Two years on.
Junior high school was different to elementary school. The uniforms were more formal, and the teachers were more serious. The environment suited Takeru much more. He had surprised himself with his own enthusiasm towards learning.
Classwork provided an opportunity for him to express thoughts and feelings in an adult way. He hadn't realised how desperate he was for a more mature environment until he arrived at junior high.
The effects of his quirk had a way of seeping into every aspect of his life. Until arriving at junior high, his intelligence had never once been remotely challenged. Now, with teachers that recognised his potential, he was finally being pushed.
As with every stimulus, his quirk quickly began to respond. He noticed his information recall improving daily, and his ability to plan and think ahead were improving as well. He firmly occupied the number one position in class tests.
The Tanaka's had always known that Takeru was intelligent. When glowing report cards began to come in, they finally felt that the world was seeing what they always had. Parent-teacher days were a time of great pride for the Tanaka family.
The majority of children dreamed of becoming heroes. At the age of eleven or twelve, the newcomers to junior high were gradually coming to understand that not all dreams could come true.
The junior high teachers encouraged the children to plan ahead. After junior high, the majority of them would enter high school and further their education. This was the standard route, it was the realistic path for them. Slowly, their dreams of becoming famous heroes, would become dreams of being skilled doctors or respected academics.
This was the case for 99% of the children. Most quirks simply weren't suited for heroics.
But some children were different. And in a world where heroes held just as much power as elected officials, the children with potential to go professional, needed a different kind of guidance.
"Mrs and Mr Tanaka, welcome, please sit down."
Takeru's homeroom teacher was a middle-aged man with grey hair and a kind face. He stood up and ushered Takeru's parents into the classroom. The school day had already finished. The only children left were those participating in extracurricular clubs.
Takeru was already sat in the front row of the classroom. He smiled at his parents as they entered. Aiko and Sora felt a strange sense of time running in reverse as they sat down in the front row next to their son. Now they weren't students, they were parents.
Takeru's homeroom teacher smiled and cleared his throat. He held a stack of report cards in his hand which he spread across the desk. All of them detailed top grades and merits for Takeru's classwork.
The homeroom teacher, Takumi, announced happily, "You both have a wonderful son. He is truly a delight to teach! Polite, respectful, intelligent, the kind of student every teacher dreams of!"
Sora and Aiko looked from one another, then to Takumi and smiled, "Thank you Mr Ishikawa, it's so wonderful to hear Takeru is doing well in class."
Takumi nodded and smiled. The sound of a baseball bat striking a ball outside the window caught his attention. He turned his head and looked out. On the field below, students cheered as the ball soared through the air.
Takumi turned back to the Tanaka family. He tapped the desk, "But I didn't ask you here to discuss Takeru's academic progress, as wonderful as it may be."
Aiko frowned. She'd gotten used to hearing compliments from Takeru's teachers. The thought that he might've done something wrong felt wrong and unnatural.
Takumi hurriedly raised his hands. He smiled awkardly, "Ah, please, my mistake, your son hasn't done anything wrong!"
Aiko and Sora's frowns relaxed. The worry they'd felt was immediately replaced by curiosity.
Takumi reached into a drawer in his desk. He pulled out a stack of papers. The Tanaka parents watched the papers slide across the desk towards them.
"Your son, Mrs and Mr Tanaka, is scoring in the top 1 percentile of the school. With progress like this, he could enter any high school he wants in a few years time." Mr Takumi paused.
He tapped the desk again, "There's something else also to be considered. Takeru's quirk."
"The school has a programme to support students considering careers in professional heroes. We believe that Takeru is more than eligible for the programme."
The Tanaka's looked to their son. Aiko gently squeezed Takeru's shoulder. She smiled lovingly at him, "Would you like that honey?"
The Tanaka family were a small and closely-knit group. The existence of All For One in his memories from his previous life prevented Takeru from telling them exactly what his quirk was, but they'd seen first hand who strong and durable he was.
The risk of All For One swooping in to kidnap a child who's quirk might hold enormous potential wasn't one he was willing to take. He didn't feel any guilt hiding the full truth of his quirk from his parents. It was for their safety as well as his own.
Even if it's dangerous, I can't be content with staying ordinary in a world that's so extraordinary.
Takeru's fists clenched slightly. The usual tranquilty in his eyes hardened into a determined resolve, "Yes, I'd like to join the programme."
The programme started the next day. Takeru was immediately taken-aback by the resources that the school had access to.
The fitness area for students enrolled on the preparatory-hero training programme wasn't like the regular school gym. The barbells were designed to bear hundreds of kilograms of weight. The programme gathered the students with the most powerful quirks and gave them a place to train both their physical and technical abilities.
The programme was about more than quirk development. All High Schools that offered professional hero certification and training required a written test as a condition for entry. It would be embarassing for a potential hero school applicant to be denied entry on the basis of failing the theoretical portion of the exam.
"Come on, hit me! You don't have enough hairs on your chest to hurt me! I said, hit me!" The combat coach hired by the school slammed his gloves together. The impact produced a loud explosion and swept up the dust from the corners of the room.
Takeru stood in the ring opposite the coach. His eyes were fiery and his hands were raised high in a rudimentary guard.
"Ya!" Takeru yelled.
The shout stirred up the strength in his limbs. He charged forwards and threw out a punch with all his strength.
The combat coach remained motionless. The punch rocketed towards him so quickly that it would've appeared as a blur to an ordinary person.
"Is that all you've got?"
The coach's gaze was cold. The glove had struck him squarely on the chin. And it hadn't moved him in the slightest. The skin on his face wasn't even red.
"You think you can be a hero like that? Rubbish."
There was no malice in the coach's voice. He spoke like someone stating a simple fact.
Takeru knew that it was provocation. He knew that he was still young and his quirk was still developing. If a twelve year old child with a barely trained quirk could overpower a trained quirk user, it would've been laughable.
He knew all that. But it didn't change the sting of frustration in his chest.
"Argh!" Takeru shouted again, this time louder.
His hips rotated and his other hand flew out with another powerful punch. This time the coach moved. The coach's torso twisted just by a few inches. But it was enough to cause the punch to hit empty air.
"Get angry! Hit harder!"
The coach's words rang in the ring. The other students that were watching the fight swallowed their nervousness. For most of them, it was the first time they'd seen this kind of violence.
Takeru swung again. His breaths were fast and heavy. The sound of him inhaling and exhaling sounded like bellows stoking a fire. This time the punch landed. But again, the coach didn't move.
Takeru didn't let up with his punches. He was giving the fight everything he had, desperately trying to at least make the coach take a step back.
The coach raised an eyebrow. He looked casually to a clock hanging on the wall. The fight, if it could be called that, had been going on for nearly two minutes. A gloved fist struck him in the cheek, he didn't flinch.
The coach looked away from the clock and back to his opponent. The kid's punches weren't even hard enough to register as mosquito bites. But the look of hunger in the boy's eyes was worthy of some respect. The kid's ability to sustain such a violent barrage of attacks was impressive as well.
"Enough."
Takeru blinked. Then, suddenly he was in the air. The coach's huge hand gripped his arm tightly. His feet dangled above the floor of the ring. It was as if he were an infant picked up by an adult.
The coach looked Takeru squarely in the face. His voice had the same apathetic quality it always had, "You're not strong enough."
The coach looked away from the kid. His gaze swept across the other dozen or so teenagers in the room. He declared coldly, "None of you, are strong enough."
"Heroes get paid millions. Their fans worship them and the press follow them around like moths to a flame. But let me tell you something."
The coach's voice dropped an octave. His words came out sharp and violent, "Out there, in the real world, your opponents won't stop.
If you meet a villain, not a supervillain, a real villain, the ones who do it because deep down they know that their souls are stained black, then they'll kill you at the first chance they get.
If they're stronger than you. If they're smarter then you. Maybe they just get one lucky moment, then they'll kill you. And you'll lie on the pavement wishing you'd never earned a penny of that worthless money."
The coach abruptly let go of Takeru's arm. He landed on the ring's cushioned floor. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides and his eyes were fierce and defiant.
The coach looked at Takeru. He saw the fire in the kid's eyes.
The coach smiled. He beckoned the fiery-eyed boy, "Come at me again."
The fight wasn't one that Takeru could win. He knew it. The coach's quirk had no giveways or flaws to exploit. He was facing an opponent that completely and savagely outmatched him.
If I can't beat you today, then I'll just keep hitting you until I can!
The fire in Takeru's eyes burned even hotter. He threw himself at the coach. The roar from his lips was raw and violent.
The minutes stretched into one another. First five, then ten, then twenty. The coach noted seriously that only now did the fierce power behind the kid's punches start to lessen.
That kind of endurance was frightening, even if the power behind the punches was lacking in comparison. The boy was already hitting, twice or thrice as hard as a fully-grown adult. With training, his strength would improve.
'I wonder just how much potential the kid's got.' The coach thought to himself.
The fight had gone on for long enough. The coach lazily lifted his leg. The action seemed slow, but in Takeru's eyes it happened in an instant.
Bang!
The coach's foot impacted against Takeru's chest. The force behind it lifted the boy into the air. Takeru was hurled backwards uncontrollably.
The ropes around the ring caught him awkardly. He hit the ground heavily. Takeru felt the air escape from his lungs. He struggled to draw a shallow breath. The area where the coach's foot had struck him throbbed painfully.
I've gotten soft. It's been a long time since I felt pain like this.
Takeru gritted his teeth. His arms pushed off from the ground and he rose unsteadily to his feet. His chest continued to throb. The skin was already beginning to bruise.
"Everyone, outside now, ten laps of the track! If you stop moving then you'll run em' all over again from the start!" The coach bellowed.
The pride the students had felt at being selected for the preparatory training programme had vanished completely. They ran hurriedly out of the room and towards the athletics track. No one made any attempt to argue with the coach's instruction.
The fight had stopped for less than a minute, but Takeru's breathing was already beginning to steady out. He could feel the eager pulse of his quirk beneath his skin. The dull throb from the kick to his chest was like jet-fuel added to its engine.
This is what I need. To be pushed. This quirk had made me start thinking I'm invulnerable. I'm still just a frog in the bottom of a well. It's good to be reminded of that.
"Fifty laps for you kid." There was a sadistic kind of enthusiasm in the coach's voice.
Takeru nodded and turned to leave. The doors swung open.
The coach's voice called out after him, "And kid, nice punches."