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AFM 10
🕑 Added 2024-09-24 18:52:04 +0000 UTCChapter 10 : New beginnings
It was the day after Izuku received his acceptance letter, a personalized 3D message from All Might himself, announcing that he had not only passed the U.A. entrance exam but had ranked first in both combat and rescue points. He met his father, as ordered, soon after.
Kurogiri transported him as usual, and when Izuku arrived, he saw his father, All for One, wearing his life support machine, the apparatus hissing faintly as it kept him alive. Izuku hoped that his father was in pain and ultimately, the stress of stretching his healing quirks to stay alive would not be worth the results of him clinching to life.
“Izuku, congratulations are in order. You've been selected for U.A. High School, and as the number one candidate, no less. Your mother must be so proud,” All for One said, his calm smile hiding a subtle mockery behind it.
Izuku felt anger flare inside him, but the mental enhancements he had cultivated helped him suppress it before he could react, physically or verbally. His rage was masked behind a tight grimace.
"Yes, she must be. I passed the exam as you ordered, securing the top rank. Now, what am I supposed to do?" he asked, keeping his voice level.
“Nothing for now, Izuku. You are to become a hero—one who will surpass even All Might. The world must believe that. Only then, will the hero system collapse, when the ultimate truth is revealed, all while Tomura attacks from the outside as the villain.”
Izuku, who already understood the plan, nodded in compliance. However, a subtle grin crossed his face, hidden from his father’s view.
“I understand, Father. I will do as you’ve instructed. But I have a question: what exactly is Tomura planning? He’s been muttering about U.A. and All Might ever since he heard about my acceptance letter. What’s going on?”
All for One gave a light chuckle. “Oh, Izuku, if Tomura doesn’t want to include you, I won't interfere. You should have been more respectful and loving towards your elder brother.”
Izuku spluttered in indignation, his face burning with anger. “Brother? I’ll find out his plan myself, and if he jeopardizes my position, I’ll beat him to within an inch of his life.”
“Don’t worry,” All for One replied, his voice calm. “I’ve instructed everyone not to question or endanger your position.”
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The next day, Izuku met Shinso at their usual table in the cafeteria.
“Izuku,” Shinso greeted him with a grin. “It was a real surprise seeing you ranked first in the U.A. exam. I didn’t even know you were applying, and you were the one training me! Why would you join, especially considering who your father is?”
Izuku sighed, rubbing his temples in exhaustion. He knew Shinso wouldn’t betray him, not after all they’d been through and as Izuku had used Brainwashing itself to plant an order to tell him if he ever plans to betray him. Even without that their friendship had grown too deep, and Shinso’s admiration for him and the hero worship towards him was too strong. Also Shinso is afraid of the monster that is All For One and doesn’t want to be the cause of the destruction of current status quo.
“I don’t know, Shinso. He made me do it, but he hasn’t shared his full plan. I’m supposed to be the ‘perfect hero,’ not a spy. In fact, he explicitly told me to keep my hands clean.”
Shinso blinked in surprise. “Really? Which class are you in? I got into Class 1-B.”
Izuku forced a smile. “Congrats, Shinso. You made it into the U.A. hero course. I’m in Class 1-A.”
Shinso groaned in frustration. “Damn it, we should have been in the same class! You could’ve kept training me.”
Izuku chuckled. “Let’s try to meet up whenever we can, even though we’re in different classes.”
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Later that evening, Izuku stepped into the dimly lit bar, where Kurogiri stood behind the counter, and Tomura was engrossed in a video game, scratching his neck in irritation.
The sight of All for One’s biological son always triggered Tomura’s anger, and the recent news that Izuku would be learning how to become a hero at U.A.—as part of some convoluted plan by their sensei—only worsened his mood. The fact that All Might, the man he hated most, would be teaching Izuku was salt in the wound. It was this festering rage that had driven Tomura to plan an attack on U.A. The creation of the Anti-All Might Nomu was merely a bonus.
“What do you want, brat? Shouldn’t you be off preparing for some stupid hero lessons?” Tomura snarled.
“I know you’ve been planning something. I just want to know if it involves U.A. and me,” Izuku replied, his tone steady.
Tomura’s lip curled in disdain. “Even if it did, I wouldn’t tell a hero like you, you little shit.”
Realizing he wouldn’t get anything more out of Tomura, Izuku turned to leave, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes.
As soon as Izuku left, Tomura turned his attention to the TV, static flickering on the screen as All for One’s voice crackled through.
“Sensei, what should we do if the brat interferes with our plans?” Tomura asked.
“Nothing, young Shigaraki,” came All for One’s reply. “Izuku is my son, and he’s a very useful pawn.”
“I understand, Sensei,” Tomura muttered, though the hatred on his face was obvious to Kurogiri.
Later, after the conversation had ended, Kurogiri asked, “Tomura, are you planning to kill Izuku during the attack?”
Tomura gave a careless shrug. “It’s not my fault if he gets in the way of the Anti-All Might Nomu, or if he accidentally touches my bare hands.”
Kurogiri hesitated for a moment. “What about All for One? He won’t be pleased if that happens.”
Tomura shrugged again. “Well, it’s not my fault if Izuku decides to fight something designed to kill All Might.”
Kurogiri nodded, though the tension in the air remained.
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The buzz around the UA campus was palpable as students filled the halls, each of them having overcome their own challenges to reach the prestigious doors of Japan's top hero academy. Izuku Midoriya, with his disheveled green hair and wide eyes, stood quietly amid the throng, though the excitement of the day barely registered on his face. The only thing that played in his mind on a loop was how he had placed first in the entrance exam—an achievement that would once have brought him overwhelming joy. But now, it felt hollow.
Bakugo Katsuki had come in second. If anyone was more frustrated with this fact, it was Bakugo himself, who had expected to be number one. He had thrown a glare at Izuku, which was customary for the first decade of their life, but Izuku barely noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere.
70 hero points and 50 rescue points—that's how Izuku had clinched the top spot. To everyone around, it seemed like a balanced, heroic effort. But inside, Izuku couldn’t help but feel an odd disconnect from the title of "Number One." Wasn't this just a byproduct of a system that had been structured long before he even stepped into it? A system designed to place value on perceived acts of heroism based on arbitrary metrics? Already, He could see the eyes of his classmates looking at him with expectation and fascination, except for three boys. His own actions four years ago and identifying him as the number one in entrance test had already helped them see him as a hero.
The thought gnawed at him.
But Izuku couldn’t sort out his feelings regarding the matter because The atmosphere shifted as the class gathered outside for their Quirk Apprehension Test. The tension among the students was thick as their homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shouta—better known as Eraserhead—made his stoic introduction. He don’t know how many of his classmates recognised the underground hero, as the homeless looking hobo, has not introduced with his hero name.
Izuku could already feel Aizawa keeping a close eye on him and he grimaced remembering the previous conversation they had 2 years ago.
“It took you all fifteen seconds to quiet down,” Aizawa said flatly, his eyes glaring just over their heads. “You waste far too much time. We have a lot to cover, so we’re starting right away with a quirk apprehension test.”
Aizawa, wrapped in his usual lethargic demeanor, barely batted an eye at the apparent unease in his students as he explained the test .
“Good, you understand that here at U.A I have the freedom to run my class as I see fit. The entrance exam is illogical in how it tests you, so I have a different, better way. Bakugo, please step forward.”
Bakugo, without hesitation, stepped toward their teacher. “You scored the most villain points in the entrance exam. What was your longest throw with a softball in middle school?”
“Sixty meters,” Bakugo grunted.
“Try it again. This time, use your quirk. Do whatever you need to do, as long as you don’t leave the circle.” Aizawa tossed the electronic softball to Bakugo, who caught it with a confident smirk.
"Jiro, Shoji, you might want to cover your ears," Izuku quietly warned his classmates with enhanced hearing.
Everyone looked at Izuku in surprise, as they wondered how Izuku had arrived at that conclusion, so fastly.
Bakugo, irritated by the others’ impressed looks toward Izuku, yelled angrily as he prepared his throw. As the explosion reverberated through the field, it was louder than even Izuku had anticipated. He hadn’t deactivated his Boost in time, and his ears rang, a slight wetness forming inside. Izuku quickly activated Cell Activation, sighing as his ears healed instantly. He smirked, knowing his adaptation had made his hearing more resistant to such attacks.
Aizawa, impassive, watched as the ball flew off. The tablet in front of him beeped, and he turned it so the class could see: 846.2 meters.
“This test will determine your limits and how you use your quirks,” Aizawa said coldly. “You’ve relied on your quirk’s power to get here, but that won’t be enough. Heroes are expected to push beyond those limits. Those who can’t... are of no use.”
Izuku, trying to suppress his frustration at Aizawa's blatant hypocrisy, sighed. Behind him, he could hear Ashido and Hagakure talking about how much "fun" this test would be. He braced himself for what was coming next. He had understood enough about Eraserhead, to know that he will now go on to blast them for such foolishness and Izuku hoped he could keep his own emotion in check.
“Fun?” Aizawa’s tone turned frigid. “You think this is fun? We have three years to turn you into heroes worthy of the title. There’s no time to waste on ‘fun.’ Normally, I’d expel anyone not taking these tests seriously. But I can’t do that this year. Standards are in place, but make no mistake, if you don’t give it your all, you’ll be expelled. In fact, let’s make it more fun, the lowest ranking among you will be expelled.”
Izuku, narrowed his eyes and his breath hitched at the statement. The words, dripping with indifference, echoed in his mind. Expelled. For what? Failing to meet some arbitrary standard set by a hero? A system that praised conformity and punished those who couldn’t keep up?
He scoffed audibly, the sound loud enough to draw attention. Heads turned in his direction, including Bakugo’s, who scowled at him with burning disdain.
Aizawa’s eyes zeroed in on Izuku, narrowing slightly. “Is there something amusing to you, Midoriya?”
Izuku met Aizawa’s gaze, unflinching. “No, not amusing. Just… hypocritical.”
The words hung in the air, and a murmur spread through the crowd of students. Bakugo smirked, clearly anticipating a confrontation.
Aizawa’s expression remained unchanged, but there was a sharp edge to his next words. “Care to elaborate?”
Izuku crossed his arms, his posture casual, but his voice steady. “You’re talking about expelling students on their first day. For what? Failing to meet expectations you set in an artificial environment? A test that favors those with physical quirks, just like the entrance exam’s robotic mayhem. It’s the same system you claim to look down on. You mock the idea of students coasting on quirks they were born with, students who passed the biased entrance test, yet here you are—deciding someone’s future based on a single physical test and your own narrow standards.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Everyone’s eyes darted between Izuku and Aizawa. Uraraka, standing nearby, glanced between them, her face etched with concern. The other students tensed, remembering a similar stance Izuku had taken on national media. But now, it felt different. He wasn’t just standing up for himself—he was standing up for them, challenging a hero many had begun to see as hypocritical.
Aizawa’s lips twitched, but his expression remained unreadable. He had planned to dismiss Izuku’s words as typical teenage bravado, but as he looked around, he noticed the faces of his students. Except for a few like Todoroki and Bakugo, who watched Izuku with skepticism, most of the class were staring at him—demanding an answer with their eyes. If he didn’t respond, they would protest, ignorant of the consequences.
Suddenly, a chill entered his spine as his investigative mind connected the dots. Within hours of meeting, Izuku’s words has already influenced the best of their country to confront him, a teacher who could expel and change their lives forever. What would this boy will do with such influence when he pass out and became a Pro-Hero ?
“Being a hero means facing harsh realities,” Aizawa finally said, his voice low but firm. “Not everyone is cut out for it. If you can’t perform when it matters, you’re a liability. There’s no time for fun and games. I’ve seen hero wannabes die because they couldn’t handle the pressure. I’ll make sure none of my students end up on that list.”
Izuku’s eyes hardened. “But this isn’t a real situation. It’s a test. A test based on your judgment, using your standards. You claim you’d expel students for enjoying themselves on their first day of high school, but they have three more years to improve and become heroes. You’re not expelling them because they can’t be heroes. You’re expelling them because they don’t fit your definition of a hero. And let’s be honest—you’ve got a chip on your shoulder. You couldn’t pass the entrance exam with your quirk, could you? You had to use the Sports Festival to get noticed. Isn’t it hypocritical to call someone who passed a test designed by one of the most intelligent beings on the planet a failure when you couldn’t even pass it yourself?”
Bakugo growled from the sidelines, clearly relishing the tension. “What’s your problem, Deku? You think you’re some kind of rebel now?”
Izuku didn’t bother acknowledging Bakugo. He wasn’t the same "Deku" who crumbled in front of him anymore. He was a Deku, only infront of two persons now and Bakugo is not one of them.
Aizawa was momentarily dumbfounded. No one had ever confronted him like this. His views were usually accepted without question—even Principal Nezu rarely argued with his decisions to expel students. But this? This was new.
His eyes gleamed as he recognized that Izuku’s mind was already made up. Nothing he said would change that.
Aizawa activated his quirk, the red eyes latched on to Izuku Midoriya and expected a shock or vulnerability to show in Izuku, but was surprised to see that Izuku was tensed and coiled like a snake by holding himself back. Aizawa a veteran of many fights, immediately understood that Izuku was fighting his own instincts of instant retaliation for supressing his quirk. He was curious who trained the boy enough to overcome such a vulnerability.
Izuku, meanwhile, froze as Aizawa’s quirk took hold. His boosts and other quirks were immediately suppressed. His breath hitched as he fought the instinct to lash out. All For Me, his true quirk within him, stirred at the suppression, waking from its slumber. Normally, AFM was obedient, content to follow his commands, happy whenever he added or combined quirks. But now, it roused violently, reacting to Aizawa’s suppression as if it were an attack.
Another quirk that he had almost as long as All For Me also roused from its slumber. The green light of Pull, which has always hugged him like his own mother, was violence personified now. He has to consciously shut down Pull from automatically summoning Aizawa and AFM from stealing the quirk of the man who dared to challenge it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku noticed his classmates unconsciously stepping away from him, their instincts warning them of impending danger.
Aizawa deactivated his quirk, satisfied that he had achieved his goal. Midoriya was out of his comfort zone.
“Interesting perspective and an imaginary one. But here’s the thing, Midoriya,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “the world doesn’t care about your perspective. It cares about results and for now, my own views. I will expel anyone who did not do well, that is the bottom line.”
Izuku analyzed him for a moment before inwardly cursing Nezu. It was clear now that Aizawa wouldn’t expel him, and he suspected the order had come from the principal. Izuku shrugged, his posture relaxed once again, signaling to everyone that he wasn’t concerned about the test—only the principle behind it.
When the results were announced, Izuku placed first overall. Even Momo was surprised at how much his quirk, Boost, had helped in physical tasks. But the real shock came when Aizawa didn’t expel the student with the lowest score. This led to most of the class—except Todoroki and Bakugo—confronting Izuku after Aizawa dismissed the class, wondering just what had happened.
"Midoriya, thank you for standing up for us in front of our homeroom teacher, but it was completely unnecessary. I already knew Aizawa was bluffing, just trying to push us to give our best performance," she said, trying not to sound condescending.
Izuku looked at Momo Yaoyorozu, and she was struck by the pity in his eyes, as if he were silently judging her as naïve. Anger and sadness welled up inside her. She knew she was inexperienced in some areas, but to be judged so quickly and harshly hurt more than she anticipated. The murmurs of agreement from their classmates in support of her view were the only thing keeping her composed.
“Stop,” Izuku said, his voice cutting through the murmurings with authority. “You’re all being naïve if you thought Eraserhead was bluffing. He expelled his entire class last year. I guess your parents didn’t bother to tell you that, Yaoyorozu. Maybe they aren’t entirely thrilled about their only heiress choosing such a risky profession.”
Momo was taken aback. Could her parents have kept something so significant from her? The thought gnawed at her as she tried to process Izuku’s words.
Izuku sighed, visibly drained. "Anyway, I’m tired. This whole day has been exhausting. I need some rest. See you all tomorrow," he said before briskly walking away.
Later, after changing out of his sports gear and heading toward the school gate, Uraraka caught up with him, walking in step beside him.
“Hey, Midoriya,” she began hesitantly. “About what you said earlier… Do you really think our homeroom teacher is that flawed?”
Izuku glanced at her, surprised that she was bringing it up again. He had assumed his words would be forgotten amid the chaos of the day, but the look in Uraraka’s eyes was one of genuine curiosity, and perhaps a bit of doubt. He recalled her family’s background and understood the weight of her question.
“I do,” he answered after a brief pause. “It’s not that I don’t believe in heroes—I do. But the way we’re trained, the way we’re judged… It’s all designed to create a certain kind of hero, one that fits into the mold society expects. Eraserhead’s test was based on physical abilities, but what about those of us who couldn’t legally use our quirks before today? Sure, the test itself isn’t the problem. But expelling people because they don’t perform perfectly on their first day? That’s where the flaw lies. If it were a final exam, maybe I’d understand. But this is our first day. The system is built to benefit those who already have power. It decides what’s acceptable and what isn’t. Just look at the Might Movement.”
Uraraka frowned slightly, thinking over his words. "That... makes sense. But what do we do about it?"
Izuku smiled faintly. “For now, nothing. We’re just at the start of our journey. We can only make a difference when we have a voice and influence of our own.”
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The next day at U.A. began, and for Izuku, the only good part was being partnered with Ochaco Uraraka for the indoor combat exercise. Her energy was infectious, her excitement about the path ahead palpable. As she talked, however, something dark stirred inside him.
It started when All Might entered the classroom with his usual loud, boisterous persona and fake smile. Only years of training to suppress his emotions, thanks to being in the presence of his father, kept Izuku from punching All Might in the face. As All Might stood there, the "Symbol of Peace," all Izuku could see was the fateful day from four years ago. Even All For Me woke from its slumber, salivating at the sight of seven stars of One-For-All and took chastisement from him, so that it didn’t try to poke at it.
His classmates began moving, preparing for the exercise, and Izuku jolted back to the present, hurriedly dressing in his hero costume—a simple, militaristic black outfit. As All Might explained the scenario, Izuku noticed that, despite his casual tone, the pro hero was keeping a particularly close eye on him.
“Midoriya, Midoriya…” Uraraka’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
“What’s the plan?” she asked.
“The plan is...”
.
.
.
In the end, their victory came easily. Mina and the invisible girl had little chance against them, especially since Izuku could track the invisible girl’s quirk at all times. Uraraka, elated by their win, walked with Izuku after class, but she couldn’t shake the conversation they had the previous day.
As they strolled, Uraraka slowed down, a frown crossing her face. “Midoriya, I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday. You mentioned that the hero system is flawed. Isn’t it the hero system that brought order out of the chaos of the Quirk Wars?”
Izuku smirked, though it wasn’t a smile of joy. It was laced with cynicism. “The system tells you that being a hero is about making a difference. But have you ever wondered who really benefits from all of it? The way the hero industry is set up—it’s all about appearances, marketing, and maintaining the status quo. You think it’s about helping people, but it’s really about playing into the system.”
Uraraka blinked, caught off-guard. “What do you mean? Aren’t you excited to be here? To be at U.A., learning to become a hero?”
“I am,” Izuku said, his voice distant. “But it’s complicated. I’ve been thinking a lot about what it truly means to be a hero. The more I think about it, the more I realize that it’s not as pure as it seems. These rankings, these competitions… they don’t reward heroism. They reward spectacle.”
Uraraka stared at him, a hint of discomfort flickering across her expression. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated, unsure of how to respond.
“Look,” Izuku softened his tone. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be a hero. Or that your reasons are wrong. I’m just saying the system has flaws. Maybe it’s time we started questioning it.”
The conversation hung in the air between them, unresolved. Uraraka didn’t reply right away, and they both fell into silence as they continued walking. But Izuku could tell his words had struck a chord. The seed had been planted.
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The third day at U.A. ended with a sense of foreboding. As Izuku stood near the school gates, he saw the grey dust of the gates and immediately understood it the byproduct of Tomura’s Decay.
‘So, you decayed the gate, creating the opening for the press and a distraction to enter the school. What were you looking for, Shigaraki?’ Izuku asked himself.
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Authors note: This chapter was hell to write and the beginning of the MHA has become boring for me. so the school portion will have many many time skips and next chapter is already the USJ attack.
the battle test, somehow canon pairing happened for izuku, but they fought the team of Mina and hagakure. rest of the battle and scene is irrelevant.
