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Izuku didn’t pack an umbrella, and he runs to the train station through the rain, soaking himself to the bone.

He hates it when it rains. The humidity makes his head rumble, and his wings are always so uncomfortable when they’re soaked, and they feel like they’ve been dipped in tons of fast food oil. And yes, he could have tucked them in, but it is really uncomfortable to have his wings tucked away, and the slits in the back of his uniform top were awkward to explain.

He makes it to the train in time and huddles onto it. It’s crowded, it’s an afternoon, and people are paying more attention to their phones than the world around them. Izuku joins the crowd, pulling out his own phone and swiping through his news apps, catching up on the hero news of the day.

Missed a debut! Damn it. Mt. Lady, fitting name, should add her to my notes at some point. He scrolls a bit more. Oh, wow, Present Mic is coming out with a new podcast? I definitely need to download that as soon as possible. He scrolls, but stops, hearing a bit of whispering.

“Aiko, honey, stop staring. It’s rude.” A woman on the other side of the train whispers to her child, not looking up from her magazine. Right next to her is a little girl, barely five years old, by Izuku’s best bet, staring at him with wide, golden eyes. There are small slits in her pupils, and a little, multicolored scales dot her face like freckles.

“B-but momma!” The girl whispers back, but it’s not that loud. “It’s a fairy, like from the bedtime stories!”

He can’t help but smile, and he locks eyes with the girl and gives her a little wave. Her face flushes, and she looks down to the ground immediately. Her emotions flare at the corner of his sight, becoming a mixture of pale pink (embarrassment) and a lavender (curiosity), melting together to create a marbled wave.

Izuku smiles at the girl’s embarrassed glee, before turning back to his hero stories.

Just a regular day for Midoriya Izuku.

More people get off at other stops, including the little girl, and space opens up a bit more on the train. He still stands, allowing an elderly couple to take the nearby seats, but he does angle himself away to stretch out his wings, the smallest bit, and try and flutter off the water that soaked them and caused shots of what felt like ice to go up his spine.

Yeah, sure, he could sometimes make things warm with his hands, but what use was that when he couldn’t reach his own back?

The rain that had thundered on the train had ceased, leaving a warm, humid sunset for Izuku to depart with. Gave him more room to stretch his wings, the last golden rays of the sun catching the color quite majestically. 

He regrets not taking a picture. Whatever , he’d try and paint the colors later.

By the time he got home, the sun was close to gone over the horizon. His mom knew he’d got caught up at the library studying as usual, and he was keeping her updated with his location as usual. The smell of katsudon wafts through the door to his apartment, and he opens the door with a smile.

“Ah, about time, Izuku!” His mother scolds, but it was with a smile. Her emerald eyes glimmer with joy, a beautiful warm yellow color that tickles Izuku’s ribcage. “I thought the katsudon was going to get cold!”

“Sorry, mom!” He sighs, pulling off his messenger bag. With the wings, you would understand why regular back-packs would be pretty impossible, right? “There was such an interesting book about quirk history-- I couldn’t put it down!”

“You’re always studying, Izuku.” His mom giggles, bringing out the slightly-still-steaming bowl of delicious katsudon. “Don’t you ever want to hang out with your classmates, try and make a friend?”

Izuku pauses, for a moment.

He considers his classmates. The girls seemed okay with him; they didn’t mind his quirk, and the sparkles and magic it brought with him. They talked with him, okay, but no one was particularly close to him. He thought about the boys in his class, too wrapped up in masculinity to ever hang out with someone like him , a weirdo with a girl’s quirk . Kacchan had stopped his own tirade against Izuku’s quirk years ago, addressing him as another extra in the class that he would walk over, no longer making fun of the nervous flutter of wings or the extra glitter that Izuku seemed to just leave everywhere.

(He had no idea where the glitter came from. It’s a terrible mess.)

Izuku shakes his head. “I think I’m okay right now.”

Mom-idoriya expects this response, and she rolls her eyes as she sat at her seat at the table. They had gone long ago without fancy chairs, owning up to stools that served just as well and didn’t require Izuku to tuck in his wings. “Alright, but when you get into UA, that better not be the same attitude young man!” She points her chopstick threateningly at him like a knife.

Izuku laughs; when he gets into UA. There were no ifs, buts, or whats in this household; Izuku was going to get into UA, no matter what .

His quirk was… pretty okay, if he did say so himself. Aside from the wings, that is. Not that he’s felt any need to share more details other than the wings with people. No one’s ever asked, and he’s not one to brag about himself.

And it was nice to have at least one person behind you, even if the rest of the world tries to bring you down.

Wings fluttering with anxiety, Izuku glances up at the massive building that was UA. His back feels exposed, which makes more sense because he took a regular tracksuit and cut out a big enough hole in the back for his wings, but the exposure feels like everyone is staring at him even more.

Izuku’s lucky that the school is so close; it was a quick train ride, but the next weekend after this entrance exam, Izuku had a license test for flight , which means he can just fly to school instead.

His flight was getting better than it was when he was six and barely got himself off the ground. He wasn’t a big fan of going too high, but his instructor, Kukuro-sensei, said that he was one of the best students that he ever had, which made Izuku’s heart swell.

But he has other things to focus on. Like, hey, he’s standing in the gate of UA, as a swarm of people passed by, and their emotions (mostly anxiety, a sickly lime green, excitement, a soft orange, and nervous, a sparkling neon purple) mix to create a strange kaleidoscope of colors around his vision. The three colors never mixed well, but he tries to keep the colors in mind as he slowly walks through the gates and imagines what colors he would be giving off now.

Yeah, he has an empathy quirk, but he never gets to see what his own colors were. 

A human bumps into him and a neutral gray broke through the strangely mesmerizing mixture of emotions. Only one person ever disguised his emotions well enough, and he wasn’t surprised when the smell of nitroglycerin wafted close by.

“Out of the way, Deku. Deku. Extra. Useless. Bakugo Katsuki--Kacchan-- scowled at him but made no other comment towards him. The nickname Deku had worn away its meaning when Izuku finally learned how to stretch his wings and fly, but it stuck to him, unfortunately. Izuku really hasn’t shared other parts of his quirk-- the little abilities he can do. 

No one’s asked him, after al!

“Good luck to you, too, Kacchan!” Izuku replies, though his wish is left on deaf ears. He shrugs, stealing another breath before continuing his walk up to UA. 

He is going to get in. 

He can do this.

He’s taught himself to turn down the colors that attack his sight with emotions, only slightly, and being in a room full of two-thousand-something teenagers all experiencing a wide, wild range of emotions is a good test. A test he feels he is close to failing, but it’s 90% in the end. And he can direct most of his attention towards the front of the room where Present Mic stands. 

He’s next to Kacchan again and he can feel a bit of anger-- no, annoyance, no, it’s grey again-- but Izuku is too busy focused on Present Mic. His new podcast was going great for him so far, would there be another episode tonight, or was he on hiatus for the week since it was entrance exam time?

Izuku, focus! His brain yelled at him.

Three robots, defeat them. That’s it, that was the whole entrance exam for UA. Which Izuku found unfair, how would people with more mental-based quirks be able to handle this? If Izuku was not even just his wings, but maybe just his empathy or his warmth powers, he would absolutely fail. There has to be something else to this. 

There was also the mystery of the zero-pointer. A robot that was so insignificant, that Present Mic told the student who called it out to just flat-out ignore it. That sparked Izuku’s curiosity, but he didn’t have time to theorize as the students were ushered out to the testing fields.

He flaps his wings and takes off a few seconds after Present Mic yells go and students are already running into the fake city.

Izuku flies up, landing on the top of one of the buildings, trying to get a good look of the place from above. Students have filed in a massive chunk to one end of the city, near the entrance, where many one-pointer bots activated upon… motion?

Yes, the robots were motion-activated, Izuku noticed, as the few students who run ahead (hey! It’s the kid who asked about the zero-pointer!) of the crowd began to attack the other robots further back, who laid unresponsive until the students approached them.

“If I start from the back and work my way back to the front, that should get me enough points to pass,” Izuku mumbles to himself and makes a running jump for the building. His wings aren’t avian, they never need to catch the wind to start, his body jolts slightly as his wings flap and he jets for the back, where some of the fewer three-point robots laid. The second he lands on the ground, he feels one of the three-pointers roar to life and points weapons at him.

Luckily, he’s come prepared. Izuku’s considers his quirk multiple weaker quirks from his family dressed up in a sparkly trenchcoat. Small little abilities, here and there, from family members, a bit of telekinesis from his mom, he assumes the warmth he can create is from his dad’s fire-related abilities. Everything-but-the-wings has come from someone before him, living or dead. 

Izuku stretches his arms out and pulls another robot close by, a small one-pointer who has strayed too far from the front and swings it into the three-pointer. It takes a few swings before the three-pointer goes down, and by then the smaller robot is just a chunk of metal. 

Thank you, mom! 

He drops the metal and ran his hands furiously through his hair, watching as glitter falls everywhere. Enough covers his hands, and he quickly runs-- with the help of his wings, keeping him lighter on his feet than he normally is-- and covers the sensors of two other three-pointers nearby with the glitter, allowing him to pull them together and smush them like a sandwich.

Four, three, three… ten already! He doesn’t have a timer and the big clock is closer to the entrance, but not much time has passed, right?

He keeps to his original strategy, until he hears a cry of pain, and turns around.

A student was whacked in the chest by one of the smaller robots and falls back to the ground. Izuku drops the two-pointer he was trying to destroy and, against his better judgment, rushes over.

Her black hair is slicked over her forehead, she cradles her arm. It’s a blue color, and she gets up on shaking, nervous legs.

“Hey!” Izuku calls out, landing softly on the ground. He wasn’t aware he even flew over. “Here, let me see that.”

The girl raises her eyebrows but extends her arm nonetheless. It’s a nasty color, something was definitely broken. Izuku looks at her with expectant eyes, carefully taking the arm in reach. His hands flood with warmth and the color fades. 

“Mm, thanks.” She mumbles, almost too quiet for Izuku to hear. Her eyes widen and she picks up a rock, reacting faster than Izuku could ever, throwing it behind him. The rock grows to a massive size and smashes a two-pointer aimed directly for him. 

“Ha, thanks back.” He winks at her. “Good luck with the exam!”

“You, too.” Her responses are curt, and both of them get back into fighting. 

Izuku feels okay about his point count by then but it aggravates him that he’s lost the number. Thirty or forty? Twenty-nine or thirty-four? Nine ? The top student of the last exam had forty-four points, he definitely didn’t have that many. Maybe it was only seventeen.

He gets distracted, again, helping a group of students pull a slab destroyed by a robot off another student. The three-pointers were more fond of destruction, not just on the students, but on the buildings around, making the exam pretty hazardous. 

But maybe there was a reason for that. 


Thunk thunk thunk thunk.

Oh, that does not sound good. 

Izuku turns his head as the large crowd of teenagers fighting robots gasps, and he holds in his own gasp. The zero-pointer finally decides to show its ugly face. Well, it wasn't ugly, Izuku found the robots around them quite charming in an irritating sort of way. Plus, they don’t really have faces, only senors, and small, rectangular heads. 

A cold blue of fear mixed in with the other colors. Students begin to flee all around him, and Izuku almost finds himself lost in the ocean of sudden, cold, blue , flooding all around him, a tsunami of fear. His wings almost want to flutter away, hide away, tucked into his back, but they don’t. 

He helps a few students who had fallen in shock up, pushing them away from the zero-pointer, the arena trap . Present Mic wasn’t kidding when he said it was big.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone trapped under a pile of debris. No, not trapped-- she’s just been knocked over. 

And there’s another student running that way. He was an unassuming student, one Izuku hasn’t noticed in his fighting amongst the other pointer-robots that count, the only thing standing out being messy purple hair.

The boy flies into the air, surrounded by purple energy. There’s a lot of colors coming off at once. Izuku can see them all-- cold blue fear , bright red determination , golden hope-- that form a swirl around the boy, a star surrounding him and his energy. With one punch, the boy destroys the zero-pointer.

Izuku has half a mind to cheer-- he probably lets out a little encouraged yelp, but it dies down quickly as he sees the boy start to fall.

Now, it’s his turn to move without thinking. His wings flutter and he takes off to the sky as fast as he can. He’s never known his top speed, but whatever it is now definitely has broken it.

The purple-haired boy has a broken arm, and clearly, no safe way to have landed. Luckily Izuku was there, and he catches him.  

The boy looks like he’s about to faint, which isn’t that good , but he does grunt when gravity halts, for just a little bit, as Izuku catches him. “Ow.”

“You good?” Izuku isn’t good at flying with other people. His wings don’t have the strength for it ( yet , he adds with a bit of hope), and he descends faster than he’d like, but it isn’t a crash-landing that could kill anyone anymore, which is a win for him.

“Y-yeah.” A bright pink of embarrassment creeps through the fading blue-red-gold.  

Izuku’s feet hit the ground, a bit harder than he would like, and he allows the boy down, too. The boy’s legs aren’t broken but they definitely look strained and in pain,  and the arm is twisted and blue. Injuries Izuku can’t help with, but the pain doesn’t stop the boy from looking out and what remains and trying to see if there’s anything else to try and take down.

There are a few one-pointers left, but the boy turns on them to make sure the girl is okay. 

“A-Ah, thank you.” The girl smiles awkwardly. “

“Are you okay, though? Your quirk…”

“I’m… I’m okay.” The boy lies. It’s obvious, even though Izuku is an empath and can see the sickly yellow-green of deceit, since he doesn’t make a move to go after the few remaining robots. 

The buzzer goes off.

The practical is over.

Now, Izuku can only hope that he gets in.

Chapter Text

Izuku doesn’t know how he always gets messy with paint. Painting became a stress-reliever when scribbling in the margins of his notes didn’t clear his mind. Acrylics and oils were his favorites, but every now and then watercolors were fun to paint with as well.

But here he is, somehow a mess of paint. The acrylic blend of blue-gold-yellow that he’d seen on that one boy during the exam spreads out through the canvas. The pattern is like the stars, stretching out and expansive. 

If he doesn’t become a hero, at least, he’ll have painting as a back-up.

Slowly unbuttoning the ratty, old, paint-covered shirt he wears when he paints, he backs up, getting a better look at the painting. His hands were stained with acrylics, he definitely needs to open a window, but… the painting is done. 

He wants to paint something else, but he at least needs to eat something other than a small bit of breakfast today. 

It’s a Saturday, no junior high in session. His flight exam was this morning; he passed it with little negative marks. He can fly, now, to work and to school and wherever he might need to be. 

He’s still waiting to hear from U.A. He knows he’s gotten enough points to get in, and his grade was good enough on the written exam to pass, but you never know for sure . He feels confident, but…

He wonders a bit more about the other two, that he met at the exam. The purple-haired boy, the girl. Would they get in? How many points did they get? 

Rinsing off his hands in the bathroom sink, he wanders out into the living room. His mother is knitting something (all Midoriyas had to take some sort of creative hobby to relieve stress, after all) and a soap-opera is playing on the television. “There you are, Izuku. I was wondering if the paint had finally consumed you.”

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” Izuku responds, just as quick-witted, grabbing a can of vegetable-juice from the fridge and a packet of crackers. “They tried again, but I emerged victoriously.” He shows off his forearms, which covered in blue, gold, yellow paint, and a faint glitter that he always has. 

“That’s good. Stick it to the man.” 

His wings flutter as he chuckles, cracking open the can of veggie juice. Tomato, it seems. “Let me know if the letter comes?”

They were supposed to be coming in the next few days. A week. It seems like such a short time to analyze future students for U.A., but with the large teacher body, they could probably get it done in half that time. Or, he thinks, at least. 

“Of course.” 

Not even an hour later, when Izuku finds himself deep in an old Bob Ross tutorial on YouTube, with Japanese subtitles, there’s a frantic knock at the door. He drops the fan brush into the cup of water, opening his bedroom door.

His mom’s eyes are wide, frantic; there’s a letter in her hand. “I-Izuku!”

Izuku takes it quickly. It’s from U.A. He feels his stomach drop like his wings stopped working in mid-air; an exhilarating thrill, usually, but this one is a drop of anxiety and fear. 

The color drains from the world as his mother lets him be, for a moment; the door closing behind her. He can still hear her ragged breaths from the other side of the door. Without hesitation, Izuku tears the envelope open.

A small, circular disk falls from it. It hits the ground and a bright light shoots out from it. A hologram-- it must save so much on paper and ink, then. He picks it up, setting it at his desk and sitting in his chair.

Izuku presses play.

The first thing he sees is All Might .

“It is I! Here as a projection!” The small All Might greets. “What number is this? Ninety-seven?” He looks to someone off-screen. “Right, right, okay.” Pulling out a paper, All Might explains that he will be working at U.A. starting this new year. Teaching Foundational Heroics. 

“Right, right. Midoriya Izuku. You passed the written exam with a score of 90%, congratulations! That immediately qualifies you for General Education courses. However, there was also the practical exam! And for that, you received sixty points!”

Sixty? There was no way he received sixty points. He didn’t beat that many robots, did he?

The timing for this also seems off, Izuku notes. Did they force him to record all of the three hundred plus applicants at once?

“You earned only twenty-four villain points, which would barely allow you to pass to begin with. However, there is a second component to the exam-- rescue points! We cannot decide whether someone is good for heroics if all they can do is destroy robots, right?” All Might laughs, though it comes out a bit technologically-distorted. “Including your deeds to assist other examinees, a super-secret panel of heroes have decided to award you thirty-six rescue points! Congratulations, Midoriya Izuku, and welcome to your hero academia! You will find other papers necessary for your acceptance if you choose to come here. I wish you the best of luck.  All Might, out!”

A small leaderboard pops up, frozen in time. The top ten scores. Izuku’s name is firmly placed in seventh place. Seventh place. Kacchan’s name is in second place, under someone named Uraraka Ochako, only a few points off. That’s gonna hurt his ego.

It takes a few moments. It sinks in slowly, at first, then all at once.

He was in. He did have his hopes, but hearing it. Letting it sink in. He’s going to go to U.A. 

I’m going to U.A.

He opens his bedroom door to find his fretting mother. She looks at him, eyes wide with anticipation and fear, blue and silver mixing.

He smiles.

There’s an explosion of yellow.

“Oh, Izuku!” She grabs him in a hug immediately, being cautious of his wings.

School supply shopping is one of Izuku’s favorite parts of the new school year. He’s trying to avoid getting the expensive brands, and also the hero stationary, but there’s already a few All Might notebooks in the basket and he’s not going to stop himself.

His mom’s given him a bit more than he usually gets for school supplies. Which is a little treat; enough to get him a new sketchbook, too. Maybe a few new pens, he’s been wanting to try out paint pens--

Izuku, focus. He yells at himself.

Being in public like this makes his chest ache. Not because of the crowds, or the people, but his wings being tucked away for convenience of other people is always uncomfortable. He doesn’t have to do it, but there’s always the judgemental stares from people his age and curious stares from little kids. The kids, he doesn’t mind.

But it’s time to buy school supplies, and teenagers are everywhere.

He passes a few students from his junior high, his former school. They’re going to the local high school, nothing too impressive. 

Izuku glances back at the paint pens. He throws a few into his basket, just because. Red, blue, gold. 

And then he runs into someone. 

“Oh, shit, sorry.” Someone says, the person he runs into. “Oh.” 

Izuku looks up. Staring right back at him is the purple-haired boy from the exam. He has a basket, too, full of school supplies as well. 

“Oh, hi!” Izuku picks himself back up quickly. “How’s your arm?”

It’s been two weeks, and Izuku knows that the boy was healed quickly by Recovery Girl, but it’s the first thing that comes out of his mouth. It’s awkward. It’s bad. 

“Fine. All healed.” The boy flexes his hand. “How did you do, in the exam?”

“I got in. How about you?”


“Oh, congrats!” Izuku smiles. “What class are you in?”

The boy hesitates, pulling out his phone and glancing at it. “1-A.”

Class 1-A. That’s the one I’m in! Izuku’s smile brightens. “Oh, really? Same!”

The purple-haired boy is just as awkward as he is, if not a bit more. But he tries to return the smile, even if it’s a bit lopsided. Up close, Izuku can see that there is a small scar across the boy’s eyebrow. “Shinsou Hitoshi.” He stretches out his hand.

“Oh. Midoriya Izuku.” The name Shinsou Hitoshi echoes through his mind. Ninth place? I think, yeah. 

“Didn’t you, uh… Have wings?” He’s blunt about it, but there’s a charm in Shinsou’s voice, too.

“Oh, yeah. I still have them, I can just… Tuck them in. Stops the staring.” He stretches his shoulders a bit, they’re itchy and aching a bit from the wings from being tucked in. 

How does one talk to people? Shinsou is a future classmate , he should say more.



They both try and speak at the same time, and both stop. 

“Go ahead.”

“No, you.”

They say it at the same time. 

Izuku laughs. Not annoyingly, but he can’t help but notice how awkward the conversation has gotten. “Okay, okay. Since we’re apparently future classmates, do you wanna exchange phone numbers?”

“U-uh, sure.” 

It’s quick, painless and easy-- Izuku decides to put a dragonfly emoji next to his name. Shinsou puts one of the smiling cat emojis next to his. 

“Well, see you soon, Shinsou!” Izuku beams. Maybe… Maybe he’s made a friend? Izuku can only hope so.

“Do you have everything, Izuku? Your notebooks? Your license? The last bit of paperwork? Your tissues?”

“Mom-- mom, yes, I’ve got it all.” Izuku quickly finishes tying his shoes. He straightens up, glancing in the mirror by the door. His uniform is nice and clean, his wings are out and spry; his tie, on the other hand, is a terrible mess. He tugs on it and makes it worse. 

Izuku’s mom pulls his attention away. She fixes his jacket, straightening it up, before tears begin to fill her eyes. “Oh, Izuku. I’m so proud of you.” She pulls him into a hug again. They’ve been hugging a lot, emotional wrecks because of the whole U.A. thing. It’s a happy emotional wreck, and Izuku allows the yellow joy to fill his entire body.

“Thanks, Mom.” He says, wiping away a few of his own tears. “I gotta get going, now-- I gotta fly .”

His mom laughs. He laughs back, before running out the door. He doesn’t take the stairs down; he hops over the railing of the fourth-floor before taking flight. The school wasn’t too far away by air, and he has his license. 

Well, it is a permit, technically. He has restrictions, still; he can’t fly before or after certain times, and he can’t go high up from the ground. But U.A. is waiting for him, and he can’t help but fly just a bit higher than normal, just a bit faster than normal.

(Still within legal limits, of course. He doesn’t want his permit getting taken away after only getting it.)

There’s a bit of a crowd already at the gates, as new and returning students file into the school. He lands just a bit outside the gates, pulling out his phone.

ME     6:15 A.M.
You ready for today? (o^▽^o)

SHINSOU 😼   7:20 A.M.
yeah. why are you up so early tho

ME     7:32 A.M.
Class starts at 8:00, that’s not too early D:

SHINSOU 😼     7:43 A.M.
meet you in class zzz 

Izuku rolls his eyes, putting his phone back into his pocket. He had the school map in one hand, the classroom that will be his homeroom for the next few years circled in bright purple pen.

(He ended up going back and picking up enough paint pens to make a rainbow and then some after his dad sent a little money present as congrats for getting accepted. He’ll be home in a few months again, but Midoriya Hisashi wanted to congratulate his son.)

Upperclassmen were nice to the “fresh meat”, so it seemed; a girl with curly blue hair helped him figure out the quickest way to his classroom, pointing out that going around the cafeteria would be easier than through during the breakfast rush. Some students live on campus, others come early for breakfast; Izuku’s already eaten enough leftover Katsudon to power a small army at this point, so he was good.

The Classroom of 1-A has a big door . It’s the first thing that Izuku notices outside of the clash of emotions around him. Orange excitement seems to glow from the door. 

Izuku hopes Kacchan isn’t in this class.

He opens the door.

Kacchan is in this class.

Damn it. 

“Soumei Private Academy? What are you, some kind of damn elite ?” Kacchan snarls at the boy standing over him.

The aforementioned boy gasps in shock. He’s rather tall for his age and rather square, and he fixes his glasses and composes himself. “I don’t think this is a proper way to talk with your future classmates.”

Ah. Izuku doesn’t want to deal with this. He ducks into the classroom, trying to figure out where his name was… There! 

A girl sits in front of him, patiently looking through her bag for a few pens. She startles when Izuku sits down behind her. Her dark hair is pulled back into a rather long ponytail, and dark eyes look over him instantly. “Oh, good morning.”

“Good morning!” Izuku greets back-- he’s been awake for probably a bit too long, hopefully it isn’t too bright. He tries to ignore the staring at his wings, and he feels his ears burn in embarrassment a bit. The girl turns back to organizing notebooks, and he sits back, watching as students file in through the door.

There are a few weirder-looking quirks that come in soon, at least. Someone has a bird’s head, and there’s a student with six arms. Much more diverse than his junior high class. Eventually, Kacchan and the yelling boy stop their argument. 

Oh, there’s Shinsou! He takes the seat next to Izuku. They’re both in the back. Which is nice, because Izuku can stretch out his wings a bit. Maybe he can request a different chair, too. 

“Good morning Shinsou.” Shinsou looks like he didn’t sleep a wink.  Which, after conversations with his friend-- friend! -- over text, Shinsou does suffer a bit from insomnia.

“It’s definitely morning .” He responds with a yawn, leaning his head on the desk and shutting his eyes for a brief moment. 

Izuku turns back to the door-- the entrance exam girl enters too, which makes Izuku happy that everyone he met managed to get in. And they’ll be classmates. Maybe friends, maybe this time Izuku will actually make friends. Or not. Socializing is hard, especially when you can tell the emotions of the people around him. 

And you have fairy wings.

But that’s aside from the point.

Izuku notices the teacher first since he’s the one staring at the door. He knows the teacher’s name is Aizawa Shota, some sort of underground hero. Almost all of the teachers at U.A. were heroes, so Aizawa-sensei was definitely someone. Someone familiar.

It takes a moment for the class to quiet down.

“It took you two minutes, forty-seven seconds to calm down,” Aizawa says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Quiet down and get to your seats.”

Today was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

I wrote chapters 1, 2 and part of 3 in one go, but now that I have exams I need to focus on, I've had to take a lil' break. Don't worry, updates will be coming soon (maybe even an update December 11th!). See you then!