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Chapter Text

Quirkless.

QUIrKLesS—

No QUIrK

QUIRKLESS

The doctor’s indifferent announcement replayed through the four-year-old’s head, sticking into his mind like an inescapable brand. Izuku felt his dreams being crushed and trampled on as the proclamation came out of the doctor’s mouth.

Izuku was in a daze as he was escorted into the car by Inko, whose hands were shaking slightly.

Quirkless.

He didn’t react when his brother, Mikumo, asked their mother to change the station from Hero News to Put Your Hands Up Radio and Present Mic’s peppy voice started to boom from the speakers.

Quirkless .

As soon as they reached their apartment, Izuku rushed through the door and turned on the computer, playing his favorite video, All Might’s debut. He dragged the cursor back again and again, watching All Might burst through the rubble, defeat the villain, and save the civilians.

Izuku turned and looked up at his mother with hope-filled eyes. “Even without a Quirk, can I become a Hero?”

Before the green-haired woman could reply, a voice, belonging to a sharp-eyed teen, chimed in. “I don’t see why not.”

These words changed things .

In one universe, Inko would break down and apologize to Izuku, and imply, “You can’t become a Hero.” In that universe, Izuku would hold onto his dreams anyways, suffering through torment and abuse before finally meeting his idols just to have his hopes crushed again. He would be permanently scarred, despite eventually achieving his goal, his lifelong wish he had sacrificed everything for.

In this universe, Midoriya Mikumo, older brother to Izuku by eleven months, said, “I believe in you, Izuku. You can become a hero. ”

A butterfly flapped its wings, and a little boy broke into a beaming grin.

You can become a he—

QuiRKLesS—

You can— cannot — can—

You can become a hero! You can do it!

“Thank you, nii-san.” Tears welled up at the edges of his eyes. Izuku threw himself into his brother’s open arms. “Thank you.” Izuku felt his world piece itself together again.

“However.” The single word froze Izuku’s entire being. He widened his eyes and gazed up at his brother. “Becoming a Pro-Hero is difficult, Izu,” Mikumo said. “Especially because you don’t have a Quirk. People will question, and point fingers, and look down on you.”

He didn’t say no . “I— it doesn’t matter, as long as I can be a hero!”

“Why are you so insistent on becoming something so troublesome?”

“Because,” Izuku said, his eyes gleaming with passion. “I want to save people with a smile on my face, like All Might!”

Mikumo gave a miniature smile. “There are other ways to save people, too. The term, Pro-Hero . It’s as if being a hero is just a job. A true hero doesn’t need rankings or publicity. A true hero helps others because, because they know: ‘It is the right thing to do.’”

Without waiting for Izuku’s reply, Mikumo continued. “Along with Pro-Heroes, lawyers, police officers, doctors, disaster relief workers… I think these are all jobs that also bring out a hero’s spirit. But, always remember: it is the person that makes the hero, not the profession.

“I believe you have the potential to become a great hero, Izu-kun, no matter what mantle you ultimately decide to take on. Just know, whichever career you choose, I’ll support you.”

Izuku blinked blankly.

“You don’t have to decide anything now. Think on it, okay?” Izuku heard a bit of concern creep into his older brother’s voice, and Izuku felt a glowing warmth in his chest.

That night, as Inko was tucking Izuku into bed, she said, “I was cleaning out the closet today, and I found one of your old notebooks, where you used to write down details about the Quirks of different Heroes. It’s really cute.” Inko placed a green notebook, obviously used, on the nightstand. “Maybe you could even make a career out of it,” she chuckled.

There was a beat as Izuku took in his mother’s words, and when he did, he sat up abruptly. “That’s it!” he cried, as if an earth-shattering revelation had been thrust upon him. “This is how I can be a hero!”

A few seconds later, he paused, hesitating. Was it really okay to just give up on his dreams of becoming a Pro-Hero?

It was a sleepless night.

The next day, Izuku walked to school with his usual spring in his step, acting like nothing had changed. The one and only Bakugou Katsuki walked beside him, and every so often, miniature explosions popped from the other boy’s palms as he eagerly enlightened Izuku about the movie he’d watched recently. Mikumo, in his typical slouch, followed behind the duo.

When Izuku reached his classroom, the teacher looked up from her desk with a slightly sympathetic smile, her eyes curving into crescents. “Izuku-kun,” she greeted. “I heard you didn’t receive a Quirk. I’m sorry. After all, you have to give up on your dreams of being a Hero.”

The whole class turned to stare at the wide-eyed, green-haired boy, Katsuki included. An awkward silence fell over the room, and the first to break it was the explosive blond, who grabbed Izuku by the shoulders. “Hah?!” he screamed. “You’re Quirkless?”

Izuku stared into his childhood best friend’s blazing red eyes. Izuku’s own eyes began to water. “Yeah,” he said in a whisper. “That’s what the doctor said.”

“You—” Katsuki sounded betrayed. “What happened to becoming Heroes with me? You can’t be a Hero without a Quirk!” The words hurt, despite, or maybe because of, their casual nature. He stated it so confidently, like a sure fact. The Quirkless can’t become Heroes.

In that moment, Izuku knew . All his deliberation last night amounted to this. Pro-Heroes had such a reliance on public opinion and without it, their ability to help others was limited. No one would believe a Quirkless person could become a Hero. They wouldn’t trust him.

“Kacchan,” Izuku said softly. “I might not be able to become a Hero, but I can still be a hero.”

“What are you saying, Nerd?!”

Conviction filled Izuku’s gaze and voice as he proclaimed, “A hero helps others! Even if I can’t become a frontline Pro-Hero, I can still be a hero in other ways, by supporting Heroes from the sidelines! This is realistic .” The idealistic dreamer in Izuku who never gave up writhed and twisted and took on a new shape. “I’ll become a strategist for the Heroes!”

Katsuki scoffed. “You shitty Nerd. Well, I’m gonna be the Number #1 Hero. And you better become the Number #1 Strategist right beside me!”

Izuku looked at “Kacchan” with eyes filled with stars. “I’ll live up to your expectations, I promise!” And I’ll live up to my own expectations, too .

Letting go of Izuku’s shoulder, Katsuki stalked away and into his seat. Unnoticed by everyone else, a small, pleased expression rested on his face. The rest of the class quickly swiveled their gazes away from Izuku. The teacher cleared her throat. “Alright, that’s enough dramatic declarations for today. Let’s begin class.”

When the bell rang for lunch, a mass of small children swarmed into the cafeteria, one after the other either buying lunch or finding a seat and unpacking their homemade bentos. Izuku was one of the latter, and Katsuki was one of the few without their own bentos. Before he could stalk into the lunch line, though, Izuku pulled him over. “Kaa-chan packed a bento for you,” Izuku said with a sunny smile.

Leading him by the wrist, Izuku ushered Katsuki to an empty table. Izuku took a seat, and carefully opened his bento, to reveal a meal of katsudon, warm and obviously made with love. He handed the other bento to Katsuki, which was similarly filled with katsudon. Izuku knew better than to poach any from his friend, though. The last time he tried, he had to down an entire milk jug before the damage to his mouth could begin to be soothed.

“Itadakimasu,” Izuku said cheerfully.

Katsuki echoed the phrase, and the two kids dug into their meal.

After that, although Katsuki treated him the same, Izuku could feel the distance that had been created between him and the rest of the class. There was nothing overt, because if there had been, Katsuki would have been snapping on their heels, but Izuku could hear his classmate’s whispers when they thought he couldn’t and could feel their hostility when they knew he would. Even the teachers looked at him with changed, less friendly, eyes.

It was them against the world.

Bakugou Katsuki, the future Number One Hero.

And Midoriya Izuku, the future Number One Strategist (and perhaps more importantly, Katsuki’s best friend).

Izuku, woken by an uncharacteristic racket, rubbed his eyes as he sat up. Is it morning yet? he wondered. The sky beyond his curtains was dark, but Izuku could see the light slipping through the cracks underneath his door. Curious, Izuku got out of bed and entered the living room.

Sitting on the couch was Katsuki. Izuku froze, shocked by the sight of his friend, usually so confident, especially after his seventh birthday, with his eyes blown open in fear and hands shaking.

Wordlessly, Izuku approached his friend, placing his hand over the other’s. Katsuki bristled at the touch, but didn’t brush Izuku off. Bolder, Izuku pulled Katsuki into a hug. Like a soft and furry creature, Katsuki melted into Izuku’s arms.

The next morning, Izuku walked into the living room to find Katsuki clutching a cup of steaming tea, staring into the swirly depths of the dark liquid. When he heard Izuku walk in, Katsuki looked up and snorted. That may have been, in part, due to the fact that Izuku’s curls were wilder than normal, giving his head the appearance of a fluffy bush.

“Morning, Nerd.” Bakugou’s tone was deceptively nonchalant.

“Good morning, Kaachan!” Izuku gave a beaming smile.

Blinking rapidly, as if something bright had flashed in his eyes, Katsuki scowled, his earlier vulnerability gone so fast Izuku would have thought it a dream if not for the blond’s red-rimmed eyes. Katsuki’s scowl deepend as he seemed to contemplate something. “Hey, Nerd… um, Izuku. The Hag’s dead. I’m moving away.”

“Wh— What? ”

“My house was attacked last night.” Katsuki choked up, tears welling up. Anger seemed to layer over his eyes as his grief did.

“Katsuki, honey,” Inko interjected gently. “You don’t have to tell if you don’t want to.”

Katsuki whirled around to face Inko. “Shut up!” he screeched. Horror overtook his features as he realized he’d raised his voice at his precious Auntie Inko. “Sorry,” he said in a softer tone, turning away. “But I want to tell this myself.” Izuku noticed, offhandedly, that that was the first time his friend had apologized of his own volition.

Clearing his throat, Katsuki began. “The Hag—” Katsuki flinched slightly, holding back tears and looking all the more angry for it. “The Hag and I were arguing, as per usual. I don’t even remember what it was about, probably something stupid, but that’s why we were awake.”

“Then, someone came down the stairs. A fucker with a black ski mask over their face. Must’ve slipped in through the window upstairs. They had a gun, shot the H— shot my mom .” Katsuki’s eyes widened slightly, his expression distorting.

“They… they shot my mom .” Katsuki released a feral scream, clutching his head. “AND I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING! Instead, I ran away like— like a coward . And the best fucking part about it?”

The boy sneered, the dark and bitter expression incompatible with his childlike face. He said, in a soft whisper, “I heard it from the police, later: They got the wrong house. ”

Izuku stood, frozen, unsure how to react. The silence was broken by Inko, who sported an awkward smile. “Do you want some breakfast?”

A silent and rather tense meal later, Katsuki continued his narrative. He took a deep breath. “So, yeah. I’m moving away. To a different prefecture. A different school.” Katsuki turned to level Izuku with a steely glare. “But don’t think you can slack off, alright? You better get into U.A., because I’ll be there, too, and I’ll be waiting for you.”

The green-haired boy nodded solemnly. “I’ll be there,” he promised. “You’ll be the Number One Hero, and I’ll be your strategist. Just like we promised.”

Katsuki nodded back with a grave countenance and firm will, as if sealing the deal with an unbreakable vow. “Just like we promised,” he echoed.

A rather uneventful but extremely emotional few weeks later, Izuku, along with Inko, who was clutching her bag with whitened knuckles, and Mikumo, who was there only reluctantly, stood on the front porch of the house that once belonged to the Bakugou family.

The lawn looked dead to Izuku, as if the moving out of the Bakugou family stole all life from the grass. (As if Bakugou Mitsuki’s death stole all life from the grass.) A SOLD sign was stuck, front in center, in the lawn. It grated on Izuku to see such a familiar place marred by a symbol that seemed to mock him with how it made the immense change about to happen more real .

A moving truck was parked on the curbside. Mikumo, making himself useful, pulled a box from the hands of Masaru — Bakugou’s father — and carried it into the truck. Slinking out of the house, Katsuki gently shut the door behind him, giving the house’s now mostly empty interior a morose glance before exiting.

After his mother’s death, Katsuki quieted, going into a period of silent reflection and saying barely a word to neither his family nor the few “friends” that hovered around him at school. Izuku, however, was the exception.

The duo had spent long hours awake at night over at the Midoriyas’ house quietly discussing their plans for the future while Masaru, having been scouted by a large fashion firm in a different prefecture, was preparing to move. Though neither child had a phone, they promised to stay in touch through their parents.

Now, after exiting his former home, Katsuki made a beeline for Izuku, letting the bag hooked around his neck bounce against his side. “Izukkun,” he called in greeting, using his new nickname for his friend, abandoning “Nerd” and “Deku” due to their unpleasant connotations. A competitive light, a remnant of Katsuki’s old personality, flashed in his eyes as he saw the notebook Izuku was carrying in his hands.

“Kacchan!” Izuku replied, a cheerful note lifting his already innocent-sounding voice into something pure. “I made something for you,” he continued, slightly shyer.

Izuku held his notebook out to Katsuki, who took it from Izuku’s hands. Katsuki studied the notebook’s outside intently. Biting his lip nervously, Izuku wondered if choosing a notebook covered in fluffy, grinning pomeranians perhaps wasn’t the best idea. However, his worries were assuaged when Katsuki cracked a small, but genuine smile. “Thanks,” the pomeranian-like boy said. “What’s in it? It doesn’t have a title like your normal notebooks.”

“I figured that might be safer,” Izuku said. “After all, if the notebook fell into the wrong hands it could bring serious repercussions and your well-being could be compromised and this contains some sensitive information; well, I put it the code we developed but it isn’t absolutely safe so I just wanted to be sure—”

Izuku took a breath, about to continue, but he stopped himself before he could start speaking again. “Oh,” he said sheepishly, putting a hand behind his neck. “Sorry, I got off track.”

“No shit Sherlock,” Katsuki replied pointedly. “But you don’t need to explain it anymore. It’s an analysis of my skills and how to improve them, right?”

Izuku looked over at Katsuki curiously. When he saw that the notebook was splayed open in Katsuki’s hands, Izuku let out a small “Oh!” in understanding. “So, what do you think?” he asked, looking like a splitting image of a cute green rabbit. Izuku saw Katsuki’s hand twitch, as if itching to pet a small animal, but didn’t think much of it.

“I’m not that good at reading the code yet,” Katsuki admitted. “But it looks comprehensive enough. Good job, Izukkun.” Katsuki broke eye contact. “Thanks,” he said begrudgingly. A small flush unwittingly ran across Katsuki’s cheeks.

Izuku sported a similar, if much redder, blush. “You’re welcome!” Izuku wore a bittersweet smile. “I—” He hesitated, but, making a determined expression, continued. “I like you a lot, Kaachan. I hope we will meet again.”

Katsuki’s blush grew more defined. “I like you a lot, too,” he whispered. Then, meeting Izuku’s eyes, he said fiercely, “We better meet each other again! At U.A., like we promised.”

“Yeah,” Izuku echoed, captivated by the flames, the undying will, burning in the depths of his childhood friend’s eyes. “Yeah.”

A knocking noise caused Izuku to startle. Reluctantly, he broke eye contact with Katsuki and turned toward the sound. The noise’s origin was Mikumo, who was leaning against the truck, a faint look of amusement on his face, as if he’d been watching an especially interesting anime. “The moving truck is ready to go,” said the dark-haired boy with a yawn.

As if finally realizing the implications of “the Bakugous are moving away,” Izuku’s eyes welled up with tears. “Ka— Kacchan,” he stuttered. “I’ll miss you so much.”

The blond’s eyes looked suspiciously wet. “I’m not crying,” he denied, a tear leaking out of his eye. “I’m just sweating from my eyes.”

Izuku let out a short laugh, followed by a sob. He buried his face in the oversized Fatgum hoodie, a cherished piece of clothing gifted to him by Mikumo, he was wearing. The sleeves were already beginning to look wet, dampened by the notorious Midoriya tears.

The next second, a small green blur buried itself in Katsuki’s chest, wrapping him in a hug. The object of the hug, Katsuki, relaxed and hugged Izuku back. The shirt Katsuki was wearing, on the other hand, was looking distinctly worse for the wear.

The two kids remained intertwined for an indeterminable amount of time. After what could have been a second or half an hour, Inko, after discretely snapping a picture, cleared her throat. “Honey,” she said to Izuku. “It’s time for Katsuki to go.”

Slowly and unwillingly, Izuku pulled away, sniffling.

Katsuki walked toward his car, each step feeling like walking through quicksand. He gave Izuku one last, longing glance, before sliding into the back seat of his car. His knuckles were white around the notebook Izuku had gifted him. Then, like a fading memory, the car pulled out of the driveway and vanished into the early morning rays, the moving truck following closely behind.

It felt like a second funeral for Mitsuki.

Scrunching his face up, Izuku sniffled pitifully. Tears welled up in his eyes.

A soft, slightly callused hand placed itself on Izuku’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” Mikumo said gently. “Let yourself cry.” Mikumo wrapped his arms around his little brother, ruffling his hair.

“Remember,” Mikumo said. “You and Katsuki-kun will meet again. Katsuki-kun’s definitely going to work himself ragged trying to improve, so he’ll be disappointed if he finds you’ve only wallowed in your loss. So when you guys reunite, let Katsuki-kun reunite with someone he can be proud of.”

The next day at school, Katsuki’s seat was conspicuously empty. Izuku’s classmates brushed Katsuki’s absence off as, perhaps, a sick day, and ignored it, but as the days ticked by and the seat remained unoccupied, the students began to suspect that Katsuki wasn’t coming back.

And without his “protector,” Izuku became a tempting target.

At first, it was just a few mean words. Then, every corner he turned, Izuku could hear their mutters: “Weak. Quirkless. Useless.” Soon, someone remembered Katsuki’s old nickname for him, Deku, and that was what they called him from that point onwards.

The day someone left spider lilies on his desk, Izuku was brought near to tears.

Izuku was walking along the halls when someone shoved him in the back. He stumbled, but before he could crash into the wall, Izuku placed his hands in front of him and caught himself, dropping his books with a loud clatter. He heard a “tsk” of disappointment, but when he turned around, the culprits had scattered. Izuku lowered his head.

Wordlessly, he started to pick his books up. A girl, looking slightly guilty, helped him, before hurrying on her way. She didn’t give him a second glance, but Izuku felt grateful nonetheless.

The rest of the day passed by without incident. However, Izuku could feel an undercurrent of tension running through his homeroom class.

The bullies — there were four main culprits (Kaito Taro, a beefy boy with anger issues and a Quirk that let him create small, plate-like force fields; Kuroiwa Mariko, a girl with a Quirk that enhanced her voice and a superiority complex; Morishiwa Kichirou, a studious kid with severe prejudice, whose Quirk gave him night vision; and Uesugi Kazuyuki, who had the face of an angel and a Quirk that made him seem innocent even when in the wrong) — were probably planning something.

Of the four, Izuku was most worried about Kazuyuki, because even if caught red-handed, the boy’s glib tongue and Quirk might let him pin Izuku as the villain instead. Of course, Taro was strong, Mariko was clever, and Kichirou, knowledgeable. Izuku wasn’t sure of his chances.

When the final bell rang, Izuku slung his bag over his shoulder and exited the class. Nervous energy made his muscles tense. It was precisely this that made Izuku aware of the people following behind him as he walked toward his house. He wondered, slightly wryly, when they were planning on cornering him.

His questions were answered when he was walking across the playground of the park near his house. A group of kids surrounded him, their shadows tracing menacing shadows on the concrete.

Izuku felt sad as he recognized their faces. Taro, Mariko, Kichirou, and Kazuyuki were there. Standing with them were Chihiro, Souta, and Tsubasa.

My best bet… he thought, … is to find a chance to run . Glancing at the circular formation, which trapped him within their clutches, Izuku really wasn’t sure of his chances.

“You think you’re hot shit.” Kazuyuki said in an arrogant, affronted-sounding drawl. Despite his vulgar language, Kazuyuki sounded charming and childlike.

Frowning in disgust, Izuku pinched himself, the pain snapping him out of the effects of Kazuyuki’s Quirk.

“But,” Kazuyuki continued. “You were only ever Katsuki-tan’s dog. And now that dearest Kat-su-ki,” he emphasized each syllable, “is gone, you’re not hot anymore. You’re just shit.”

Beside him, Mariko giggled, sneering. “Let’s teach him a lesson, boys!” She cracked her knuckles threateningly.

Izuku’s face twisted into a frown. He really wasn’t sure of his chances. He wasn’t sure if he could hold back enough so that he wouldn’t go beyond the bounds of self-defense and get in trouble with the law.

He was confident in beating them; after all, after declaring their intent to become partners in Heroics, Katsuki had dragged him to a mixed martial arts studio, citing that “No partner of mine can’t defend himself!” Sparring against Bakugou “Let’s fight!” Katsuki for three years would make anyone competent in self-defense.

When the first bully stepped forward and raised his fists, Izuku acted. Time seemed to slow down as Izuku swung his bag at the other’s head, dodging around his blatantly obvious right hook and jabbing his elbow into the other’s gut.

Letting out a screech of pain, Chihiro fell backward, leaving a gap in the encirclement.

Izuku darted forward and ran away.

When he neared his apartment, Izuku slowed down, regulating his quickened breath. He walked up the stairs toward their house with even, measured steps, adjusting his bag and plastering a smile on his face.

As he opened his front door and entered the house, Izuku was greeted by the sight of a deadpan Mikumo being dragged by the ear through the house by Inko. “You—!” the normally calm and collected woman fumed. “Just because you don’t like Fujiwara-san doesn’t mean you can snub him like that!”

“He’s clearly a sleazy asshole who only wants to get int— uh,” catching sight of Izuku, Mikumo didn’t finish his sentence. “Anyways,” Mikumo corrected himself. “He clearly didn’t have good intentions. Kaa-san, you could do so much better. Get a man who’s good for you!”

Inko swatted the back of his head. “And you’re clearly so knowledgeable about the matters of romance.” She sniffed huffily, like a woman ten years younger might.

Izuku couldn’t help it. He laughed.

Inko turned toward Izuku with a sunny smile. “Welcome home, honey,” she said. “How was your day at school?”

“It was good,” Izuku said.

“That’s good to hear,” Inko said, turning away, oblivious. “I’ll go and make dinner, then.”

Although Inko missed the way Izuku’s smile turned slightly tighter when he mentioned school, Mikumo didn’t. The spiky-haired boy waited until Inko bustled off into the other room before confronting his brother.

“Say,” Mikumo said with a faux-casual attitude. He sported a dangerous smile. “Who do I need to beat up?”

Izuku let his mask fall, sighing. “I don’t think you can do anything about it, nii-san. It seems, these days, that there are very few people who are on my side. Even the teachers turn a blind eye.”

“Well, in that case, it’s pretty simple. Just drop out.”

“What?” Izuku said, startled.

Mikumo said, “I’m taking online courses, why can’t you?”

And that was that.

The day after Izuku’s ninth birthday, on a weekend, the family of three went to the park near their house. The sky was a canvas of blue, and in its endless expanse lay clouds, white and fluffy, looking as if one could fall on them and bounce.

Izuku, sitting on a swing, swung his legs rhythmically. In a short amount of time, Izuku was soaring on the swings, the grin of a delighted child displayed on his face. Mikumo, on the other hand, lay on the nearby bench. His half-lidded eyes were focused toward the clouds above.

“Honey,” Inko nagged Mikumo. “Get up and play with Izuku! You’re too young to be laying around like a salted fish.”

Mikumo yawned. “But…” he complained. “It’s so comfortable here. Watching the clouds, drifting slowly and without a care in the world — it soothes my soul. It reminds me that not everything in life has to move at a breakneck speed; not everything is a national-level emergency. It’s okay to take things slow sometimes. Take a deep breath, relax. Each second is temporary and should be cherished and enjoyed.”

Inko looked at him, speechless. Then, recovering, her face glowed. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “My baby, at ten years old, is spouting words of wisdom.” She put a hand over her mouth modestly and giggled like a mischievous little girl, eyes sparkling. “If only he didn’t act like such an old man. An aged philosopher.”

His face instantly darkening, Mikumo sat up. He pointed to himself, “Me, an old man?” His tone held a trace of warning, as if the wrong answer would bring calamity.

Laughing from his spot on the swings, Izuku shouted down: “Yes! Kumo-nii, you’re an old man!”

Mikumo’s expression became even uglier, but he made no move against Izuku. Although he couldn’t hear his brother’s sigh, the pineapple-haired boy’s lowered shoulders told Izuku all he needed to know. Mikumo’s countenance smoothed out, but his eyes retained a sense of foreboding.

A few minutes later, when Izuku got down from the swings, Mikumo, with painstaking effort, got up from his bench and walked over to his brother. Mikumo patted Izuku on the shoulder, bending down a little to look him in the eyes. “Hey,” he said in a low voice. “If I’m an old man, then what is kaa-san, who’s older than me? What are you implying, huh?”

Izuku immediately panicked. “That’s not what I meant!” he said loudly, attracting Inko’s attention. Meeting her puzzled eyes, Izuku averted his eyes, embarrassed. “That’s not what I meant at all,” he said in a softer voice, glaring at Mikumo.

Mikumo laughed lightheartedly, the earlier heavy mood having completely dissipated. He ruffled Izuku’s hair playfully. “I know.”

“It’s good that you know…” Izuku smirked. “… old man .”

Sensing danger, Izuku dodged out of the way of Mikumo’s outstretched fist, twisting on his heels and bolting. Undiscouraged, Mikumo ran after Izuku, screaming bloody murder. Izuku, on the other hand, was laughing like a maniac.

After pivoting around one of the poles holding the swing set up, Izuku met his mother’s eyes. Inko was holding her phone horizontally, evidently taking pictures. The gentle woman grinned shamelessly, her thumb pressing down on the camera icon a few more times. Izuku slowed, holding his two fingers up and smiling to reveal a mouth with missing front teeth.

Izuku’s momentary hesitation cost him, for the next second, Mikumo bowled him over, his eyes flashing in triumph. His anguished screams resonated around the park.

The sky had darkened by the time Izuku and his family began their walk back home. Izuku stared at the long shadows on the ground with mild interest, watching the shadows twist as the shadow’s caster changed position. Suddenly, a bright light pierced through the shadows.

Izuku stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet as he raised a hand to shield his eyes. Mikumo placed a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, steadying him. “It’s a Hero,” Mikumo said uninterestedly. His eyes were squinted, partly because of the dazzling flash and partly because of annoyance.

“That’s right!” said a jovial voice. The voice belonged to a Pro-Hero wearing a black cloak with a white shirt underneath. Strapped to their back was a larger version of a handheld mirror, its intricate frame glistening. “I’m Glimmer; it’s a pleasure to meet you!” The Hero’s tone darkened slightly: “Now, let me finish this villain off.”

Izuku spun around, frantically trying to catch sight of the aforementioned villain. Catching sight of some movement out of the corner of his eye, Izuku’s attention was drawn to the shadows he’d been paying attention to earlier. Despite the lack of a visible caster, there was an extra shadow splayed on the sidewalk.

“An invisible villain,” Izuku muttered under his breath. His hands twitched, eager to grab a notebook in which to write down his mental notes.

Glimmer reached a hand over their shoulder, pulling the mirror free of its strap with a tug. Spinning the mirror in a complicated maneuver, Glimmer pointed it to the villain as if it were a sword. A small light flickered at the edges of the mirror.

Beside him, Inko gave Izuku a gentle nudge. “Let’s go…” she said nervously, reaching for Izuku’s hand, as if to reassure herself that he was still safe. “It’s dangerous.”

“But, kaa-chan,” he said, looking at her with wide, imploring eyes, “I want to watch this fight.”

Before Inko could say anything, Mikumo interjected. “Izuku, I know you can protect yourself. But kaa-san can’t. Are you willing to put her in danger for a little curiosity? Look,” Mikumo gestured to the crowd that had slowly gathered, pointing out the newscasters with professional equipment and various passersby with phones. “You can find a video of the fight later.”

“Alright.” Izuku acquiesced.

The family made it back home without any further interruptions. As soon as Izuku entered the door, he bolted for his computer, searching for news of the fight. Mikumo lay on the couch beside him, face darkened in something that seemed like boredom, watching as Izuku scribbled notes with maniac energy.

“That’s it!” Mikumo sat straight up. He frowned slightly, taking a few seconds to arrange his hair, which had been flattened by his lying on the couch, back into spikes. Then, his frown gave way to excitement. “Let’s create a HeroTube channel,” Mikumo said to Izuku. “With your analysis skills, we’ll always have content, and if you don’t want to show your face, I haven’t been practicing digital animation for nothing.”

Mikumo’s insistent eyes urged Izuku to make a decision. The green-haired boy thought the idea over carefully, then nodded. “Alright.”

Chapter Text

“Testing, testing.” Izuku felt a slightly surreal rush of giddiness and anticipation as he heard the sound from the mic echo back to him. He thought it was a bit of a shame he had to use a voice changer; he’d love to know what his real voice would sound like in a video.

“On three,” Mikumo’s deadpan voice cut through Izuku’s thoughts. Izuku nodded to himself, taking a deep breath. “Three. Two. One…

“Go.”

Although he knew that he wasn’t going to be showing his face, Izuku smiled. “Hello, and welcome to the first episode of Konohagakure: Analysis. As your host, Shamrock, I will be starting this series — and channel — with a discussion on an event you might’ve heard about: the recent fight between the Number #2 Hero, Endeavor, and Yomi no Kage, the elusive villain, and Yomi no Kage’s subsequent ‘retirement speech.’”

Izuku read through the script the pair of siblings had written, adrenaline coursing through his blood. When he finished, in one go no less, Izuku let his shoulders, which he had unknowingly tensed, relax, letting out a breath.

“Was it good?” Izuku turned to ask Mikumo, who was sitting beside him.

“Yeah, you did well. But your voice faltered when you got to the part about, you know.” Mikumo looked slightly uncomfortable. “Yomi no Kage’s involvement in apprehending the villain that killed Mitsuki-san.”

“You don’t have to skirt around the topic,” Izuku said. Gathering his resolve, Izuku said, “Let’s record that part again.”

The pair recorded and re-recorded, shoring up all the video’s initial weak points. Then, Mikumo started animating, his hands flying as he sketched patterns on the drawing pad he’d asked for for his birthday a few years prior.

Izuku watched in wonder, bewitched by his older brother’s display speed and skill. Since when was he able to do this ? Izuku thought to himself. How have I not noticed ?

The hours flew by, and soon the final product was ready.

“And many thanks to Animator-kun!” Izuku’s voice, modified to make him sound older, came from the speakers of his computer as Izuku looked over his video one last time. It was incredibly good for a first video, in his professional opinion.

Izuku’s avatar, which he helped design, was an ambiguously aged character — after all, it was nigh-impossible to tell cartoon or anime characters apart by their age when they’re in their late teens to early thirties — wearing a blank white mask with a small four-leaf clover on the edge, a dark green hoodie, white elbow-length gloves, and a fluffy gray usagi on his head.

Puffing out his cheeks, Izuku hit the bright red “Post Video” button, watching as his video was uploaded to HeroTube.

It was extremely anticlimactic, in his opinion, just a loading bar filling up and refreshing the screen. Letting out a breath, Izuku flipped his light off, slipping under his covers and into a deep sleep.

Light filtered in through the thin curtains, and Izuku turned on his side, pulling his blanket over his head. Abruptly, the wall of cloth separating Izuku and the relentless glow of the sun was ripped away, and Izuku let out a small shriek as he attempted to bury his head under his pillow.

“Rise and shine, Izuku-kun!” Mikumo’s faux-cheerful voice was filled with an unholy amount of glee. “We should check how many views we’ve gotten!”

Izuku groaned, pulling himself out of the bed with great effort. He rubbed his eyes blearily. “You bas— bozo. It’s not a school day; I should get to sleep in!”

Mikumo laughed. “You can blame this on kaa-san. She made me get up and do the laundry — it was such a drag — so you should have to suffer too!”

Once Izuku was semi-awake, he found himself looking at a glowing screen. “We got eighty-three views?” He gave Mikumo a glance, his eyes showing a vulnerable insecurity.

Reading his worries, Mikumo reassured him, “Eighty-three views is good. If we continue to get views at this rate, we’d have more than a thousand views before two weeks. Moreover, look at the number of likes. There are around sixty likes for around eighty views; that’s an extremely view-to-like ratio.”

“Oh, okay.” Izuku’s eyes brightened. “What should our next video be about? I know we tried to do a more flashy topic for our first video, but I really want to do an analysis of Glimmer and that fight with the invisible villain. I tried searching for information on Glimmer afterward, and I could barely find anything. I think they’re actually an underground Hero.”

“In that case,” Mikumo said, “you probably shouldn’t make a video.” Mikumo sat down on Izuku’s bed, sinking into the soft comforter. He swung his legs out of his slippers and over the bed’s edge, laying down. He put his hands under his head, closing his eyes.

“Wait, why?” Izuku let himself fall onto the bed and on top of Mikumo.

“No Hero wants their weaknesses revealed to the public, but no underground Hero wants any of their information revealed to the public. The fact that Glimmer was out so early, in that area, was a fluke, and Glimmer definitely wouldn’t appreciate it if they got more media attention. The more people know about an underground Hero, the less effective they usually are.”

“Oh,” Izuku made a noise of understanding. “I see. Then we just have to avoid making videos about underground Heroes and be careful not to reveal any of a Hero’s weaknesses then. But, that does limit a lot of the content we can make.”

“That’s true.” Mikumo pushed Izuku off him. “But would you rather that, or be hunted down by the Hero Association or kidnapped by villains?” As Izuku, in shock, pondered the implications, Mikumo nodded sagely, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Then, my notebooks…” Izuku trailed off questioningly. “I would be in trouble if those fell in the wrong hands.” Izuku pulled his notebooks out of the bookshelf they were stored in, carefully leafing through each one. His expression became uglier as he realized the sheer amount of potentially damning information stored in their pages.

The notebooks were Izuku’s pride and joy, the culmination of over seven years of hard work and growth. Despite how they could pose an issue to his safety, and Hero society at large, Izuku showed an unwillingness to part with them.

Noticing Izuku’s darkened face, Mikumo said, confused, “If you think it’s too much work to put them all in code, I can help you with a portion of the work.”

A lightbulb lit up over Izuku’s head. His eyes brightened instantly, a smile overtaking his gloomy expression. “That’s right!” He smacked his forehead lightly. “I can just put them in code! Kumo-nii, you’re a genius!”

Mikumo’s previous concerned attitude immediately morphed into his normal deadpan. “I can’t believe you didn’t think of that,” he lamented. “Didn’t you and Katsuki-kun create a code before he moved away? You even encoded an entire notebook in it.”

Izuku flushed in embarrassment. “Well, that’s our code. I didn’t think of using it for my personal notebooks.”

“No matter. I created a code a few years back that is pretty much unbreakable without knowing the basis the code is built on. I’ll teach it to you; you can rewrite it in that.”

Just as Izuku was about to reply, Inko poked her head through their room’s door. She smiled upon seeing the notebooks scattered over the floor. “Katsuki-kun’s calling,” she said, smile widening as Izuku bounced up. She held the phone out to him.

Although the Bakugous were several hundred miles in a different prefecture, they still kept in touch. Izuku and Katsuki called each other every week, spending hours on their phones talking about the mundane matters of life. Izuku always looked happier and more motivated after their calls. However, Katsuki had already called yesterday. It was out of the ordinary for him to call again, especially since it was a school day.

Holding the phone as if it were a historical treasure, Izuku said, “I’m here.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku saw Mikumo, exchanging a knowing look with Inko, slip out of the room quietly, shutting the door behind him.

“Hello, and welcome to the twelfth episode of Konohagakure: Analysis! To celebrate reaching one thousand subscribers, we’ll be hosting a Q&A session. To participate, you can submit your questions at the link displayed in the video’s description. Please don’t send any inappropriate or troll questions, or Animator-kun’s going to harp at me about having to sort through all of it!”

“Anyways!” Shamrock’s cheerful voice matched his smile, somehow radiating sunlight even through an animated avatar. Many sunglasses were ordered that day. “We’ll be talking about something new! Instead of focusing on a specific hero, we’ll be discussing a specific Quirk .

“That is, we’ll be talking about how the Quirk works, possible applications of it, and how to strengthen it. The Quirk we’re talking about today is really cool, and it was used by the hero-in-training Serene before she died in a villain attack, having only just gotten her provisional license a week prior. A moment of silence for her, please.”

Shamrock closed his eyes briefly, clasping his hands together. “Now, Serene’s Quirk was called Aria, and, like the name suggests, it had to do with the voice. Her singing could alter reality, depending on the lyrics she used. For instance, if she sang, ‘the streetlights flickered,’ the streetlights would flicker.

“Please keep in mind that I am in no way trying to belittle Serene’s ability as a hero, her Quirk, or her death. I am simply speculating on what she could have done if she had not passed away.

“A downside of this Quirk is its need for extreme specificness. If she wanted a man to freeze, she would have to specify exactly which man it was, or else the Quirk wouldn’t have anything to target. If she wanted a door to vanish, she would have to make sure in doing so that it wouldn’t harm anyone.

“The object being targeted also had to be in the range of her sound. If an object was too far away, Serene’s Quirk wouldn’t be able to affect it. In addition, Serene didn’t utilize speakers or something to amplify her volume, but it is unclear whether this is because of a badly thought out costume or because her Quirk didn’t work through artificial sound.

“It would also be difficult to get a melody out during a fast-paced villain attack, but that could have been circumvented through rapping or even just speaking. In Serene’s last battle, it could be seen that, moments before her death, she said, without any kind of melody, ‘Let the pavement a foot in front of me rise up in a wall,’ and the pavement did indeed move, proving that Serene does not need to actually sing for her Quirk to function.”

Shamrock continued to talk, going into great detail about the Quirk, with Animator-kun occasionally interjecting. He was clearly passionate about the subject, though he kept his voice even and easy to understand. It was not difficult to understand how the channel Konohagakure gained popularity so quickly.

“And that’s it for today’s episode. If you want me to do an analysis of your Quirk, or someone you know, you can submit the Quirk at the link in the description. The link for the Q&A questions is also in the description. They’re labeled, so please don’t get it wrong or Animator-kun will complain.”

Said person’s avatar appeared on the screen. “If you get the links wrong I will find you. Also, we are working on getting a Chaos server, and we’ll post the link to that on Chirp, @Konohagakure, and on our videos, as soon as I find the time.”

“As soon as you stop being lazy, you mean,” Shamrock said teasingly, tone light.

“I feel attacked.” The statement was delivered in the same lazy deadpan as all of the animator’s other lines, though anyone who knew him well would know that he wasn’t at all affected by Shamrock’s quip.

Animator-kun’s avatar sank below the screen’s frame, and Shamrock turned back to face forwards. “Thanks for watching, everyone. We appreciate the support! Even Animator-kun.”

“This is Konohagakure, signing out!”

Izuku leaned back in his chair, spinning around in a few lazy circles, as the outro played. He hadn’t expected to like working on videos so much. Something about the methodical work of putting together all his thoughts into something understandable appealed to Izuku. Moreover, his videos always required in-depth research, which helped make Izuku aware of some of the underlying issues of Hero society.

In researching the Pro-Hero Lapis Lazuli, Izuku had realized how the Hero had been embezzling money from her agency. Further research revealed that the Hero was even allowed a high profile jewel heist to happen in her sector in exchange for a cut of the profits. It opened Izuku’s eyes to the dirty side of Heroics and reinforced his desire to help the good Heroes and… take down the bad ones.

Pushing open the door to his brother’s room, Izuku was regaled with the sound of a very uncharacteristic tapping. Izuku had only ever heard it when Mikumo was deep in thought, facing what he proclaimed a tough challenge. “Kumo-nii?”

Mikumo hushed him. “I finally found a shogi player worth going against. Shush.” Mikumo put his fingers together in the way he did when he was in deep thought. His gaze, dead serious, was glued to the screen. Beside him was an untouched glass of water.

Izuku blinked. A shogi player that could go up against Mikumo? Mikumo could beat ninth-dan shogi players as easy as breathing, and chess grandmasters just as effortlessly. If there was someone who could go up against Mikumo and give him a good fight, they would be terrifying .

He backed out of the room slowly, shutting the door behind him with a nearly soundless click. Returning to his own room, Izuku pushed the screen of his laptop open, pulling up the comments on their latest video. Anything to take his mind off the possibility of a being with an intellect equal to his brother’s.

A is for “Average” One minute ago (edited)
omg, another Konohagakure video! watching it now
edit: it’s. just. so. good!
and we can?? submit our own quirks now?? 0-0 (that’s a smile btw)
See 3 replies

We stan Shamrock in this house One hour ago
Shamrock’s smile is too pure.
We must protecc.

Replies:

n o-o ne One hour ago
You do realize it’s just an animated icon, right?
We stan Shamrock in this house Ten minutes ago
If he’s like this as just a 2-D animation, imagine how pure he must be in real life!
Kumo Seven minutes ago
Yes.
n o-o ne Five minutes ago
…
See 4 more replies

my parents bought me for a discount Several hours ago
Animator-kun’s deadpan is perfection.
ABSOLUTE PERFECTION
This is an incontestable fact. It is not up for debate.
“You better not get the links wrong” lmao
See 15 replies

mariko-chan Two hours ago
serene… we miss you…
it’s kinda insensitive to talk bad about a dead person, even if it’s just their quirk
and then just dissing said dead person’s ability to use her quirk
i knew serene personally and she was one of the most hardworking people i knew

Replies:

303 not found One hour ago
Shamrock isn’t “dissing’ Serene. Timestamp 1:03 - “Please keep in mind that I am in no way trying to belittle Serene’s ability as a hero, her Quirk, or her death”
See 8 more replies

Izuku continued to read, smiling a little when he found something positive and chuckling when he found something funny. He let himself relax, sinking into his chair, pointedly not thinking about someone being Mikumo’s intellectual equal.

It almost worked.

Izuku sighed, and got to work on the script of Konohagakure’s next analysis video.

The hours flew by quickly, Izuku having gotten into a comfortable rhythm of typing, the keys clacking as his fingers raced across them, when his phone pinged with a text.

Kumo-nii (5:41 pm)
You know that webcomic? The one that I drew myself
I animated it, let’s post it on Konohagakure

Izuku glanced at the text. He did a double take. Izuku grabbed his phone, aggressively placing his fingers on the keys.

You (5:42 pm)
Wait.
WHAT?

Kumo-nii (5:42 pm)
I want to post the animation on our channel.

You (5:42 pm)
what.

Kumo-nii (5:43 pm)
I made an animation of the webcomic I drew but never posted. You know, the one that I refused to show you anything beyond the first few panels. So, can I post it on the channel?

You (5:44 pm)
*sighs* let me see it first

Kumo-nii (5:50 pm)
Goddamn that file took so long to download.
I’ll send you the file through e-letter

Izuku’s lips twitched in amusement. It was completely in character for Mikumo to just casually drop a huge bombshell like that. Opening his computer, Izuku checked his inbox to find that Mikumo had indeed sent a file. The file name read Tales from the Elemental Nations (Episode 1): The Demon Child .

The thumbnail displayed an anime boy, the picture of young and blonde — though it was more yellow, really — with whisker marks on his cheeks and a wide smile. The indicator at the bottom of the thumbnail showed that the video was around 23 minutes.

Izuku clicked on the video, waiting as the downloading bar inched forward painfully slowly. The video started with a pitch-black screen and the words “Creative Liberties Taken.” A cascading piano melody played; Izuku recognized it as a piece one of Mikumo’s friends from online school had sent him.

Besides some soft background music that portrayed each scene’s mood without being too conspicuous, there wasn’t any sound, and the scenes were slowed down slightly to allow people to see and understand the words the characters were saying in the captions. Despite that, though, the video was captivating.

Izuku was hooked as Naruto, the blonde boy, declared his desire to become Hokage — the leader of his village — despite the fact that he was shunned for something he couldn’t control, not unlike Izuku’s aspirations to work in the Hero industry despite his Quirklessness.

Wondering offhandedly if he could try to hack into Mikumo’s computer to find the file for the completed webcomic, Izuku watched the outro, a simple ending sequence that promised more episodes in the future and felt a sense of disappointment at how short the video was.

You (6:21 pm)
…
Go ahead and post it
By the way… when is the next episode going to be ready?

Kumo-nii (6:30 pm)
I don’t know ^-^
Sorry for the reply delay, I was cloud watching

You have changed Kumo-nii ’s name in your Contacts to Chronic Cloud Watcher
You have changed Chronic Cloud Watcher ’s name in your Contacts to Kumo-nii

“Today is it! The advent of the long-awaited Konohagakure Q&A! So, bring in the questions! This isn’t live, unfortunately, because even our family’s Animator-kun can’t animate things live.

“Anyways, bring it on!”

Shamrock’s icon looked to the left as a deer icon materialized, holding a clipboard and stack of papers. “Question one,” Animator-kun, represented by the deer icon, said in his typical lazy drawl. “From ‘lucky starlight’: Why did you decide to create this channel?”

“Oh,” Shamrock said, sounding delighted. “Well, there isn’t a super dramatic backstory or anything. The channel was Animator-kun’s suggestion, actually. I think he was bored, came up with the idea, and here we are! After making our first video, I found that I really have a passion for this kind of thing. You know, once I pulled an all-nighter writing a video script, but I didn’t even notice that I was awake for the whole night until I saw the sun shining through the curtains.”

“Question two, from ‘Smoke and Mirrors’: out of all the Heroes you’ve created videos on, who is your favorite?”

Shamrock laughed. “That’s a really hard one. I like pretty much all Heroes. Each and every one of them is unique and interesting.” He trailed off, contemplative. “If I had to choose, I think it would be a tie between Ingenium and Present Mic, for the reasons mentioned in their respective videos, but there are a couple of Heroes I haven’t made videos on that I really like.”

“Question three, from ‘Crawler,’ are you going to make a video on U.A.’s sports festival?”

“Definitely! I actually have a special idea for that,” Shamrock winks. “But you’ll have to wait and see!”

“Question four, from ‘prince of the red light district,’ what inspired ‘Tales from the Elemental Nations’? And when is the next episode going to come out?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t have anything to do with that. Animator-kun just sprung it on me. Literally sent me a text that said ‘I animated a video and now I’m going to upload it.’ Nearly gave me an aneurysm. So, what inspired it?” Shamrock’s icon gave Animator-kun a questioning smile.

“Stuff.”

Shamrock frowned a little. “What stuff?”

“Things.”

Shamrock gave Animator-kun a reproaching look. The deer boy sighed. “It would be too troublesome to explain. As for when the next episode is coming out, probably within the month. Now, onto question five, from ‘generic internet username,’ who asks if, and I quote, ‘that Chaos server that was promised will be created soon.’”

“I’ll try to force Animator-kun to get it done sooner. I swear, now that it’s summer, he literally spends all day in various parks laying in the grass and watching the clouds scroll by.”

“No, that’s objectively untrue. I only spend part of my day cloud watching. I spend the rest of it sleeping .”

Shamrock sighed. “Next question.”

“Fine. Question six, from ‘poor girl in a hovel’: do you have a particular order in which you decide the heroes or Quirks you make videos on, or do you just make them as they catch your eye?”

A little sheepish, Shamrock said, “I just do them as they catch my eye, but I do have some scripts for videos on the back-burner, so I can get one out every two weeks even if I don’t find any inspiration. Well, I do plan videos occasionally. I’m planning a video for the Sports Festival, for instance, and you can also expect a mini-series on All Might.”

They continued like this, with Animator-kun asking questions and Shamrock answering them, until the long-awaited lucky question sixteen.

“The final question, number sixteen,” Animator-kun started in his standard bored tone, but if anyone had been at the scene of the filming, they would have seen him leaning forward in his chair. “From literally everyone who watches your videos. What’s your Quirk?”

Knowing that it would appear, Izuku and Mikumo had discussed how they wanted to answer this question in advance. After some deliberation, they’d come to a consensus that aligned with both of their morals and ideals.

Taking a deep breath, Shamrock visibly collected himself. “I’m Quirkless.” He looked straight into the camera. Despite the fact that Shamrock was merely a virtual avatar, his green eyes conveyed an unspoken message.

“Let me reiterate,” he said. “I’m Quirkless, not worthless. Being born without a Quirk is not something that people can control, and it doesn’t make people ‘lesser.’ It should be a person’s achievements, their personality, and what they can do that brings them forward in life, not an ability that we’re all but forbidden to use anyways.

“You probably all thought that I had some kind of analysis Quirk before this, crediting all my hard work to that. But I don’t need a Quirk to be able to do the things that I do. It’s not a Quirk that makes my analysis good or these videos entertaining. The fact that I’m Quirkless doesn’t change the fact that you probably enjoyed watching my videos, or the fact that you respected my abilities.

“I can’t control how you will react to this, but I hope you will consider what I’ve said today.

“This is Konohagakure, out.”

Izuku posted the video. His hands shook slightly. There would definitely be people who would unsubscribe and spew vitriol, but Izuku also hoped that his message would get through to others, that they could reconsider their views on the Quirkless and the importance placed on Quirks, in general.

He hoped that he could make a difference.

Clicking on Mikumo’s latest anime episode — he found it mind-blowing that there could exist an anime created solely through the efforts of one person — titled The Chunin Exams: Stage Three, Preliminary Rounds , Izuku studied the screen offhandedly as he checked for news of recent hero fights.

Then, as the flash of something caught his eye, Izuku turned toward his glowing computer screen, watching as a slouching pineapple-haired boy with half-lidded eyes walked onto the arena, to the proclamation of “Nara Shikamaru from Konohagakure versus Tsuchi Kin from Otogakure!”

And he was glued to the screen, watching as the person who looked like a body double of his brother defeated the girl with the bells.

Well , Izuku reasoned, it could just be because my brother wanted to self-insert into the storyline .

But, the first video had said “Creative Liberties Taken,” as if Mikumo had already known the storyline, had heard it from someone else, and then elaborated and changed some parts of it.

And the only thing that really made sense… was not if Mikumo had heard the story, but if he’d lived it.

It would explain his attachment to the names “Konohagakure,” and it would explain why he’d asked Izuku if he’d wanted to make his screen name Naruto, like the main character of Tales from the Elemental Nations . It would also explain why Mikumo’s Quirk was “Shadow Control,” something completely different from both his mother’s and father’s sides of the family.

Well, they needed to have a talk.

You (10:51 am)
We need to have a Talk.

Kumo-nii (10:51 am)
So you figured it out. I thought you would, congratulations. I’m outside your room right now.

There was a knock on Izuku’s door. He opened it to reveal Mikumo, who was avoiding Izuku’s eyes.

“So,” Izuku began, slightly awkwardly, as he invited his brother into his room. “You’re actually a reincarnated soul from another dimension?”

Mikumo relaxed minutely, obviously relieved that he didn’t have to start the conversation himself. “No, not quite. I know I’m definitely not Shikamaru. We’re similar, yes, but we’re different people. I just… have his memories.

“But I’m still Mikumo, and I always have been; Shikamaru just lingers in the back of my head sometimes. He… his memories have contributed to who I am, but I’m not him . I don’t really know who Shikamaru is to me.”

Izuku nodded sagely. “Of course. So that’s where you got ‘inspiration’ from?”

“Yeah. I thought it would be nice to pay tribute to my ‘past life,’ so to speak.”

“Does that count as plagiarism?

And just like that, the tension was broken, the friendly camaraderie between the brothers restored as they talked about Shikamaru’s life. Until Izuku said: “Are you going to tell kaa-san?” that is.

“No, not yet. I— I’m telling you now because I know you would have figured it out, sooner or later, with the videos I’ve been releasing, anyway, but I’m not sure if I’ll tell her.”

“I think you should tell her,” Izuku said. “It’s not good to keep this kind of thing under wraps. It’s weighing on you, isn’t it? If you wanted to keep it hidden forever, you definitely could have. But you chose to create Tales from the Elemental Nations .”

“Yeah, okay.” Mikumo ran a hand through his hair. “But, I’ll tell her later .”

“No, now sounds like a great time!” Izuku, his expression mirroring Mikumo’s typical deadpan, grabbed Mikumo’s arm, dragging him to the room where Inko was working.

Izuku knocked on the door politely, and after a few seconds, Inko opened the door. Noticing Mikumo’s tense posture, as if he had committed some grave misdeed, she asked, “What happened?”

“Kumo-nii has something to say,” Izuku said sweetly, jabbing his elbow into Mikumo’s side.

Inko smiled reassuringly. “Honey, whatever you have to say, I won’t think any worse of you for it. I’ll always be your mother, and I’ll always love you.”

“Yeah,” he let out a breath, his nervous expression smoothing out slightly. “Well, remember that time when I was three? When I fell down the stairs and had to be taken to the hospital? After that, I started remembering things…”

After Mikumo’s tale, Inko’s office was silent. As the silence dragged on, Mikumo’s expression distorted more and more. The teenager put a hand behind his neck nervously, shuffling his feet uncharacteristically. Then, Inko held her arms open. Mikumo walked forward into her hug, letting himself fall into his mother’s warm embrace. Although his twelve-year-old frame was already taller than Inko, the boy fit perfectly within her arms.

Beside them, Izuku beamed.

Omake:

“Listen,” Mikumo said, making wild gesticulations, his mature image having been completely abandoned in favor of the argument. “Konohagakure is a great name for our channel!”

He turned, pulling a curtain down, revealing a board covered in notes, pushpins, and red yarn. There were even printed pictures, displaying faces of people Izuku didn’t recognize. “See?!” Mikumo jabbed a finger at points X, Y, and Z, his eyes widened in a frantic fervor. He pulled one of the pins out and the board fell forward, revealing another, similarly decorated board. “ See?! ”

Izuku stared at Mikumo. “So… that’s why you have dark bags under your eyes.”

Mikumo stared back, pressing his fingers together and leading forward with anticipation.

Sighing, Izuku turned his face away, making a dismissive gesture. “Okay, Konohagakure it is.”

Chapter Text

“Hi, everyone, and welcome back to Konohagakure! Today isn’t going to be an analysis video. Instead, this video will cover a topic that’s been plaguing my mind for a while: Takoba Municipal Beach Park, also known as Dagobah Beach.

“The beach used to be beautiful.” A photo flashed across the screen, displaying a pristine beach of pale sand and a gorgeous skyline, showing the viewer a scene of the unobstructed glassy-blue ocean waves. The image was grainy, by no means the work of an expert photographer, but the idyllic utopia that was pictured could not be clearer.

“However,” Izuku, as Shamrock, said, “Within barely a few months, it looked like this.” Another photo replaced the first one. The view from the second photo was barely recognizable as related to the first. Although the same sand covered the earth, it was marred by trash — heaps and heaps of trash were piled up on the beach, making the originally clear horizon difficult to make out.

The sheer contrast between the first and second images would shock anyone. When he first dug up pictures of the original Dagobah Beach, Izuku had nearly spat out the water he’d been drinking in shock. He’d grown curious about the beach, seeing the sheer amount of litter covering it, after having run past it a few times while jogging, and when he saw pictures of the beach’s original glory, Izuku felt that something should be done.

Izuku had gone to his friends from his mixed martial arts studio, asking if they wanted to clean up the beach. “After all,” Izuku had said at the time, “not only are you performing a service to your community, it’s a good way to condition. And if you aren’t convinced,” Izuku had added slyly. “Some of the items on that beach could sell for a lot of money!”

In the following months, the friend group met up at the beach nearly every day, organizing and cleaning up the beach. Once in a while, a passerby would grow interested and pitch in for a while, but none demonstrated the consistent, dogged efforts that Izuku and his friends did. At first, perhaps, they were driven by the thought of profit, but as the beach had slowly cleared up, the teenagers became invested in seeing the beach restored to its original condition.

“Have you seen the pictures of the original beach?” Uesugi Kokoro, one of the beach cleaners, a candid girl who always seemed to wear her hair in pigtails, had asked when the beach was almost completely clear. “I didn’t really see it at first, but now I can. I really think we can do it, guys. We can make this place beautiful again.”

When the last piece of trash on the 14 kilometer long beach was finally removed, everyone had let out screams of accomplishment, clasping hands and hugging each other in relieved joy. Izuku had barreled into Kokoro, tears leaking slightly out of the corner of his eyes as the sun set on the cleared beach. “This was all worth it,” he’d breathed out, laughing. “Completely worth it.”

“But now,” Izuku, in the present, said, another image appearing on the screen, “the beach has been cleared again. Through the efforts of a group of teenagers, the beach, which had once been littered with columns of trash, some reaching up to two meters high, has been cleared. Although it’s not our style, we at Konohagakure considered interviewing the teens, but…” Izuku let out a small chuckle, absentmindedly reflecting on how it was odd to talk about himself, even if only tangentially, “…various news stations have done that already.

“After the beach’s cleaning, volunteers organized by the government took over the efforts. They worked on making Dagobah Beach into a functioning, accessible beach again. Because of the sheer volume of volunteers, the work has been quick. Although it has yet to be opened to the public, thanks to the community’s efforts, Dagobah Beach has now been transitioned from its former trash-filled state into a fully functioning, family-friendly beach.”

An animated icon, a character wearing a blank white mask with a small four-leaf clover on the edge and a dark green hoodie, appeared on the screen, smiling. “I suppose the moral of the story relates to what some might refer to as the butterfly effect, or domino theory,” Izuku said, the character’s mouth moving in sync with his — honestly, rigging was a godsend.

“In the beginning, the beach wasn’t like what was shown in the second photo. However, the small act of dropping a few pieces of trash on the beach or in the waters, where the tides brought the trash onto the beach, tipped the dominoes over, resulting in a wasteland. On the flip side, the domino effect can also do good. The suggestion of one teen led him and his friends to work dedicatedly for months to clean the beach, leading to its eventual successful restoration efforts.

“I guess what I want to say is, ‘even a small action can have great unintended consequences.’ Unlike the current connotation of the word, though, a consequence doesn’t have to be negative. The smallest positive action — kind words or a caring gift — can change someone’s life for the better.

“Perhaps you think I’m being too optimistic, but the Dagobah Beach story demonstrates that even the most ordinary people can do good in this world. You don’t have to be a Hero or someone rich or famous. As long as a person is willing to do something, they can create their own butterflies to change this world. And I believe you all can lead the force of positive change in this world.”

The screen cut to black. Izuku hit the “Finish Recording” button, swiveling around in his chair to face Mikumo. “Was I too preachy? It looked fine when I wrote the script, but now I’m unsure. I really believe what I said, but I don’t want to sound naive or insensitive.”

“It’s fine,” Mikumo said, holding up his phone. The Sound Memories app was open. “I’ll just put that audio in the video sometime during the end credits. It’ll make you seem more relatable and drive your point across.”

Izuku hesitated, feeling conflicted. “Is that right ? Isn’t there something morally questionable about manipulating others’ opinions?”

“Why worry about it?” Mikumo asked back. “Consciously or not, we’re all constantly manipulating each others’ opinions. If you want a person to like you, you’ll naturally be nicer to them. In fact, even showing respect to elders can be a form of opinion manipulation, if you want to think about it that way.”

“But,” Izuku said, “we’re doing this consciously. If people manipulate each other subconsciously, perhaps it can be excused. But we’re not doing this without awareness of it. So doesn't that mean that it’s morally wrong?”

“Are you harming anyone? But, more importantly, do you think you’re doing anything wrong? If you’re doing something slightly morally questionable — that doesn’t harm anyone, mind you — to achieve your goals, at most you could be called selfish.”

At Mikumo’s question, Izuku thought carefully about the matter, then finally shook his head. “I guess you’re right.” Izuku made a slightly irritated expression, annoyed at himself for not arriving at that conclusion sooner. “I guess my entire goal in creating the channel was kind of based in manipulation, right?”

Mikumo quirked an eyebrow. “I thought we were just an innocent analyst-animator pair, creating a channel because we were bored. Wherever did manipulation come from?”

“When you first proposed your idea of creating a video, that’s what I first thought of: ‘I can use this channel to change people’s minds about the Quirkless.’ I thought, ‘If enough people watch my channel, then they’ll listen to me, right?’” Izuku smiled lopsidedly, eyes pulling into something vaguely worried. “How come the question of morality didn’t come to me back then?”

Making a sound of disbelief, Mikumo said, “I can’t believe you think you’re a bad person because you wanted to change an underlying societal issue for the better.”

“Oh! I didn’t think of that, either,” said Izuku, embarrassed. “I need to go reflect on my actions,” he muttered, springing up from his chair and heading for the door.

Halfway out the door, Izuku realized his actions may have been a bit abrupt. “I’m going on a walk,” he called back into the house belatedly, closing the door on Inko’s “Take care, honey!” and Mikumo’s grumbles about having to edit the video by himself.

“Why do you bother spending so long to gel your hair into a pineapple shape?” Izuku asked, a hand resting on the bathroom door’s frame. He had taken note of Mikumo’s habit and had found it odd, but he hadn’t thought much about it. After learning that Mikumo had memories from another life, Izuku understood the origins of the pineapple hairstyle, but not why his brother was so attached to it, to the point of spending at least half an hour each morning turning his straight hair into spikes.

Mikumo smiled wryly, his hands covered in gel as they ran through his hair with smooth, practiced movements. “Well, this… do you want the short answer, or the long answer?”

Glancing at the clock, Izuku said, “Can you give me the short answer now, and the long answer after my parkour class?”

“Alright. The short answer is that it’s a habit.” Mikumo followed Izuku’s line of sight to the clock. “You better hurry up,” he added. “The traffic going toward the west is going to be bad. Most of the roads going that way are blocked off due to the collateral damage from Ryukyu’s fight with the villain Faultline, whose Quirk let her split things apart. You would’ve seen it on the news had you not been writing All Might x Sir Nighteye fanfiction.”

Izuku immediately turned a bright, tomato shade of red. “That’s— Anyways, doesn’t that Quirk sound so interesting?” Izuku’s vocal cords tightened and he talked faster, his words blending together as he speculated about the villain’s Quirk. “You know what? I’m going to go write that down. Oh, wait, parkour class is soon, I need to change!” Izuku ran off into an adjacent room, steam coming out of his ears.

Izuku could hear Mikumo’s chuckles as he changed into an outfit more suitable for parkour. It wasn’t until he was with Inko in the car, driving toward his class, that Izuku had the space of mind to wonder what Ryukyu was doing in the Musutafu area. Just as they arrived at the parkouring ground for the week, Izuku concluded, without much difficulty, that she was heading to Tokyo for the Hero Ranking Ceremony.

The 362nd Hero Ranking Ceremony would be broadcasted that night on nearly every single channel, with hundreds of millions of Japanese citizens tuning in. Having already posted a video the previous day about his predictions, Izuku was disproportionately anxious for the Ceremony’s results. He was sure that Hawks was finally going to take the Number 3 spot from Best Jeanist and that Present Mic would break into the top 30, but Izuku’s nerves didn’t agree.

After being dropped off at the parkour site, Izuku gathered among the small group. Their instructor, Sakurada Shun, a middle-aged but enthusiastic man with long gray sideburns and his hair in a wolf tail was standing on top of a building. Beside him was a young woman who had dark, medium length brown hair wearing a deep blue jacket with neon green highlights and a badge on the arm, displaying some kind of criss crossing pattern.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” the parkour instructor greeted cheerily from atop the building after everyone finished stretching. “Your warm up for today will be to climb up this wall. Be careful, though. The graffiti will make it harder to see the small ledges where you can place your hands and feet.”

There was a rush of volunteers to go first. Izuku agreed with the sentiment — after all, it was safer when there were more people below to catch you should you fall — but felt confident enough in his skills that he wasn’t one of them.

One after another, people climbed up. “Great job!” Sakurada-san greeted each person as they reached the top, pulling them onto the roof. Izuku was the second-to-last one up, not that there were very many in the group to begin with.

After the last person had made it to the top, Sakurada said, “Alright, today we’ll be working on roof jumping!”

Everyone let out a small cheer. For the past few weeks, the parkour instructor had drilled them relentlessly, having them do jump after jump on flat ground. Before that, they had been practicing how to roll and how to fall without getting hurt. Finally, though, he’d deemed them ready for the real deal.

Izuku felt a rush of excitement, listening attentively as the instructor explained: “We’re going to do a small jump first.” He gestured to a building nearby. Its roof was less than a meter away from their current building.

Feeling his excitement wane slightly, Izuku let out a sigh as he realized that Sakurada would probably have them jump back and forth between the two buildings for quite a while.

“After everyone makes that jump,” Sakurada continued, “we’re going to go to that building.” He pointed to another building. Izuku felt a rush of energy as he averaged the distance between the buildings with his eyes. About three and a half meters , he concluded. Just a bit over an average human’s jumping ability, if they didn’t use their Quirk .

“Are you scared?” Sakurada faced them with a slight challenge in his gaze.

A chorus of “no!”s rang out.

“You should be. I usually try to find rooftops as close to the ground as possible, but it was difficult to find one with the right distance, so today we are just a bit under 15 meters above the ground. If you fall, it won’t be pretty.”

A look of unease flashed across several people’s faces as they glanced down at the ground. Suddenly, Izuku felt, it seemed much higher than before.

“That’s why I’m here, though,” the unknown woman standing next to Sakurada said. “My name is Date Asuga and my Quirk is called Gravitation. If you should fall, I can slow down your descent so it’s less painful. If I should save your life, make sure to follow me on HeroTube; the channel name is Windrunner!” She winked.

Sakurada coughed into his fist, looking visibly amused. “Alright, let’s get started.”

The rest of the class was fun, with each student, most of them being teenage boys, trying to look as dashing and heroic as possible. Izuku, although he would deny it, joined in, rolling forward and onto his feet after his jumps a few more times than strictly necessary.

“C’mon, Ryuuji, do it!” The playful taunt caused Izuku to turn his head. It was a boy named Yuuto, who was trying to cajole his friend into jumping over a gap of around five meters, one bigger than the ones they’d practiced on.

Ryuuji, the recipient of the dare, jumped onto the balls of his feet, flashing a confident smile. “Of course,” he replied boldly.

Izuku glanced at Sakurada, who was explaining something to another of the group. Before Izuku could alert the instructor, Ryuuji had taken a running start and was dashing across the building. As he neared the edge, Ryuuji kicked off and jumped. He made it safely to the other side.

Letting out a breath of relief, Izuku glanced at the building’s edge. The concrete roof was slightly dented, indicating the use of some kind of strength Quirk. It was technically illegal, but Izuku felt no need to mention it. Ryuuji was safe, after all.

Yuuto clearly felt differently, though. “You coward,” he called provocatively across to the other building. “What kind of Hero would you be if you’re too scared to jump across a gap without using your Quirk?”

Clearly angered, Ryuuji retorted, “Well, why don’t you take the jump, without your Quirk?” When Yuuto didn’t reply, Ryuuji said, raising an eyebrow, “Afraid?”

“Of course I’m not!” Yuuto said heatedly, growling under his breath. “I’ll show you!”

Yuuto jumped.

When Yuuto was halfway through his jump arc, Izuku realized the other boy wouldn’t make it. Clearly Yuuto realized it too, because he screamed, flailing his arms frantically. His screams had attracted everyone’s attention and they all watched with bated breath as Yuuto plummeted.

Except, he didn’t. An invisible force was slowing Yuuto’s fall, preventing him from hitting the ground with the full speed of a falling human. Yuuto landed on the ground gently, his face white and hands shaking. “Oh my god,” Izuku heard him exclaim. “ Oh my god !”

Shocked, Izuku glanced around. Oh! he realized a second later as he spotted the nonchalant blue-jacketed figure. It’s Date-san’s Quirk .

When everyone climbed down to under the roof where Yuuto was standing, Sakurada gestured for Yuuto and Ryuuji to stand apart from everyone else. “That was incredibly reckless and monumentally stupid,” he said to them, sounding angry, something Izuku hadn’t heard before. “You’re lucky Date-san noticed your little stunt. You could’ve died. When you signed up for this class, you signed a waiver stating that you would listen to the instructor — me — at all times. Both of you clearly violated the agreement. Neither of you will come back to this class again.

“Don’t try to parkour again until you’ve learned to have a healthy respect for safety. Go home and search up what a fall from this height can do to you. I’m calling your parents.”

Hanging their heads in shame, Ryuuji and Yuuto had matching flushes running across their faces. The two were asked to stay on the ground with Sakurada supervising while Date led everyone else to continue practicing. Sakurada could be seen talking to the two’s parents when they arrived. Eventually, some kind of agreement was signed and the two left.

Climbing back onto the roof, Sakurada proceeded to give everyone a long lecture about safety. Izuku, mentally agreeing with all of Sakurada’s points, started thinking about how he could adapt the parkour instructor’s speech to something relating to Hero work.

Even after class was dismissed and Izuku was in the car with his mother, he continued brainstorming, occasionally scribbling in his notebook. Clearly lost in thought, he answered all of Inko’s questions absentmindedly. It was only until he’d gotten home that Izuku had time to feel regret that he didn’t have the chance to ask Date Asuga anything about her Quirk.

That night, over a delectable meal of noodles in beef soup with string beans, Izuku asked Mikumo, “So, are you going to tell me why you do that —” Izuku gestured to his brother’s hair, “—to your hair?”

“Ah,” Mikumo said, glancing at Inko. “Well, it’s actually a bit complicated.” He sighed and placed his chopsticks on the rim of his bowl. “But since you brought it up, I might as well confess.” Mikumo sighed again. He picked one of the chopsticks up, wiped it with a napkin, and began spinning it over his fingers.

“Remember when I said that I wasn’t Shikamaru?”

Izuku felt his stomach lurch.

“I lied.”

The chopstick stopped spinning. Mikumo looked away, his eyes darting anywhere but to Izuku or Inko. He continued quickly, “As a matter of fact, I don’t really know who I am. I don’t think I’m Shikamaru, but sometimes I reach for a weapon that isn’t there or place my hands in hand signs I don’t need and can’t use, and I wonder. I don’t think I’m Shikamaru, but I… I’m probably not really Mikumo either.”

The pineapple-haired teen took a deep breath and said, in a soft whisper: “I don’t really know who I am.”

Izuku let out an involuntary gasp. The raw, unfakeable vulnerability on his brother’s face left him stunned. For the first time since he was old enough to understand and remember, Izuku saw his brother in a way that didn’t give him control over or an easy way out of a situation.

Inko placed a hand over her son’s. Her eyes grew slightly sad when he flinched. “No matter who you were — or are , it doesn’t change the fact that you are my son; that I love you as a son. Even if you had other parents, I’m your parent now. It’s okay, honey. I’m here. Izuku’s here.”

Mikumo glanced at Izuku, who nodded encouragingly. “You idiot,” Izuku said, his tone light. “You were born before me. To me, you’ve always been my brother. That’ll never change.”

Mikumo visibly relaxed, picking up the chopstick that had fallen from his fingers sometime during the conversation. “Yeah,” he said. “I knew that. By the way, the Hero Ranking Ceremony started a minute ago.”

Izuku let out a shriek — “ What !?” — and rushed for the remote.

“It’s okay,” Mikumo continued as Izuku fell over onto the couch. “The first fifteen minutes is probably going to be filled with random filler nonsense anyway.”

Inko laughed and Izuku felt, once again, grateful for his family.

“Hello, everyone!” The announcer this year was a young woman with shoulder-length black hair and short bangs. She had a smile on her face, the right edge twisting up in a way that suggested a mischievous personality. “Welcome to this year’s Hero Ranking Ceremony ! I’m H—”

Looking disgruntled, a disheveled-looking blond man with dark eyebags tapped the woman on her shoulder, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. She stuck her tongue out at him and turned back toward the camera. “I’m HSY and I’ll be your announcer for today,” she continued cheerily, as if she’d never been interrupted.

“Now that the boring part’s over, we can get to what you’ve all been waiting for: the reveal of the rankings! Hey— hey!” HSY spun in circles, as if being swarmed by invisible objects. “Where’re the ads coming from?” As her voice trailed off, the screen cut to black. A perfume ad started playing.

HSY was unprofessional, but extremely entertaining. Izuku wondered if the humor was scripted in, or if the announcer was simply going off-script. He idly speculated the latter.

“I’ve heard of her,” Mikumo said. “HSY is, well, I think it’s best to describe her as a writer. She hosts a website called Randamu, which, true to its name, simply posts random content. Cat photos, articles on America’s zombie apocalypse procedure… you name it, it’s probably there.”

Inko looked mildly interested. “I think I’ve heard of her, too. I came across one of her articles about the recent reforms loosening restrictions on Quirk usage but it was published under… I forgot the name, actually; some modified Latin phrase, I think.”

“Carpe Diem?”

“Yes!” Inko said. “That’s the one!” Her memory jogged, Inko said, “It’s a startup company. I remember being curious because Put Your Hands Up Radio did a feature about it with an interview with the company’s president, HSY’s brother, Dabi. HSY herself holds a high position there, too. Vice-president, maybe?” Inko looked briefly contemplative. “But, oh! The ads have ended.”

Izuku quickly repositioned his body to face the screen, which once again showed HSY’s smiling face. “Welcome back, everyone!” she said. “Sorry for the ads, but America’s not the only country thriving on capitalism.” She winked. “Without further ado, let’s get into it!”

“Our Number 10 this ceremony is the Killer Whale Hero: GANG ORCA ! He has kept his rank from last time, a symbol of steadiness and consistency. Known for his love of children and advocacy for water-related safety, Gang Orca helped head the new regulations relating to the implementation of pool safety features for small children. Gang Orca is caring and considerate, but that doesn’t stop him from his pursuit of lawbreakers. Within just the past six months, Gang Orca has helped investigate and take down three separate trafficking rings, making all of Japan safer!”

Before the echo of HSY’s voice faded, the audience erupted into cheers, Izuku included. Inko, smiling, cheered with him while Mikumo clapped politely. “Did you know,” Izuku said, “that Gang Orca frequently donates to child welfare-related charities? Uesugi-chan, you know, from my mixed martial arts studio, says that one of the charities he donates to is the reason her cousin has been able to raise his kid by himself.”

Mikumo nodded approvingly. “Gang Orca’s a good hero. Acknowledges his wrongs, minimal casualties, and selfless.”

On the TV, Gang Orca walked onto the stage. Accepting the mic offered to him, he gave a few words of thanks, but Izuku didn’t hear any of that. His eyes were squinted in confusion. After Gang Orca had backed off to a position behind HSY, Izuku finally said, “Why is the ceremony so elaborate this time?”

Before either Mikumo or Inko could reply and before Izuku could come up with an explanation himself, HSY began speaking again.

The announcer spun the mic in her hand. “In ninth place, finally breaking into the Top 10 once again, it’s the Dragon Hero: RYUKYU ! She’s definitely earned her place as Number 9, even having defeated the villain-slash-mercenary Faultline on her way to this stadium. Despite Faultline’s ruthlessness toward civilians, none were injured or killed during their fight. Moreover, Ryukyu is always humble and gentle, with a personality that helps bring reassurance to the people she saves.”

Cheering, Izuku said excitedly, “Ryukyu has one of the highest favorability rates among teens and young adults. I’ve heard she’s good friends with former Pro-Hero Blizzard of Hell, too. She’s also really good at protecting civilians. Throughout her entire career and schooling, not a single civilian has died immediately due to their injuries, though some succumbed to them in the hospital.”

“Our very own walking Hero encyclopedia,” Mikumo said, patting Izuku on the shoulder. The green-haired boy spluttered, then smiled in bashful pride.

The applause died down. A dragon flew over the heads of the audiences, circling over the stage before swooping in from behind. Right before the dragon’s full weight hit the stage, it compressed, bones shifting and creaking until a woman stood where the dragon once was. The woman with gray spikes covering half of her face waved.

Taking the mic offered by the announcer, Ryukyu said, “Thank you very much for this opportunity. I will continue working hard to earn my place on this stage.” She gave a full ninety-degree bow toward the audience.

“So humble!” Izuku exclaimed. “Ryukyu is so cool! I need to go see if I have any of her merch.”

Before Izuku could stand all the way up and run off, Inko pushed him down onto the couch. “There’s no ad break this time,” she said. “Do you want to miss the next one?”

Izuku sat down obediently.

The ceremony continued in a similar fashion, with HSY introducing the Heroes in fresh and interesting ways. After each introduction, Izuku would cheer and give his family his own synopsis on the Heroes. Best Jeanist had just given his acceptance speech when ads started playing again.

After the ads, HSY was back in position, eyes gleaming. “I’ve seen quite a few speculations on who would take the Number 3 spot this year! Best Jeanist and Edgeshot seemed to be the most popular options, but a dark horse,” she chuckled, “or maybe, dark bird , has swept up through the ranks this year.

“He’s quick and efficient, never hesitating and never stopping in his pursuit of justice. Lauded for his resolution of the Hiromi Apartment Complex hostage situation, this Hero has finally been given the push needed to make Top 3. He’s also the youngest Hero in the Top 10 at age 22; it’s our favorite cannibal, the Winged Hero: HAWKS !”

Letting out his loudest cheer throughout the entire ceremony so far, Izuku jumped into the air, gleeful. “I knew it!”

Hawks walked onto the stage. “I would have swooped in from the above,” he said in his signature drawl, “but someone—” he gave Ryukyu a faux-annoyed look, “—already did that. So, I can only walk. However, all of you ,” Hawks swept his right hand, index finger extended, across the audience, “shouldn’t be afraid to take to the skies.”

“Thank you.” Hawks flashed a smile.

Mikumo glanced suspiciously at Izuku. “Are you blushing ?”

Izuku looked away. “...No.”

“Our Number 3 may have taken some of you for a loop, but our Number 2 surely won’t. The Flame Hero: ENDEAVOR has held onto his spot! Endeavor is not only a flashy fighter, but also a brilliant investigator. In the past half-year, his work efficiency has once again increased. Thanks to Endeavor and his agency, the secrets to several unsolved cold cases have been unearthed, hidden crimes brought to light. Everyone, give Endeavor a truly fiery round of applause!”

As Endeavor walked onto the stage, Mikumo opened his mouth. Izuku quickly slapped his hand over it. “I want to hear his speech,” Izuku hissed, “not hear you criticize his fashion decisions.”

“You mean, un fashionable decisions,” Mikumo muttered.

Endeavor gripped the mic. There was an anticipatory silence as everyone waited for him to speak. However, instead of saying anything, Endeavor set the mic back down.

He faced the audience, gave a sharp nod, and took his spot beside Hawks.

There was a hesitant applause.

“As characteristic of this serious Hero,” HSY said, unfazed. “This is the person you are trusting with your livelihoods, after all. Come on, don’t be shy. Show your appreciation!”

The applause turned thunderous.

It was amazing, Izuku thought, how HSY could, with a few words, completely change the crowd's attitude. His own applause grew louder in realization.

HSY smiled. “Now, we know who is next. The Number One Hero: ALL MIGHT ! A walking force of nature, All Might has upheld his name as the Symbol of Peace and kept Japan safe for the past decade. All Might is pretty much everywhere. In fact, you've all probably personally witnessed All Might's feats in his fights with the various villains around Japan, so he needs no more introduction. The man, the myth, the legend is here in person tonight!”

Before the raucous applause inevitably erupted, All Might walked onto the stage from the wings. He held a hand up to the audience, as if telling them to stay silent and wait for his words. Although the man always fought villains with a smile on his face, he carried an air of solemnity that night.

All Might took the mic offered to him with a muttered “Thank you.”

“First of all,” All Might said. “I am thankful for everyone who is here in person or is watching this on television tonight. Your dedication to the safety of our society through your support of Heroes is absolutely vital, and I am thankful for that.

“However, the second part of my speech might disappoint quite a number of you. The HPSC wanted me to announce this at a press conference, or at its own separate event, but I feel more comfortable at this stage, alongside some of society’s finest Heroes. There’s a home here, I feel.”

All Might took a breath. He was still smiling, but the expression held an uncharacteristic edge of nervousness. It was a rare genuine, but probably intentional, act of vulnerability. “I am going to retire."

The words echoed in Izuku’s ears. Re— retirement!?

Never in his lifetime had Izuku imagined All Might would retire. To him, All Might was the figurehead, the impenetrable figure standing at the head of the Heroes, keeping all of society safe from villains. As he grew up, Izuku slowly let go of his previous fervent attachment to All Might, but in his heart, All Might was still that same— that same untouchable, invincible figure as before. Ever present and never faltering. But, retirement ?

On TV, All Might talked about a transition period, of slowly reducing the amount of hours he would be active as a Hero before he stopped showing up altogether. He followed with an inspirational speech about the new generation, the new future of Heroes. Izuku heard none of it.

His head was buzzing, fracturing into images and an unshakeable sense that something was wrong . Izuku clutched his head. It was wrong , WRONG , WRonG — All Might wasn’t supposed to retire! So why !

Izuku felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned; it was Mikumo. “Are you okay?” the older teen asked.

Letting out a gasp, the images faded, the pain retreated; forgotten. “Yeah…” Izuku said. “Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t even remember what was bothering me,” he said, faintly confused. He shrugged it off. “What did All Might just say?”

The ads had begun again, probably as a reprieve for the people who had been just as shocked as Izuku by All Might’s announcement. Mikumo began summarizing All Might's speech.

“So,” Mikumo finished. “That’s basically what he said.” He took a sip of water.

Right on cue, the ads vanished, replaced by HSY’s smiling face. “Were you shocked?” she asked. “Well, I have another shock for you. You should probably brace yourselves.”

“To begin to explain, I need to touch on something you’ve probably all been wondering: why is the HPSC holding such an elaborate ceremony this time? There’s speeches, grand entrances, and even my amazing presence. So what makes this time so different, besides, well, All Might’s retirement?”

HSY spun the mic over her fingers. “It’s simple. This time is the last time.”

The camera swiveled to face the audience. There was a moment of stunned silence before the crowd burst into complaints and shouts. Had that happened after All Might’s announcement? Izuku didn’t remember.

HSY made a shushing sound into the mic. “Calm down, guys, and let me explain.” Slowly, under HSY’s placations, the crowd quieted. “Let me start with a brief history of the Hero Ranking Ceremony. We don’t really like to talk about this, but the years after Quirks first manifested were chaotic and anarchical. People were rioting, violence was everywhere, and no one was safe, least of all those with Quirks. However, as society stabilized, there emerged Heroes .

“Heroes were the light to the era’s darkness. But they could also be the light that cast the shadow. The HPSC was originally established to prevent Heroes from abusing the powers their Quirks gave over others. The Hero Ranking Ceremony was a way to inform the public on which Heroes were trustworthy. If someone wasn’t on the ranking, they were probably going to rob you.

“Nowadays, you can still argue for the usefulness of rankings. They push Heroes to strive their hardest, to give them a goal and a purpose. But the rankings also sully the purpose of heroics. It pushes Heroes to focus on looking good in front of a camera or on appearing in promotions, rather than actually saving civilians or apprehending villains. That’s why HPSC has decided to abolish the Hero ranking system and introduce a new, hopefully more effective way of measuring a Hero’s capabilities.”

HSY took a breath. “And now to HPSC’s president to introduce this new system.”

A steely middle-aged woman stepped up. Her eyes were sharp, outlined by dark shadows, indicating to Izuku that she had a pragmatic — cynical, perhaps? — outlook on the world. HPSC’s Madam President seemed to be a very no-nonsense woman. She said, “HSY did her job well, so I will not waste time. The new system will work as follows: first, Heroes will be…”

“…and that is all. We hope that this will help hold Heroes to a higher standard and help Japan reach a higher level of national safety. Thank you.” Madam President nodded to the audience and stepped back. She handed the mic back to HSY.

“Everyone, please thank Madam President for her detailed explanation.”

There was a tentative applause. Seeing as he was too busy scribbling notes in his notebook, Izuku didn’t contribute to it. Inko, on the other hand, who had been nodding during the explanation, clapped warm-heartedly. “I think this system will really help improve everyone’s standard of living,” she said, smiling.

Mikumo said, “That’s right. This system is surprisingly airtight, for something HPSC created. They must have undergone a purging to have had this passed; there’s no way some of those corrupt higher-ups would have let it pass otherwise.”

Inko gave him a suspicious look. “How do you know this?”

“And that’s a wrap!” HSY clapped her hands. “TL;DR? — I suppose it should be TL;D W — All Might retired and the ranking system was abolished. Y’all can go now!” She winked.

In Izuku and his mother’s period of distraction, before they could ask any more probing questions, Mikumo sidled away.

Chapter Text

https://freelance-articles.com/archive/author/4N0N-3N717Y/

A summary of the possible effects of the new Hero system
Author: 4N0N-3N717Y … Posted: several minutes ago … Views: 2090

What All Might’s retirement could mean for Japan: the good and the bad
Author: 4N0N-3N717Y … Posted: 2 hours ago … Views: 72908

The Polychromatic Hero: Amberwave’s dealings within the drug industry
Author: 4N0N-3N717Y … Posted: 3 days ago … Views: 213985

An analysis of the HPSC’s handling of the Fukuhara Harbor Raid
Author: 4N0N-3N717Y … Posted: 1 week ago … Views: 11593

The Pinocchio Hero: Talking Cricket assists Count Volpe in locating their victims
Author: 4N0N-3N717Y … Posted: 2 months ago … Views: 324901

See more …

“Hey, Midoriya-kun! You know a lot, right? Have you heard of, well… their username is a weird jumble of numbers and letters but someone figured out that it basically spells ‘anon entity.’ So, have you heard of them?”

Izuku nodded slowly. “Yeah, I have,” he said faux-nonchalantly. He’d talked about himself before, in the video he’d made about Dagobah Beach, but having his identity as 4N0N-3N717Y exposed was… more dangerous than if he was revealed to be Shamrock.

Of course, Anon — that was what Izuku had dubbed the identity in his head — wrote a fair share of analysis articles, but the articles exposing corrupt Heroes, not ones about some harbor raid they’d already heard about on the news, were the ones that attracted readers. Readers, and danger.

Mikumo had helped him do the “research” for those articles. After a while, Izuku stopped questioning where and how the older teen got his information, but Izuku strongly suspected vigilantism, or at least something on the less legal side. After Mikumo’s confession before the Hero Ranking Ceremony, Izuku knew that with such an identity crisis, Mikumo, like him, definitely had more than one that he kept from the family (though Mikumo almost certainly knew Izuku was Anon). However, Izuku didn’t intend to pry. If he stumbled upon a lead by chance and investigated, that was a different matter.

“What do you think about Anon Entity’s articles?” It was a boy from Izuku’s mixed martial arts studio, Higashi Daisuke, who had just asked him about Anon. Izuku and Daisuke were only passing acquaintances, having talked maybe once or twice, but Daisuke’s reason for speaking to Izuku was quickly revealed when, without waiting for Izuku’s answer, Daisuke said, “I think it’s so cool! Anon Entity is kinda a hero in their own right. Exposing the wrongs of Heroes, seeking justice for the populace! Right?”

With a helpless smile, Izuku nodded. He took a sip of water.

Satisfied, Daisuke went to find someone else to talk to, probably also about Anon.

Izuku wondered how Daisuke would react if he told him Anon was kept up at night about questions of morality, countless calculations running through his mind, wondering whether his actions would change society for better or worse. He wondered if Daisuke’s resolve would be strengthened if he knew that Anon hardened his heart and wrote the articles anyway, because he felt it was the right thing to do.

When they were talking about what they wanted Konohagakure to be, Mikumo had said: “In your heart, do you feel like you are doing the right thing? If yes, then that’s enough.”

Izuku had asked back, “How can I trust... how can I trust something so subjective?”

Mikumo had smiled, patted him on the shoulder, and replied, “If you can’t even trust yourself to make decisions, then what is ‘choice’ for?”

Izuku smiled as he recalled the memory, his duffel bag swinging as he walked toward the train station. Inside his pocket, his phone buzzed.

Kaachan ( 4:02 PM )
The U.A. Exam is in six months
You better get in.

You ( 4:31 PM )
Of course :D

Kaachan ( 4:31 PM )
tch

You (4:31 PM)
tsundere~
btw I’ll be done with the script for Konohagakure’s next vid about the HRC tmrw, proofread 4 me?
ty in advance! <3

Kaachan (4:32 PM)
I didn’t even agree yet

You (4:32 PM)
but you will

Kaachan (4:32 PM)
You could just let your brother read it

You (4:32 PM)
He never gives any actually useful advice :C
he just says something pseudo-philosophical like “it won’t help me learn” smh
he’s just too lazy to actually read the script
honestly it’s a miracle he animates and edits the videos at all

Kaachan (4:33 PM)
lmao.
Send the script soon

You (4:33 PM)
ty! (❁´◡`❁)

Right as he sent the message, the train arrived. The doors opened smoothly, and people began to disembark, weaving around those in the crowd who were waiting to board. Izuku stepped onto the train. Luckily, the train car was mostly empty, and Izuku was able to claim an unoccupied seat. He sat down, setting his bag on the seat beside him.

Izuku debated pulling his laptop out, but figured the relatively short train ride wasn’t worth it. (He also forgot that he didn’t bring his laptop.)

Instead, Izuku swiped to the notepad app on his phone, creating a new note. His All Might x Sir Nighteye fic hadn’t updated in a while, right? What scene was he on, again? Wracking his mind, Izuku let out a small “ oh ” as he recalled the scene: the love rival, Eraserhead, had just been introduced…

Because he couldn’t decide on Eraserhead’s characterization — the underground Hero was so mysterious! —, Izuku hadn’t written anything in a while. There was so little knowledge on Eraserhead, people would probably think he was an original character, and it wouldn’t matter if anything was out-of-character, but Izuku wanted to get it right .

He sighed. He probably wasn’t going to get any writing done today, either.

Ding ! Izuku glanced at his phone screen, which had turned dark. Immediately, Izuku fumbled his phone in an attempt to click on the notification banner. Finally, an update ! He thought gleefully, eyes lighting up.

Fast and Fire-ous
By: copyTHATcopycat

Chapter 15 - Studies in Scarlet
Summary: Endeavor has to deal with Hawks’ betrayal. He thinks of Hawks’ red, red wings and of his contemptuous expression as he said those last words: “You’re not good enough for me.” He thinks of his wife, his family back home, and can’t help but agree.

By the time the train arrived at Izuku’s stop, he still hadn’t finished the chapter. Honestly, 20000 words?! As a writer, Izuku severely envied copyTHATcopycat’s ability to write quickly, a lot, and well. As a reader, he just enjoyed the story. It was a really good story.

The story was so good, in fact, that Izuku couldn’t put his phone down even as he swung his bag over his shoulder and exited the train station. It was only until he’d left a comment on the work — Thank you so much for the chapter, it was wonderful! ^-^ — that he put his phone in his pocket and realized that he’d taken a wrong turn a while back and was now standing in some shady underpass with crude graffiti lining the walls.

Izuku turned to leave, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the manhole cover in a corner of the underpass twitch. His curiosity kept him rooted for a second too long, and the manhole burst open, letting loose a creature made of slime.

It cackled (or the slime equivalent, anyways).

Without waiting around to see what it had to say, Izuku bolted. Clearly, that was a villain, and as a civilian, it wasn’t his job to engage it. He would report this to the nearest police station and then they would set a few Heroes on the case, and it would all be resolved. The police in his area were competent, Izuku told himself. They handled the Dagobah Beach cleaning well, hadn’t they?

Izuku pointedly didn’t think about how, when he’d first suggested beach cleaning efforts to the police, they’d brushed it off as too much work, and refused to organize volunteer efforts, leaving Izuku to gather a group of teenagers for the potentially dangerous task. (He’d given them a lecture on safety beforehand, of course, but teenagers ; there were a few close calls.)

Izuku also pointedly didn’t think about the string of teenager disappearances that had happened around the area. He didn’t think about the petty robberies that had been reported near the disappearances, with cameras capturing the missing teenagers’ faces; they’d had slight off-green tinges to their skin. He didn’t think about how no bodies had been found. That might be because of the acidic properties of the slime . It might be able to dissolve bone , his traitorous mind supplied.

He didn’t make it a quarter of the way to the police station before he turned around and ran right back. “After all,” Izuku justified to himself, “the underpass is a common shortcut students at Aldera Municipal Junior High take, and the slime villain could do something to one of them before the police or Heroes can react.”

As Izuku ran, he analyzed the villain, coming to several conclusions. First, the villain was able to possess people, probably by filling their bodies with its (Izuku gave up on pronouns) slime and controlling their movements. Second, the victims died quickly, if the rate of disappearances was any indication. Third, from Izuku’s brief glimpse, the only part of the villain that didn’t look like slime was the eyes.

Slime was electrically conductive.

The eyes were the weakness.

By the time he’d gotten back to the underpass, Izuku had put together a makeshift taser using headphone wires and some batteries, with a lighter to supply the necessary energy. Izuku thanked the gods that he stayed up to unholy hours browsing the Support Equipment Forums, and he thanked Mikumo for making him carry a flashlight (the source of the batteries) and a lighter around.

Out of breath and with aching sides, Izuku arrived at the place where he’d encountered the slime? sludge? villain.

The villain was gone, but the manhole cover was wide open. In the concrete was a dent, as if someone with a strength-enhancing Quirk had punched the area. More conspicuously, a bright orange backpack lay in the middle of the underpass.

With dawning horror as he realized the implications, Izuku approached the backpack. Beside it lay a flashcard. Izuku picked it up, turning it over. On the other side was a word penned in bright red ink. It was Death Arms’s signature, Izuku identified. The dent in the concrete was probably also caused by the Pro-Hero. However, the backpack…

Izuku’s mind spun as he put the picture together, and despite the fact that he knew how corrupt Pro-Heroes could be, he couldn’t help but feel disappointment. Disgust .

“Bastard,” Izuku muttered under his breath. “When I find the kid who owns the orange backpack, you better be there, battling the villain.” Empty words.

Izuku knew of Death Arms, and he didn’t have a great track record. If anything, the Pro-Hero had “subdued” the villain and then ran off once he realized the villain wasn’t as easy to deal with as he’d thought. There were no cameras around to criticize him, after all.

A frown on his face, Izuku’s gaze narrowed in on a trail of blurry footprints, leading away from the scene. The victim had probably stepped in the slime, which was what left the imprints.

Izuku, hefting his gadget, set off in pursuit. He didn’t have to look around for long; the shouts were a dead giveaway of location.

Pushing through the throng of people, Izuku caught a glimpse of the scene between the shifting bodies and murmuring crowd. Within the encirclement was a boy who was probably in junior high, screaming without sound as his throat contracted and expanded, desperate for air that wouldn’t come. Wrapped around his body was a thick sheet of green slime.

“ Do something!” The hysterical cry came from a middle-aged man standing near Izuku. “That’s my nephew! You’re supposed to be heroes !”

The Heroes in question — Backdraft and Kamui Woods (Death Arms was notably absent) — shifted nervously. “Our Quirks aren’t suitable,” Backdraft said, holding his hands up placatingly.

Izuku made a choking sound. Buzzing in his ears drowned out the crowd, and his chest tightened in anger, hands shaking. Quirks, not suitable ? Bullshit . Taking deep breaths, Izuku steadied himself. He wondered if the Heroes would listen to him, if he told them how they could defeat the villain.

He wondered what he would do if they didn’t. Izuku’s fingers tightened around his makeshift device. Vigilantism was illegal, but a life was on the line.

How much time did he have? The kid looked like he was about to die. His breaths were coming in gasps and his face had turned purple from asphyxiation.

Glancing at the Heroes, Izuku could see the tight lines of Backdraft’s jaw and the way Kamui Woods shifted his feet uneasily. They knew the consequences of not being able to save the kid. Of not even trying to save the kid. But, that just meant— they sincerely believed they hadn’t the ability? Izuku frowned deeply.

“Villain,” Kamui Woods said at last. “Let the kid go, and we can talk.”

The slime shifted in a way that seemed, to Izuku, to convey a sense of disdain.

The kid’s struggles weakened.

I can’t wait anymore , Izuku thought.

Before Izuku could make a move, though, he felt a rush of air beside him. A different Pro-Hero had arrived on the scene. The Hero’s hair was slightly disheveled, but his getup, which included tonfas of all things, was otherwise immaculate.

The Hero — and Izuku didn’t recognize him; how was that possible? — sneered at Kamui Woods and Backdraft. “ Incompetence .” He swiveled around to give the crowd a critical once-over, but otherwise said nothing.

With a brief tensing of his muscles, so quick that Izuku almost missed it, the Hero leapt forward, jabbing his tonfas into the villain’s weak point, the eyes. The villain writhed, and in its brief moment of complacency, the boy caught in its grasp lunged forward, out of its reach.

The tonfas Hero pulled a container, one that Izuku recognized from his late night forum binges as one of the ones that were specially issued by the HPSC for detainment of villains that could change shape, out of somewhere , and, in one smooth move, scooped the villain up and latched the container shut.

It all happened so quickly, Izuku hadn’t quite registered the events until the Hero righted the boy, who had been about to fall over, handed the container with the villain to Kamui Woods, telling him to “Take care of it,” and ran off.

The boy’s uncle rushed up to the boy, wrapping his arms around him. They both looked on the verge of tears.

Izuku glanced at Kamui Woods, who, finally showing some semblance of ability, was working to disperse the crowd. Backdraft, now holding the villain container, was talking to one of the paramedics, probably sorting out some sort of procedure.

Relieved that his interference hadn’t been needed, Izuku turned and left, with one thought plaguing his mind: Who was that Hero?

https://freelance-articles.com/archive/author/4N0N-3N717Y/

The Sludge Villain Incident: the Heroes who did nothing, and the hero who did
Author: 4N0N-3N717Y … Posted: several minutes ago … Views: 322

“Hi, everyone, it’s Konohagakure! I’m your host, Shamrock, and today we’ll be talking about the hottest news of the week: the Hero Ranking Ceremony. As you may know, I made a prediction video a week or so before the event, so we’ll see what I got right. But several unpredictable, rather shocking, events also occurred at the ceremony, and we’ll discuss how this might affect the Heroism scene.

“First of all, I am so , so thrilled that I was right — Hawks made No. 3! Or, is it No. 2 now? Or, actually, because the Hero ranking system was abolished, no one has a ranking anymore… Anyways, let’s first discuss the rankings before they were abolished. There were no real upsets, other than the fact that Hawks overtook Best Jeanist. So nothing really to talk about there. The other announcements at the Hero Ranking Ceremony, though…”

Izuku had rerecorded the next portion five times already, and by kami was he going to get it right this time. Without crying.

“All Might’s retirement was probably as unexpected for you as for me. During his prime, he was the shining example of heroism, the standard that every other Hero should strive to achieve. All Might may have made less appearances, less arrests, in the past few years, but All Might was the Symbol of Peace , and his very presence, hanging over all of Japan, could stop criminals in their tracks.

“But now, All Might has stepped down. Perhaps we should have expected this: less public appearances, less takedowns… But society was blinded by All Might’s ‘invincible’ status, and so we didn’t expect this outcome. But it has happened ! It has happened: the dominoes, set up years before they fell, have toppled.” Izuku’s voice fell to a whisper. “What is it going to do to us?”

Explaining the possible ramifications of All Might’s retirement took up the rest of the video, and by the time Izuku announced, “And that’s a wrap! Look for our video about the new Hero system in a week or so. As always, thanks for watching!” his voice was slightly hoarse.

He hit the “Stop Recording” button on his screen. Izuku stood up, stretching, as he went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of warm milk. The microwave buzzed as the milk heated up, and Izuku leaned against the cool counter, resting his chin on a propped-up elbow.

The microwave let out a ding! and Izuku retrieved his milk, cradling the warmth between his cold palms. He took a sip, and sighed contentedly.

On his way back to his room, Izuku knocked on Mikumo’s door. As expected, there was no response. Izuku laughed at himself mentally. How could he have thought that Mikumo, who regularly professed that he would sleep all day if he could, would be awake at 2:52 AM? He pulled out his phone, and sent a text.

You (2:52 AM)
Whenever you’re ready (before midnight tomorrow, please — I promised the viewers \(*>﹏<*)/), the video is good for editing.

Then, downing the last of his glass of milk, Izuku dove into his covers and fell fast asleep.

The best thing about online school, Izuku reflected as he blinked blearily, was the extremely flexible hours. In fact, he barely even needed to attend classes; most of the lectures were available as recordings. Izuku was extremely thankful for this: despite going to sleep at around one in the morning each day, he still got enough sleep for someone his age.

Izuku tapped his phone to life. The time, 10:17 AM, glowed in the relative darkness of his room, which was shielded from the sunlight by heavy curtains that ensured he wouldn’t wake up too early. There were two unread messages from Mikumo.

Kumo-nii ( 6:43 AM )
Alright

Kumo-nii ( 7:50 AM )
I’m done, the file has been sent

You ( 10:17 AM )
Thank you! You’re a lifesaver :)

Oddly enough, Mikumo had always been an early riser. Izuku thought that it was probably a reflection of his habits from his past life. After all, magic ninja child soldiers probably had to get up at unholy hours in the morning. (Though Izuku considered any time before 9:00 AM to be an “unholy hour” to get up.)

He absentmindedly thought that he would probably need to change his own habits soon, if he got into U.A.’s Support Course. After all, he would actually need to get up early to get to class on time. To quote Mikumo: What a drag .

Izuku glanced at the time again. It was only ten. He could probably sleep a little longer. It was a Saturday anyways, so he didn’t have any schoolwork, not to mention that he’d completed pretty much the entire semester’s work a few weeks after it began.

He fell back against his pillow.

A few minutes later, Izuku bolted back upright, leaping out of bed. He thrust his sheets off him, sliding on his shoes as he grabbed his phone, checking for any updates from Our Own Archive, a fanfiction aggregator that abbreviated its name as O2A. His face fell when there were none.

Annoyed, Izuku glanced at the crumpled sheets on the bed behind him. Now that he’d actually spent the effort to get out of bed, he no longer felt the need to go back to sleep. Begrudgingly, Izuku made his bed and began his day.

When Izuku slipped into the kitchen, a sheaf of papers lay on the counter, with a bright yellow sticky note plastered on top. The sticky note read, in beautiful cursive, “Please consider applying to this summer camp. I think it will be a good opportunity for you! :) ~ Inko.”

Gently ripping the sticky note off, Izuku picked up the stack of papers and began to read.

Several hours and many internet searches later, Izuku had made up his mind. “Alright,” he said as handed the forms to Inko, having filled out as much of it as he could, “I’ll apply.”

Camp Kamakura was as much named after the mountain it was situated by as the Hero who ran it. The Steadfast Hero: Kamakura, introduced herself to the group of twenty-ish teenagers in a slow, even tone: “For the duration of this camp, you may refer to me as Tanimoto-sensei. It would do you well to get acquainted with your fellow campmates, as well as the counselors.” Kamakura looked to her side. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”

Someone seemingly stepped out of the air. “Hello, everyone.” The person, a girl with wavy green hair and large pendant-like earrings that swung hypnotically, waved. “I’m Unveil, an underground Hero. My Quirk has to do with illusions. I interned under Kamakura-san before she retired.” Unveil snapped her fingers.

Izuku started, expecting something to happen.

A leaf floated over. It drifted along an invisible wind, dancing to the tune of a breeze that didn’t exist. Izuku narrowed his eyes. He felt extremely validated when the leaf “popped,” turning into a human with murky brown eyes and a smile with just a bit too much edge to be anything but a smirk.

“I’m your second counselor,” the leaf-human introduced. “The Leafy Hero: Leaf Blade. My Quirk is Leaf. It lets me turn into a leaf.” Leaf’s smirk sharpened, as if they were laughing at some joke only they were privy to. “He/him pronouns, by the way.”

Kamakura smiled slightly. “Neither Unveil nor Leaf will be divulging their civilian names here, due to safety issues, as they are both underground Heroes.”

Izuku nodded approvingly, noting that Unveil hadn’t revealed much about her Quirk, either. As for Leaf, it was extremely likely his self-introduction contained falsehoods.

“As you should know, this camp will prepare you for the less hands-on aspects of Heroics, such as analytics, risk assessment, field communication, and investigation. This will also be interspersed with physical training, including Quirkless combat. For our first activity, why don’t you all run five laps around this field? By the time you’re done running, I expect you to know the names of at least five of your classmates, but you’ll have to do ten push-ups for each time we catch you talking to someone.”

The field was big, spanning the size of at least two neighborhood blocks. It meant that there would be plenty of time to find out people’s names — though it might be difficult to avoid getting caught — but also that Izuku would probably be dead tired after they were done. Actually, that was a lie. He’d done plenty of stamina training, especially in cleaning Dagobah Beach, but his classmates would probably be tired, and more likely to get caught. Izuku would have to get their names within the first two or three laps.

“Go!” Leaf called, clapping his hands together with a crisp snap that made Izuku envious — what was it about teacher-types that made them so competent in hand-clapping and finger-snapping?

Izuku didn’t stop to ponder. He started running, dashing over the ground that he noted, absently, was well-worn, bearing the marks of years of being pounded by footsteps. Glancing over his shoulder, Izuku was relieved to realize that most of the other campers were just as quick to react. Good, he wouldn’t need to slow down.

“Hey,” someone whispered, discreetly bumping into Izuku to get his attention. “I’m Iwai Kimi.”

“Midoriya Izuku,” Izuku whispered back, responding to the unasked question. He noted down Iwai’s appearance — tall, with a rather distinctive and expensive-looking wristwatch — in case he needed to put a face to a name.

Iwai nodded, then moved on.

Izuku was struck for a moment by how easy the task seemed to be: he could simply wait for someone else to approach him, and give their name. With the counselors so far away, how would they catch anyone asking, given that none of them had eyesight enhancing Quirks? He felt a flash of suspicion.

“Tall, black hair, wristwatch, blue windbreaker! Push-ups!”

And that was the catch. Izuku felt a rush of validation. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple. And, he noted, the counselors cleverly didn’t give away the name of the person they called. The counselors really were quite far away, though… were they using telescopes? When he saw none, Izuku glanced at the other campers out of the corner of his eye. Or, perhaps, there was a plant.

He grinned. This would be fun.

When everyone had finished running their laps, they gathered in the same area where they began.

Kamakura cleared her throat authoritatively, glancing over the array of teenagers — some, like Izuku, were composed, whereas others were hands-on-knees, gasping for breath. “We can’t very well have you tell us whose names you found,” she said, “without giving the people who speak after you an incredible leg up. In fact, this exercise was, intentionally, rather poorly designed.”

Unveil said with a slightly mystical tone, “Leaf wanted this to be a lesson to all of you in unfairness. Instead, though, we’ll ask you just one question: who is the plant?”

Izuku raised his hand hesitantly. Along with him, Iwai also raised their hand, waving it like it had caught fire and Iwai didn’t know the correct fire safety procedures (which is— if you’re on fire, don’t expose the fire to more air).

“You,” Unveil said, pointing to Iwai. “Introduce yourself first, with a name and a fun fact.”

“Hello, everyone.” Iwai said, unfazed by the on-the-spot introduction. “My name isn’t actually Iwai Kimi. You can call me Noblesse, they/them pronouns. As for the plant…” They waved. “That’s me! I’m currently in a pseudo-internship with Unveil. My Quirk is One-Sided Thought Transfer: I can transmit my thoughts to other people, but I can’t hear their thoughts in return.”

Izuku blinked. So that’s how the plant communicated with the counselors to catch name-tellers. It was such a useful Quirk for underground operations! Noblesse could request backup in an instant — wait, how much did they have to know about the target for the Quirk to work? Could they disrupt their opponent’s thoughts?

“The green-haired boy in the back,” Noblesse called.

Snapping out of his reverie, Izuku looked up. “Yes?”

“You caught onto me, which is good. But next time, raise your hand a bit higher.” They winked.

“Hello, everyone! It’s Konohagakure, back with your promised analysis on the new Hero system.” 

Shamrock said, “The HPSC may have abolished the previous Hero Rankings, but they have not stopped cataloging data on Heroes to make sure they are doing their jobs. In fact, HPSC’s Madam President, in her speech, promised to,” Shamrock pinched his voice, “‘continue monitoring Heroes’ performance to make sure they meet the high standards that will keep the public safe.’”

“Comparing and contrasting the old Hero system with the current one, simply based on a gut feeling — we’ll see this system’s effectiveness for ourselves soon enough — the current one seems more effective. The previous Hero system placed too much focus on popularity , leading to some Heroes’ neglect of their duties in favor of charming the public.

“On the other hand, the current system almost entirely removes the publicity aspect of Heroics. Instead of making Heroes rely almost entirely on merchandise and advertising for their wages, the HPSC will now pay Heroes a steady salary, unlike the bare minimum they were paid before, allowing Heroes to focus more on protecting the public rather than enhancing their image.

“That’s not to say that publicity isn’t important — the public needs to trust their Heroes — but now its value has been reduced to a more reasonable level. Plus, the current Hero system does have a way to ensure that Heroes have the necessary approval. Twice a year, the HPSC will release a form allowing citizens to give Heroes a score based on how safe they felt around the Hero and how well they think the Hero did their job. It wasn’t mentioned, but this probably won’t apply to underground Heroes, as they rarely interact with the public in a significant manner.

“However, the HPSC didn’t mention how they would take the feedback given through the form into account — if they’re releasing the feedback to the Heroes in question, and whatnot — how they would prevent fraudulent responses, or how they would ensure enough people respond to the questionnaire. While the current system is well thought-out, the various issues that will surely arise as it’s implemented will need to be resolved. Hopefully, the HPSC will continue its — rather surprising — streak of competency.

“A problem does arise with this current system, though. As for the old Hero system, it had one advantage over the current one, which I’m sure will be brought up many times in the coming months: the previous system allowed the public to recognize the Heroes who were ‘better’ through their rankings list.

“Of course, the previous system relied very heavily on popularity to decide the rankings, but any high-ranked Heroes would be recognized as being good at their job and good with civilians. Well, there are also cases like Endeavor — he isn’t very friendly, unlike, say, Hawks, but he’s incredibly effective at his job and at making people feel safe.

“The current system doesn’t seem to have anything that lets the public immediately recognize Heroes. This could lead to a rise in Hero impersonations, as it would be difficult to instantly tell if someone is a Hero or not, and it could very well decrease the Heroes’ effectiveness. However, this probably won’t be a significant issue, as most Heroes rely on news coverage for visibility anyways.

“Besides civilian trust, the other factors that go into making sure Heroes are doing their jobs now include amount of hours spent patrolling, amount of property damage and collateral damage caused, amount of cases solved, number of civilians rescued, and so on.

“One concern that was raised about the new system is that it relies very heavily on statistics and data, and, I quote, ‘How can numbers possibly reliably evaluate the performance of a human being?’ To this, I answer: numbers are very reliable. They can’t be bribed or manipulated; they are cold, undeniable statements of fact. Well, there will be a human element as well. An algorithm can flag certain Heroes if it determines that their performance is not up to par, but a person will review the data as well.

“Another issue that was raised was the problem of ‘motivation.’ Before, a Hero’s salary was closely tied to their ranking, so Heroes worked to actively raise their ranking by not only participating in publicity events — which could decrease their productivity — but also by simply doing their job better. Now, without the driving force of rankings, the question is, will Heroes put less effort into their jobs?

“Well, this is where those statistics come into play. Every six months, the HPSC will review each Heroes’ performance, and those who don’t meet a certain quota will be investigated, have their license revoked, or be put on probation. On the other hand, those who exceed the quota will get bonuses. This is, in fact, very similar to the ranking system, but without the factor of popularity decreasing Heroes’ focus on their jobs.

“I’m sure that informal rankings will also be released by the Hero junkies out there, including myself, based on the data that can be found on HPSC’s website. Speaking of, HPSC has increased transparency by letting the public ‘see the numbers,’ to a certain extent.

“Summing things up, the new Hero system seems to see a resoundingly positive change take place. But one thing must be taken into account, and that is, Heroes are human.” Shamrock’s eyes were piercing. “Heroes are human, not the celebrities the previous Hero system made them out to be. As protectors, Heroes must be held to a high standard, but they will make mistakes, too. We will all make mistakes, and we should seek to improve ourselves in the process.”

Shamrock grinned, and the heavy atmosphere dissipated. “More in-depth information about the new Hero system is outlined on a page on HPSC’s website, which will be linked in this video’s description — got that, Animator-kun? Right. The document on HPSC’s website is rather wordy, though, so I tried my best to summarize it here.

“For those that are interested in underground Heroes, there is a clause in that document about them, though I think the person who wrote it made it deliberately obtuse.” Shamrock shrugged.

“Well, that’s it for today! In six months or so, I’ll make another video reviewing how the system is holding up so far. If you want to see that, subscribe! Thanks for watching, everyone!”

On the bottom left corner, a caption appeared: “He’s still self conscious about self-promo (# -_ゝ-)”

The video ended.

lucky starlight One minute ago
Shamrock’s Madame President impression lmao
See 1 reply

poor girl in a hovel Several minutes ago
Thanks for the video! looking forward to your video about how the hero system is doing in six months

hasegawa_reina ✓ Half an hour ago
I just discovered this channel; it’s really informative. The analysis is quite on-point. To Shamrock and Animator-kun, thank you for putting in the effort to make this video!

Replies:
Shamrock ✓ One minute ago
Glad to be of value! q(≧▽≦q)
We stan Shamrock in this house Just now
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

License to Chill ✓ Several minutes ago
Shamrock, have you heard of 4N0N-3N717Y? Your analysis styles are rather similar… Did you both learn under the same teacher?

Chapter Text

Camp Kamakura was an interesting experience, to say the least. Throughout the past few weeks, Izuku had pushed himself to the limit, both physically and mentally. Well, Izuku admitted wryly to himself, the fatigue may have stemmed partly from his own sleep-deprivation, but Camp Kamakura’s challenging exercises certainly played a role, as well.

On this particular day, the campers were split randomly into four groups, each corresponding to one of the counselors.

“Midoriya-kun, you’re with me,” Kamakura-san said.

Izuku walked over to where Kamakura stood, exchanging a delighted glance with Sero that they had been assigned to the same group.

Sero Hanta was someone Izuku had met at the camp, and the two had quickly fallen into friendship. Sero was level-headed to Izuku’s more anxious nature, complementing each other. The two had also bonded over their love of pre-Quirk era media and their disagreements over which characters were more powerful.

When everyone had been assigned a group, they split up. Kamakura took Izuku’s group to a corner of the property that housed a forest. Kamakura began to walk through the forest, pointing out various edible plants and flammable materials along the way. Their pace was leisurely.

Izuku wondered what the activity of the day would be. Perhaps they would play a game of tag, but that was unlikely. Camp Kamakura didn’t repeat activities. As he pondered, half listening to Kamakura’s explanations, Izuku caught sight of a bird-shaped rock out of the corner of his eye.

Didn’t we already pass that? Izuku scoured his memory; it did seem like they’d already passed the rather distinctive rock.

Almost before he could ask himself why Kamakura would lead the group around in circles, Izuku thought of an answer: it was related to the exercise. Likely, the counselor was deliberately trying to mislead the group’s sense of direction by distracting them with her talk and by looping around. By drawing their attention to individual plants and organisms, the group lost focus on the route.

During the first week of camp, the counselors had taken everyone to an outpost stationed next to the base of the mountain. Kamakura would probably leave them there, then require them to find their way back.

Pleased by his deduction, Izuku scanned the group. There were five teens: him, Sero, a girl with a sonic- based emitter Quirk named Otomura Kaneko, a girl with a plant growth Quirk named Sakamoto Misaki, and a boy who could purify water named Hamasaki Masahiko.

Sero’s Quirk would allow him to reach a high vantage point where he could possibly survey the surroundings. Otomura might be able to use echolocation, though Izuku was pretty sure she hadn’t yet experimented with that part of her Quirk, and he doubted its usefulness, given that it probably wouldn’t reach a wide enough range to map out the terrain.

Izuku paused. How far can echolocation reach? Izuku took out his notebook, hastily scribbling a reminder to research it later.

As for his other teammates, Izuku didn’t know if Sakamoto’s Quirk would let her somehow communicate with plants, which might be useful — though that seemed unlikely. On the other hand, perhaps certain types of plants grew better under her Quirk than others, so she may be able to find a way back based on the variety of plants in the area. It was a bit of a stretch, Izuku admitted.

The group walked for around another hour or so before Kamakura stopped them. “So, has anyone figured out the objective of this exercise yet?”

Sero glanced at Izuku, as if telling him with his eyes, You know it, right?

In response, Izuku grinned back slightly.

Before he could raise his hand to respond to the question, though, Kamakura called on Otomura. “Yes?”

“We have to find our way back,” Otomura said confidently. “Earlier, you were walking us in circles on purpose, messing with our sense of direction.”

Izuku deflated slightly, his chance to answer the question gone.

“That’s right,” Kamakura affirmed. “Your goal is to find your way back to camp before sundown. It took us around two hours to walk over here, and you have…” she pulled out a phone, tapping the screen to view the time. “You have just under four hours left. You may begin.”

Otomura, the girl who’d answered Kamakura’s question earlier, said, “I realized the exercise’s objective just a few minutes before we reached here — I can take us back that far. But other than that, I’m walking blind, like you guys.”

“I started memorizing the route around an hour ago, about halfway,” Izuku said. “But I don’t think that’s the most efficient way to get back.” Izuku pointed to a point on the mountain. “That’s the rock face we always see when we face the camp, and we’re just a bit east of it. It may be better to try to use a shorter route than try following one that was probably designed to intentionally waste our time and one we don’t know the whole of, anyways.”

Sero added, “We have a good vantage point here. If we can map out our own route, we can probably reach camp faster in a way that gives more room for error.”

Nodding reasonably, Otomura said, “Alright. Do you just want to walk under that rock face and walk straight? But how do we know which direction to go?”

“None of the trees here are tall enough to let us see far if we climb them,” Izuku said. “But,” Izuku turned to face the plant-Quirk girl, “Sakamoto-chan, can you make a tree grow taller?”

Sakamoto nodded confidently. “I can grow the tree at least as high as a telephone pole. I don’t know if the tops will be sturdy enough to support a person, though. Also, the bark will probably be too smooth to climb easily.”

Sero’s eyes lit up, catching on to Izuku’s plan. “I can climb the tree,” he said, gesturing to the tape dispensers at his elbows.

“Sounds good,” Otomura said. “To summarize, we’ll walk to the rock face we see at camp and then use Sakamoto-chan’s Quirk to grow a tree that Sero-kun will climb, allowing us to discern the direction we should walk. At several points during our journey, we should also reuse this method to make sure we’re going the right way. Let’s also keep a brisk pace. Got it?”

After everyone around her nodded in assent, the group set off.

As the group neared the rock face, Izuku called everyone to a stop. “Look at the air carefully,” he said. “There’s some kind of thin fiber blocking the path. You can see it when it catches the light.”

Squinting, Hamasaki, the fifth member of the group, nodded. “I knew something was up,” he said in a voice that belied vindication that he was right. “This exercise was a bit too simple for something the Hell Camp cooked up. I’d say that either the other groups are trying to hinder us.”

Otomura nodded approvingly. “We’ll have to be on watch. But at this point, we can’t really do anything except try to circumvent the obstacles. We have a deadline to meet. Does anyone—”

The fibers fell to the floor like a collapsed spiderweb. Beside a tree, where the fibers had been attached, stood Izuku, a switchblade in hand. He grinned at them.

Matching his smile, Sero clapped Izuku on the shoulder. His grin belied his words: “It’s kind of concerning how you just always have a knife.”

Taking the interaction at face value, though looking slightly concerned, Otomura, who had been accepted as the de facto leader of the group in the invisible way that teenagers vie for power, said, “Alright, let’s continue. Everyone, be on the lookout for more traps and potentially other people.”

As the group headed toward their destination, occasionally encountering traps, Izuku began to feel a prickling sense of unease. He glanced over his shoulder at the sun, which was still relatively high in the sky, indicating some time until sundown. How long have we been walking?

The sun’s position didn’t seem to have changed all that much since Izuku last looked at it. And despite the pleasant weather and the radiant sun, Izuku felt cold creeping up his exposed arms. It was a type of cold one might feel close to sundown, when the flaming ball of fire in the sky no longer provided as much warmth.

“Otomura-chan,” Izuku said, catching the girl’s attention from where she had been walking, in the lead. “I think we have a problem. There’s someone in the camp with an illusion Quirk, right?”

“Yes, Nairi-kun can create illusions. Why do you ask?”

“Can he create large-scale illusions?”

“Not that I know of,” she said hesitantly, casting a glance at Sakamoto. “You know him pretty well, right?” she asked the plant-Quirked girl.

Sakamoto nodded. “He was only able to create illusions around a small area before, maybe around three square meters or so… but given the training here, he’s probably improved a lot.”

Otomura gave Izuku a quizzical look. “Why do you bring this up?”

“I think we might be trapped in an illusion,” he replied. “A few details about the surroundings don’t add up. Sakamoto-chan, do you know his illusions’ weakness?”

“Nairi-kun’s illusions are perception-based, not visual- or audio-based. The key to breaking out of them should be realizing you’re in one, and then finding the caster, who is hidden somewhere within the area of the illusion. But I don’t know the range of his illusions anymore; his Quirk is a lot stronger now.

“Oh, and,” she added, “he is always the flaw in his illusion. If something doesn’t look right, that’s where he’s hiding. Where did you say you noticed that something was wrong, Midoriya-kun?”

Izuku pointed at the sun. He said, grinning sardonically, “I guess we’ll have to shoot down the sun.”

“Not necessarily,” Hamasaki, the one with the water-purifying Quirk said uneasily. “I don’t think his illusions would let him fly, right? So he’s probably standing on something tall. Like the tree Sakamoto-chan grew earlier. I don’t know how much time we’ve wasted…”

Otomura nodded. “Let’s go, quickly.”

As the group hurried toward what seemed like the origin of the sun in the illusion, Izuku paused them. Squinting, he said, “It’s back to normal. My guess is that the caster will face backlash if the illusion is forcibly disrupted, so he just canceled it. Unless he can change where he’s hiding in the illusion?” Izuku glanced at Otomura.

“I don’t think it’s possible for him to change positions,” the sound-Quirk girl confirmed. “We’re good in that respect. But we’re completely lost again.”

“I got it.” Sakamoto raised her hands, sending the nearest oak tree shooting into the air. Sero quickly grabbed onto it, swinging himself up to the top as the tree was still growing.

A few moments later, Sero came down, and pointed in a direction to the group’s right-front.

In tacit agreement, the group began to move. The atmosphere was slightly stifled; the hour they had lost in the illusion was weighing on them all, pushing them to walk briskly, if not run, rather than stroll through the forest.

Although they had been in an illusion earlier, the traps they had encountered helped them gain experience for the ones they were now facing in reality. The group skillfully dismantled or avoided the traps. Every so often, Izuku would look at the sun, confirming the passing time, or Sero and Sakamoto would reaffirm their direction.

As the sun slid down toward the horizon, the group increased their speed, imbued with the sense of urgency only threat of failure could bring.

Finally, when the outline of the camp appeared faintly in the distance, the members of the group were reenergized. Sakamoto, who had been dragging her feet earlier, visibly perked up, exchanging a high-five with Hamasaki. Sero slapped Izuku on the shoulder, giving him a delighted grin. Otomura let out a breath of relief.

They started to run.

The group of five entered the camp a few minutes later. Kamakura was standing at the entrance, her hands crossed over her chest. She raised an eyebrow at them.

Izuku felt a sense of dread. Cautiously, he glanced over his shoulder, at the sun. It was just below the horizon. “We failed…”

His words threw a bucket of cold water onto the jovial atmosphere. Everyone gave Kamakura, ever the stoic camp counselor, a nervous glance.

Kamakura’s expression showed a smile that promised pain. “How could you have improved your performance during the previous exercise?” she asked, tone deceptively benign.

There was a beat as everyone met each others’ eyes, not wanting to be the first to speak up. Even the most vocal of the five, Otomura, kept her mouth shut, a chagrined expression climbing onto her face.

“No one wants to answer? Then why don’t you run five laps? We can discuss how you did afterwards.”

Dark clouds hung over everyone’s heads as they trudged toward the running track. Oh, the misery .

[-]

“We were thrilled to have had this opportunity to interact with each and every one of you, and we were impressed by the rapid improvement you have all shown throughout the course of this camp. I extend to you my most heartfelt best wishes for the U.A. Exam or in the application for any other Hero schools, should you choose to apply.

“Please wait for your parents to pick you up, and be sure to exchange numbers or email addresses with your friends!” For what Izuku realized would likely be the last time, Kamakura smiled at the group, genuinely, with just a touch of schadenfreude.

Feeling his eyes begin to water, Izuku pressed the heels of his palms into his eyelids, stemming the flow of the tears.

Beside him, Sero, already used to the famous Midoriya tears, snickered. “You have my number, and the numbers of most everyone here. What are you worried about?”

“I know,” Izuku said, sniffling, “but what about the counselors?”

Sero sighed mock-exasperatedly. “Just go up to them and ask.”

“For their numbers!? But—” Izuku spluttered incoherently.

Eventually, after much coercion, Izuku was able to gather up his courage and ask for Noblesse’s contact information. After that, though, his face resembled a freshly cut tomato, and couldn’t be convinced to do any more social interaction.

Standing in front of the camp’s entrance, where the parents were waiting, Izuku mumbled, “It was really great being able to spend this time at camp with you.” His voice became as soft as a mosquito buzz. “You can call me Izuku, if you want.”

Sero wrapped his arm around Izuku’s shoulder, beaming. “You can call me Hanta, too!”

Removing his gaze from the ground, Izuku met Ser— Hanta’s eyes. “Okay, Hanta-kun. Let’s see each other at the U.A. Entrance Exam!”

Izuku left the camp without tears in his eyes. Instead, his eyes blazed with the fire of conviction. Mikumo, who had just gotten his driver’s license, started slightly when Izuku pulled open the door and sat shotgun. “I didn’t know it was possible for you to be even more motivated,” he muttered.

“What?” Izuku was startled out of his reverie.

“Nothing.” Mikumo put on a genial smile. “Just a stray thought.”

Izuku felt that there was more to the situation, but didn’t further pursue the topic. Instead, he began drafting plans in his mind about how to better prepare for the U.A. Entrance Exam.

As Izuku was going to apply for the Support Course, which required applications to explain and demonstrate one of their inventions in front of a panel of judges — including Power Loader, an esteemed support equipment creator and a teacher at U.A., and one of Izuku’s idols — he needed to begin preparing his invention immediately.

Thankfully, Izuku had already determined what invention he had wanted to create. Although he’d already determined through computer calculations that he didn’t have the materials or the ability to fully realize his idea’s potential, Izuku believed that even a fledgling prototype would be able to attract the judges’ attention.

In case the singular prototype wasn’t enough, Izuku had plenty of backup plans in mind, allowing him to build one or two as an additional showcase piece.

Izuku opened his closet, inspecting the supplies sequestered in a nondescript box in the corner. The materials were remnants from the Dagobah Beach cleanup, when Izuku had tacitly kept the materials he thought would be useful.

He rifled through the supplies, placing the ones he didn’t need in neat stacks behind him.

A few hours later, Izuku had to turn on the bedroom’s light to replace the natural sunlight that had slipped behind the horizon. Although he had filled several pages of his notebook with new ideas, he still hadn’t found the part he was looking for.

Bringing up the point at dinner, Izuku said, “Kaa-san, may I go to Shizuoka to buy supplies to make support equipment?”

From where he was quietly consuming his udon noodles, Mikumo looked up, his expression difficult to read.

Inko twirled her hair around her finger.

Recently, she had begun emulating more youthful gestures, even putting her hair up into a full ponytail, rather than leaving only part of it gathered in a bun. Izuku suspected that she was seeing someone. He and Mikumo were both insanely curious, but Izuku had dissuaded Mikumo from using his hacking skills to determine their mom’s partner’s identity. He was sure she’d reveal everything in due time.

“I’m not sure, sweetie,” she said hesitantly. “Shizuoka is pretty far away. Plus, they still haven’t repaired all the damage from Ryukyu’s battle with Faultline. We’d need to take a long detour to get there. Are you sure this is necessary?”

“Yes,” Izuku said simply.

He didn’t mention the weight of his dreams of getting into U.A., his fear of failure. He didn’t mention the torn and crumpled pages of his notebook, lying in the trash, that detailed unfeasible designs for his invention. He didn’t mention the fact that Konohagakure had been producing less videos lately.

And although Inko didn’t necessarily know, she understood. “Okay, honey. I can’t take you tomorrow, since I have work—”

Mikumo cleared his throat pointedly. “I can accompany him to ride the subway.”

The proactive decision was uncharacteristic for Mikumo. Izuku glanced at him, and Mikumo gave him a slight nod and wink.

Oh . Izuku felt his heart warm. Mikumo had offered to take him in order to let Izuku access his materials earlier and start building.

Inko pondered the safety of allowing her older son to take her younger son to a different city. In the end, she said, “I don’t think I want you to do that. There’s been quite a few villain attacks in that area, lately. We can all go the day after tomorrow.”

Izuku drank a sip of water. The cold liquid tasted like a day wasted. But he nodded anyway.

He needed to use his time tomorrow effectively, then. Although his design was finalized, he could still double-check his calculations on all the materials he needed and make sure he could get them from the shop in Shizuoka.

He could even start building some of the parts of the prototype that he did have materials for. Izuku let himself drift away into total concentration as he singled out what he could accomplish before getting the materials from Shizuoka.

His eyes regaining vitality, Izuku said, with none of his earlier disappointment, “Okay!”

The worried lines on Inko’s face softened into a smile. “You don’t have to put too much pressure on yourself, honey. You can be a wonderful support engineer without U.A.’s education. But…” her smile gained a sly edge, “I have no doubt you will get in.”

Emboldened by his mother’s faith, Izuku finished his dinner in a rush. He ran to his room and opened his computer, opening a CAD software.

Quick knocks came from Izuku’s bedroom door. “Go to sleep.” With his succinct sentence, Mikumo entered his own room, closing the door with a click.

Izuku, snapped out of his reverie, glanced at the time. It was already half past midnight.

Suddenly, a wave of tiredness, as if finally released from behind a dam of total concentration, washed over him. Izuku let out a jaw-cracking yawn, and went to bed, resolving to begin building one of his backup designs first thing the next morning.

Sunlight poured through the slits where the curtains didn’t quite cover the windows. Birds sang, repetitively and loudly, without a care in the world, on nearby telephone wires.

Izuku woke to the sound of someone knocking on his bedroom door. He opened his eyes briefly, before pulling his pillow over his ears and hiding under the blankets.

The knocking persisted.

“Five more minutes!” Izuku shouted through the haze of sleep.

“I am going to be out of the house today,” came Mikumo’s calm response. “You’re on your own.”

Izuku closed his eyes again, prepared to fall asleep. He didn’t think there was anything urgent he needed to accomplish… After all, it was the middle of the summer, Camp Kamakura had already ended, and the U.A. Exams were still months awa—

“Kami!” Izuku exclaimed, jolting into a sitting position. He slapped his cheek lightly. He shook his head, hair, already messy from having just woken up, tangling even further.

As he scarfed down his breakfast, Izuku thanked Mikumo through his mouthful of onigiri.

Mikumo replied in just two words: “Don’t choke.”

Izuku gave Mikumo a beaming smile. His onii-chan cared about him so much!

Ding . Mikumo pulled his phone out of his pocket to reveal a new message. Izuku glanced over, but the screen was too dim for him to see any of the text. However, Izuku did take note of Mikumo’s reaction.

Uncharacteristically, Mikumo grinned. Not one of his shallow, droll smiles, but a full grin, with his eyes crinkling at his edges and the skin on his cheeks stretching in a way that suggested such an action was unfamiliar.

“Good news?” Izuku probed.

Mikumo tucked his phone back into his pocket, and nodded. The smile remained on his face. “Great news. Can I trouble you to clean up the table today?”

He stood up, pushing his chair in.

“Alright,” Izuku replied. It wasn’t often that his brother became so excited about something. Hopefully, Izuku could pry the information out of him later.

“Thank you.” With that, Mikumo left the apartment, grabbing his computer bag and swinging it over his shoulder on the way out.

As he stood with his sleeves rolled up, arms and hands covered in the soap that was used to wash dishes, Izuku felt indignant. Clearly, it was Mikumo’s turn to wash the dishes, but he’d so easily convinced Izuku to do his least favorite chore. Izuku resolved to make Mikumo wash the dishes for two days in a row.

After he finished washing the dishes, Izuku went to his room, retrieving all the parts he needed to build his first “back-up” prototype. The parts were reused junk, collected from Dagobah Beach, but Izuku had carefully cleaned each crevice until all the dust was washed off.

In fact, Izuku had wanted to build his other back-up prototype first, but reconsidered because its making required welding. He did not want to become the new “Local Mad Scientist Kid Burns Down Apartment Complex” headline.

Inko came back from work amidst the mid-afternoon heat with an armful of grocery bags. As he heard her approach, Izuku ran to open the door, taking the bags from her.

“Did you forget to eat lunch?” Inko asked critically as the mother-son pair put the groceries in the fridge.

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Maybe. But look,” he continued quickly, “I finished the first prototype!” he exclaimed excitedly, running to his room and retrieving it.

The prototype was a pair of seemingly ordinary looking gloves. The functional materials were all compact, adding barely another layer to the original gloves’ fabric.

“However,” Izuku explained, “these gloves were created to benefit those with five-finger Quirks.”

In his excitement, Izuku’s voice sped up, creeping higher in pitch and volume. Inko listened patiently to his explanation, pausing in her arrangement of the groceries, with a doting smile on her face.

“What do you think?” Izuku asked at the end, fixing an expectant gaze on his mother.

Her smile widened. “How are you going to account for the different release methods of five-finger Quirks? If you want these to be mass produced, they will need to be suitable for as many different types of five-finger Quirks as possible.”

Now, it was Izuku’s turn to be enraptured as he mentally made note of all the improvements he could make to his design. The prototype was not called a prototype because it was a final design; Izuku knew he would have to make many improvements in the future. He wondered, could he find someone with a five-finger Quirk to test the gloves for him? (In a different prefecture, Uraraka sneezed.)

That night, dinner was not a quiet affair. Mikumo had made it home right before the dishes were served — which Izuku suspected was intentional — and Izuku, like a true younger sibling, pestered him to reveal where he had been.

Before Mikumo’s chopsticks could reach for the last steamed bun, Izuku snatched it, holding it near his mouth threateningly. “If you want this,” he sneered, “tell me where you were.”

Mikumo rolled his eyes. “Troublesome.”

Keeping an eye firmly glued to the steamed bun held in Izuku’s chopsticks, Mikumo retrieved a stack of papers from his computer bag. “A company offered to buy Tales from the Elemental Nations .”

Izuku dropped the steamed bun, mouth morphing into a surprised “o.”

“Hey!” In one smooth motion, Mikumo picked up his chopsticks and saved the steamed bun from falling onto the floor. He gave Izuku a dirty look, as if Izuku had almost killed his child.

“What company?” Inko asked from the sidelines, seeming fully invested in the conversation.

“Webshowz,” Mikumo said around a mouthful of steamed bun.

If Izuku still had a steamed bun, he would have dropped it in shock, again. “Webshowz!” He didn’t forget to offer congratulations before asking his most pressing question: “How much did they offer you?”

“Five hundred thousand yen. I also get royalties when the show airs, but I don’t expect it to be much.”

Inko nodded. “That’s reasonable.”

“Kaa-san?”

“I have some experience in the industry,” she said with a knowing smile. “Anyways! Baby, since you’ve accomplished something so amazing, we should go out for dinner tomorrow!”

Mikumo coughed slightly at the praise, or perhaps at the knowledge that his mother had “experience” in the entertainment industry. “Actually,” he said, “I prefer your cooking.”

Exaggeratedly, Inko clutched her chest, a smile blooming on her face, which, paired with her ponytail, made her appear several years younger. “Alright, then. I’ll prepare something especially amazing for us tomorrow. I guess today’s groceries will come in handy.”

Chapter Text

Basic Plot Points:

• Izuku & Mei create an algorithm to predict the winners of the Sports Festival for *gambling*
• Skim over the 2nd and 3rd years, focus on the 1st years
• Continuing off of previous chapter
• Hitoshi cameo
• Maybe he bumps into Izuku while running off to meet with Aizawa
• Or maybe just the canon-ish mention during the SF
• Sports Festival, the 3 events should be different because of the change from canon
• The announcer is Han Sooyoung! She attracted Nedzu’s attention after the stunt with the reporters, and she let him track her down. He hired her to announce the Sports Festival in  place of Midnight who did it in canon. Aizawa and Hizashi are still the commentators
• The first event should be an endurance event. The people are being blown at by wind while trying to stay on a platform with some ridges and if you fall off you fail. You probably have to stay on for at least an hour, and the wind gets marginally stronger. But that would be boring for the viewers, so every fifteen minutes they introduce a new element
• This event is actually kinda focused not only on endurance but also on teamwork, and its counterpart, backstabbing (you can push someone off to reduce competition, etc). I think the professors would look to see who backstabs people, and while they might pass, they would also be noted down as possible future problems
• “Our first event is focused on endurance! After all, without hard work, how can a person possibly hope to become a hero?”
• “[to viewers] Have you gotten bored yet? [to participants] Have you gotten tired yet? Well, since this is the first fifteen minute mark, we’re going to introduce something special!” And then raise a higher platform in the middle of the original platform and say that the first three people who get on it can stay and be unaffected by the wind for the next fifteen minutes
• Commentators say this (paraphrased): Actually, this is interesting, because the people who are closer to the center have an advantage. But the people who are closer to the center are also stronger, because they haven’t been blown towards the edges by the wind
• “We’re halfway through, so it’s time to add a second factor! Magnet shoes! These shoes can help you stick to the floor. But there are only 10 of these shoes, so you need to act quickly!” These shoes are located toward the edge of the platform
• Hizashi: “Because of the shoes’ location, they act as a lifeline toward people who are doing poorly. However, this also means that the three people who were on the platform lose the chance to get the advantage.”
• Aizawa: “But the shoes are also a double-edged sword, because to get them, you need to go towards the edge, where you have a higher chance of being blown off.”
• “Fifteen minutes left! We have one more twist to introduce. What that twist is… well, you’ll see!” Two words: Banana peels
• The second one is Game of Thrones, a modified version of the Crown Game from ToG
• The Crown Game is not only a game of skill but also a game of tactics and strategy, because you have to know the ideal time to go in in order to win
• The modification to the Crown Game is that there are two thrones —- that’s why it’s called Game of Thrones, and in the third of five rounds, if the two people that occupy the thrones cooperate, they can end the game early and both pass
• However, because there are two thrones, one team can occupy both thrones
• The four teams with the most cumulative time on the thrones pass, and the two teams that last occupy the thrones also pass — if there are two overlaps, another team will pass, but if there is only one overlap, then only five teams total will pass
• The third event is Ladderless, a modified version of Mario’s Monopoly Game from TEIO
• To move forward on the game board, it’s the amount of trivia questions you answer correctly, but it’s capped at 6 (like a die)
• A person who answers 20 questions in a row correctly are allowed to ask the announcer (Han Sooyoung) a question, but the questions get exponentially harder
• “Who will share my joys and sorrows?” does exist, except rather than a fight to the death, it’s a fight with the same rules as the original event 3 of canon (out of bounds, forfeit, can’t move, unconscious). The person who loses the fight is out
• The tournament arena where the fights are held is not the original game board
• There are jump squares (they make up 10% of the total squares), but they only let you jump backwards
• Why would you want to jump backwards? To land on the same square as someone else, who you are sure you can beat, and eliminate them from the tournament
• The first three people to reach the “Completion Square” win; it is implied that the Completion Square is the very last one, but it is not directly said. However, like the original MMG, the first/starting square is actually the Completion Square, though a person who reaches the last square will win, it’s just more work
• If a person discovers the first-square-is-completion-square trick, then it will become a mad dash to get a jump square
• Then, a person who has a good memory and is behind the others will have an advantage, because they can memorize which ones were jump squares and deliberately land there
• The name of the event (Ladderless) is, in itself, a reference to the way to win the game. Ladderless is a nod to Snakes and Ladders, but Ladderless means that ladders, which take you forward on the game board, are useless, meaning that you should instead go backwards
• The Sports Festival stuff might be too long for one chapter
• Even the outline is so long :crying:
• I’ve only written the events and not even the outcomes :ugly crying:
• What video is Shamrock making for SF?
• For the SF, Izuku is planning on passing the first round to support Mei in the following rounds to help her advertise her inventions
• Shamrock, on the other hand, is doing ~something~

Izuku sat up in the middle of the night, screaming in triumph. Whipping his head around to survey his dark and otherwise normal room with wide eyes, Izuku grabbed his phone off his nightstand and dialed a number.

“Yes?” a bleary voice answered. “Analyst-kun, you know I’m always ready to make babies, but one in the morning is a little pushing it.”

“Hear me out!” Izuku exclaimed. “I think I got it. I thought it was interesting that the betting pool opened so early, because it would make more sense to open it after the second event, when people are able to really get an understanding of the participants’ strengths and weaknesses, but there’s obviously a reason they make you bet so early, and it’s not to make money.

“Well, granted, they want to make money. But that’s not the main reason. After all, if they really cared that much about making money, they wouldn’t enforce the restriction that students can only bet on others of their own year. This was what stood out to me, primarily. That’s a big part of how I came to my conclusion.”

Izuku heard a jaw-cracking yawn from the other end. “I’m listening,” Mei said.

“I’ve been looking at U.A.’s previous Sports Festivals, and there’s a pattern. There’s always three events: the culler, the collaborative event, and the ultimate showdown. There’s a certain predictability to it. So I think the betting is actually a test .”

“For the Business Course kids?”

“Yes, for them, but also for us from the Support Course and, to a certain extent, those in Gen-Ed. The betting tests us on our ability to analyze outcomes objectively and predict events based on past information—”

“—so,” Mei picked up Izuku’s train of thought, sounding more awake. “They’re scouting analysts!”

“Exactly! Based on this information, we can evaluate the participants — that is, the Hero Course and Gen-Ed students, because they’re the only ones who take the Sports Festival seriously — based on three main components.

“For the first event, a general weeder, we have overall fitness. A few years ago, U.A. did a mass hide-and-seek event, so we can’t rule out the outliers for stealth, either, but that probably won’t happen this year, because it’s too close to the previous one… but maybe they’re doing that to throw us off and—” Izuku trailed off into mumbling.

Mei rapped on her phone. “You’re overthinking,” she said, lilting her words.

“Oh,” Izuku laughed. “Anyways, first we have fitness, such as speed, endurance, and the ability to get around obstacles. Of course, we have to think about the factor Quirks play in this, too.”

“And the second one,” Mei continued. “The collaborative event.”

“Yeah! We need to look at a person’s social life. Their popularity — the amount of friends they have — but also their temperment. A person who really wants to win might stay away from their friends in order to find people with abilities that better complement their own.”

“And rivalries,” Mei added. “But again, there might be outliers. The teams could be randomly chosen.”

“In that case, we need to evaluate a person’s ability to strategize and come up with plans, both on the spot and before the battle. We also need to factor in their mettle, which would fall under temperament, and—” Izuku faltered, cutting himself off. “Let me write this down!”

On the other end, Mei snorted. “Ahead of you,” she sing-songed. “I’m recording this call.”

“Oh, okay… What were we talking about?” After a brief pause, Izuku said, “Right. Well, I think that just about covers the second event. The third event is the tournament-style event. Usually, it is some form of one-on-one fight, or at least incorporates something like that. So, we can straightforwardly measure fighting strength.

“But then, fighting strength itself isn’t a very straightforward measurement. It involves a person’s Quirk, but also their control, creativity, and power. It also matters when the person uses their Quirk, and whether they know other forms of combat. Moreover, the matchup also matters. Some Quirks have a distinct advantage over others, but I suppose that only matters if a person over-relies on their Quirk.”

Mei, who had been silent for too long, let out a breath. “Wow,” she whispered. “Your thought process is… amazing.”

Caught off guard, Izuku started stammering. “Uh— well— I don’t—”

“Oops,” Mei said to herself. “I might’ve broke him.”

[-]

Izuku wiped nonexistent sweat off his forehead and let out a deep sigh. “Done, finally!” He flexed his sore fingers, stood up, and stretched. Izuku had had one or two restless nights slaving over the algorithm he and Mei would use to predict the results of the Sports Festival, but Mei took upon herself the far more difficult job by far: stalking the participants.

Throughout the past week, Mei had hid behind bushes, abused her Quirk, which gave her eyes the functionality of a telescope, and thoroughly collected information about each and every student in any of U.A.’s first year courses.

She pieced together several thick booklets and presented them to Izuku with the aura of a proud mother.