive look. “He’s critically injured.”

“Is that everyone?” Yoarashi asked.

“Twenty-one,” Izuku confirmed at the same time Hoga nodded. 

Both Hoga and Yoarashi blinked at him. Izuku flushed.

“Awareness field, remember?” he said nervously. “I kinda can’t not count everyone. Or everything.”

“That sounds, like, really overstimulating,” Utsushimi murmured. 

Izuku shrugged, turning to look at Hoga. “Did someone bring the supplies? There’s supplies in here, too, but…”

“Yep, we’re all set,” Hoga said. “Closed the hatch behind us, too.”

Izuku nodded, and Yoarashi pulled the bunker door closed with a SCREECH! Izuku winced against the sound, only daring to open his eyes back up when the heavy lock clicked into place.

“So, what is this place?” one of the applicants asked.

Amano sighed heavily from the bed he had been deposited on, swinging his feet over the side to stand up.

Fujimori gasped. “Senpai! You’re alive! It’s a miracle!” 

The group burst into laughter– and even Amano’s lips twitched upward, though he didn’t reply as he made his way to the mini kitchen. He began opening and closing cabinets quickly, only letting out a quiet “Ah!” when he pulled out an electric kettle and a tin of loose leaf tea. 

They watched with bated breath as he filled the kettle and plugged it in, then… began preparing tea?

“This brand hasn’t been manufactured for over thirty years,” Amano said quietly, inspecting the tin. He nodded slowly. “It better taste good.”

“Uh, Senpai…?” one of the applicants said quietly. 

Amano sighed heavily again. “This is one of many bunkers located under the campus,” he said. “Technically, this is confidential information.” His lips quirked up. “There may be consequences for this breach of information.”

The entire room froze.

“Kidding,” Amano said after a long moment. “Personally, I can’t wait to learn what the reaction of the ‘villains’ upstairs are.” The kettle beeped, and he removed it to pour it into his cup. “How long does oolong steep for, again…?” he muttered.

“One to two minutes,” Kagawa said calmly.

“Ah, thank you,” Amano said. 

They watched, still frozen, as he waited for his tea to steep, removed the bag, then took a sip. 

He winced. “Ah, that is very hot.”

He took another sip. “But incredible flavor,” he added, a small smile playing on his lips.

“This is weird, right?” one of the applicants hissed.

Amano quirked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “I just don’t see the point in playing the part when this entire exercise has been broken in half. The bunkers are confidential knowledge,” he repeated. “None of you were supposed to find it. So.” 

Several people nervously glanced at Izuku, who winced. He was so screwed.

He took another sip. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s infinitely smarter to avoid a fight, when possible. We’re technically not supposed to evacuate the dorm, but underneath… it’s a grey area. So! For now, I am just a very, very tired teenager. In the morning, I’ll be back to making your lives hell. Until then…” He waved a hand dismissively. “Anyway. This place was originally built during the Quirk Wars, as a contingency plan. Dorm supervisors are aware of them, in case of an emergency. And—”

His phone began to ring. He raised an eyebrow as he answered it, placing it on speaker. His eyes sparkled with mirth. “Amano speaking.”

“Amano!” someone nearly shouted, relief palpable. “The villains have swept your dorm three times and there’s no one there. Where are you?”

“Underground,” Amano said simply.

The line was silent.

Then, quietly, “What do you mean underground?”

“One of the examinees found the bunker and surmised it would be more effective to evacuate to an already secure location than fight. I agreed with the assessment.”

Another silence.

Then, the person on the phone started, “Was it—”

“Applicant 1126? Yes. Are we cleared to return to the dorm?” Amano asked.

The person on the phone sighed deeply. “Of course it was him,” she muttered. “Technically, no. The exercise will continue for another hour and a half. Standby.”

“Copy that,” Amano said. “I’m taking the oolong tea as psychological compensation, by the way.”

Another sigh, just as deep. “Right.” 

The line clicked dead. Amano surveyed them. “Well, we have an hour and a half. Get comfortable.”

Izuku had settled into a bunk– in the middle, so he’d be out of the way without taking the top bunk if anyone wanted it– when he heard it.

He almost didn’t hear it, to be fair. Yoarashi, Fujimori, Hoga, Utsushimi, and a few other students were playing a very lively game of charades. Fujimori mimed something wild– maybe a flamingo?– and someone shrieked with laughter. Izuku smiled faintly, just for a second—

But. 

Kagawa spoke quietly, but not quietly enough. “I’m not even mad at him, it’s just… I don’t have some god-tier sensory thing. I just have myself.”

He stiffened.

Another girl nodded emphatically. “I mean, he didn’t even mention the sensory thing on the first day, right? Just that he could move stuff with his mind. And turns out he can count us in less than a second? It’s kinda weird.”

His breath stuttered.

Another girl pursed lips. “Yeah. Like, is that something he can’t turn off? Because that’s… really uncomfortable. Like, can he see what we’re doing in our rooms? Do we have any privacy?”

He folded into himself.

He saw the faces of his school bullies. Creepy, they chanted. Villain’s quirk.

What are you gonna do, fight villains by guessing their shoe size?

“I don’t think he means to make the rest of us look bad,” Kagawa said. “But it’s hard not to feel invisible next to someone like that.”

Creepy. Useless. Deku, deku, deku.

He took a steadying breath. He didn’t let himself cry.

Weakling. Baby. Creepy.

He wouldn’t cry.

When morning rolled around– after Amano made them run five laps again, despite none of them getting much sleep– they prepared for the next exercise.

Hostage extraction.

Izuku kept to himself. 

Once they were separated into teams, they were told to choose a leader.

All of his group looked at him, including Kagawa, who looked like she was studying him.

He looked at the ground.

Rotating leaders is fair, he thought. I’m giving someone else a chance to shine.

It felt hollow.

They were sent into a forest zone. Amano warned that it held traps. 

Izuku stuck to the back.

Leadership in his group was shaky– none of them knew which direction to take, or pace. None of them were particularly good at making decisions, either, it seemed. Not even Kagawa, who could probably take control easily. 

Izuku kept noticing the traps. He tried so hard not to. 

He didn’t say anything. 

If I speak up, it looks like I’m trying to take control again. Like I don’t trust them.

If I say nothing, at least they won’t hate me more.

One of his teammates– a guy named Tsuji– triggered a trap. Izuku stepped forward immediately, first aid kit already in hand.

Tsuji flinched away from him.

Izuku treated the cut on his leg without a word.

“Can’t you sense the traps?” Tsuji hissed.

Izuku just shrugged. 

They continued on. 

They found the hostage eventually, but when they made it back to the training field, Amano looked disappointed.

“Ten minutes over time,” he said, almost coldly. “What went wrong?” 

His eyes lingered on Izuku. Izuku looked at the ground.

“We’re exhausted,” one of his teammates– a girl named Yamazaki– said.

Amano narrowed his eyes. “You can expect such if you attend Shiketsu. Try again.”

A boy named Yoshida spoke up. “The map was way too confusing,” he said, clenching his jaw.

“And you’ll have the benefit of a clear map in a real hostage extraction?” Amano asked.

The group fell silent.

“Midoriya, anything to add?” Amano asked.

It’s all my fault, Izuku thought, not looking up from the ground. I could’ve saved the exercise. I could’ve sensed the hostage. 

I should’ve stepped up.

Izuku shook his head.

“If you wish to attend Shiketsu, I expect better performance than this,” Amano said. “Dismissed.”

As they walked away, Tsuji muttered, “Asshole’s been quiet ever since Amano-senpai praised him.”

Yoshida snorted. “Maybe he’s just waiting to be handed a spot.”

Izuku kept his eyes firmly on the ground.

Amano found him as he was restocking the first aid kit he used. Izuku’s shoulders stiffened as he approached.

“You were silent,” Amano said mildly. “You watched a team fail and said nothing.”

Izuku’s answer was mechanical. “I didn’t want to override them. It’s not my place.”

Amano paused. Then, softly, he said, “You don’t think you belong anymore.”

I never did, Izuku didn’t say.

“You’re wrong,” Amano said, as if Izuku had answered after all. “You don’t see it yet, but you do belong here.”

He walked away, unknowingly leaving Izuku to drown alone.

The dorm was quiet the next morning. Tense.

This was the last full day.

The breakfast chatter dimmed when Izuku made it into the dining room. 

Vaguely, he wondered how bad he looked. He hadn’t slept, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care much.

Still, it wouldn’t be good for him to pass out or something during training. He made his way to the kitchen, intent on grabbing some food and a cup of coffee.

(Coffee always made his anxiety worse, but it was the best he could do at the moment.)

Utsushimi sidled up to him. “Morning, Midori-babe,” she said playfully. “How you holding up?”

Izuku didn’t even look at her as he loaded his plate with eggs. “Fine,” he murmured. “Don’t waste your time.”

She froze. 

“What do you mean?” she asked gently.

He shrugged. “I’m not gonna get in. It’s not worth it to…” He trailed off. “Don’t let me drag you down,” he finished.

He turned towards the table. Kagawa was staring at him, eyes wide and full of regret.

He looked away.

It’s not like she said anything that was untrue, after all.

They were led to the mock city for the day’s exercise. They stood in parade rest in front of Amano, who was surveying them with sharp eyes.

“This is a high-pressure, team-based tactical drill,” Amano said. “You will navigate a ruined urban area and evacuate civilians. Hazards are randomized. Points will be awarded for speed, efficiency, and cooperation.”

Izuku was exhausted. He had settled into an odd apathy that meant his awareness wasn’t bursting outwards, but even the regular awareness felt like he was violating his dormmates' privacy. He tried to keep it pulled close to his skin– like a blanket, rather than a searchlight.

Teams were shuffled again, which Izuku was somewhat grateful for. He didn’t really wanna deal with Tsuji, Yoshida, and Yamazaki. And Kagawa kept looking at him, like everything was her fault.

It wasn’t. Izuku knew it was his fault. It was fine.

His new team was made of Yoarashi, a nervous, eager boy named Nomura, a girl named Usami who kept side-eyeing him, and a quiet girl named Nakatani who kept shooting him sympathetic looks.

Yoarashi stood close to Izuku as they waited for their turn.

“You doing okay?” he asked, uncharacteristically quiet.

Izuku nodded automatically, though his shoulders didn’t move. “Fine.”

Yoarashi didn’t look convinced, but didn’t push. 

A buzzer sounded. 

“Team Three,” Amano called. “You’re up.”

Usami squared her shoulders. “Guess that’s us.”

They headed to a gate marked with hazard tape, the edges charred like it had already seen battle. Smoke rose from somewhere deep in the city set, curling against the fake skyline. A siren wailed in the distance– pre-recorded, but eerie all the same.

Amano watched them, stone faced. “One civilian trapped by debris. One panicking. One missing. You’ll have fifteen minutes.” He paused. His eyes flicked back to Izuku, and something softened just for a second before he said, “Begin.”

The gate opened with a groan. They stepped through.

Izuku hung to the back of the group, like before. Unlike before, however, he wouldn’t let his team fail. Not again.

Yoarashi went into the air, wind whipping around them briefly as he lifted off. Izuku flinched against the dissonance it caused in his awareness field, but kept his eyes open as the rest of them jogged forward. 

“Trap ahead,” he said softly. “Pressure plate.”

Nomura shot him a grateful look as the four of them stepped around the pressure plate in question. 

Yaorashi came back a moment later. “I found the panicked civilian!” he announced. “This way!”

He stayed on the ground to lead them. Izuku continued calling out traps as he sensed them. At one point, Usami tripped. Izuku caught her with his quirk instinctively, placing her back on her feet gently.

“Could you not?” Usami hissed.

Izuku flinched. “Sorry,” he said softly. 

They continued, turning a corner to reach the civilian– who was audible nearly a block away with how loud she was screaming. Izuku felt another person behind the rubble of a ruined building– not trapped underneath anything, but definitely unable to get out on his own.

Do I say something? What if they think I’m just showing off?

Nomura stepped forward to calm her down, but before he could say much, she cried, “My husband! He’s trapped in that building!”

Nomura looked at them. “I’ll evacuate her,” he said with a nod, then looked at Izuku. “You’re a powerhouse, right? You think you can dig her husband out of the rubble?”

Izuku nodded.

Nomura gave him a smile, then scooped the panicking civilian up and began running back to the entrance.

Izuku hesitated for just a second, glancing at his team. Yoarashi gave him an enthusiastic smile. “I’ll help you!” he said.

Izuku winced. “I, er– the wind screws with my… you know.”

Yoarashi nodded immediately. “I understand! How can I help you, then?”

Izuku shrugged, then turned towards the building. He pulled the rubble away from the doorway cleanly, taking care to place the debris away from the team, barely feeling the chill that settled into his bones. Usami made a big show of supervising, practically standing in his way.

Izuku said nothing.

As soon as the rubble was clear, she ran in, then came out carrying the civilian. She gave Izuku one last dirty look before running off.

Nakatani shifted nervously. “Midoriya, are you able to… er, tell where the last civilian is?”

Izuku hesitated. “I could try to find them,” he said slowly.

Nakatani nodded. “It’d save us time, right?”

Izuku nodded slowly, then broke into a light jog, allowing his awareness field to spread outwards. It was difficult– for some reason, he still didn’t have any adrenaline to push the awareness out. Like he was disconnected from his body and what he was doing entirely.

Even still, the mock city wasn’t large enough that he wasn’t able to find the civilian, who was wandering the roads in a daze. Izuku looked at Nakatani. “You wanna carry him back?” 

She blinked at him, hesitating. “Not strong enough,” she said. “Yoarashi-kun?”

He stepped forward and picked the man up easily, not saying a word. 

The three of them ran back to the gate.

Nomura and Usami were both already waiting. Nomura was bent down with his hands on his knees, chest heaving, but straightened when he saw them. 

Usami brushed the dust off her pants. “That’s everyone, right?”

Yoarashi set the last civilian down gently, checking for injuries like Amano had taught them. Nakataki looked at Izuku and nodded, silent.

The buzzer sounded.

Amano glanced at the clock, then back at them. “Time: thirteen minutes, thirty-seven seconds. All civilians accounted for. No disqualifying injuries. Good work.”

Yoarashi beamed, throwing an arm around both Nomura and Nakatani. “We crushed that! We worked like a machine!”

Usami frowned.

Izuku let out a slow breath and stepped aside, only tangentially aware of how cold he still was. His fingers trembled slightly as he flexed them, trying to will away the ache.

He expected nothing.

(He got nothing.)

But that didn’t stop Usami from speaking up. 

“Jeez. He doesn’t even need this. Everyone knows he’s already gonna get in.”

Yoarashi whipped around, hands clenching at his sides. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, voice low.

Usami clicked her tongue. “We’re already so far behind him. He’s just making it harder for the rest of us to stand out.”

Izuku let out a sigh, sagging slightly. Here we go, he thought tiredly.

Deku. Creepy. Monster. Show-off.

Yoarashi, on the other hand, rose to his full height– like the harbinger of a storm. “You’re mad because he’s good?” he asked. His voice was still quiet, but his eyes blazed. “He’s doing what we all want to do. He’s already saving people, actually helping, and you’re mad about it?”

“It’s not about being mad,” Usami snapped back sharply. “It’s like he’s not even in the same test. How are we supposed to compete with that? He doesn’t belong here.”

“That’s exactly why he belongs here,” Yoarashi said firmly. He didn’t raise his voice, but everyone was staring at him. 

Izuku wanted to curl into a ball and disappear.

“We’ve been cruel to him. All of us. Especially the ones of us who aren’t speaking up. But even through that cruelty, he’s still here. He’s still fighting. He isn’t shoving us aside, he’s giving us room. He’s what we should be aiming for.”

The group was silent.

Yoarashi looked directly at Izuku. Then, quieter, he said, “The fact that he hasn’t quit, when no one has stood up for him? That’s more hero work than any of us have managed all week.”

Izuku ducked his head down. He refused to cry.

No one spoke the entire way back to the dorm.

They weren’t woken up for training the next day.

It was to be expected, of course. They had already been briefed that they’d be called one by one for an interview and then released.

Izuku was just tired. He wanted to go home. 

He packed his things mechanically and went to the common area to wait.

The TV was on. A few people glanced at him from the couch, but no one said anything. He sat in the dining room, notebook in hand, listening to the cartoon that was playing– but kept himself out of the way.

Yoarashi came in from the hallway and immediately zeroed in on Izuku, marching to his table confidently.

Izuku bit back the flinch that threatened to rise up, even as he didn’t look up from his notebook.

“Midoriya-kun,” Yoarashi said. “I’d like– well, would you like to exchange numbers?”

Izuku’s pen froze. He looked up at Yoarashi slowly– craning his neck almost comically, and blinked owlishly.

“…What?”

Yoarashi smiled brilliantly. “You’re full of passion, like a hero should be! And even if neither of us make it into Shiketsu, I’d like to be friends with you.” His smile faltered for just a second. “If you don’t wish to be friends, I understand– perhaps training partners, as we work to become heroes together?”

Izuku stared at him for a long moment. Yoarashi looked more nervous the longer the silence stretched, but eventually– when Izuku decided that he wasn’t asking for his number to doxx him– he nodded and pulled out his phone. “Okay.”

“Great!” Yoarashi cheered. He handled Izuku’s phone surprisingly gently, passing his own phone over in the process. Izuku entered his contact information mechanically.

When his phone got passed back, he was a little surprised to see Yoarashi had added a couple emojis after his name.

Izuku smiled slightly, despite himself.

Yoarashi cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I sit with you while we wait?”

Izuku only hesitated for a breath, then nodded, gesturing at all the free chairs at the table.

(Nobody wanted to sit with him. That had been a fact of his life since Katsuki decided he was Deku.)

(Except now Yoarashi wanted to sit with him. That was new.)

“So, what are you writing?” Yoarashi asked curiously, tilting his head. 

Izuku snapped his notebook closed. “Nothing. Sorry,” he blurted as fast as he could.

Yoarashi blinked at him, then shrugged. “Okay! I’m gonna see if I can watch some cat videos on YouTube. The service here isn’t great, but the wifi is alright, am I right?”

Izuku’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. 

He… wasn’t going to push about my notebook?

Thankfully, it didn’t seem like Yoarashi was waiting for a response. He opened up YouTube, navigated to a saved playlist– and that’s kind of adorable, actually, that he has a saved playlist– and began watching cat videos silently.

Eventually, Utsushimi came out of the hallway as well. Her eyes sparkled with mirth as she came to sit next to Izuku without a word, looking at him like they were keeping a secret from everyone else.

They kind of were, he supposed.

“So, Midori-babe,” she started. Yoarashi glanced up briefly, but quickly returned his attention to his phone, like he decided it wasn’t any of his business.

Izuku looked at her silently.

“I know you said you’re not interested in dating—”

Yoarashi choked, but Utsushimi continued, completely undeterred. 

“—but I was hoping we could trade numbers? I mean, honestly, if you don’t get in? What’s even the point of this school?”

Izuku froze.

That was two. Two people asking for his number in less than ten minutes. 

Completely unprecedented.

And one of them is a girl! part of his brain screeched. He flushed.

“I, uh– sure?” he stammered, passing his phone. She winked at him as she took it.

His flush deepened.

She passed his phone back. Her contact name had a ton of hearts added around it. 

If his mom ever saw that, she might have a heart attack.

(He didn’t change it, though.)

They waited around for about another hour before students began being called for their exit interviews. Utsushimi was the fourth person called. She flashed both Izuku and Yoarashi an easy grin. “Best of luck, you guys. Hope I see you when the school year starts.”

As she walked out, Yoarashi blinked. “Huh. She’s really confident that she’s getting in.”

Izuku nodded silently.

Izuku was the tenth person called. Yoarashi gave him a broad, blinding smile. “Text me, yeah? Best of luck.”

“Same to you,” Izuku said, a nervous smile pulling at his lips.

He closed the door behind him when he made it to the interview room. The man waiting for him was wearing a smart button up– and had a scar over his left eye, leaving it milky and blind.

“Midoriya,” the man greeted. “My name is Kujaku Fumio. Please take a seat.”

Izuku sat without another word, looking down at his hands. Any energy that Utsushimi and Yoarashi had given him drained out of him all at once.

It was fine. They were probably just trying to be nice, after all.

“So, Midoriya, I’ll admit, reading the reports…” Kujaku let out a harsh breath. “It sounds like this week has been one of the tougher ones we’ve seen.” 

He paused. The silence hung between them thickly.

“How would you describe your time here? Not just the drills, but… everything?” Kujaku asked.

Izuku kept his voice even as he answered. “It was… what I expected, I guess,” he said quietly. “Tiring.”

Kujaku chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Sometimes those expectations don’t quite line up with reality, though, right?” 

He leaned forward slightly. Izuku winced as he felt it, wishing that he could turn his awareness off.

“When you say ‘tiring,’ is that more physically, mentally, or both?” Kujaku asked gently.

Izuku shrugged. “Mentally, most. Physically, too, but that’s easier.”

Kujaku nodded slowly. “Mental exhaustion is tricky. Makes you want to pull back, maybe?”

Izuku didn’t respond.

“But you kept showing up,” Kujaku continued. “What was pushing you forward?”

“Same thing as everyone, I guess,” Izuku said. “I want to be a hero. So I just… kept going.”

Another silence descended. Maybe Kujaku was waiting for Izuku to say more, but Izuku kept his mouth firmly shut.

Finally, Kujaku spoke again. “Did you find any moments worth holding on to? People who made it easier, or maybe harder?”

Izuku’s breath stuttered. “I don’t know,” he breathed. “Some people were… hard to read. Some of them were scared of me. Most of them didn’t want me there.” Then, against his will, more slipped out. “I don’t blame them,” he whispered.

“That’s… quite an admission,” Kujaku said carefully. “Did you find yourself trying to change how others saw you? Or maybe… hiding parts of yourself?”

Izuku folded his arms, trying to ward off a sudden chill. “I didn’t have much choice,” he said, and he sounded tired even to himself. “I’m not good at making people comfortable.”

“Not everyone needs to be comfortable. Sometimes, showing up is enough,” Kujaku said slowly. “Did you feel like people saw you? Like you belonged?”

“Not really,” Izuku said, voice breaking slightly. He winced and cleared his throat. He shrugged. “I’m used to being the problem, though,” he said, a smile pulling at his lips. He glanced up, hoping the levity would land.

Kujaku’s expression was unreadable as he leaned back in his chair. “I see,” he said. “When you feel that way, do you ever want to fight back? Or… disappear?”

Izuku ducked his head back down, shrugging again. “Dunno. Disappearing sounds easier.”

“But you didn’t disappear,” Kujaku said gently. “And that means something.” He let out a slow breath. “Thank you, Midoriya. For being honest, even when it’s hard.”

A beat.

“Especially when it’s hard,” Kujaku added. “We’ll be in touch with your exam results by the end of the week.”

Izuku tried to smile as he stood, but it probably looked more like a grimace. “Thank you for the opportunity,” he said honestly.

Even if I blew it a hundred times over, he didn’t add.

He was face down on his bed, ignoring the world, when his mom knocked on his door.

“Izuku? Sweetheart?” she called from the other side of the door.

Izuku flopped his head to the side. “Not right now, Mom,” he called back.

The unopened letter from Ketsubutsu sat on his desk, mocking him. He glared at it.

He refused to open it until Shiketsu’s letter came in. He’d rather rip the bandaid off all at once.

“Izuku, there’s a letter for you,” his mom said.

“I know,” Izuku groaned.

He could almost feel her roll her eyes as she opened his door. “Sweetheart, there’s a letter from Shiketsu for you.”

Izuku bolted upright, dread curling in his gut. “What?” he breathed. “It shouldn’t– they said at the end of the week.”

His mom looked terribly hopeful as she extended the letter for him. “They used priority mail, sweetheart.”

Izuku flopped back onto the bed. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “They hated me so much they couldn’t even wait.”

Inko frowned. “I’ll just… place it on your desk for now,” she said gently. She quickly retreated out of the room, closing the door behind her softly.

The Live In Trial ended yesterday. He got home last night. There was no way that they had already sent him an acceptance. It was impossible.

He felt nauseous. 

Even still, he grabbed both letters with his telekinesis, depositing them into his lap as he sat back up.

He reached for Ketsubutsu’s letter first. He did alright on that exam– he needed good news to give him courage.

Applicant ID: 4347

Dear Midoriya Izuku,

We are pleased to inform you that, following your performance in the 20XX Hero Course Entrance Examination, the admissions committee has voted to extend you an offer of acceptance to Ketsubutsu Academy for the upcoming academic year.

Your test results demonstrated a high level of control, tactical instinct, and discipline under pressure. While we observed a reserved and non-confrontational demeanor, your written responses and exam scores reflected a strong internal compass and sense of responsibility.

At Ketsubutsu, we pride ourselves in offering an environment where students can continue to grow alongside peers, and we believe you would be a valuable addition to our student body.

Please find enclosed the following:

• Enrollment Confirmation Form (to be submitted by March 28th)
• Academic Calandar
• Optional Hero Equipment Registration Packet (due by April 5th)

If you have already accepted placement at another institution, we kindly ask that you notify us at your earliest convenience so your slot may be offered to another candidate on the waitlist.

Once again, congratulations on your acceptance. We look forward to the possibility of welcoming you to Ketsubutsu Academy.

With best regards,
Tachibana Kiyomi
Director of Admissions
Ketsubutsu Academy

Izuku let out a shaky breath. 

Okay. Safety net secured. He could still be a hero. 

He took a deep breath, then opened the letter from Shiketsu.

Applicant ID: 1126

Dear Midoriya Izuku,

Following a comprehensive evaluation process including written examinations, practical tactical trials, judgement simulations, and an extended live-in assessment, we are pleased to inform you that you have been offered admission to Shiketsu High School for the upcoming academic term.

Your performance throughout the rigorous stages of our entrance exam demonstrated notable intellect, ethical awareness, tactical aptitude, and a remarkable degree of resilience. The admissions committee acknowledges your potential to grow into a capable and influential hero under the guidance and curriculum offered at Shiketsu.

Please find enclosed the following documents for your review and completion:

• Enrollment Agreement
• Academic Calendar and Dormitory Move-In Schedule
• Hero Equipment Registration Packet
• Medical and Wellness Disclosure Forms

We would also like to emphasize a critical component of your enrollment:

Mandatory Mental Health and Wellness Support

As part of Shiketsu’s holistic approach to hero education, all admitted students are required to participate in ongoing mental health and wellness counseling throughout their studies. This requirement is non-negotiable and is intended to ensure you maintain optimal psychological resilience while balancing the demands of hero training. 

Upon acceptance, you will be assigned a dedicated mental health professional who will work with you to foster healthy coping strategies, emotional awareness, and sustainable heroism. This is a standard policy reflecting the academy’s commitment to nurturing not only your physical and intellectual capabilities but also your emotional well-being.

We appreciate your understanding and cooperation in this matter, and we look forward to welcoming you to Shiketsu High School.

Please return the completed forms by March 30th, 20XX. Should you have any questions, do not hesitate to contact the admissions office.

Warm regards,
Akiyama Yui
Director of Admissions
Shiketsu High School

Izuku froze, his breath catching in his throat. 

There was no way he read that correctly. Right?

He reread the letter.

Reread it again, just in case.

“MOM!” he all but screamed. Every object in his radius rattled in response.

Inko burst through the door immediately. “What happened? What’s wrong?!”

He held up the letter. “I got in,” he breathed.

She let out a relieved breath, collapsing against the doorframe slightly. “Eight million gods, help me. Izuku, could you lead with that next time?”

He winced slightly. “Sorry.” Then he shook the letter. “But I got in! To Shiketsu! I’m gonna be a hero!”