Chapter 8: Tests and Results
Captain Eliseba Karrer was a capable leader and a hardened soldier, so when she found herself receiving orders from a meek Japanese man in a bad suit, she was tempted to feign ignorance of his language. Obviously the man was an intermediary of some kind, there was no way he was funding the kind of operation she and the rest of her soldiers had just undertaken. Still, she was a professional, and the Tower Company had a reputation to uphold after all. She took the man's directions, forming a guard with her agents as they slipped off the ramp of the freighter they had traveled to Japan on.
It was an ugly freighter, but then, they were ugly people. Not outwardly of course, no there were quite a few benefits to having a pretty face in their profession every now and then. A dangerous attitude, steely eyes, and worn but well maintained equipment was present on practically every member of the team, even if they were currently dressed as private security. The item they had killed three hapless night guards to obtain was kept in a durable cylindrical case, custom made to hold the object while in transport. It was nearly two and a half meters long, and one end bore a cap that had been screwed tightly shut the moment they had their prize in hand. Heavier than it looked, two of the mercenaries carried it into the warehouse that the intermediary had prepared ahead of time.
Inside, a space had been cleared in the middle of the floor with cargo containers and wooden crates shoved to line the walls of the room to make way for a solitary folding table that stuck out against the industrial grime and rough concrete floors. A sleek black phone sat on the table. After they set the case down, the phone began to ring, and Karrer picked it up with only a moment of hesitation.
"If you would be so good as to have your men step outside, the hand-off will be conducted with a minimum of fuss. The good Minister Eisaku will give you the second half of your payment once we have confirmed the authenticity of the item." Eliseba barked orders to her team while holding up three fingers, a sign that the mercenaries should return after three minutes if she did not signal by then. Too professional to grumble, but obviously uneasy, the soldiers filed out and took up a perimeter around the warehouse.
"My team is waiting outside, as requested," she said, her words short and clipped. She wasn't afraid, not really, but the irritation was beginning to mount. The whole operation had been a pain in the ass after all. Buffalo was an awful city, and having to put down those guards had meant more fucking paperwork once the job was concluded. Now, it seemed, her employer didn't trust her agents to maintain their discretion. She might have to have words with her CO once they were back home.
"My thanks. Please, stand back from the table," came the voice again. She did as ordered, and managed to maintain an outwardly calm expression as a black void opened up and swallowed the bag, closing a moment later. On the other side of the line there was a rustling, the sound of the cap on the end of the tube being unscrewed, and the hiss of rolled up canvas being drawn out and unfolded. There was a deep humming from the phone before the call suddenly ended. She glanced at the intermediary, who had withdrawn his own device from his pocket, glancing down at the screen before nodding and stepping up to the table with a reflective metal case in hand. He placed it down gently, undoing the clasps and opening it up to reveal the stacks of notes bound up tight inside. She smirked, examining the contents before snapping the lid shut and nodding to the intermediary, who looked relieved to be free of her presence. Not saying another word, she strode from the warehouse, her team falling in behind her and making their way to the black sedans that were waiting. In the parking lot, the intermediary was already speeding away in what looked to be a government car.
A mostly uneventful drive through the countryside saw them arriving at the temporary airfield that their employer had erected for them. Helicopters were waiting, rotors already spinning up, and as they boarded they were careful to peel the temporary markings off of the transports before the last few mercenaries embarked. The pilots were even more stoic than the mercenaries, and what conversation there was mostly centered around the seven hundred million rubles that Captain Karrer was carrying in the case. Forty miles out to sea, they touched down on the modified Mistral-class carrier that served as the Tower Company's staging ground for operations in the Pacific. Half an hour later, Captain Karrer made her report to Commander Wolfram.
Izuku was very, very tired, and also unsure of where he was. He was lying down, and whatever it was he was lying down on was soft and warm. Oh, bed , he thought. Did I sleep in through the entrance exam? He let his eyes creep open, and was greeted by the site of an unfamiliar ceiling. Ok, so, not my room. Where am I? Oh . It all came back then, Bakugo acting pleasant, the nice girl, the exam, Yuga, the zero pointer, his arm...Wincing at that he glanced down and was surprised that, save for a few faint scratches, his arm seemed to be unhurt. Flexing it experimentally, he was roused from his thoughts by a polite but insistent cough.
"So it seems you finally woke up, eh sonny?" An elderly woman in doctor's garb and a complicated looking pink helmet, walked over to his bedside. Grey hair tied up in a bun seemed to pull back at a wrinkled face that shone with motherly concern, and Izuku gasped when recognition hit.
"Ohmygosh, Recovery Girl! The youthful heroin, you're the reason UA can be as amazing as it is when it comes to training and your quirk is so cool it lets you-" A syringe shaped walking stick struck his forehead mid-ramble, and the old woman regarded him with a touch of fondness.
"All right sonny Jim, if you're well enough to be motor mouthing like that you're well enough to be up and out of my infirmary. My quirk healed you up most of the way," she poked his arm with her cane, "but you were too tired for me to finish up with the rest of the cuts and bruises so expect to be sore for another day or so. These should help with the fatigue." At that she pressed a packet of gummy bears into his hands, and began to help him up and out of the bed.
Glancing around as he got up, Izuku was impressed by how normal the infirmary seemed, noting pale mint walls and a number of informational posters hung up around the room. There were a few beds in plain view, as well as several more with the curtains drawn, and the whole room was illuminated by the early evening sunlight pouring through the massive windows at the end of the wide open space.
"Try not to be so reckless next time dearie," she said not unkindly as she escorted Izuku to the door. "And I better not be seeing you again here anytime soon, one way or the other," she opined, smirking as she shut the door in his face. Before Izuku could respond however, two person-shaped somethings ran into him from behind, and he almost fell to the floor under the combined weight.
"Izuku, you did great! That last attack, that was some POWER!" came the joyful shout of Mirio. The infirmary door suddenly slammed open again, revealing the fuming Recovery Girl who shushed them before slamming the door closed once more. Izuku turned back to his friends, a look of confusion wrinkling his features.
"M-M-Mirio-senpai? N-Nejire a-and Tamaki too? W-what are you d-d-doing here?" asked Izuku, turning to look at the older boy. Nejire was next to Mirio bouncing up and down excitedly, while over against the opposite wall Izuku spied the slouching form of Tamaki.
"Izukun, was that what you were working on all the time? How did you make those explosions? Are they made like how that angry guy's were?" Nejire was fussing about, almost distractedly, and looking him over for injuries. "Oh Izukun, your arm? Does it still hurt? Should I get some painkillers?"
"N-n-no I'm f-fine, R-R-Recovery Girl healed me up, b-but why are you a-all here?" he finally managed, the words coming out too quickly. His heart fluttered as his fingers brushed against the interface on the back of his neck, an unusual tingle running down his arm as he did so. Huh, that was new.
"We're going to be supervising as TA's this coming year," said Mirio, taking a step back. "We were allowed to watch the entrance exams so we could get an idea of how the teachers here do their grading!"
"Don't worry though," mumbled Tamaki from his slouch against the opposite wall, "we didn't do any actual judging ourselves, so whatever score you get is what you earned." Relief lit up Izuku's face when he heard that, and he found himself slightly embarrassed that his friends would know he would worry about impartiality. He trusted them, sure, but it was hard not to feel uncomfortable anyways if the people who had been training him for almost two years had been the ones scoring.
"Oh, t-that's good then," Izuku said. He paused for a moment, still playing with the interface before he looked up at the three once more. Mirio was giving him a patient smile, while Nejire was fretting over Tamaki's hair. "Do you have a-any feedback for me?" he asked, after a pause.
"That's the way!" said Mirio, perhaps a bit too loudly. All four froze as they turned to the door, behind which could be heard the sound of rapidly approaching, and very angry, shuffling footsteps and the 'tap-tap' of a cane hitting the ground with too much force. Wide eyed, all Mirio managed was a strangled, "everyone run," before they were sprinting down the hall and out the door towards the front gate, Izuku's exhaustion forgotten in an instant.
Ochaco Uraraka was feeling conflicted. While fairly certain that she had done well enough on the written exam to pass, she was worried about the practical. She had been doing very well in floating and dropping the villains, but she feared that her needing to be rescued by the boy from the entrance might cost her some points. Which, all things considered, made what she was about to try even stupider. Hesitantly, she stepped up to the office where the exam proctors were supposed to be waiting, and knocked. Not hearing a response, she pressed her ear to the door, and tried to catch any sign that the room was actually occupied. Thankfully, there was some muffled conversation coming from the other side, so she prepared to knock more forcefully when she was suddenly able to make out what was being said.
"...and though perhaps within the rules of the examination, I would be très reconnaissant if you would at least award the points for the faux villains I finished off to Midoriya-kun. I may have delivered a sparkly finish, but he was the one who did most of the work and it would be unbecoming of one who aims to be a future hero to take the credit." Could it be that someone else was trying to give up some points? The voice of Present Mic came back, much more clearly.
"Wow, I love that enthusiasm, little listener, and I'll give you an answer in a minute, but I think there's someone at the door who also wants to talk. Come in, please!" He said, his voice rising a bit at the last part. Ochaco felt her face flush as her naturally rosy cheeks darkened further, but she pushed into the room despite her embarrassment.
There was a slim young man who she recognized from her testing site in the room with Present Mic, his posture tense as he fiddled with the strange belt that hung loosely about his waist. He was looking at her curiously, one thin eyebrow raised in a silent question.
"Hey there little listener number two, what can I do ya for?" Asked the teacher, adjusting his glasses and flashing a smile as he shot the pair some finger guns.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I don't want to interrupt your conversation I just-"
"You're here to try and give someone else some of your points too, right?" smirked the hero, looking at her knowingly. She nodded to him.
"There was this nice boy, who looked really plain, but he had curly green hair, and at the end he came back to help me instead of getting more points, and I thought it wouldn't be fair if he missed out on passing because of me, so I was hoping I could...share some points...with him?" She had been fiddling with her fingers as she spoke, but now looked up, eyes filled with determination.
"Oh yeah! You both got the kind of heroic spirit I like to see! Can I get a yeah?" He gestured towards them expectantly, leaning forward with one hand cupped over his ear. The silence was deafening, and he simply shrugged at them before continuing. "Boy, this incoming class is gonna be a whole bunch of stoics; Shouta's gonna love you guys!" He winked behind his glasses, then stood back from the desk and made his way to the door
"Here's the deal kiddos, unfortunately there's no sharing points, even if you really, really want to," he said. Ochaco felt her shoulders slump at his words, crestfallen that she wouldn't be able to repay the boy's kindness. "However, you should both be happy to hear that you won't be needing to share any points with the little listener in question, oh yeah!" She glanced up at this, noticing that the skinny boy was looking at the teacher with the same confusion she was.
"What, you don't think the only thing we judge on is combat potential do you? Even if your friend didn't get enough points with the villains, there's plenty of other things we grade on that we don't tell you about," he winked at them conspiratorially before he continued, "so know that no matter how you, he, or anyone else performed, you should be proud for having made the attempt! Now, I can't tell you about his results, or yours, until the letters go out, but with heroic hearts like these, I have a good feeling about all of you." He grinned widely as he ushered them to the doors. "Hope to be seeing you kids in English class soon, oh, and make sure to catch my radio show, yeah!" With that final shout, he closed the door behind them and left the stunned pair of students alone in the hall.
The two had little time to gawk however, as the silence was interrupted by the mad tramp of fleeing students. A large blonde boy with a simple face scrunched up in good-natured concern appeared around the corner, holding onto the arm of the boy she had tried to give her points to, trailed by an energetic looking older girl and a sullen looking fourth student as well.
"Run with us if you want to live kids, Recovery Girl is pissed!" shouted the leader, rushing past. Ochaco and her companion exchanged glances, before the insistent tapping of a rapidly approaching cane shattering the tile floor spurred them to chase after the older students. Letting themselves be caught up in the madness, the group of students dashed through halls and down the stairs until they were out the front gate of UA, panting heavily and looking at each other with stupid grins.
At least I get to thank him properly now , she thought, leaning over to catch her breath. Her thoughts were interrupted however by the crackle of small explosions, and a strained shout off to her right.
"Deku!"
"Deku!" yelled Bakugo, seemingly heedless of the five other people around them as he stomped straight towards Izuku. He swallowed, looking up at his friend as Nejire moved in front of him protectively. To the surprise of all, Bakugo brushed past her as if she weren't there and grabbed Izuku by the shoulders before shaking him back and forth, though not too harshly.
"I said finish line, not fucking infirmary! The fuck were you doing that you couldn't get out at the same time as all the other extras, huh?" He was glaring at Izuku with something approaching concern, and Izuku realized in that moment that for all his bravado, Bakugo had been worried about him. Before he could reply Mirio was behind him, hand firmly on Bakugo's shoulder and a frown clouding his normally cheerful face.
"You would be wise to unhand Izuku-kun, Bakugo," he said. There wasn't any malice in his tone, but Izuku could have sworn he saw some pale lightning crackling over the older boy's hand as his grip tightened. Bakugo turned suddenly to regard him, and his eyes narrowed.
"Fuck off Tintin, you don't know the nerd like I do." He turned back to Izuku again, and he found himself swallowing at the imminent prospect of a brawl in front of UA.
"M-M-Mirio-senpai, t-this is Kacchan's w-way of being w-worried! P-please, h-he's actually b-been really nice lately, so p-please don't worry."
"Fuck you I'm always nice!" snapped Bakugo, eyeing the others warily. Clearly distrusting, Mirio shrugged and took his hand from the other boy's shoulder. Nejire still looked concerned, while the two students from the exam were awkwardly trying to engage Tamaki in conversation. Izuku sighed, and resigned himself to his fate.
"K-Kacchan, you already met them, but t-these are my senpais Mirio Togata, Nejire Hado, and Tamaki Amajiki, t-t-they're going to be third years at UA," he stammered, gesturing to each of the seniors in turn.
"A-a-and this is Aoyama Yuga, f-from my test c-center, and uh, a-a-actually I d-d-don't think I e-ever g-g-got your name," he said, hardly daring to look at Uraraka who was taking everything in stride and radiating happiness.
"Oh, I'm Ochaco Uraraka," she said, giving a small bow to each of the others in turn, "and you're Kacchan Bakugo and Deku Mirodirya, right?" Bakugo exploded.
"Oi, don't go fucking calling me Kacchan, not even the shitty nerd is allowed to call me that! And don't you go calling him Deku either, the shitnerd's name is Izuku!" Uraraka simply gave him a patient look before breaking and giggling at them all behind her hand.
"But I kind of liked the sound of 'Deku' ya know? It sort of sounds like 'you can do it' or something," she said, smiling fully again.
"Deku's fine then!" was Izuku's immediate response, eliciting a smirk from Aoyama, another small explosion from Bakugo, and a knowing look from his three older friends that saw his face turning a very deep shade of red.
After an exchange of phone numbers and Aoyama's promise to let Izuku examine his belt at a later time, the group of students made their way to the train station where they parted, each heading in different directions. The Big Three had promised to speak with Izuku soon, and had gone so far as to invite the other students along to training, although reluctantly in Bakugo's case. He had been the only one taking the same train as Izuku, and had made sure to sit next to him on the way back. The silence passed between them for a while, only being interrupted by Bakugo's curses at a businessman who happened to jostle them as he passed, and Izuku's own desperate apologies. He had missed this, he thought sadly, not sure if that said more about his lack of friends or his borderline Stockholm syndrome with the other boy.
"Deku," said Bakugo after a while, managing to adopt a quiet tone, at least by his standards. Izuku looked over to him, a questioning expression on his face. The other boy sighed heavily before he looked over to him, concern mixing with a glare, leaving his face at a confusing halfway point between emotions. Izuku giggled, which helped to resolve Bakugo's expression into one of annoyance, though a slight tug at the corner of his mouth betrayed the suppressed smile.
"I might have said sorry, about shit...but words are for fucking pussies," he huffed, turning to look at his feet. His shoulders slumped forward and his hands were buried deep in his pockets.
"Y-you never actually s-said sorry, Kacchan," he teased, giving a little smirk as he said so.
"Like I just said, words are for pussies, shitty Deku," he huffed again, a slight smirk rising to his own lips. "Actions are more important. And I already told you I was only gonna say what I said once, so don't go fishing for more." He knocked their shoulders together at the last word, though not hard enough to hurt. Izuku still flinched, and Bakugo looked down sadly. After another beat, he continued. "You're gonna be the one that pushes me to be the best, right?" He looked over to Izuku expectantly, the fire back in his eyes.
"Only if you push me too, Kacchan," said Izuku, meeting the other boy's gaze with his own determined look. He was gripping tightly to the yellow straps of his backpack, but not out of fear or anxiety, like he had in the past when Bakugo had been around. The grip was confident, his posture straight, shoulders pulled back in a way he hadn't done since the two boys had been four.
"Sure, shitnerd, I'll push you harder than Tintin and all the others combined," he dropped his gaze again, huffing. Izuku wondered if it was a way for him to release tension with all the nitroglycerin on him. "And for what it's worth, I am...sorry. I should have realized it sooner, but you never looked down on me, did you?"
"No, Kacchan, never. You were always someone I wanted to be like. That's why it hurt so bad when you…" He trailed off, unwilling to finish his sentence. He sniffed a bit, his eyes growing blurry as the tears came.
"Mom made me go to some shrink after you stood up to me," he said, so quietly Izuku thought it might have been his imagination. Bakugo continued, however. "I was so angry that night, I blew up the sofa, and she said she'd had it." He laughed at that, and Izuku felt confident enough to join him. "It didn't really click though, everything that you and Tintin and the shrink said, until the sludge fucker. I was just so fucking mad, you know?" Izuku simply shrugged at him, and he paused before he went on.
"The doc's a pain in the ass, but you...jumping in, like you did, it made sense. Fucking you, out of everyone there, after everything, still giving enough of a shit to try and...help me. I got so mad after that, mad at myself for not being strong enough, for letting you surpass me. I guess I figured out, too fucking late, that it's okay to have someone help you, if they help you to become stronger. What's the point of going to UA if I'm already the strongest right? So, I'm sorry that it took me so long to realize that, too. Fuck, this fucking sucks."
"Yeah, it fucking does," said Izuku. The look on Bakugo's face in that moment was priceless, only made better by the look he got when he extended a hand to him. "I always wanted to be friends again, Kacchan. I'm not g-gonna lie to you, though. A lot of w-what happened, it really fucking hurts. And I still don't think I t-t-trust you, not yet anyways. B-but I want to give you the chance t-to be the hero I know you can be. And, and I'm not the same as I was anymore either. So m-maybe the new me, maybe I w-want to have a friend a-and a rival in the new you." Bakugo looked at him disbelievingly, his own eyes beginning to burn as confusion and guilt and everything else passed over him.
"S-shitty Deku," he said, grasping Izuku's arm and holding it firmly and wiping his face with his free hand. "If you keep being so fucking nice to assholes who don't deserve it, you're gonna get into trouble."
"I'm always in trouble, Kacchan." They laughed at that, one soft and almost musical, the other harsh and barking. It had been years since the sound of their laughter mixing had been heard, and it felt bittersweet to both of them. Later that evening, Izuku and his mother would arrive at the Bakugo's home for a celebratory dinner, the parents of both boys confused at the reunion, but happy to be together again nonetheless.
It was a week before the letters arrived, and Bakugo had appeared at the Midoriya household in the early evening, clutching his already crumpled envelope in a death grip as he pounded on the door. Izuku had been eyeing a piece of fish apprehensively as his mother fretted over him, rushing to the door at the sound of the knocking.
"Katsuki-kun, what are you-"
"Hey Auntie the letters came!" yelled Bakugo from the doorway, holding up the letter addressed to Izuku while still not releasing his hold on his own. "It was just sitting outside on your balcony! Why the fuck didn't the postman knock, it could have blown away!"
"Katsuki! Language!" Izuku had appeared behind his mother, arms on her hips as she glowered good naturedly at Bakugou before she stepped to the side and ushered him in, affectionately patting his head as he moved to take off his shoes.
"Deku!" he yelled, eyes locking with Izuku's from his half crouch.
"Katsuki, volume!" chided Inko, though it seemed her heart wasn't in it. The dinner at the Bakugous' a week ago had been lovely, and had helped to rekindle her own friendship with Mitsuki. It was nice, she thought, that Katsuki had finally gotten over whatever it was that had been between him and her son. Hopefully he would help him gain some more confidence, though maybe at a lower register and with less vulgarity.
"Shit, sorry, auntie," he said, finally straightening up as he placed his shoes in the rack by the door. Izuku was still staring at him, and hadn't realized he had brought his chopsticks and the fish he had been having a staring match against with him. Bakugo laughed as he smacked the letter across Izuku's forehead, finally seeming to startle him into movement, and an accompanying mutter storm.
"If he didn't knock, or announce the letter, maybe that means it's bad news. Kacchan got his letter announced, and Kacchan definitely got in, so because mine didn't I probably failed. Mirio-senpai hasn't called in a week, and Mei-chan already texted that she got her acceptance to support. Maybe it's quiet because it's general studies? But, Nezu said he wanted me in management if heroics didn't work out. But then again, maybe he-" The letter smacked against his forehead again, and Bakugo was looking at him warily.
"Oi, Deku, stop freaking out and let's go open these, alright? Your room still down the hall?" he asked, pointing. Izuku nodded, moving back to the kitchen to return his chopsticks and fish to his unfinished dinner when he realized where the other boy was heading.
"W-wait, don't go in there," he said, rushing down the hall as Inko made to tidy up their dinner, a small smile playing at her lips. Bakugo had already thrown Izuku's door open, and the quiet hiss of his what the fuck Deku made her giggle a bit. So she was proud of her boy, there were worse things to be.
"Is this what you do in your free time?" asked Bakugo, mouth agape as he took in the cluttered racks of technology and sprawling wires that criss-crossed the small room like a spider's web. The old decor was still visible, underneath the mess, All Might posters and other hero decorations obscured by the mass of machinery. Amongst it all, two overstuffed bookcases were packed to bursting, all save the top shelf which contained a series of neatly arranged notebooks, as well as some drawing supplies. "Fuck Deku, I knew you were smart, but fuck."
"Good evening Izuku, young Bakugo, it is a pleasure to have company," said Lynchpin, the green circle that was his avatar pulsing as he spoke from his monitor in one corner of the bedroom. "I trust that given the timing of this visit, you both have your results from the entrance exam, yes?"
"Deku, what the fuck?"
"O-oh, t-that's Lynchpin, I m-made him as an interface f-for a search function, on a-account of it made it easier to f-find information I n-needed." His face was red, his fingers playing idly with the interface on the back of his neck as he stammered his explanation.
"I keep telling you that I have passed the Turing Test, Izuku," said the machine, pleasantly. "Mother understands this." Izuku groaned.
"Please stop calling Mei-chan that Lynchpin, it's really weird." The monitor only pulsed slightly as his computer hummed at him, noncommittally. Izuku groaned again.
"C-come on Kacchan, there's more s-space in the next room." Bakugo only nodded to him, allowing Izuku to drag his friend down to his converted workshop, though not before they heard what sounded distinctly like an electronic snigger from his room.
Once they were seated in the workshop, having had to move some boxes and spare parts to the side in order to uncover the pair of stools that Izuku knew were somewhere under the mess, they faced each other, letters pressed onto the long counter that ran the length of the room. Bakugo eyed him.
"You first, Deku," he said levelly. Izuku gave him a curious look. "C'mon nerd, we gotta know your score first so I can kick your ass with mine," he said, smirking again. Recognizing the gleam in his friend's eyes, Izuku conceded defeat and made to carefully open the letter, pausing a moment before he grabbed both ends of the envelope and pulled it apart. To both boys' surprise, a small metal disk popped out along with the actual paper letter in Izuku's hand, and a square projection lit up the wall in front of them. Suddenly, the grinning form of All Might, packed into a yellow suit and standing in front of what seemed like a game show set appeared in frame.
"This is a projection!" the image chortled, All Might taking a bow. "Sorry about the delay in you all receiving these responses, but there was much to deliberate!" To his right, Bakugo was looking confused, and suddenly, Izuku remembered that he wasn't supposed to know that All Might would be teaching at UA. "I'm in town for one reason only," grinned the hologram, striking a defiant pose, "and that is to teach at UA!" Bakugo spluttered out a cry of fuck yeah next to him, and Izuku did his best to look surprised. Suddenly a hand appeared in frame, and gestured to All Might; clearly someone off-screen was talking to him. "Hm, hurry it up? Very well then!" There was a slight cut in the video, and suddenly All Might was holding a paper in his hands as he addressed the camera once more.
"Now then, Young Midoriya I am pleased to inform you that on the written exam, you achieved a perfect score! You are one of a very few to achieve such a feat, so be sure to continue to develop that intellect of yours, young man!" Beside him, Bakugo elbowed him in the ribs, flashing him a quick thumbs up and a quiet mutter about him being a nerd. "Of course, the written exam is only half the battle, as you're well aware. And where the real meat of the challenge is, is in the practical exam!" Izuku swallowed, and Bakugo simply rolled his eyes at him.
"I'm pleased to say that you scored fairly high on villain points, though not as highly as you might have thought. Unfortunately many of the villains that you took down were not rendered completely inoperable, and other students finished the job!" The screen flashed briefly to a scene of Aoyama blasting one of Izuku's robots with his laser, and beside him, Bakugo stiffened.
"I swear to God if they don't count those points for you I'm going to blow that stupid fucking grin right off his fucking face!" he snarled. Before he could make more threats however, the holographic message continued.
"With the twenty-two villain points you amassed, you would not have passed." Izuku's head dropped, and next to him, Bakugo uttered something unmentionable. "However," crooned All Might, stretching his arms and flashing a smile, "villain points were not the only criteria being judged! Please, observe!" The screen before them flickered again, and the scene between Aoyama, Uraraka, and Present Mic played out in front of the two stunned boys. "Of course, as Present Mic said, there is no sharing of points! But, the hidden criteria of rescue points comes into play, and in a big way! A hero course that would reject those who do the right thing would be no hero course at all! And in your case, young Midoriya, the panel of judges saw fit to award you ninety-five rescue points, with thirty additional points going to young Uraraka! You should be proud, only two others have ever gotten more rescue points as long as UA has been holding this exam!" The grin and thumbs up appeared again, and Izuku felt his happy tears rolling up in as big a wave as he had ever felt.
"Young Midoriya, with a combined total of one hundred seventeen points, you not only passed the entrance exam, but placed first as well! Congratulations my boy, and welcome to UA! I'll be looking forward to seeing you in class."With that the hologram switched off, and beside him, Bakugo was already tearing into his own envelope open, another flicker of light shining up against the wall even as Bakugo muttered to the still shocked Izuku.
"Told you you'd get in, shitnerd."
"I, I, K-Kacchan, I…" he stuttered. His friend was ignoring him now though, watching intently as his own message played, congratulating him on achieving the highest villain points score in years, and awarding him second place overall with no rescue points to speak of. At ninety-two villain points, the other boy seemed pleased with himself, though Izuku was still fidgeting nervously beside him. Is this going to ruin everything again?
"Hey shithead," said Bakugo. Izuku looked over to him and managed not to flinch when he was pulled into a loose hold, Bakugos fist rubbing against his head in a soft imitation of a noogie. "I got more villain points than you, Deku!" All his fear vanished then, the worry that this would break them apart vanishing. The wave of relief was so intense that Izuku found himself laughing, and then crying, even more than he had been a moment ago.
"W-we did it K-Kacchan, we're going to UA!"
"Damn right we are shitnerd, and first place or not, I'm gonna show you just how strong I really am! And you better too, Deku!" Izuku could only nod along happily, caught up in the moment, not noticing his mother watching them from the doorway. She closed the door softly, walking into the hall and sliding slowly down the wall as she brought her hand up over her mouth, trying to stifle her own happy tears.
Chapter 9: Assessments and Experiments
"Izuku, do you have your hankie?" called Inko, clutching nervously at her hands, a small bandage wrapped around one finger from a careless cut she had made while cooking breakfast. She was proud, but nervous.
"Mhm," mumbled Izuku, pulling on his shoes. Her boy had grown up so fast. He had been so very small when she had brought him home with Hisashi. She had worried after him for years, always trying to get him to eat enough, to give that brain of his a break, and to make sure he got his vitamins. It had paid off, apparently, and her son was a young man now. Mitsuki's boy had always been taller than her little sprout, but she had seen them standing eye to eye the other day.
Looking at him now she couldn't believe he was the same child that had run after her in an All Might onesie. Who had been so heartbroken when he was diagnosed as quirkless, but who had found his spark again almost immediately. Her boy worked harder than anyone, and it was reassuring to know that he had already made friends going to his new school.
"What about the extra tissue packet?" she asked.
"Yup, I've got it! No time Mom, I've gotta hurry or Kacchan will get mad." He shrugged on his backpack and made for the door, the red tie poorly knotted and far too wide was a contrast to his increasingly lean face. She found herself wishing he had held onto his baby fat a little longer, if only so she could have pinched his cheeks easier.
"I-Izuku," she quavered. He was halfway to opening the door when he stopped and turned to stare at her, confusion evident on his face. "You look really cool Izuku. I'm so proud of you," she said, sniffling as tears rose to her eyes. She looked down, grasping her hands in front of her, and was almost bowled over by her son as he rushed to her, wrapping her in a tight embrace and a quick kiss to her forehead. She was surprised by how strong he had become, though she really shouldn't have been.
"I love you mom," he said, pulling her just a little closer. "T-thanks for never giving up on me." He let her go then, and they stood apart, eyeing each other through watery smiles. The moment was interrupted when the sound of angry crackles erupted from the gate of their apartment, and Izuku pulled his mother into another hug before making for the door, saying he would tell her all about UA when he got home. Inko sighed, straightening her cardigan and played with her hands some before she got an idea. Checking the fridge, she made a list of what she would need, and got her things. Tonight would be a katsudon night if there ever was one.
After being yelled at by Bakugo for almost being late, the pair of students had made their way to the usual train station and boarded quietly. Izuku noticed that Bakugo's uniform, unlike his own, was particularly disheveled, and the other boy had omitted a tie altogether. He decided that it would be best not to mention it, and simply enjoyed the quiet as the train rolled along, the scenery moving at a pleasant clip like someone had put a mural up on a conveyor belt. At one point, Izuku began to mutter, and it was only when the train had pulled into their station that his friend elbowed him in the ribs to get him to stop.
"Oi, Deku, come on, you're not making me late on the first day. We gotta scope out all the other extras." Izuku got up to follow as Bakugo stalked away, bag slung over one shoulder and posture hunched as they made their way out into the street, and began the short walk to UA. A flash of movement made Izuku look up, and there above him in the sky was Nejire, waving cheerily. He felt his heart melt a little bit, thinking that she had wanted to make sure he got to his first class alright. He waved back, smiling as he increased his pace to match Bakugo's. As the two neared the school, they were stopped by a familiar set of bright and sullen presences, and Mirio waved at them cheerfully while Tamaki looked at them through half lidded eyes.
"Izuku!" Mirio shouted, running over to them. Bakugo snarled at him, but Mirio simply brushed it off, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders, perhaps a bit more roughly than was necessary in Bakugo's case. "I knew you would do it, Izuku, what did I tell you? You showed them your," Izuku tensed, readying himself as he saw Mirio take up his stance. Izuku matched his movement beside him, and together they threw their heads back, fists raised and chorused, "POWER!" as loud as they could. Bakugo looked at him and made a little choking sound before shrugging away and grumbling something about not being late because of shitty upperclassmen. Izuku simply laughed, and let him go on his way.
"Told you you'd be fine," snorted Tamaki appearing near Mirio's side, already seeming more relaxed without the other boy's angry presence. Nejire floated over and bopped Mirio lightly on the head while giggling. Falling into step with his upperclassmen, Izuku let himself be steered through the halls of UA, passing a number of students who would wave cheerily and shout greetings at the Big Three.
After what seemed like far too long, the four arrived at the massive door labelled '1-A' and Izuku felt his heart beat slightly faster at the sight. His guardians left him then, two running and one slinking down the hallway with final shouts of encouragement as he steeled himself to open the door.
The first thing he noticed was Bakugo, feet raised onto his desk and reclining in his seat, seemingly being scolded by the engine kid from the entrance exam. At least his attention was on someone else , he thought as he tried to slide through the door along the wall of the classroom.
"Deku-kun!" came the bright shout from behind him, a beaming Uraraka standing in the open doorway. She looks really cute in that uniform , his treacherous mind supplied, and he shook himself as the blush rushed to his cheeks. "I knew you'd get in when I saw your name on my letter, but first place! That's so cool Deku-kun. Ooh, what do you think we'll do today? There's the opening ceremony and guidance counseling, and all sorts of stuff!" Izuku tried to cover his ever reddening face with his arms as Uraraka continued seemingly heedless of his state of embarrassment.
"If you're here to socialize then get out. This is the hero course," a man with worn features and dead eyes opined from the floor. He was wrapped in a neon yellow sleeping bag which revealed just enough of his face to justify the description of haggard; black hair fell messily over his eyes, and his five o' clock shadow seemed nearer to six or even seven. He lazily sucked at a juice pouch before unzipping his bag and standing up.
"I'm Shouta Aizawa, your homeroom teacher. You all take too long to settle down, we'll have to work on that. Put on gym clothes, there's a pair for each of you in the locker rooms, and meet me at ground beta." No one moved, so he fixed the entire class with a look of deadly intent and growled out, "now." At that, everyone made for the door, faces Izuku knew being jostled by those he didn't as they made their way to the locker rooms.
Izuku wasn't sure how he was the first to arrive, maybe it was because he didn't like the way the engine guy had been looking at him, but he had apparently been the quickest to change and get onto the field. He also didn't like the look Aizawa-sensei seemed to be giving him, and withered a bit under his teacher's glare. Thankfully, Bakugo was soon to follow him, standing beside him with his arms crossed as the rest of the class trickled out.
"All right, today I'll have you doing a quirk apprehension test," said Aizawa, looking somewhere into the middle distance over his students' heads. Izuku paled a little at that, feeling naked without his support gear. He fumbled absentmindedly with his interface, missing the comfort of metal around his limbs.
"Sir, what about the entrance ceremony or guidance sessions?" Uraraka quipped from his right. There was a small chorus of agreement from behind him, but Izuku tensed when he saw the look that crossed Aizawa's face.
"Those things are a waste of time, and time is limited if you want to become heroes." He strode away from the group before looking back over his shoulder at them. "UA is known for having a freestyle system of education, which extends down to the level of individual teachers." He paced over to a specific spot on the field where a circle had been inlaid in the dirt in some kind of white plastic and faced them all fully, hands on his hips.
"You all did your standard no-quirks gym tests in middle school correct? Hmph, this country still insists on acting like nothing has changed, procrastinators, the lot of them. Bakugo," he barked, meeting Kacchan glare for glare. "How far could you throw a softball in middle school?"
"Why the fuck would I remember? Something like seventy meters." He exploded. Aizawa looked unimpressed but nevertheless tossed a ball to him. It had a metal band around it that featured a blinking light, but was otherwise unremarkable.
"Fine, now do it with your quirk. I don't care as long as you don't leave the circle." Bakugo simply huffed, stretching and winding up a pitch as his hands began to spark in anticipation. When his arm reached the tip of its arc, his palm ignited in a flash, and he screamed wordlessly as the ball sailed into the air, a small shock-wave blowing back his and his classmates' hair.
"705 meters. Hmm. It's important to know your limits, where you're starting from, if you want to find out logically what kind of heroes you will be." There were a few murmurs of excitement through the students then, and someone said something that made the teacher's face darken as he looked up at them through his messy black hair. "Think it'll all be fun and games, huh? With only three years to become heroes, you can't have that kind of attitude. Whoever comes in last across all eight events has no potential, and will be expelled at the end of class. Welcome to the hero course."
Izuku, for all his mind was eager to throw losing scenarios at him, was not panicking. He had thankfully already begun to analyze a number of his classmates, and was confident that at least a few of them would be unable to utilize their quirks in the same manner as Bakugo had. One girl simply seemed to be invisible, if the floating gym uniform was any indication, and another seemed to be sporting elongated earlobes. He was careful not to dismiss people out of hand however, as he knew his own physical conditioning had left him deceptively strong despite appearances. Granted, he wasn't the smallest or the leanest in class, by far at this point, but even so he found himself thinking that there were hidden strengths before him that he couldn't quite parse out.
"Hmph, let's go show these extras who it is that's gonna be in charge around here, Deku!" smirked Bakugo as he brushed past him. Izuku smiled grimly to himself, but there was something else nagging at the back of his mind. Shrugging it off, he made his way forward and let his thoughts begin to wander, as they sometimes did when he exerted himself. He found he was thinking about Aoyama's focusing belt and how he'd fare without it when the boy in questions stepped into his field of view.
With a sudden jerk he realized that the boy was indeed wearing the belt currently, despite it being a support item. As the gathered students waited uncertainly for their turns at the fifty meter dash, Izuku sidled over to the other boy.
"Hey, Aoyama-kun, do you have a moment?" he asked, careful not to catch another glare from Aizawa. The boy smiled at him, and held up his finger with a sparkle. Izuku wondered idly if that was a part of his quirk, but shook himself and drove onward. "How come you're allowed to have your support item with you? I wasn't able to bring any of my gear."
"Oh, Midoriya-kun, that is tres malchanceux, but you simply need to fill out a special request form and file it with the principal justifying why you require it, and the school will allow you to use it even when not in costume. It is very handy, no?" he smiled, and Izuku nodded his thanks just as he and Bakugo were called forward. It was the fifty meter dash which he unfortunately knew he had no chance of taking first in, no matter how fit he was.
He was lucky that Bakugo aimed his hands away from him as his friend blasted forward, seemingly flying with a series of small explosions and earning an impressive time of 4.13 seconds. Izuku managed 5.2 seconds at a dead sprint, his time running on and around the beach with Mirio and the others helping immensely.
As it turned out, his time was better than even some of those who were able to use their quirks to aid them, and he gave Aoyama a sheepish grin when the other boy made a time of 5.51 seconds. He had to admit however, the way he had used his laser to propel himself backwards had been clever, and Izuku found himself trying to come up with gear designs that could disperse the laser around the other boy's body for better propulsion.
The other events passed relatively quickly once his anticipation began to fade, though the nagging feeling was certainly still hounding him as they went through the exercises. He had done adequately in the grip strength test, but knew he could have done much better with his gauntlets. Quietly, he cursed himself for not having the foresight to have thought of requesting permanent access to at least some of his gear.
The standing long jump was comparatively easy, given his gymnastics experience, but again he found himself outdone by a good number of his classmates, Both Bakugo, who cleared the pit, and Uraraka who also managed to jump the entire thing and went on for quite some distance, had given him concerned looks. On the repeated side steps, his natural agility once again saw him performing well above the median, but he was truly blown away by a smaller boy's incredible speed as he bounced back and forth between the two pillars he had seemingly created from the orbs that made up his hair. At the sit-ups, he was one of the top performers, and likewise was able to reach almost as far as a disconcertingly pink girl in the seated toe-touch. He smirked at that, thanking his younger self for taking the gymnastics classes.
His softball throw was nothing special either, but still further than those who couldn't make good use of their quirks. One boy, who seemed to have the ability to turn into living stone, had come up shorter than his throw even when he had used his quirk to strike the ball with his arm like a bat. Izuku frowned at that, thinking that perhaps being quirkless had its own blessing in not becoming too reliant on a single gimmick. Still, when it came to the distance run, he couldn't help but be a little jealous as a tall girl with a dark ponytail seemingly produced an electric bicycle from her skin and rode around the track looking very pleased with herself.
If she could make any kind of matter at will, Izuku thought, he would have to ask her for her help in acquiring some materials he wanted for his next armor designs. Panting, he finally dropped, only then realizing that he and the cyclist were the only ones left in contention. Smiling, he stayed where he was for a moment before the shuffling of his nearby classmates caused him to rise with a groan and head over to where Aizawa was standing.
Gathered under an electronic scoreboard, Izuku thought he felt a sense of shared dread from the other students, with the exception of Bakugo. While he knew that both of them, as well as Uraraka and likely Aoyama would be safe from expulsion, he couldn't help but be sad that one of his potential classmates would be having their dreams crushed. Much like his own had been after his diagnosis, he remembered grimly.
At the thought, he felt his guts twist, and the hole in his heart clenched uncomfortably, tauntingly asking if any of those scoring below him even deserved to be present, their quirks having not accounted for much when they hadn't bothered to train their bodies like he had. He shook himself from that train of thought, guilt rising up, but then another sensation replaced it. Anger?
No, he wasn't angry, but for him the sensation was a cousin to anger, and one he felt very rarely. Ah, confusion. Why was he confused though? Almost everything made sense to him, so long as he could follow the logic of it - there it was! The reason that he was confused, because suddenly, he could recognize the man before him.
"Moving on," said Aizawa, holding up a remote and allowing the screen to begin flashing as the scores and placements came in. "Your scores today reflect your performance in each of the events. Explaining how this is calculated would be a waste of time, so just accept your final rankings." He stopped, at that, waiting for the board to finish populating itself, an evil smirk rising to his lips. Izuku was, it seemed, comfortably in the middle of the pack, but at the bottom of the list was the name Mineta Minoru. Apparently this was the boy who had performed so well during the repeated side steps event, if the welling tears in his eyes were any indication. Izuku felt himself bristle, and uncharacteristically, spoke out.
"Aizawa-sensei!" he called, moving in front of the other students to stare at his teacher. The man simply huffed at him, rolling his eyes before answering.
"Midoriya, you're not anywhere near the expulsion threshold, what is this about?"
"Your test is illogical!" There were a few gasps behind him, and the crackle of tiny explosions. Oh boy, Bakugo was gonna be pissed at him later. Nevertheless, he stood with his fists at his side, eyes defiant as he met those of his teacher. Without the goggles he was hard to recognize at first, especially since the old posters and videos he had seen of the pro had him clean shaven. Still, there was no mistaking him now. "These physical assessments hardly correspond to determining one's worth as a hero," he said, voice returned to normal volume now.
"M-Mineta may n-not have the best quirk for t-these kinds of tests," he began, more unsure of himself now. "But that doesn't mean he's not suited to be a hero. Even the e-entrance exam is illogical, considering that robots can't always be dealt with like a villain." Aizawa was staring at him now, something like a smirk crossing his face. Izuku dared to hope he wasn't too far out of line.
"Okay problem child," he said after a moment, the flicker of expression gone again and replaced by the carefully neutral facade. "Demonstrate the failure of the logic and no one is expelled. Fail to do so, and both Mineta and you are expelled." Izuku gulped and beside him, Mineta wailed. Bakugo screamed something that sounded like 'stupid fucking Deku' in the distance but he wasn't hearing him. Instead, his mind was racing through options, rhetorical strategies, logic models, his own hastily drawn profile of his teacher, and his more careful consideration of Eraserhead. Ah, that was it.
"Aizawa-sensei, if it w-was you at the e-entrance exam, or you taking this test, you would have probably been in a similar p-position to Mineta. But you're a pro t-today, and you're one of the top underground heroes, Eraserhead. W-why would you make a test that doesn't take skill into account when you yourself rely on skill m-more than your quirk?" He let out a breath at the end, praying that it would be enough to convince his teacher. Izuku really hoped he hadn't just thrown away his chances on a stupid impulse. Meeting Aizawa's eyes, he thought he saw a flicker of amusement again.
"Fine, problem child, Mineta is off the chopping block. You, on the other hand, now have to prove to me that skill is important enough to be tested when establishing your baselines. Especially since you don't have a quirk for me to test." There was another gasp among the assembled students, and Izuku paled, hoping to have been able to have kept that secret for a little while longer before the judgement started. "So," Aizawa said, turning to glare at the rest of the class, "which of you thinks you can fight?" A number of hands went up, more than Izuku was expecting.
"How many of you have formal training?" Hands dropped until only Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, Iida, and one other remained. Smiling, Aizawa called on the last student and led Ojiro up to the dirt circle where he had directed Midoriya.
Even as Ojiro squared off opposite him, Izuku wasn't nervous. Professor Terri had made it quite clear that his training would not be suitable for one on one engagements with well trained fighters, which was why he had also been taking classes in muay thai. Still, Ojiro seemed to be much more proficient in terms of regulated fighting, if his movements and mannerisms were anything to go by. The tail would also be tricky to work around, and Izuku wondered if the other boy had received any specialized training in incorporating it into his style of combat.
"Ojiro, Midoriya, if either of you hold back I will expel you, am I clear?" The boys both nodded to their teacher, who was standing in front of the others with his arms crossed. "Ojiro, in what schools and at what level of proficiency are you at?" Ojiro turned to face their teacher, still keeping one eye on Izuku, before he spoke.
"I hold black belts in taekwondo, aikido, karate, and Brazilian jiu-jitsu, sensei, all second degree." He returned his attention to Izuku then, looking over the smaller boy appraisingly, but not dismissively. He was grateful for that at least, as he already felt the pitying looks boring into him from his other classmates.
"Midoriya?"
"Black belt second dan, krav maga, and uh, well there's not really belts at my gym, but I would say the equivalent of a red belt in muay thai," he admitted, once again rubbing at the back of his neck. It seemed he would have to thank Professor Terri for pushing him to branch out, though he wished his instructor had done so sooner. This fight would be rough.
"Fine then, full contact, I trust you both know how to avoid permanent damage. Five minutes or until someone taps, or is unconscious, and I told you already not to hold back or else. You wanted to demonstrate the importance of skill Midoriya, well, do it and earn your spot here, or you're out." With that, Aizawa stepped back and the other students moved back with him. Someone, likely Kaminari, snickered, while Mineta looked like he was close to tears again. Tensely, Ojiro bowed to Izuku, who had walked forward to meet him in the middle, hand out and waiting for the tap. Realizing his mistake, he backed up and offered a stiff bow to the other, who seemed good-natured enough to overlook it. Then, they crossed the distance.
Izuku stepped into the swing, one arm up slamming into the hit, a moment of hesitation at the contact, then he jerked his knee into Ojiro's chest. Too slow, the other boy was dodging back nimbly as he spun into a kick, his leg snapping into the side of Izuku's head with an unexpected power behind it. He reeled, the impact smarting, but he had gotten used to the pain of a spar long ago. His own hand struck out for Ojiro, the jab finding its way through the guard like a snake slipping through a fence, letting him land a satisfying hit against his throat. Izuku saw the surprise on the other boy's face as he sucked in a shaky breath. They separated momentarily, re-establishing the distance between them.
"That was super unmanly," shouted someone, Kirishima if Izuku was remembering correctly. He heard something like a snort from Aizawa, and only half listened as he spoke about how villains wouldn't hold back, and what their goals in combat as heroes should be. He almost sounded approving, and that brought a snort from Izuku as well. Apparently that was the wrong thing to do as Ojiro suddenly charged him.
They crashed to the ground, Ojiro going for a hold that Izuku recognized. Their arms came together as they fought for control, though Ojiro was the stronger of the two, if only by a little. Izuku swore as they struggled back and forth, flipping over and over as each found the other blocking their movements. Suddenly, their balance shifted, and Ojiro was behind him, arm coming up towards his neck. Izuku turned his head, ducking his chin into his shoulder to prevent his windpipe from being cut off in a choke, and brought back his elbow.
His arm was batted away by a wall of muscle that could only have been the other boy's tail, as his free arm hooked up under Izuku's shoulder to give a better grip. Izuku did the only thing he could think of then. His leg came up behind him, a momentary slip in position had given him an opening, and he felt his heel slam into something delicate as the hold was released. There was a chorus of sympathetic 'oohs' and hisses behind them.
Izuku rolled away, springing to his feet and dropping into a loose stance as Ojiro recovered remarkably quickly for someone who had just had a terrible wrong done to them. He didn't seem angry so much as surprised, and Izuku hoped that the other boy would forgive him afterwards. He could probably learn a lot from him, all things considered.
Fully recovered, Ojiro came at him again, more deliberate in his strikes, a touch more careful in his guards. He was using his tail to his full advantage, and more than once it connected hard enough for Izuku's vision to darken at the edges. He got more than a few hits in as well, quick, painful strikes that forced Ojiro back whenever they landed. His form, unlike the other boy's, was ugly he knew, but at least it seemed effective enough as a deterrent. They separated, each panting as they regarded the other warily. A bruise was blossoming over Izuku's face, but he had given Ojiro a split lip and a shallow cut on one of his arms in turn. They rushed together again, fists and knees snapping back and forth, neither willing to give in.
"Time," Aizawa said, dismissively. "Midoriya, Ojiro, you're both staying. And for the record, no one was going to be expelled, it was a logical ruse to bring out the best performance in each of you." He was grinning at them with this admission, and Izuku found himself collapsing into the dirt with laughter while Ojiro just looked at him incredulously. The others didn't quite seem to know what to make of this development, despite Yaoyorozu opining something about the deception being obvious.
Secretly, Izuku suspected that the ruse had only been invented after the spar as a cover for Aizawa's pride, but he was glad nonetheless. Ojiro helped him to his feet, and he walked along behind the other boy as they made their way to the lockers, discussing where each had trained and the possibility of practicing together. It was pleasant conversation, and not once did Izuku feel anything approaching pity or contempt coming from him over his quirklessness.
The boys were gathered in the locker room, all in various states of undress as they changed back into their normal uniforms, some more battered from the test than others. Bakugo had been simmering, raging alternately at himself for not coming in first and then at Izuku for picking a fight with their teacher when he hadn't even been up for expulsion. Izuku shrank back into the yelling, but the others seemed content to let their fiery classmate scream some sense into him, at least, until he fell against the wall and brought down a nondescript poster which had been pinned there. Amidst the concerned and amused gazes, Izuku felt himself redden as Bakugo helped him back to his feet, still grumbling, when Kaminari noticed what had been uncovered.
"Uh, guys, is that…" he said, pointing to the small hole that had been hidden behind the poster. Several jaws dropped as the realization sunk in. The wall in question was the one that divided their locker room from the girls' own. There was something of a riot then, several voices yelling out in disagreement over what to do about the peephole when a small, trembling figure marched over to the wall. His lips quivering and eyes watering, Mineta turned to the others.
"A gift from our upperclassmen," he breathed, face wracked in conflict. He stepped up to the hole, and Iida rushed to stop him, screaming about privacy, but all Mineta did was pull a grape from his head and jam it into the hole as hard as he could. There was a gasp, and Kaminari ran over to the smaller boy, shaking him by the shoulders.
"Mineta, Mineta! What happened! Are you OK? Speak to me you little pervert!" Mineta simply stared at him blankly, before reaching up and grabbing Kaminari's hands and lifting them off his shoulder. He turned, and locked eyes with the still-baffled Izuku, who was staring at him quizzically but not disapprovingly.
"Midoriya stuck up for me today, and nobody ever s-stuck up for me before," he said, each word sounding like it was causing him physical pain. "I, if I want to b-be here, then I've got to be someone worth sticking up for. Yeah, I'm a pervert," he said, looking back to Kaminari, "b-but only by consent. So yeah, new school, new me!" He broke fully into tears then, mumbling something about floating underwear and Momo's curves, causing the spell to break as the others descended into nervous laughter. Even Bakugo joined in, Izuku noticed, and from the other side of the wall a shout of 'Thanks guys!' was audible.
"I'll tell Cementoss-sensei about the hole after class and he can patch it up later," offered Kirishima, his toothy smile on full display as he flashed a thumbs up. They all finished dressing quickly after that, returning to class and going over the syllabus without Aizawa present. He had apparently decided that his sleep was a more pressing matter than his students' comprehension of their syllabus, so they spent the majority of the rest of their time introducing themselves to each other properly.
Mirio and Nejire appeared in the door as the bell rang at the end of the day, with Tamaki and Mei conspicuously absent. They had apparently been sequestered in the support lab owing to a particularly explosive invention of Mei's that had left them covered in something unpleasant, but the remaining two grabbed Izuku while bombarding him with questions about his first day. Uraraka and Bakugo ran after them, a noticeably flustered Iida and Kirishima following close behind, and all things considered, Izuku wouldn't have traded any of it for anything.
Tomura was unfortunately restless, meaning that Dr. Tsubasa was finding his work continuously interrupted by petulant outbursts and casual disintegrations. He sighed heavily as subject D-46 regenerated an arm that had moments before been turned to ash, the crumpled remains littering the floor of his once clean operating theatre.
"I do wish that you might allow the specimen to conserve its energy, young master," he breathed, not looking up from the injection site where he was carefully administering the last round of mutagens necessary for the implantation of another quirk. The broken black skin of the construct's massively augmented right arm was turning a deep red around the needle, spreading out in cracks that were reminiscent of broken glass. Tsubasa reached for his clipboard and began taking notes as the young man across from him scratched futilely at his neck.
"Sensei says I can do what I want with my toys," he began, his agitated red gaze practically scorching the surface of Dr. Tsubasa's curious goggles under its intensity. The doctor paid him no mind, and continued writing until the reaction stopped. Finally, he looked over to Shigaraki.
"But of course, young master, neither your Sensei nor I would forbid you from handling your...toys how you would like. Think of it as a suggestion as to how you might keep your toys from breaking before you'd like them to, that's all." The look of malice didn't change, and Tsubasa knew he would already be stuck dusting for ten minutes to get the ashes out of his floor with what had already been decayed. He tried another track. "If you find this particular subject not engaging enough, I believe Kurogiri said he had managed to find the proper adapter for that project of yours." Shigaraki relaxed almost instantly, his hands coming to his side as he looked towards the door excitedly.
"Finally, finally, I can do something fun around here," he grumbled, pushing through the door and down the hall. Tsubasa relaxed somewhat at his exit, but immediately snapped to attention as the TV in the corner, one of the many scattered through the facility, crackled to life. The familiar silhouette of Master appeared a moment later.
"I trust you are making progress with the subject, doctor?" The faint sounds of medical machinery, pumps, drips, compressors, and every other device the doctor could put to use accompanied the low drone of his master. It was unnerving, still, to know that a creature so unimaginably powerful as him was still beholden to the facts of biology. He shuddered imperceptibly before turning and facing the monitor to deliver his latest results. Before he could begin however, the shadow of his master's hand appeared in frame, indicating that he had more to say.
"The inflammation around the injection site you observed a few moments ago is a development we shall pursue more closely. It may prove indicative of the upper physical limit in a subject's ability to handle quirks. What concerns me at present is the subject's cognitive functions. Are the high-end production models proceeding on schedule?"
"Yes, Master," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "I believe the first high-end should be ready for deployment by the end of the year if not sooner, but even some of the mass production nomu seem to be capable of simple decision making and basic cognitive programming. While D-46 is more standard in that it can only respond to commands issued verbally, subjects D-47 and D-48 have shown basic object recognition and the ability to make simple improvisations to general commands, without requiring any direct intervention."
"Hmm, this is an interesting development in the prototype series. I trust the augmentation for the front-line prototype is also on schedule?" Tsubasa swallowed at the thought, but managed to reply evenly.
"We remain on schedule for the prototype's biological augmentation yes, but as I understand the issue, there is some difficulty being encountered with the machining of a number of the cybernetics. Depending on the speed with which they can-"
"Thank you, doctor," Master interrupted, his tone light. "I will of course seek to remedy any problems that may arise with the workshops in question, personally. You will have your parts on time." Tsubasa nodded gratefully, hoping that Master would consider this matter more pressing than anything else he might have wanted to say. His luck, however, was not feeling generous at the moment. "There is one other matter, doctor. Some years ago, after an acquisition, I requested that you monitor the development of one of our donors. I would like any updates you might have on the boy in question, Izuku Midoriya I believe it was." Tsubasa paled, but nodded to the screen.
"I will have to retrieve his file, Master, and then can have it sent over for your review at your earliest convenience. It should only be a day before I can retrieve his old records and incorporate them into any new ones. Where should I put this in my list of priorities, sir?" Master hummed thoughtfully.
"Finish working on D-46 then proceed with the files; hopefully by then I will have convinced our partners to advance the timetable for the delivery of those augmentations. I'll be in contact soon, doctor." The silhouette inclined its head slightly as the screen clicked off, and Tsubasa found himself alone again with the nomu and his own rabbiting heart. Master had become interested in the boy, and with the latest updates to his medical record there was no way he could hide the physiological changes he was undergoing. He had to think of something, and quickly. In that moment though, the only thought that would come to him was, Shit!