883No copyright infringement intended.
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I felt like crawling into a hole.
Morbidly, I thought about how unfortunate it would be to accidentally or on purpose get buried alive. Then, because I was a masochist, I started thinking about all the worst ways I could die. Between spiders and the irony of choking on a lifesaver, the first day of high school should've been at the bottom of my list, but since the school in question was Yūei Academy, I didn't have the luxury to be so naïve.
Ranked first in Japan and regarded as a highly distinguished institution by the rest of the world, Yūei housed many promising young Heroes. Hundreds of applicants took part in their entrance exam each year, and of those hundreds, only a fraction made it through. The school also selected students to attend based on recommendations, but that process resulted in a much smaller number than the average acceptance rate.
To put things into perspective, eighty percent of the human population possessed Quirks. Japan's population accounted for less than two percent of that, but that two percent comprised one hundred and twenty-seven million people. Yūei accepted forty students into the Hero Course, a department that specialized in field training. Five of those forty got in through recommendations. I was one of the five.
Freshmen identification cards arrived a few weeks after acceptance letters came in the mail. Engraved at the top was the school motto, Plus Ultra, a Latin phrase translating to "further beyond." The words served as a conspicuous reminder of the significance a piece of plastic could have, and when I finally noticed my name on the bottom, printed in pristine cursive, I couldn't help but think it looked a little out of place.
Most people in my position would probably jump at the chance to attend such a prestigious academy. Objectively, though, high school was high school no matter where I went. Loud classrooms, pushy kids. I could admit that Yūei earned their spot in the top one percent, but thinking about the hows and whys made me anxious, especially since my parents graduated cum laude from the same school.
Ignoring the whispers of doubt in my ears, I squared my shoulders and stepped through the main gates, imposing and impressive and still impossible to believe. The receptionist sitting in the middle of the lobby perked up at the sight of me, but not before a yawn interrupted the question slipping out of her mouth. In a way, seeing signs of boredom within the walls of such an esteemed establishment felt humbling enough to ease my nerves.
"New student?" she asked.
Dark hair fell down her back like cascading quills, but it wasn't until I noticed the red mask atop her head did I realize she wasn't a receptionist at all. The general public knew Kayama Nemuri, one of many teachers here at Yūei, by a specific title: the R-Rated Pro Hero, Midnight.
"Yes, ma'am," I said, handing her my identification card.
Her Quirk exuded a sleep-inducing aroma through her pores, which explained the skintight bodysuit covering the mass expanse of her skin. My eyes warily flickered to her exposed fingers, but I supposed they didn't pose a threat at the moment if I managed to maintain some semblance of consciousness.
"You're one of the kids who got in through recommendations," Kayama-sensei said, cerulean eyes skimming over my name.
I waited until she raised her head to nod. As much as I practiced polite conversations growing up, I didn't have many recent conversations in general, but since Kayama-sensei presented the fact as a statement, I had no reason to respond aloud until she spoke again.
"Looks like you're in Class 1-A," Kayama-sensei said, sliding my ID back across the counter.
My mouth dutifully curled at the corners, shaping into a curt smile. "Thank you, Kayama-sensei."
"So, you know who I am," she mused, her own lips tilting into a satisfied smirk. "Don't go around calling me 'ma'am' anymore, got it?"
With a listless nod, I bid her farewell. The hallways stretched on without end, nearly empty save for a few mingling upperclassmen, but I didn't care all that much about being late on my first day. I had more important things to worry about, such as the vociferous voice still nettling in my head.
In for a penny, she cooed. In for a pound.
I had nothing against waking up early. Between that and sleeping in a few minutes each morning, the prospect of leaving the warmth of my blankets never sounded like the better option, but I could do it in the event of an apocalyptic catastrophe. Most days, though, I kept my eyes shut until I had to get out of bed.
The man sprawled on the ground in front of Class 1-A seemed to share that sentiment. A yellow sleeping bag, scuffed from overuse and zipped to his chin, swallowed the rest of his body, revealing only a mop of black hair and hooded eyes reminiscent of a dead or dying goldfish.
On his other side stood three students stupefied by the sight of him, thus inadvertently blocking the single entryway into the classroom. I could have taken the handful of extra steps to walk around them, but that required more energy than I had to spare on a Monday morning.
"Excuse me," I said.
No response, not even a glance. My other classmates peered at the commotion from their seats, and though I usually found ogling annoying, I felt more bothered that the people I addressed directly didn't show nearly as much interest in what I had to say.
"I guess that's my cue," the man said, stretching to his full height. "I'm your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shōta."
A euphony of gasps and whispers permeated the room. Aizawa-sensei let out a breath of irritation, but he didn't bother waiting for us to quiet down, promptly pulling out a blue and white tracksuit from the quilt pooling at his feet.
"You'll find one of these uniforms under every desk," Aizawa-sensei said, lifting it above his head for everyone to see. "Change into them and then come out to the field."
Picking up the sleeping bag off the floor, Aizawa-sensei spun on his heel and started in the opposite direction from where I came. His footsteps slowed as he passed by, as if he just noticed me standing there, but all the emotion escaped his expression when I glanced back at him.
"Don't be late next time," he said.
As I stared at his hunched shoulders, I couldn't help ponder about his capabilities as a Pro Hero. Despite the image he presented, Aizawa-sensei became our teacher for a reason, and for him to meet Yūei's standards meant that he could handle the job. No use in speculating when I didn't have the evidence or intent to prove otherwise.
"Hi, there!"
I took a step back when a pair of big, brown eyes popped out in front of me, cringing not so much out of surprise but at their sudden proximity. It took a couple of seconds to recognize the brunette staring at me as one of the three students obstructing the doorway a minute ago.
"My name is Uraraka Ochako," she said, flashing a toothy smile. "Are you in this class, too?"
Just when I opened my mouth to respond, the other two approached us. The tallest of the three looked like the dictionary definition of diligence, pushing up the silver spectacles perfectly perched on his nose before clearing his throat.
"I am Iida Tenya!"
I turned to the second boy, shorter than the first and barely taller than the girl. Upon noticing my gaze, he hastily averted his eyes. The blush across his cheeks looked like an exact complementary match to the unruly moss curls atop his head, but by the time he spoke, it had darkened to a cherry red.
"Sorry, um, about earlier," he mumbled. "I'm Midoriya Izuku."
Three individuals with three distinct personalities. I could greet them cheerfully, like Uraraka, or bow my head as Iida would surely reciprocate, but with Midoriya avoiding any and all eye contact, I figured that a forward introduction would only fluster him more and settled for a short nod.
"My name is Higuchi Reiko," I said. "It's nice to meet you."
I threw in a smile, tight-lipped and a little awkward. It came a second too late to feel entirely honest, but the smiles I received in return eased my concerns enough to keep up appearances. First impressions always seemed a little final like that. I found some comfort in that I didn't feel totally mortified after mine.
"We should find our seats," Iida said, adjusting his glasses again. "I'm sure Aizawa-sensei expects us shortly."
Uraraka bobbed her head and skipped to a desk in the back of the class. Iida took the seat in front of hers. I felt mildly taken aback when Midoriya darted behind a scowling blond near the front and briefly wondered if they knew each other, but the thought disappeared without much protest.
I counted twenty seats in the room on the way to mine. Aside from the two or three recommended students, every single person in our class passed the infamous Yūei entrance exam, and the reality of it made me all the more curious to find out what kinds of Quirks my peers possessed.
"Hi, again," Uraraka said, straightening as she saw me approach. "We're seat partners, Higuchi-chan!"
I set my bag down and returned her enthusiasm with another smile, only a touch reluctant this time. It was more than I thought myself capable, but not because of the brunette. I was half-awake, and it was Monday, and I was not a morning person, all things that subtracted from my already lackluster social skills.
"I look forward to it, Uraraka," I said, stalling as a slew of other concerns suddenly swirled in my mind. Should I have used chan? san? An honorific at all? Was it alright that I didn't?
"You can call me by my first name," she said, a little shyly. "I mean, if you want! No pressure! I don't have to call you Reiko! Or Reiko-chan? Whatever you want! Ah, I'm rambling, aren't I?"
I didn't think it was vain on my part to assume that she wanted to become friends. Aspiring Heroes or not, the first day of high school was hard without them, and that, along with her unwavering smile, made my next decision easy enough.
"Thanks, Ochako," I said, substituting my sad attempts at a smile with what I hoped looked like an actual, affable grin. "If you want, you can call me Rei."
Class 1-A gathered on the baseball field, each of us dressed in new gym clothes. It felt like cotton against my skin, but since these uniforms needed to adapt to our Quirks during training, I assumed Yūei invested in materials of an even higher grade.
"What do you think we're doing today, Rei?"
I eyed the clipboard in our homeroom teacher's hands and tried not to shudder at the memory of the many mile runs I had begrudgingly participated in throughout the years. Beside me, Ochako seemed much more excited about it, if only slightly terrified.
"Looks like another fitness test," I said. "It's probably designed to give Aizawa-sensei a closer look at our Quirks."
"Keen observation, Higuchi."
Ochako slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles when Aizawa-sensei raised a brow in our direction. I stilled in silent horror, internally berating myself for not lowering my voice, and tried to ignore the dozens of stares stabbing into my back.
"You'll be taking eight physical apprehension tests similar to ones you've probably taken in the past," Aizawa-sensei said, his tone and posture noncommittal in every sense of the word. "The only difference is that you're allowed to use your Quirks whenever and however you want."
My embarrassment faded as quickly as it came, replaced by furrowed brows and a suspicious inkling that his words sounded too good to be true—
"Whoever ranks last will be expelled."
—because, of course, it was.
"Expelled?" our class chorused incredulously.
"Did you think this would be all fun and games?" Aizawa-sensei asked. "This is the Hero Course. If you can't take it seriously, you don't belong here."
The ever-present voice inside my head chose the worst times to make herself known. Now was no exception. My attempts at ignoring the whispers always proved futile, but I persisted until they consumed me, clear and cutthroat. Are you taking this seriously, Reiko? Do you belong here? Questions I didn't need answered, and yet—
"Are you nervous, Rei?"
Grateful for the distraction, I turned to Ochako and immediately noted her poorly concealed trepidation. Her fingers covered her cheeks, but she peered at me through the spaces, her nervous energy almost palpable. No, and I might come off defensive or overconfident. Yes, and she might feel less uneasy or just freak out even more.
"No."
It was close enough to the truth that I could convince myself it was the truth for at least the rest of the day. I'd be fine as long as I didn't get last place, and aside from the three I met just a few minutes ago, I didn't feel attached to anyone to the point where I cared about whether they got expelled.
"Oh," she mumbled.
My mouth twitched at her wilting expression, but I forced the corners upward. "I'm more curious to see everyone's Quirks."
"Oh," Ochako said again, perking up this time. "I didn't think of it like that!"
The tests kicked off with a fifty meter dash. Aizawa-sensei split us into pairs, and while waiting for my turn, I hung back at the end of the line to observe my classmates' performances. Most of them succeeded in about six seconds, save for a few outliers with advantages and disadvantages. Iida and his engines, for example, cleared the track in three seconds, but I could tell he had trouble switching gears in short distances.
Ochako didn't have the strength or stamina to maximize the potential of her Quirk in an exercise that relied heavily on physical effort, but she still beat a couple of people who apparently never ran a mile in their lives. A kid that kept sparkling for no particular reason took two steps before tripping on his shoelaces and sort of just laid on the ground for a while. I almost wished I could have done the same.
"Die!"
And then there was Bakugou Katsuki, the blond Midoriya sat behind in class. His explosion Quirk was powerful on its own, but he also had sharp instincts that allowed him to make the most out of that power several unorthodox ways. If not for his equally explosive temper, I would have easily believed he was one of the other recommended students.
"4.01 seconds," Aizawa-sensei said, marking his name off the list. "Next, Yaoyorozu and—"
Ochako sneezed.
"Bless you," I uttered.
A few feet in front of us, Yaoyorozu Momo stepped forward. I only knew her by name because everyone else seemed to know her name, but when an electric scooter materialized out of her arm within minutes after glowing violet, I realized they had a good reason.
Next to her stood a boy with two toned hair, red and white divided evenly down the center of his head. I didn't catch his name, but at the moment, I cared less about that than his performance. He thrust his hands out behind him, and the frost expelling from his fingertips propelled him to the finish line. His disinterested expression suggested that he didn't care about failing or—
"3.71 seconds!"
—well, that.
The only other person to break three seconds was Iida, and that barely counted. I knew that two other students in my class got in through recommendations, but it wasn't until Yaoyorozu ended up with a near identical time, falling behind by just a few milliseconds, that the pieces came together.
"Good job," Aizawa-sensei said.
Yaoyorozu smiled at the compliment, bowing at her waist. The boy inclined his head and turned to the damage he dealt on the track, his left foot stepping on the ice. As steam began rising from the ground, my curiosity spiked, and I heard my voice before I even decided I wanted to speak.
"Wait."
The boy paused and looked over at me. Now that I had an unobstructed view of him, I saw the scar marking his otherwise glassy skin, but I willed my own eyes not to linger. He raised a brow, and I mirrored the action, belatedly realizing that I stood there all but gaping at his eyes instead.
"Do you mind leaving it?" I asked.
He glanced at our teacher, and upon receiving a nod of approval, lifted his foot. I watched the wisps of steam fade while the rest of the ice remained untouched. Few people our age had that level of control, much less those with elemental Quirks.
"Hagakure Tōru and Higuchi Reiko," Aizawa-sensei said, beckoning me and a girl with an invisibility Quirk to the start of the line. "Last ones for this test."
I looked at the boy with mismatched eyes. He stared back at me, silver and turquoise complimenting each other in a way I never expected, and to my dismay, I felt my palms sweat under the weight of his gaze.
"Thank you," I said.
He nodded and stepped aside, leaving a space open for me where he previously stood. As I knelt down on the icy surface, the tension in my muscles instantly dissipated. Fortunately or not, Aizawa-sensei cut off my brewing inner monologue with a perfunctory command.
"Go."
With a flick of my wrist, I peeled off the frost and turned it into a small slab of ice, reverting any leftover rime into its liquid form. The water swirled beneath me before shooting out like an angry geyser, and the sheer pressure hurled my makeshift raft across the field.
The wind tickled every contour on my face, but it felt familiar, even comforting. As I landed on the other side of the finish line, the crystallized rock beneath my feet shattered into pieces, and when the adrenaline settled, all I could think about was how much I wanted to do it again.
"3.68 seconds," Aizawa-sensei said.
I ran through the numbers and realized that put me in second place. Not bad, all things considered. I fell behind Iida by quite a large margin, but I never expected to best him on this test, and I only had that much water to use in the first place because of the boy with the ice Quirk.
"That was awesome, Rei!" Ochako cheered, pumping a fist in the air. "You looked like you were surfing! Or flying! Like whoosh! So cool!"
I mustered a small smile at her praise, but the more I thought about my performance, the more I felt like I could have done better. Every realization, swift and savage, came with crueler criticism and deeper doubts.
Not bad, she said. But not good enough.
Four tests and almost an hour later, I became certain of at least two things. First, Midoriya was hiding something—something being his Quirk—and to my increasing annoyance, I couldn't think of any practical reason why. His scores remained short of average, but even with the threat of expulsion looming over his head, he avoided using it entirely.
The second revelation occurred to me shortly after that—Aizawa-sensei would not expel Midoriya. He hardly seemed like the type to make threats without following through, but if the glares aimed at the poor kid indicated his resolve to uncover such a secret, the opposite could be true and Midoriya just might never graduate until we found out the truth.
It was somewhat of a slow epiphany that seeded when the entire class excelled at the ball throw. Bakugou chucked his softball a whopping seven hundred meters, and Yaoyorozu created a cannon that blasted hers nearly triple the distance, but Ochako received the highest score with an infinite number on record.
Suffice it to say I scraped by in comparison. Midoriya went right after me, shoulders hunched and legs trembling, but his eyes seemed to sharpen with a novel kind of determination. He swung his fist in one sweeping motion, and then, in perhaps the most anticlimactic event of the day, the ball flopped limply to the ground.
"What?" Midoriya gasped.
I felt a little unnerved that he looked as appalled as the rest of us. His eyes widened from the shock and remained glued to the softball less than a foot away from him. I expected a few conspiratorial whispers, maybe even a sneering remark from Bakugou, but seconds passed and our classmates stayed eerily quiet.
"I erased your Quirk."
My head shot up at those four words. Aizawa-sensei stood before us with the fabric around his neck hovering inches above his head, as if Ochako had used her zero gravity on him—except she stood beside me, unmoving, and I realized that the one other person whose Quirk we had yet to see today finally put it to use.
"The entrance exam this year must've been pathetic if a kid like you made it through," Aizawa-sensei said, eyes glowing red. "Here's a question for the class. What can you tell me about Midoriya?"
Not a single person so much as exhaled. I anticipated that, but it didn't make me any less anxious. Yaoyorozu and I were the only ones paying attention to each and every student, which meant that we were the only ones sanctioned to offer constructive comments, and Aizawa-sensei knew that.
"You've been observing your classmates this whole time," Aizawa-sensei said, looking pointedly at us. "Mind sharing some of your findings? You first, Higuchi."
I bit my tongue and winced, both at the physical pain and sudden attention, but I could tell Aizawa-sensei had no intention of singling us out. He wanted to target a specific student and decided to use us as a means to that end. If I wasn't careful, Aizawa-sensei might go through with the expulsion, or Midoriya could lose the motivation to do the exam altogether.
"Midoriya hasn't shown us his Quirk at all," I said. "Considering the severity of the consequences, I doubt it's because he doesn't want to use it, but because—"
What, he didn't know how? No, that made him sound incompetent, and passing the entrance exam meant he had more to offer than that—
"Midoriya-san is inexperienced," Yaoyorozu said abruptly, responding on my behalf. "His Quirk must have great repercussions if it's not something he can practice through trial and error alone."
I bristled at the interruption, but I knew I couldn't afford to hesitate again. From what I cared enough to observe, Yaoyorozu didn't have a lot of experience with failure, much less the damage it could do to a person's self-esteem, and Midoriya would end up a martyr for a cause neither of us believed in. He deserved another shot at his best.
"The sit-ups and seated toe touch don't require heavy use of our Quirks. Likewise, Midoriya might get away with showing off during the long distance run, but if I'm," I paused, taking a breath that sounded too much like a sigh in my ears. "If Yaoyorozu-san is correct and he's not accustomed to using his Quirk, he might overexert himself before even completing a lap. Now is the best time for him to prove himself, and if I were you, I would give him the chance to do that."
Midoriya let out a strangled noise. I brushed it off as an appalled, albeit appropriate, response to my spiel, but then I noticed his limbs swathed by strips of cloth and body suspended three feet above the ground.
"You can't be a Hero and deadweight at the same time," Aizawa-sensei said, deactivating his Quirk. "Incapacitated to the point where you become another victim to save? Do you expect your comrades to carry you just so you can live out a silly fantasy?"
Midoriya crashed into the dirt and shook his head, furiously, frantically. "No, that's—"
"Two more tries," Aizawa-sensei said, and the finality in his tone left the rest of us staring and silent. "Make them count for something."
As if fated, Midoriya passed the test with only a self-inflicted broken finger. His rank didn't budge from twentieth place, but he proved himself more capable than any of us could have imagined, and despite his grievances, Aizawa-sensei decided that warranted keeping him around. Although I thought Midoriya deserved to stay, the circumstances that led up to that only made me more suspicious of him.
How could he live with his Quirk for over a decade and not have any control over it? I might have understood if Midoriya wanted to pursue a civilian lifestyle, but people applied to the Hero Course for one reason, and I saw the proof lying on his desk once we got back to the classroom. He had a notebook entirely dedicated to his observations about Heroes and heroics and everything in between.
Midoriya, without a doubt, wanted to become a Hero.
I couldn't decipher the details of his Quirk, but I understood the bigger picture. Ranking below Bakugou landed a startling blow to my ego and Yaoyorozu dominating in first place rubbed salt on my already wounded self-esteem. Not unlike Midoriya, I felt inclined to get better results, and I had three years to achieve that. I was supposed to be here for the same reason, after all.
"See you tomorrow, Rei!"
Grateful for another distraction, I shoved my thoughts to the back of my mind and nodded at the brunette standing by the door. It would take a lot longer than half a day for me to break such practiced routines, but the sight of Ochako's grin made me want to smile back, and I could admit it took less effort than my attempts earlier that morning. I only hoped I had the motivation to keep trying.
On my way out of the classroom, I took a peek at the desk to my left. A small part of me felt a little disappointed that it was as empty as it had been that morning, but all things considered, I had no reason to dwell on it. I would meet the person sitting there tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. More routines, but I couldn't complain. Surviving my first day of high school felt like victory enough.
postscript
full transparency, updates will be extremely sporadic for an indefinite amount of time, but here's hoping i see this through to the end no matter how long it might take. if u would like to read the story on archive of our own, u can find me there under the same pen name. thank u so much for reading! ଘ(੭ˊˋ)੭