Shoes kicked against the floor, the sound echoing through the gymnasium. Midoriya Izuku stood with a whistle in hand, slowly surveying the students before him. April morning. Sunlight streamed through the windows, bouncing white off the waxed floor. Twenty-eight years old. One hundred seventy centimeters tall. Black short hair with a slight natural wave that fell apart moments after being set each morning. White long-sleeved shirt and black jersey pants. His frame was slender but taut—the body of someone who had trained properly from the start. Just below his left eye, a faint scar. Barely visible unless you looked closely, but students who approached always noticed it once. And he always smiled gently and said only, "Old story." "Good, one more time. This time, take a step forward before you pass." The second-year boy awkwardly resumed dribbling. Then came a dull thud. The ball shot sideways with force. It crashed into the wall and bounced back, rolling away. Midoriya's eyes widened as he turned around. A boy in the front row—Morikawa Akira, a mischievous thirteen-year-old—stood frozen with both hands spread wide. His palms glowed faintly. A wind-pressure quirk. The kind that misfires when he gets excited. "Ah... I'm sorry!" Laughter rippled through the class. Midoriya sighed, but his mouth was smiling. "[gentle]You don't need to use your quirk today, okay? We're practicing body mechanics." "I know, but it just..." "[laughing]I know, I know. But when you send a ball flying across the gym, cleanup becomes a pain." More laughter. Akira's ears turned red as he ran to retrieve the ball. Midoriya twirled his whistle and turned his gaze back to the remaining students. Minato-Tama Ward, Tokyo. Thirty-five minutes by train from the city center, in a bedroom community, stood Minato-Tama Ward Third Middle School. Three hundred eighty-seven students total. Nicknamed "Sanchuu." About eighty percent of the students here possessed some kind of quirk. Right around the national average. Wind pressure, heat sensing, minor transformation types—all kinds. That's why PE class sometimes had moments like this. Someone got excited and their quirk leaked out. Someone fell and strange smoke appeared. Well, it was routine. When he stepped into the hallway, there was a notice taped to the neighboring classroom door. "Quirk Runaway Alert! Please Rest." The handwriting of Sasahara Miki, the school nurse. Neat, round characters. Midoriya passed by without stopping, glancing at it briefly. (Quirk-related health issues, maybe.) During adolescence especially, quirks could be unstable. That wasn't really a problem in itself. Not with proper care. Sanchuu had a nurse's office. Sasahara managed it. There were even quirk-related health emergency kits on hand. Standard equipment in this society. (Wonder if someone got sick again today.) He felt a slight concern, but he had the next class to prepare for. Midoriya headed to the staff room. --- His face reflected in the changing room mirror. As Midoriya changed his shirt, his gaze drifted to the scar below his left eye. A scar from five years ago. He was used to it now. Every morning when he looked in the mirror, it caught his eye at first, but now it was just "oh, it's there." (But I need to write up today's PE class notes.) He buttoned his shirt and switched gears. Things to do today. Class notes. Checking materials for the midday staff meeting. And submitting the third-year fitness test data to the vice principal. A teacher's work had surprisingly many small tasks. (I'm a PE teacher now.) That was all. Back in the staff room, he sat at his desk—the farthest corner by the window—and opened his class notes notebook. From the window, he could see the cherry blossom trees of April. About sixty meters from the main gate to the school building, twelve Somei Yoshino trees lined the path. Blooming had been slightly late this year, but they were nearly in full bloom by this week. Every time the wind blew, petals fluttered down. (Beautiful.) That was all he thought. As he moved his pen, his gaze drifted slightly to the side. The back of a shelf. A single handbook propped there. A U.A. High School student handbook. The one Midoriya had used while enrolled. He never opened it. He never threw it away. It just stayed there. That was fine. Midoriya moved his pen back and continued writing his class notes. --- After school, Vice Principal Tamura entered the staff room. A man in his fifties who always carried documents. Today he held a thick binder. "Midoriya-sensei, do you have a moment?" "Yes, of course." Tamura pulled up a chair while opening his binder. "Starting next week, the Hero Public Safety Commission's career experience program will begin." "[surprised]Ah, the one starting this year." Midoriya knew about it. The Hero Public Safety Commission—the government agency that supervised and managed pro heroes—had started this program on a trial basis this year. Pro heroes would visit regular middle schools, introduce students to the profession, and assist with classes. "One pro hero will be coming to our school for two weeks." "Understood. Can they assist with PE classes within the Quirk Usage Regulation Act?" "Of course. Those with hero licenses can use their quirks in approved situations and locations." "In that case, it would help if they could come during PE time. To handle situations when students' quirks go haywire." Tamura nodded and made a note. "The students will be thrilled. A real pro hero, after all." "That's true." Midoriya said it with a smile. Tamura stood up, took his documents, and left. The staff room fell quiet again. Midoriya's gaze dropped to his desk. A pen. A notebook. An eraser and sticky notes. He opened a drawer slightly. Not on the shelf—there was another handbook in the drawer. No, not a handbook. Something different. ...No, never mind. He quietly closed the drawer. --- Minato-Tama South Town Shopping Street was an arcade shopping street about three hundred fifty meters long. After five in the evening, office workers heading home mixed with middle school students leaving school. Women with shopping bags, high school students on bicycles, an old man walking his dog. Midoriya adjusted the tote bag on his shoulder as he walked under the arcade. He was thinking about dinner. There was leftover tofu from yesterday, so mapo tofu would work. Cheap and quick. When he passed in front of "Tamano-ya," the TV inside caught his eye. A small set restaurant where the owner, Tamano, moved about in the kitchen. The TV sat on the counter, showing the news. He heard the sound. "—Hero Ranking 3rd, Ground Zero, solved another incident today!" Midoriya's feet stopped. Without thinking. On the screen, for just a moment, a blonde man with an overwhelming aura appeared. Hero costume. Explosions spreading in the background. The newscaster continued speaking, but he wasn't hearing it anymore. Bakugo Katsuki. Hero name: Ground Zero. Ranking 3rd. Over 280 incidents solved annually. A childhood friend he hadn't contacted once in five years. (...Doesn't matter.) Midoriya started walking again. His feet moved. But his face was slightly stiff. He left the arcade and entered the residential area. Corpo Hinata. A twenty-two-year-old one-room apartment building. Room 205. Rent: 65,000 yen. He unlocked the door, removed his shoes, and stood in the kitchen. He took out the tofu from the refrigerator and put a pot on the stove. While working, he glanced at his left hand. An ordinary hand. Slender, with a few scars. But just an ordinary PE teacher's hand. Once, this hand had held "One For All." A quirk passed down through nine generations. The ability to accumulate and transfer power—unique and irreplaceable. The final successor was Midoriya Izuku, and he'd used it all up in Tokyo Catastrophe. Now it didn't exist anywhere in the world. Now it was just a hand. (That's fine.) The water began to boil. Midoriya started cutting the tofu. --- Two in the morning. Midoriya opened his eyes. White ceiling. A six-mat room. One All Might poster on the wall. The sheets were damp with sweat. He'd been dreaming again. Not really a dream—fragments of memory. Five years ago. That day. Tokyo Catastrophe—the final battle where approximately 3.2 square kilometers of central Tokyo were destroyed. Four hundred twelve civilian deaths. Thirty-eight hero casualties. In the dream, sound always came first. Explosion. The roar of collapsing buildings. His own screams. Then images. Tokyo's cityscape crumbling grotesquely. Dark sky. Dust. And—Tomura Shigaraki's face. A villain with the Decay quirk. Laughing with mad eyes. Saying he'd destroy everything, the entire city, with that quirk that reduced anything it touched to molecular dust. Last came sensation. Every bone in his body breaking. Right arm, left arm, legs. So many kinds of pain he couldn't tell which hurt most. And finally—something vanishing from the center of his body. One For All disappearing. That moment was the scariest. Scarier than broken bones, scarier than bleeding. That void was the scariest. Midoriya slowly sat up. Outside the window was dark. The clock showed just before four. He took one deep breath. "[whispers]It's okay. I'm a person who lives here now." He said it quietly. Not for anyone else to hear. Just telling himself. He washed his face at the sink. Cold water felt good. He looked in the mirror. Brown eyes still trembling slightly. The scar below his left eye. He took another deep breath. Slowly exhaled completely, then inhaled again. The face in the mirror calmed down a little. He rebuilt his calm expression. This face. The one he showed students at school. This was fine. Midoriya dried his face with a towel and started boiling water in the kitchen. He wouldn't be able to sleep until morning anyway, so at least he could have some tea. --- Tuesday morning, eight o'clock. He entered the staff room and headed to his desk by the window. He had PE from third period, so he needed to organize the attendance confirmation documents before then. As he poured coffee into a mug, Vice Principal Tamura approached with an envelope. "Midoriya-sensei, the documents for the career experience program I mentioned yesterday have arrived." "Thank you." He took the envelope. A4 size. The Public Safety Commission logo printed in the upper left. Back at his desk, he opened it. Spread out the documents. Hero Public Safety Commission, Career Experience Dispatch Program. Receiving school: Minato-Tama Ward Third Middle School. Duration: two weeks. Assigned hero information— "Hero Name: Ground Zero　Real Name: Bakugo Katsuki" Midoriya's right hand, still holding the pen, stopped. The other teachers leaned in to look at the documents, and excitement erupted. "[excited]Ground Zero!? The 3rd ranked one!?" "[excited]Really!? He's coming here!?" "The students will absolutely love this." The staff room buzzed with noise. Midoriya slowly placed the documents on his desk. And looked out the window. The cherry blossom trees. In the April morning light, petals fluttered down again. A peaceful scene. The usual scene. Midoriya's expression remained calm. But deep in his eyes—something stirred quietly. Bakugo Katsuki. Five years without a single contact. He knew the contact information. But he'd never called. Never sent a message. He was coming next week. (...I see.) That was all he thought, and Midoriya took a sip of his coffee. It had gone lukewarm.