Chapter 1: The Lady Next Door
The first time Izuku met Nezuko Kamado was when he was seven years old. She wore what she was always wearing, traditional clothes from an era long past. She looked young, certainly younger than his mother, and the small pink bow in her hair that mirrored the color of her eyes made him wonder why someone at that age would be living alone.
She gave him a smile filled with teeth that caused him to hide behind his mother, who had greeted the woman with a bright smile of her own.
She had the entire house next to them for herself. Nobody else came in or out. Sometimes, around 6AM, when he was restless from the images of heroism in his mind and woke up early to watch a few more All Might clips, he could hear strange sounds coming from her home.
The sounds of flowing water and a burning sunrise on Mt. Fuji.
He always wanted to ask her, but he couldn't work up the courage. She looked nice, but his mother always said that asking personal questions was rude. So Izuku watched from afar, taking notes whenever he could discern something new.
It was five years later when he would find his answer.
She spoke in an old-fashioned way. A mix of what would count as modern and what one heard in the old samurai dramas that his mother never let him watch. It fit her.
And it was something he would get very familiar with soon enough.
"I don't get why I can't come with you," Izuku, aged twelve, muttered into the nape of his mother's neck. Her hugs were as tight as always, and yet he didn't want to let her go.
"You have school, Izuku," his mother reminded him for the twenty-fourth time. "It's only a week, too, I'll be back before you know it. Kamado-san will take care of you until next week. And if anything comes up, you can call me, right?"
His mother, always kind, was unwilling to tell him the reason for her trip but Izuku was not as gullible as she thought he was. He understood that the reason for her tight-lipped behavior was that she thought he couldn't take the truth, and yet she remained unwilling to lie.
And as he wasn't gullible and as kind as his mother, he couldn't make himself ask for a proper answer. She let go of him and he sucked a deep breath, forcing himself to smile at her as she took her bag and sat down in the taxi.
He waved her goodbye as Nezuko Kamado-san stepped up to him. She didn't put a hand on his shoulder, but the way his eyes pierced into him was something he had no trouble feeling. He sniffed, trying to keep the stinging in his eyes out by rubbing them. It helped little, crying as for the first time in twelve years he was alone.
Or perhaps not quite alone.
Nezuko bent down, taking his free hand. He didn't feel up to shrugging her off, letting her lead him to her house.
"Welcome," she eventually said, her voice low like she was talking to a startled animal. Or maybe, a voice that wasn't used to talking to people in general.
He remembered many times she only gave his mother one word answers, often so low he could not hear.
"Thank you," he mumbled in a voice even lower than hers. She didn't seem to have any troubles hearing him, though, instead giving him a small smile. "I apologize for the inconvenience."
"I volunteered," Nezuko said. "Your mother needed help."
She did. There was some bad blood between her and Auntie Mitsuki, due to the rough treatment that he had endured in school from Kacchan. Though the abrasive mother was not unwilling to accept that her son was a bully, the lack of subsequent reining in had caused sort of a falling out.
At least that was his mother's interpretations of the events. Bakugou hadn't even done as much as look into his direction since then, but that didn't stop the rest of the class from mocking him.
"Don't you have work to do?" Izuku asked. She shook her head. "I'll stay out of your way if you do, it's the least-"
She put a finger in his mouth, causing him to grow red around the ears. Less distracted by his circumstances, he looked around and saw the same thing he always saw when he came home. The rather simple hallway with stairs that led up, though the living room looked like it had been prepared as a second bedroom instead, the couch moved aside for a futon.
Izuku minded his tongue afterwards. It was Friday evening, which meant that there was no school tomorrow, which left him with nothing to do. He watched TV until it was time for dinner, and went to bed early that night.
It was dancing. Though she had a sword in hand, Izuku could not describe it as anything but dancing. At 6AM on the dot he was out and about, walking up the stairs of the house to be met not with a hall but a dojo. The windows were letting sunlight in, tinted from the outside so one could not see what was happening, but today he solved the mystery.
Nezuko's body moved with the grace and force of a flowing river, and at the tip of her sword there was water. Though her clothes seemed inadequate for the movements, she was hampered not one bit.
He had found his breath running out as he watched. As he tried to mirror that strange rhythm that she had set.
It was only when she noticed his approach that she stopped, her dance halting in a single motion and the sword's otherworldly glow vanished. She turned towards him, blinking. He released the breath he was holding. He coughed slightly.
"Is that your quirk?" he asked, unable to keep the awe from his voice. The sense of wonder that his mother had asked him to never lose. "It's… pretty."
He stumbled over his words, realizing that he had taken a few steps forward without noticing. She smiled, turning around to put the katana back into its sheath and onto the display where it hung under two papers that looked like hanafuda playing cards.
"Good morning," she eventually said. Izuku blinked back at her, his face rising to meet her eyes as she stepped up to him. "Did I wake you up?"
"No," Izuku said, shaking his head slowly. "I always wake up early."
It wasn't the entire truth, but she wasn't the reason he woke up. The unfamiliar ceiling, the unfamiliar bed, the fact that his mother was not in town. These things added up, he had troubles falling asleep, and he kept waking up repeatedly until he heard the sounds of the dance.
"I'll make some breakfast then," she said, taking his hand and leading him back down. He turned around as they walked towards the stairs, his eyes once more fixed on the katana.
"You want to ask me something," she said suddenly as they were eating. Izuku, who had previously only nibbled on the pieces of fish that she had prepared, swallowing the thing whole as if it would distract from her question. "It's fine."
"You're… not mad?" Izuku asked. His mom always told him to respect other people's privacy, so sneaking up to her dojo, for a lack of better word, felt in violation of that respect and trust. Nezuko shook her head, giving him the courage to ask. "Those sounds I kept hearing all the time, that was you practicing, right?"
"You heard them?" she asked. He tilted his head, confused at the question. "I suppose that's not impossible, but the walls are supposed to prevent that. Hmmm."
She put her chopsticks down, her plate already empty. Izuku noted that the meat she had eaten was perhaps more than a bit on the rarer side that he liked. He simply nodded in response to her question, waiting for a follow up.
"If I tell you this secret, you have to promise not to tell anyone else," Nezuko said. Soft-spoken as always, but with an edge threatening to come down and cut out his tongue if he broke such a promise. "Not even your mother."
"I promise," Izuku said. Nezuko appraised him, as if her cat-like eyes could see the honesty in his words from the way he sat. After a moment, she nodded.
"I am quirkless," she said. Izuku blinked. The silent question must have been visible in his eyes, and she nodded. "What you've seen was not a quirk, it was a style of sword fighting that my brother had taught me."
He would argue that something like that seemed ridiculous, but in a world of superpowers it was hard to find fault in the idea.
"And I'm not twenty years old," Nezuko continued unabashed, her fanged grin once more visible, gleaming in a way that made Izuku flinch. "I'm… not sure how old I am now, but back in the day, long before quirks appeared, these techniques were used to hunt demons."
Izuku swallowed. The implication of what she was saying hung in the air and came crashing down on him with a vengeance. He all but fell out of his chair, standing up quickly to assure his babysitter slash neighborhood demon that he was alright.
"D-demons?" he asked, biting his tongue. "L-like monsters? Who eat naughty children?"
"They didn't really discriminate between the bad and the good," Nezuko admitted. She stood up, grabbing the empty plates and taking them to the sink. Pulling up her sleeves, she began washing them, leaving Izuku to his thoughts.
"T-the sword techniques, if they're not a quirk," Izuku said, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Can anyone learn them?"
"I would not say anyone," Nezuko said, shaking her head. "There are people who have a certain disposition towards other styles, I know the basics of most of them but they were never made for me. The only one I have mastered is the one my brother had taught me, the one that he had learned from his master."
"How do you know which fits you?"
"I don't know," she said, smiling at him before turning back to the dishes. "It's a matter of trial and error. You need to train your body and your spirit, it's a very arduous process. Even more arduous for me, as I am not a human."
"Demons have trouble learning?" he asked, blinking. She nodded.
"Imagine what a human can do in ten years," Nezuko said, putting the now clean plates to the side to dry. "Learn any skill, whether you try to become an artist or a mason, ten years and you will be better at it. A demon, whose age is nothing but a number, they have too much time at their hands. What a human learns in a year, a demon learns in ten. What my brother learned in five years took me fifty."
It was still difficult to see her as anything but the college-aged girl next door, but the way she spoke and dressed, even the things she said, they all pointed towards the one truth. This woman was old. Old and wise.
"Can you teach me?" he asked. Almost begged. She furrowed her eyebrows, stepping around the table. "I… I want to be a hero, but someone like me without a quirk, I'm just useless-"
Her hand came up to his hair. He flinched slightly, taking note of the rather talon-like fingernails that passed near his face before her fingers began to rub his hair. She pressed down slightly, in a way that was not uncomfortable at all. Rather, it had the opposite effect, and he found himself leaning into his neighbor's touch and the comfort it brought.
"I learned this not to master it," Nezuko said. "But to pass it on. If you want to learn, I will teach you. But you must know that it will not be easy. I'm not as good a teacher as my brother was."
"I'll work hard," he said, both in promise to her and to himself. He bowed, thankful, and looked up again to find her smiling brightly. "S-sensei! Thank you."
"There's no need to thank me, this is my selfish desire to pass on what I have learned," she said, her smile brighter and more passionate than before. "You have something to protect, do you not?"
Chapter 2: The Entrance Exam
When his training started, it was a welcome distraction from the absence of his mother. It became more than that when his mother's trips became more and more frequent. Sometimes, she was gone as much as two weeks, and over the years, Izuku had found himself less and less abandoned and more understanding. She had her circumstances, but no matter what they were, she always came back.
So he stayed with Nezuko-sensei a lot. And even when his mother was in town, every evening after school was spent in that dojo. Nezuko called him unsuited for the styles that she had learned. It crushed him. But then she continued.
The reason she was so confused by him hearing and seeing the glow of the blade as she danced was because someone who had no training should not be able to see the difference between a normal sword swing and what she was doing.
His ability to do so spoke of untapped potential, she had said. He swelled with pride at her words.
But despite being unsuited to those she learned, she taught him the one that she had mastered herself. The Breath of Water was, as she put it, 'easier' than the other styles. It was very straightforward and the techniques she showed him were as impressive as they were scary.
And yet there was a difference between them. The hundreds of years of practice made her techniques look like a dance, her slender fingers holding the blade with such a grace that it made him envious and her expression being one of peace rather than the struggles he had after his hundredth swing.
And yet she taught him. She never once told him it was hopeless. She never once did call him useless. She never once doubted that he would be able to learn this and eventually his own technique.
On the day of the entrance exam, Nezuko had called him over. His mother was out of town, but by now Izuku was old enough for his mother to leave him alone. He would be in high school soon, and if his training had any part in it it would be a hero school.
"Are you sure about this?" Izuku asked, blinking at the rather large needle in her hand. He wasn't flinching as much as he used to when her nails came near his face, but it was still a rather instinctive reaction. The needle itself seemed far less threatening.
She nodded, taking his left earlobe and bringing the needle up. He shut his eyes, unwilling to watch when she would stab it in. There was barely any pain, but he still winced as the hole in his earlobe was formed. "They're meant to be worn, and I would rather you wear them than anyone else."
"Why don't you wear them?" he asked, taking the hanafuda earring she offered and looking at it. The rising sun stood atop lines on the otherwise rather plain card-like earrings. The other hole was pierced quickly, and he winced slightly less. The holes were clean and not bleeding, and the earrings fit into them without issue, though the feeling was strange.
"They wouldn't fit me," she said plainly. "Just consider them a good luck charm. The school approved of the sword, right?"
"Yes," he said, turning around to watch his reflection.
He understood the symbolism. The need to pass them on that she had described to him before. If he was more fashionable, he'd have argued that they don't quite fit with the rest of his features. The rather distinct green and black checkered kimono-like overcoat that she had made him was much less of a bother, but he could not just reject his teacher's request.
As he looked at himself in the mirror, it was not his appearance that he took note of. It was Nezuko's sad smile reflected in it as she looked at him, her hands on his head. Like she was seeing someone else. It made him feel inadequate.
And it vanished as fast as it had appeared. The sad smile turned into a genuine beaming and gleaming grin. She gave him a hug.
"Izuku Midoriya," someone shouted his name. He turned around to find Vlad King, a renowned hero with a surprisingly high popularity considering his rather non-PR-friendly quirk, giving him a once over. In his hands was a package, neatly wrapped up just as he had sent it to them. "As described in the letter, the sword is fine. As you know, laws surrounding bladed weapons are usually a bit more strict, so if you succeed we will have another talk about it."
Izuku nodded, taking the wrapped up sword from his hands. Nezuko had given him a basic one, saying that she would have something else ready for him by the time he would be starting U.A.
"Good luck, kid."
Izuku blinked, bowing to the hero, too slack-jawed to say anything. The stares of the other examinees looking towards them made a cold sweat run on his brow. But the sword in his hands washed his worries away. Unwrapping it, he took a moment to calm himself, the hand on the grip as he put the sheath at his hip and wrapped it to himself.
"A sword?" someone asked. A boy with glasses and a stern face that would fit an adult more than a teenager. "This is supposed to be a test of your quirk, to use a tool like this is inadequate as a hero."
"Tell that Snipe," Izuku muttered. The boy adjusted his glasses with one hand, frowning for a moment before nodding as he accepted the point without much fuss. "Good luck."
The boy was taken aback, though Izuku didn't know whether it was the sudden olive branch or some other reason. The rules were simple enough. Robots. Bigger ones, smaller ones, points for each of them. Present Mic was explaining a few preliminary rules.
The stern looking young man nodded at Izuku after a moment of hesitation. "To you as well."
"GO!" Present Mic shouted suddenly.
Izuku breathed.
And the world around him became nothing.
Nezuko-sensei called this state a 'zone'. A sort of philosophy. A state of mind that was necessary to achieve what she described as the 'stillness of water'. And from that stillness, there came flow. The world that was nothing dared to move, and in that movement he found weakness. A thread to follow with his blade.
Izuku opened his eyes, the blade swung. Without any conscious effort, he ended up in front of a robot as the people around him exploded into motion.
"Water Surface Slash," were the words that were set loose from his breathless lips. His lungs expanded, the breathing turned energy into reality. Water danced on top of the sword and followed his swing through one of the robots.
It was cut in half so cleanly, it took a few seconds to explode. And just like that, he was in the zone. A jump forward, into the middle of four more robots, their numbers already irrelevant to him as he made them his mark.
Flowing Dance.
And once more, the water flowed. Once more, robots exploded into sparks from cuts that came from a dance that he had seen Nezuko do a thousand times. Years of training became an instant of success-
By the time the dance was over, he had become the target of more robots. He swallowed, his breath running out, sweat on his brows. Training and actual combat were different, though Nezuko was relentless, the fact that he had to take every swing with the intent to destroy drained his stamina to a point that he was uncomfortable with.
He dodged the swipe of one of the robots. The blade of his katana was deflected, a grunt leaving his lips as he finally ran out of breath.
The zone was fleeting. He jumped up, onto the robot's shoulders and then out of the circle that had formed around him. One more deep breath. Just a few more enemies.
He landed, the Splashing Water Flow allowing him to do so within seconds and he prepared to strike-
But then the robots turned and fled. Izuku blinked, releasing the breath and looking around to find the reason. A massive robot stood above them, rushing through buildings without any concern, causing both the small robots and the aspirant students to turn about and flee.
Izuku would have mirrored them, had it not been for the girl that was unable to stand. She cried out in fright as the robot stopped above her, its fist rearing back to strike. Izuku's objective mind knew that there was no way that the school would allow someone to seriously get hurt during this, especially not by their own robots. He knew that the school employed people with healing quirks, and that outside of the testing facility they had first responders at the ready. He also knew that he could earn many more points than he already had if he just turned and destroyed the now distracted robots.
However.
He knew he couldn't let this happen.
The breath was back, for just one last moment, his eyes no doubt bloodshot from the lack of oxygen as his legs exploded into motion and sent him up and forward to meet the fist of the robot head on.
A Water Wheel? Too weak. Striking Tide? Not with his footing.
His teeth clenched, he sucked in all the air he could, his body twisting through the air as he closed his eyes.
Eighth Form.
"WATERFALL BASIN."
The words left his lips like a prayer. A vertical slash with all the power he had left, meeting the fist with green steel. The water crashed onto the fist and deflected it into a building, but Izuku wasn't done. His feet meeting the arm of the robot, he rushed down, the sword flowing like a harsh tide. The Striking Tide ripped into the metal-
By the time his feet met the ground again, and by the time he collapsed onto his knees, his lungs burning and his eyes stinging from the lack of air, the robot's arm was in tatters, slowly slipping off the massive form of the actual robot. He looked up, watching as the robot raised its other arm to finish the job.
And then a buzzer.
The robot ceased to move, and Izuku, too, ceased to resist the urge to fall apart. He collapsed onto the ground, his body twisting to the side to cough onto something else but hard pavement. The girl rushed towards him, giving him a worried look. He tried to smile and reassure her, giving her a shaky thumbs up before his vision faded to black.
'Oxygen deprivation', as the resident nurse of U.A., Recovery Girl, had told him, was not among the usual injuries that people came in with after the exam.
After a quick checkup and a perhaps slightly too moist kiss on the cheek, he was released. A feeling of dread filled him when he saw the state of his sword, broken beyond repair and falling into pieces out of his sheath.
Packaging in a way that made it look like a normal wooden training sword, he ended up leaving back home. He knew that he had to wait for the results, and he was confident about the amount of robots he had destroyed.
But that didn't make him any less nervous.
When he came home, it was to his mother and Nezuko-sensei and a large feast.
"We had the sword checked beforehand and gave it to him at the exam," Vlad King said, crossing his arms as he leaned into his chair. "It shouldn't cut clean through robots like that, which means it was his quirk, right?"
"I'm wondering," Principal Nezu said, smiling at the screen. He looked down at the files in front of him. "He registered his quirk as 'Breathing'. Sucking in air and using it to enhance his body. I took the liberty of looking his parents up and I can see the idea behind 'pulling telekinesis' and 'fire breathing' becoming something like this, and yet…"
"Enhancing his body wouldn't give the sword such a sharp edge, would it? Do you suspect foul play?"
"No," Nezu said, a small frown audible in his usually cheerful voice. "Not from someone who would go this far to help someone at their own detriment. I think he'll be someone to watch. Who wants to take him?"
Vlad King turned to his counterpart. The homeroom teacher for the future Class 1-A, Eraserhead, looked at the screen with a frown of his own.
"Can you zoom in?" Eraserhead asked eventually. Nezu did with a press on the remote. The high quality cameras across the entire testing facility were capable of resolutions that revealed more than enough for the examiners to check every little detail, down to the single hairs on people's heads.
Or in this case, the earrings that were so proudly keeping themselves attached to his earlobes despite the rapid movements and the sword swinging wildly. What had looked like the desperate moves of a child were, in the end, the savage attack of a trained swordsman, that was no doubt.
"I'll take him," Eraserhead said, eventually. Vlad King nodded, unconcerned and more than happy to give Eraserhead first pick on any students after the initial recommended students had been split up between them. "Have you ever seen earrings like that before, principal?"
Nezu looked at the zoomed in image, tilting his head slightly. "I can't say I have. Why, have you?"
"A long time ago," Eraserhead said, frowning. Unwilling to explain further, the man stood up, walking towards the door. "Anyway, just pick whoever you want and stick the rest with my class."
Chapter 3: The Nichirin Blade
The first lesson that Nezuko-sensei had given him was on the second day of his stay with her. Izuku, twelve years old and certainly not fit, was ready to be beaten into the ground and swing a sword until the skin on his hands scraped off.
Instead, Nezuko had him sit in front of her. Though he tried to imitate the seiza position that she was in, his legs fell asleep quickly, forcing him to sit cross-legged and watch her try to find the right way to start.
"My brother was kind," Nezuko said, nodding to start off. "One day, when he was gone, my family was murdered by a demon."
Izuku tried and failed to stop his expression from shifting. The horrified look in his eyes made Nezuko pause. Izuku wasn't sure what horrified him more, the fact that it happened or the way she spoke of it like a distant memory she had long since moved past.
"My brother came home," Nezuko continued. Raising her hand that shifted into a thin, beast-like appearance. Izuku shuffled back slightly. She didn't seem to mind. "He found me, alive, but changed. The demon who had killed us all turned me into one. We fought, if it can be called that, and one of the demon slayers came to take my life."
"But… you're not evil, right? Why would he want to kill you?"
"Demons are instinctual beings, our instinct is to kill and devour humans, it's something that I had to learn to suppress. The demon slayer who came by, he let me live and sent my brother to become one of them. To find the demon who turned me into this, and to find a cure."
Izuku could easily deduce that she was not cured.
"My brother was, while talented with the sword, a failure as a demon slayer. Because he had something that the others lacked. My brother was kind."
She repeated her earlier words, but this time with a gravitas that made his hair stand up on the back of his neck, a cold feeling piercing his skin and licking his bones.
"People will tell you the sword is an extension of yourself," Nezuko continued. She grabbed the sword to her side and put it in front of her. "Philosophers and warrior poets have written more words than anyone cares to read about the meaning of swordsmanship. I disagree with all of them. I think there is no meaning to taking up a sword other than to use it for its intended purpose."
"T-to kill?" Izuku asked. A sword was, after all, a weapon. He knew some heroes used them in their repertoire, just as they used guns, or as All Might used fists that could change the weather with a single swing.
"I'm not teaching you to be a swordsman," Nezuko said, putting his question aside. "Or a samurai. Or a ninja. I can't teach your kindness, because that is something you can't teach. It's something I hope you will learn on your own."
Izuku had the feeling that Nezuko-sensei's definition of 'kindness' was something far removed from his definition.
He supposed that mirroring the kindness of a man unwilling to let his sister die after she became a monster was something he would not approach with a steady hand.
"I'm not a warrior poet, or a samurai," Nezuko said. She put her hands on the sword's hilt, pulling it out in one practiced motion. "I am not a swordswoman. In the end, what I seek is not the pinnacle of excellence that defies absolute excellence. You will not seek the meaning behind the smile of Sasaki Kojiro as he was struck down by Miyamoto Musashi."
"W-what are we looking for then?" Izuku asked. He knew the stories of the cool samurai battles of centuries long passed, but the philosophy behind them always went above his head. Nezuku sensei returned the sword to the sheath with a heavy motion that made it click loudly.
"The excellence of the demon slayers is to slay demons," Nezuko said. Izuku shuddered. Is, not was. "I will teach you to slay."
She was not one of the things she mentioned, but to Izuku, it was like art. The picture of who she aspired to imitate, mastering a technique she had no interest in using to immortalize what she had lost.
"Will I ever learn how to fight like you?" he asked. Nezuko shook her head.
"No."
But that was then.
This is now.
He had passed.
The letter came not too long afterwards. All Might's booming voice of approval caused him to smile. His mother wasn't in town when it came, but Nezuko-sensei was more than happy to share his joy at the results.
The fact that he was rewarded for his natural reflex to fight off a giant robot to stop someone from being crushed to, if not death at the very least a long hospital trip, was the icing on the cake. Thirty-two villain points wasn't too bad considering the others on the rankings, forty-four hero points putting him right under an all too familiar name made him slightly smug.
Today was the first day. Orientation day, as the acceptance letter had put it, was a half-day without any normal classes, to meet and greet with the principal and homeroom teacher, as well as meet your classmates.
So as he woke up at four AM like usual for his morning workout, it was with a spring in his step that he did not have before. He hit the ground running, holding the Breath as long as possible as he jogged around the neighborhood. He came back around five, a heavy sweat on his brow. Once more, exercise was easier than actual battle. He would have to push himself further.
It was after a shower and a quick breakfast that he stepped out of the house and found Nezuko-sensei standing there with a bundled sword in hand. She smiled at him.
"Good morning," she said, waving the bundle in her hands around, her hair swinging back and forth. "I have a gift for you."
"Good morning," he responded, blinking at the bundle. She did say that she wanted to give him a proper sword, but after he had destroyed the last one he wasn't sure he should accept. Stepping up to her, he accepted the bundle and found a surprise. "Two?"
The bundle was heavier, and after shifting it around a bit he noticed that there were two sheaths hidden underneath. Two blades.
"I cleared it with the school," she said, smiling widely. "One of them is blunt, the other is sharp. You're not allowed to use the sharp one against people unless you have explicit permission, understood?"
The last word was forceful and serious. He wasn't sure whose permission, whether it was the teacher's or her's, but he never had any intention to use a sharp sword against people anyway.
He bowed, thankful.
Izuku knew nothing good was going to come from the first day. It started when he entered the hallway on the right floor and heard shouting inside the 1-A classroom. Two familiar sounding voices were going at it.
Opening the door to the room, and taking a moment to calm his nerves as most of the eyes moved towards him, Izuku stepped in to find
"Who the fuck are you even?" Bakugou asked, glaring at the stern boy from his seat. "You ain't looking like the person to tell me what to do, so fuck off."
"H-how crude," the young man said in response, raising a hand. "I am Tenya Iida, graduate of Soumei Mid!"
"I thought it smelled like snob in here," Bakugou said, dismissive of the private school's name. His eyes moved from his adversary to Izuku, moving his legs off the table to stand up and approach him. "But apparently it's just the stench of useless nerds."
"I don't know how you cheated your way in here," Bakugou said in a low voice, his face twisted in a furious expression. He took a step forward into Izuku's personal space, forcing Izuku to take a step back. Rather than meet the wall with his back, however, he met the boy head on, their foreheads almost touching as Bakugou's eyes met his. "I don't even care, you quirkless loser, but if you stand in my way to the top, I will crush you."
Izuku said nothing. There were many things he wanted to say. Bragging about his results, pointing out just how little Bakugou's pride mattered to him when it came to becoming a hero, or even just that his breath stank and that he should brush his teeth.
Before he could fall into the temptation of rising up to the provocations of his childhood bully, Tenya Iida, as he had introduced himself earlier, came up with a hand on Bakugou's shoulder to pull him back.
"You'd best not cause a disruption on the first day!" Iida's loud voice echoed. People looked away quickly when Bakugou shrugged him off, walking back to his seat with not one worry in the world.
"Ah, thank you," Izuku said, turning to Iida with a smile on his face. "We haven't seen each other in a while, it seems he still holds something of a grudge."
"You know that brute?" Iida asked. He shook his head. "Nevermind that, you shouldn't just take it standing. If you wish, we can approach administration about this matter."
"It'll be fine," Izuku said. He hoped. There was no way to spite Bakugou better than to prove him wrong about his words. "You're Iida-san, right? I heard you say your name earlier. I'm Izuku Midoriya."
"Ah, yes," Iida said, nodding and bowing in one motion. "I wanted to apologize for my words back during the exams," one hand came up to adjust his glasses, "I was losing my cool and grasping for straws. I should have realized that some quirks require external tools."
Izuku would like to say that you didn't need to use a sword for Breathing to work, but it was better to leave the impression that the swords were a necessary part to avoid questions.
"It's fine, I was on the edge as well," Izuku said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's start again from the beginning, shall we? I'm Midoriya Izuku. Please take care of me."
He raised his hand. Iida took it without hesitation, a resolute nod. A girl coughed behind him, causing them both to turn towards her. It was a familiar face, smiling at them with a brightness that was almost blinding.
"Remember me?" she asked. Izuku nodded, causing her smile to widen further. "I'm Ochako Uraraka. I wanted to thank you for saving me!"
Izuku was at a loss for words. Simply giving her a nod, he returned the introduction.
"If you're all done," a man in a sleeping bag, standing upright at the teacher's podium spoke up. The class jumped "You all got gym uniforms waiting for you. We're going to do a test."
"Aren't we going to the orientation speech?" Ochako asked. The man, who was probably their teacher, glared at her through bloodshot eyes, shutting her up. "Test. Alright, test."
In their gym uniforms, standing at one of U.A.'s many sports grounds, Izuku found himself standing in line with the rest of his classmates. Many distinct faces and a few not so distinct ones observed him after Iida had, for some reason, loudly asked if he had his sword with him.
Izuku sighed softly, taking the bundle of swords on his back off and slowly revealing them. The only person who didn't seem very interested in them was a rather flamboyant blond boy who had his own quirk-equipment with him, attached to his stomach.
Then again, Izuku knew that swords weren't the most normal equipment. As far as he knew, the number of villains to heroes who used ostensibly lethal weaponry was five to one in Musutafu alone.
The lesson that all quirks could be lethal if used inappropriately was something they would have to deal with later.
"You there," the teacher, Aizawa-sensei as he had introduced himself, pointed at Bakugou before looking down at his phone ."Katsuki Bakugou. What's your record for throwing a ball in middle school?"
"Sixty-five meters," Bakugou said, almost sounding smug. Aizawa-sensei threw a ball at him, which Bakugou caught.
"I want you to throw it as hard as you can, however you want. As long as you stay in that circle over there, you're fine."
Bakugou looked all too happy to show off. Standing in the circle, Izuku could see the small beads of sweat that gathered on the boy's hands igniting. With a far toss, and a loud shout that sounded suspiciously close to 'die!', Bakugou threw the ball a solid seven-hundred and five meters.
The other students chattered among themselves, already trying to come up with ways to beat it.
"One of those swords comes to me," Aizawa-sensei said suddenly, pointing at Izuku. Izuku blinked, looking towards the blades that he was attaching to his waist. "You know which one, don't be shy now."
Izuku nodded, removing the sharp blade with its sheath and walking up to his teacher. He took it without much fanfare, putting it next to him. "Do you want me to throw next?"
"Yes," Aizawa-sensei said, nodding. "Just as earlier, as long as you don't leave the circle or destroy the ball, you'll be fine."
Izuku nodded, pulling out the sword as he turned around. The metal gleamed white for a moment before a green sheen was coming over it. He took a breath, trying to find the zone before he entered the circle.
Suddenly, his feet left the ground. The air left his lungs. He tried to ground himself but it was impossible as something wrapped around him and turned him around to face Aizawa once more.
His teacher's eyes were glowing red. Izuku had the distinct feeling of discomfort that he used to get with Nezuko-sensei when he was younger, but the glow was more 'unnatural' than 'uncanny', leaving him to struggle against the weird bindings as he was pulled forward.
"That's not a quirk you have there, is it?" Aizawa-sensei asked, his voice so low nobody would be able to hear. Izuku cursed his indiscretion. Of course his teacher was the pro-Hero Eraserhead, the one person who would be able to check if his quirk was truly a quirk. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but failed when Aizawa-sensei continued. "But that's certainly a Nichirin blade."
Izuku swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew? If he knew, did he know about Nezuko-sensei? And if he didn't, would he try to harm her once he realizes who she was? She said that the demon slayers were all gone, that their descendants lived a life of peace-
"I-I don't know what you mean," Izuku said, trying to play dumb. "C-can you let me down? Or should I not do the test?"
Aizawa-sensei held him in place for a moment more, the glow of his eyes vanishing as Izuku was put back onto the ground. Stumbling slightly back and catching himself, Izuku held the sword away from his teacher, as if he could hide it from him still. Sighing he turned around, grabbing a ball from the many that were set aside for them.
There was a sense of urgency in his approach. He could throw it, which would certainly go far with the Breathing alone, but that wasn't the most optimal or creative way to do it. The blunt sword at his side should work.
He threw the ball straight up, pulling the sword back in one practiced motion and breathed.
Seventh Form.
He waited for the right angle, taking one step back as the sword's curve aimed forward.
Drop Ripple Thrust.
A stab.
The sword swung, the blunt tip of the blade hitting the ball with a force that caused it to explode forward. Izuku held the position, releasing the breath slowly as he watched the ball move far out of his range of vision.
A thrust faster than all the other moves he had beaten into his body. A force that reflected such.
The app on Aizawa-sensei's phone made a noise. The people turned around to see the result. Six-hundred and fifty meters on the dot.
Izuku pumped his fist, smiling. Aizawa-sensei gave an appreciative nod. The rest of the examination was relatively easy. Though he could not meet the sheer explosive speed of people like Iida and Bakugou, he ran and jumped far further than a quirkless person should be able to. With every success, his former childhood friend seemed to grow more frustrated, despite his own successes.
It was when they were all tired and half-beaten down by the demanding teacher that they were released. Izuku felt fine, however, and once more singled out. Aizawa-sensei, after dismissing all of them, called him over.
"This sword will stay at school," he said. Izuku frowned. "I cleared it with your guardian, you get to use it when I say you get to use it. You don't need something that can cut a Zero Point robot apart."
Izuku would argue he could use a kitchen knife for that if he really wanted to, and that he wasn't comfortable with his teacher keeping half of the gift that Nezuko had given him. If he had cleared it with his guardian, who by proxy should be Nezuko herself-
He nodded. "That's fine. I… wanted to ask you something, Aizawa-sensei."
"What is it, kid?"
"My master's dojo is not very large and I've noticed that I run out of stamina quickly when I have to move a lot," Izuku said. "Is there a place where I can practice on the campus?"
"Tons," Aizawa said, nodding. "I'll check with the principal, I should be able to get you a permit. Any other classmates you think might benefit from that?"
Izuku tilted his head. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."
"You saw their quirks, right? I saw your test results, I'd appreciate the insight of the person who scored a perfect written exam."
Izuku's ears went red. He hadn't actually looked at the results of those exams, as the practical ones were weighted much heavier for the entrance.
"Errr, Bakugou would be an obvious choice," Izuku said. "He needs more space than others, Todoroki-san too. But if we were talking about quirks that don't work well in small spaces, shouldn't it be the opposite?"
Aizawa grinned. Izuku didn't let that deter him.
"They should practice in places with less space and people with close-range quirks should try working in larger areas with more ground to cover to build stamina-"
Izuku blinked. Aizawa's grin widened.
"I'll be sure to let them know," Aizawa-sensei said. Izuku shrunk into himself.
Unforunately, Nezuko was not home when he came back. This would leave his questions about Aizawa-sensei's knowledge unanswered for a while longer.
One day later, Izuku was gathering his things after the last lesson of the day. They would have a heroics class tomorrow, with All Might if the rumor mill was correct, and the excitement of that made him almost shake in his seat. As the rest of the class left, and Izuku told Iida and Uraraka to go ahead without him, he appreciated the sight of the setting sun in the distance visible from the window of the classroom.
Someone still stood in the room, poorly reflected in the glass. Izuku turned around to find the tallest girl in class, Momo, looking at him. He stood up, his bag in hand, and walked up to her.
"Yaoyorozu-san, right?" Izuku asked. The girl nodded, her eyes fixed on his hands instead of his face. "Is something the matter?"
"You've been using a sword for a long time," she deduced. The calluses on his fingers would give that away to anyone, so he nodded. "Can you teach me?"
Izuku blinked, tilting his head. "I beg your pardon?"
"I mean, I'm," Momo said, fumbling with her words. Her chest puffed up for a moment as she punched the air besides her with clenched fists. "Let me try again. I'm Momo Yaoyorozu, please call me Momo. My quirk is Creation."
He nodded, remembering her impressive performance at the apprehension test.
"I'm good at making things, and I've learned a lot of fighting styles involving the staff."
"That's impressive," he said, smiling brightly. She hesitated for a moment, leaving him to continue. "It's good not to overly rely on your quirk to give you a solution, I imagine it's not healthy for your body to constantly create things, learning how to use various weapons would certainly be a boost for heroes."
Her chest puffed up again, in pride this time, and Izuku had to move his eyes away. She took the initiative to respond.
"I don't want this to sound childish," she said, biting her lips. "I was impressed by how you use your sword, I want to learn that. I'm, kind, of a fan of, it?"
The last part was mostly mumbled, but Izuku could hear it without problems. Scratching the back of his neck, he gave her a once over. He'd be the last person to tell anyone no, he was as always eager to please and more than happy to be helpful. The fact that the request came from a pretty girl around his age had nothing to do with his problem to say no.
"I'd have to ask my teacher," he said eventually. Nezuko wanted to pass on the techniques, but compared to her he was still a child when it came to the Breath of Water, and even then it might not be the style that is most fitting to Momo. "I'm not good enough to teach it myself, I think. I can show you the basics, but-"
Besides that, if she learned more, it might reveal his quirklessness. It was something he could still not say without feeling ashamed of himself. Society had beaten it into him that he was somehow inferior, like it was a disability that was his fault and deserved to be treated differently.
But she looked so serious about it. Izuku sighed, lowering his head.
"Only the basics until I ask my teacher," he said. She practically jumped up and down in the spot, happy. "Wouldn't someone from your family be able to hire a private instructor?"
"Not one like you," she said, as if that was all the answer she had to give. "Thank you, Midoriya-san."