Chapter Text
As I walked through the hallway, I saw my classmates gathered around the notice board. They clumped together in small groups, whispering to themselves. Gazing over their heads, I saw the source of their excitement. As I guessed, the midterm results had been posted.
ALDERA JUNIOR HIGH MIDTERM SCORES
- Midoriya, Izuku — 100
- Bakugo, Katsuki — 97
- Sato, Mizuko — 96
- Kodaka, Naoki — 95
After the fourth entry, I stopped reading. Besides making sure I was assigned the full marks I had earned, only my top two classmates’ rankings were particularly relevant to my life; reading the rest would just be a waste of time.
Lazily, I scanned the crowd, my eyes coming to a rest on Sato. She was listening to another girl (Toshiki, was it?) assure her that she would beat Bakugo next time. “That’s right,” another girl next to her said, “you were still recovering from your cold the other week, that’s all.” A boy just behind Sato spoke up. “I think Bakugo was cheating off Midoriya. And everyone knows Midoriya is always cheating, so you’re really already number one.” Sato had to turn around to face the boy as he spoke. They surrounded her on every side, like ants encircling a morsel of food.
Suddenly, a voice roared “Damn it!” from right behind me. Startled, I whipped my neck around and saw the reddened face of Katsuki Bakugo. The image of a dog foaming at the mouth, straining against its leash in rage came to me. How he managed to muster the same indignant anger after coming in second or third to me in every exam for the last two years was beyond me.
“Izuku, you fuck” he continued, still shouting, “I swear to God I will beat you next time! I’ll study so hard you and your shitty quirk can’t possibly keep up.” With every syllable, I could see spittle exploding from his mouth. As he was talking, he began to walk forward, storming past me. I was forced to awkwardly sidestep him, but he still knocked into my shoulder as he went by. My eyes narrowed involuntarily.
Just then, another one of Sato’s entourage spoke in a sardonic tone: “yeah, right Bakugo, like you can just will yourself into being as good as Midoriya’s intelligence quirk. Just admit that his ranking doesn’t count and move on with your life.”
He was facing away from me, but the image of Bakugo’s already angry face becoming even redder was clear from imagination alone. Anyway, the ensuing argument was a good distraction. I quietly slipped away from the crowd and sat down at my desk. Class was about to start.
As the teacher’s voice washed over me, I thought about Bakugo. If nothing else, I had to admire his stubbornness. He really did believe that he could overcome an innate gap in quirk ability through sheer force of will, despite reality proving him wrong time and time again.
It seemed to have become a core part of Bakugo’s self-image. To his benefit, I thought: it had pushed him to work harder than anyone I’d ever met. That conscientiousness would bring him far in life, I suspected.
A shame then, that he’s totally wrong. The gap for him to cross never even existed in the first place. I had been lying to him, to everyone around me, for almost as long as I could remember.
It turns out it’s really hard to tell the difference between a smart quirkless kid and a kid with a generic intelligence quirk. So hard, in fact, that it demonstrated the sheer stupidity of discrimation on the basis of quirk. Even if quirk records weren’t sealed by law, I was confident I wouldn’t have been discovered.
My thoughts snapped back to reality. The teacher called my name, having noticed my lack of attention. Thankfully, he had already learned that it was useless to attempt to humiliate me with a question about the material. Unlike the other students who zoned out, I would actually know the answer.
After apologizing, I discretely pulled out my Calculus textbook and started reading it, doing my best to ignore the teacher’s droning voice.
Just one more period and I could go home.
When the sludge monster appeared in front of me, I barely had time to shout “Wait!” before I was grabbed. I had never been as scared as I was then.
I could hear nothing but my heart, pounding in my chest. My lungs began to burn. I reached for my phone in a vain attempt to dial 119, but it was knocked out of my hands by a disgusting tendril of sludge.
I remember the last thing I thought as I lost consciousness. I realized that calling would have been pointless, anyway — I couldn’t have said anything to the operator. My best effort, utterly defeated. A fitting metaphor for my life, I thought, as everything faded away.
As I came to, I saw an implausibly large man leafing through… was that my copy of The Epic of Gilgamesh? “I suppose this will be my first time signing a junior high schooler’s copy of a Sumerian epic poem” he said, bemusedly.
I sat up, my head spinning. Once I regained my composure, I got a proper look at the man standing above me. “All Might!?” I said, almost as shocked as when the monster had rushed me.