Chapter Text
"You damn nerd! What the hell are you doing here?”
Before Izuku could answer, a tall, blue haired boy cut in, his arms making strange chopping motions to accentuate his speech.
"Bakugou-kun, this is very unseemly behaviour! If you had listened to Aizawa-sensei you would know this is Midoriya-sensei, the teacher of the new Quirk, Hero, and Villain Analysis course!"
The boy continued on like this for some time, but Bakugou ignored him, stomping over to his desk and throwing himself into the seat, glaring at him in a way that made Izuku shiver.
"Thank you...?” Izuku ventured, his voice only barely loud enough to be heard over Iida's soliloquy. Thankfully, his regard for teachers and other authority figures prevailed, and he stopped abruptly, bending at the waist in an over-the-top bow.
"I am Iida Tenya, the vice-president of 1-A!" He near-shouted in his eagerness.
"Thank you Iida-kun," Izuku said pleasantly. "Why don't you take your seat?"
"Of course, sir!" came the boisterous voice again, and with a final few chops, Iida spun on his heel and stepped, military-style, to his assigned seat.
Izuku shuffled his papers idly as a trickle, then a steady stream of kids came through the doorway. After another minute, a couple of stragglers hurried in, sending sheepish looks to Izuku, who just gave a vague smile in acknowledgment.
He stepped behind the lectern and cleared his throat. Almost immediately, the students turned to sit properly and face him, with the exception of Kacchan, who had kept his feet on his desk in a show of arrogance and apparent dismissal of him. While Izuku could believe the first, he didn't believe that Kacchan was ignoring him at all - the constant heated glower belayed any thought of that possibility.
Ignoring it for now - Kacchan was Kacchan - and noting Iida's disgruntled expression, Izuku smiled at the students. His students.
"Welcome to the new Quirk, Hero, and Villain Analysis course, or as I like to call it, Analysis," Izuku began, scanning over the students, noting who looked eager, bored, or worried.
"My name is Midoriya Izuku; you can call me Midoriya-sensei or Izuku-sensei as it pleases you. I know I'm late to start - that was unavoidable, I'm afraid, but that means I haven't gotten a chance to get to know you all. So, for today, I'll have you tell me your names, your quirks, your reasons for being a hero, and what you hope to get out of this class. If we have time left, I'll let you ask me any questions you might want - I'll answer them as best as I can." He smiled wide, eyes crinkling, honestly happy to be here and excited to start.
(Despite his proven observational skills, Izuku failed to notice the slightly widening eyes and pale blushes of a select few, only noticing the answering smiles that most gave him.)
He added apologetically, "and I'm sure you're already sick of this, but we'll be going in seat order." He nodded to the sparkly blonde in the first seat. "Whenever you're ready."
Barely had the words passed Izuku's lips before the sparkling student sprang to his feet and declared, "I am Aoyama Yuuga, mon professeur, and a true pleasure it is to meet you. My quirk is Navel Laser - like it sounds, I can project a laser from my belly button."
Aoyama paused to pose dramatically before continuing. "I wish to be a hero so that my shining form can be beholden by all!” He shifted his pose, clearly hoping to dazzle Izuku, but was sadly disappointed when the teacher didn't even notice, too busy taking notes.
He made sure to steel himself and went on. "And finally," he announced grandly, "I wish to learn all I can."
He bowed in a manner more suited to a delegate of royals than a high school student, but Izuku's eyes crinkled out a smile to him nonetheless and Aoyama felt soothed.
"Thank you, Aoyama-kun. I hope to teach you all I can."
Popping up like a cork from a champagne bottle, the pink-haired and skinned girl stood up next. Like Aoyama, she shifted as she spoke, but unlike him, it was an unconscious movement, as if each word were a beat to a song only she could hear.
"My name's Ashido Mina! My quirk is Acid!"
She paused, putting her thoughts to words, and said cheerily, " I want to be a hero to protect those that need it, and put a smile on their face at the same time! I'm hoping to learn more about heroes."
With that final firm, if less enthusiastic sentence, Ashido looked up at Izuku, but again, he was focusing hard on his notes and gave her only a cursory, if pleased smile.
"Thank you Ashido-kun. I'll do my best."
The students continued on from there with Izuku taking rapid notes. He made a comment after each one, trying to make sure that each felt heard. Most of what he said was generic acknowledgment, but he spoke to a little bit more to a few students. When Uraraka spoke shyly about wanting to support her parents, Izuku told her it was an admirable goal. The permanent pink spots on her cheeks grew redder, but she sat down with a thoughtful look. When Kouda's voice failed to raise above a whisper, Izuku stepped to the side so the student could see his hands clearly, and signed that he could read JSL if Kouda knew it. From the delight on Kouda's face and the exuberance in his hands, this was one of the first times that he could make himself understood clearly. As he translated for the class, he made a mental note to tell Nedzu that code signs, if not sign language might want to be introduced to the first years especially when there were students reluctant or unable to speak. Also that would be helpful for silent communication and stealth missions and … he was rambling again. Oops. Thankfully(?) his mouth had been trained out of the habit even if his hands hadn't been. Kouda only smiled shyly at Izuku’s over-enthusiastic hands, sending him a subtle thumbs up.
Izuku was worried about what would happen when it was Kacchan's turn. Would he ignore him, undoing any of the respect he had gained? Would he showcase his trade-mark temper, exploding his way up the aisle to shove a burning palm in his face? Izuku refused to let the anxiety show in his face or stance, but his fingers twitched and he was afraid that Hagakure's notes might be illegible. Thankfully, none of that came to pass - Kacchan didn't stand unlike all the other students, kept his posture, and left his feet up on the desk, but he answered the questions with only a hint of a growl in his voice. Izuku breathed a sigh of relief and moved on.
The student two seats behind Kacchan made his skin crawl. He stood up on the chair, which was fair - he was very short after all, and would likely be shorter than the desk itself if he stood on the ground - but for his 'motivation,' though Izuku would scarcely use the word, he cited that "hot chicks want heroes - what more reason do I need?", and then wiped drool from his chin. All that Izuku could do was to say "I see," and move onto to the last student. He didn't miss the revulsion present on all of the girls' faces, the uncomfortable shifting of Hagakure's clothes, or the subtle signs of anger and distaste throughout the class though.
Finally, all the students had finished, Yaoyorozu sitting primly back down. Izuku glanced at his pocket watch - a gift - before snapping it closed and slipping it back in his pocket.
"Alright then," he announced, clapping his hands together once. "We have fifteen minutes left. Go for it."
Ashido practically jumped out of her seat, her hand was raised so high.
"Ashido, shoot."
"How old are you?!?"
Izuku easily spoke over Iida's outraged how inappropriate it is to ask a teacher their age reprimand to say "Fifteen."
"What?!?”
The shriek from Ashido's lungs could have put a banshee's to shame. Two rows over, Jirou and Shouji both reacted, the former clamping her hands over her ears and the latter quickly withdrawing the ears he had formed on that side.
"Try to keep it down, Ashido-kun," Izuku said calmly, a kind smile on his face. "Some here have sensitive ears."
"Right, sorry," she said, raising a hand in apology towards the rest of the class.
Iida's hand was up in the air, the other making aborted movements.
"Iida."
"Forgive me for saying so," Iida said strongly, his arm now chop, chop, chopping with his words, "but how do you have a teaching license so young?"
"Do you have a teaching license?" asked Kaminari, his question not accusatory, merely curious.
Before Iida could start in again - whether to reprimand Kaminari, or to continue his point, Izuku wasn't sure - he raised a hand in a silent request for quiet and patience. He got it, surprisingly quickly.
"I do have my teaching license, Kaminari-kun," he told the blond. "I was put on an accelerated learning plan in my final year of middle school," he directed at Iida and the rest of the class. Izuku moved to sit on top of the teacher's desk. Might as well be comfortable. "My analysis work found its way into the principal's hands, and he decided that I would be a good fit. Incidentally," he added, that's why I was late this year. The exams and accreditation went over the expected timeline."
Hissed babble broke out, and Izuku waited for the idea of such a young teacher to blow over. Another hand raised.
"Yes, Yaoyorozu-kun."
"How did you learn to do analysis? I find myself quite intrigued by the concept."
Izuku hummed in thought, leaning back on his arms, face tilted to the ceiling.
"When I was young, I wanted to be a hero. I liked to watch villain fights, I would fight for a chance to get to a signing and ask the heroes about their quirks. They rebuffed me of course - no hero wants to have a weakness spread. But … I still wanted to know and if they wouldn't tell me, I'd have to figure it out for myself.
"A lot of it is just basic observation. I would take notes - still do," be added, hefting the notebook he had been scribbling in the whole time, "and piece together the information. You can find out a lot by being quiet and unobtrusive. Some of you will find that part easy, while others will find it challenging. News reports and villain fights are good for if you're having trouble - a recording lets you re-watch the same moment again and again, while villain fights always draw a crowd that you can be less obtrusive in.
"I won't go further into it now, Yaoyorozu-kun, but rest assured we will be covering it in this class."
She nodded, her head bending the perfect degree to show respect to a teacher.
He checked the school clock. "Five more minutes," he announced. That wasn't true, there was closer to ten, but the time crunch would encourage the students to ask what they really wanted to know.
Apparently what they really wanted to know about him was his love life. He refused to say - not because he had one, but because they needed to have a line drawn somewhere, and that was his. Failing that, the questions turned to more benign, but still probing ones: what was his favorite colour (green), what was his blood type (O-), what did he like in a girlfriend (their smile), if he was opposed to chocolate or sweets in general (no, but he was watching his figure - that at least got some laughs), and a good dozen more before the time was up. If he was correct, they had Foundational Heroics next. He quickly started to gather up the papers he had brought as well as his now nearly-full notebook. Just in time too, because in the next few moments, All Might in all his full-fledged costumed glory came through the doorway very much not like a normal person despite the man's words.
He smiled up at the much taller figure. "Have a good class, All Might-sensei."
A large, warm hand clapped him gently (for All Might, Izuku still had to brace himself) on the shoulder.
"You as well, Midoriya-sensei."
Flashing a smile at his colleague, he slipped out the door and headed to class 1-B.
Nearer to the end of the school day, Izuku was rewriting his notes into a neater hand - and in his own personal code that he had developed with the principal.
"But sir! Nothing I’m writing here is that good! Even if someone were to pick it up - the information in there is just for fun, no one would get anything out of it-”
"Midoriya-kun.” The normally smiling principal now had around him an intimidating aura. His fur ruffled, and he was not smiling. “You are correct in that not all of this information is correct - I could not expect it to be anything else, with your age and training. But the vast majority? This information could change lives, Midoriya-kun. Whether this change is purposeful or by accident, positive or negative, is up to you.”
Izuku learned the code.
It had taken weeks to develop a code that Nedzu had deemed difficult enough to break. Given that the principal had the quirk High-Specs, that was saying something. It used sufficiently twisty logic that only someone who had developed the code and internalized its rules could read it with any ease. There was no key to this code. Instead, Izuku had breathed this code inside his lungs, tasted it on his tongue, and imprinted it in his brain.
As he wrote, he thought. The students in both hero classes were certainly a mixed bag. Kacchan was an explosive personality all on his own, while Ashido, Hagakure, and Kaminari of class A were bubbly and excitable. Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, Shouji, and Kouda were more reserved. Class-B’s Monoma was also… excitable, twisting comments around to be negative or inflammatory. It made Izuku wonder if he had a verbal component to his quirk. Of course, it also seemed he had some sort of combination inferiority/superiority complex, what with his seemingly obsessive rivalry with Class-A. Although, Izuku thought, couldn’t the same be said for Kacchan?
He blanched at the thought of Kacchan finding out he thought that. He didn’t think he’d mind the superiority part, but anything marking Kacchan as ‘inferior’ in any way… Izuku shuddered. Kinda strange though, because having a superiority complex meant that you thought you were better than you actually were, while an inferiority one meant that you were better than you thought. But he didn’t think Kacchan would think of it like that.
But whether Kacchan would like it or not didn’t really have anything to do with his job. He dutifully noted it down in the respective files.
Class B in general seemed a little less high strung, more calmer, if friendly personalities balancing out the excitable ones - Monoma of course, but also Tetsutetsu, Tsunotori, Kamakiri, and Tsuburaba.
Izuku tapped a pencil against his lips. Monoma and Kacchan could easily be compared - they each had a small group of friends that could deal with them relatively easily - people whose feelings would not be so easily bruised. Although in Monoma’s case, Kendou especially had him well in hand. He snickered for a moment at the pun, but grew sober quickly. While she was incredibly adept with her quirk, he did worry that Monoma was missing out on important information if the three times Kendou had ‘reprimanded’ him was the norm rather than an outlier. He noted that down too.
Class A seemed to be more divided though, even with Kacchan and Monoma both being a relatively equal dividing factor. His mouth tightened into a thin line. He didn’t have all the dynamics down yet - this had been his first day! - but he was already feeling incredibly uncomfortable around the short, purple-haired student. Mineta Minoru. Quirk: Pop-Off. Reason to be a hero: “hot chicks want heroes - what more reason do I need?”. Wanting to learn: “About why there’s so many hot villains and if there’s a way to sway them to my side.” Izuku gave another shudder, this one of revulsion.
If he was correct - and Nedzu had driven into his head that he was correct far more often than not - Mineta was the second dividing factor. The girls mainly stuck together, getting along well. Uraraka also got along with Iida, Hagakure with Ojiro, Yaoyorozu with Todoroki, and Jirou with Kaminari. Asui seemed to get along with everyone, and Kirishima had the kind of good-natured kindness that let him get along with everyone as well - he was especially close with Kacchan and Ashido.
But every girl had seemed disturbed by his words and uncomfortable with his regard when he looked at them. The boys too. Some reactions were more overt than others, but Izuku didn't think that there was anyone in that room that agreed with the boy.
He would have to wait longer to figure out if that student was as damaging to class A as he was starting to suspect.
The final bell had rung, and Izuku was packing up his things to go. Coded notebook in his bag, coded files in the locking filing cabinet, pens in his case, and then in the bag, bento box in the bag. The notebook he had taken quick, Japanese notes in was dropped in the industrial shredder that Nedzu had supplied him with. The reservoir was locked, and after fifteen minutes, would incinerate its contents.
He picked up the bag, slung his suit jacket over his shoulder and looked around. Ah, right, his water bottle. Juggling the items slightly, he dropped his messenger bag across his chest, the suit jacket (getting slightly crumpled but that was a problem for tomorrow's Izuku) on top of that, and kept his bottle in hand.
Kacchan was waiting for him outside the main doors.
"What the hell, Deku?!"
Izuku repressed a flinch. Deku. He hated that name. Hadn't he proved by now that he wasn't a useless waste of space?
He kept walking. Deku wasn't his name. Why should he respond to it?
He felt Kacchan coming, the displaced air giving him warning. He twisted to the side, letting the boy rush past him. Kacchan stopped and turned, breathing heavily, hands sparking lightly. Glaring.
Izuku put on the only smile he could right now. His fake one. It was edged with ice - it didn't, couldn't reach his eyes.
"Can I help you, Bakugou-kun?"
There. If Izuku had blinked, he would have missed it, but Kacchan flinched. Just a little.
Good, a voice thought savagely.
He waited a moment. Kacchan just stared at him, his breathing quickly going back to normal, but his red eyes still glaring at him making Izuku feel like a pinned bug.
He took a breath, then let his smile relax into something softer, more natural.
"I'm afraid I need to head home now, Bakugou-kun, but I'll have office hours set up by next week. You can come to me there if you have any problems." He stepped to the side and walked steadily past the still frozen Kacchan.
"Good job today," he added as he kept moving, the typical Japanese phrase rolling off his tongue.
Kacchan and he had… history, but he wanted to treat him like any of his other students. He laughed to himself. He probably should stop calling him 'Kacchan' then, huh.
He caught the train home, leaving the school, and 'Kacchan' behind.