Deep Breath

Life Lessons

Shinji's Dojo was not a fancy place by any means. In fact, it mostly looked like an old, rundown, wooden shack (which it was) and was located at the local city dump, a beach park of some sort. It didn't look much better on the inside. With old, vomit green wallpaper peeling at the edges of both the ceiling and the floor, and the occasional crack in the walls and floor here and there, the place was mostly left alone by both passersby and student hopefuls

The man responsible for the place, an old man that goes by Shinji Aimoto, wasn't much to look at either. With long, silvery-white hair, a Dumbledore-esque beard, a short stature, and sharp Asian features, the man seemed like your typical, if a bit on the stereotypical side, old man.

Except for the fact that he could probably kick your ass with only one move.

Izuku yelped as his back hit the ground for the fifth time that evening. Groaning lightly the, now, 13-year-old boy slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, glaring lightly at the cause of his fall. Shinji was laughing full-heartedly even as Izuku grumbled about 'evil teachers' and 'hellish training'.

The Green-Haired boy hadn't changed much in the past two years of training. True he was more self-confident than he was in the past (although that's not saying much considering how below zero his self-confidence actually was) but at the same time, he was still the shy, meek, and unbearably awkward boy he was before the training.

Izuku hissed slightly as he rubbed his aching back, "Oh man," he groaned, "This is so going to bruise!" he pouted slightly as Shinji laughed even harder at his plight. He had one sadistic teacher there.

"Honestly, kiddo," snickered Shinji as he pulled Izuku to his feet, "One would think you'd know how to fall by now!" The old man chuckled at the indignant noise that escaped his pupil.

"I-I- You took me off-guard!" Izuku protested, his normally pale face rapidly turning red.

Shinji clicked his tongue at him, disapproval clear in his tone, "Now, now, kid we both know villains won't wait for you to be on your guard! Its stuff like that'll get you killed." He raised an eyebrow as the boy groaned, wilting slightly as his argument got redirected at him.

"I know, it's just-" Izuku gestured helplessly in irritation, "I dunno. Maybe it would have been easier if I had a quirk." The boy slumped down a wall and pulled his knees to his chest, dejection very much obvious on him.

Shinji raised his eyebrows, obviously surprised at his (out of nowhere) words, and Izuku felt even more dejected. Today marked the end of the first month of junior-high, and it was as though a switch had been flipped. After his mother's visit to his elementary school, his fellow students and teachers all seemed to avoid him, all except for Kacchan, and while it was lonely for a while it also felt like a blessing.

Better be ignored than beaten black and blue.

However, now that they reached Middle-School, it seemed like everyone was making a point out of dragging him down. Most knew better than to get physical with him, Kacchan didn't take kindly to others using his punching bag, so they mostly resorted to verbal barbs.

He didn't know why, but for some reason, it hurt more this time around. Maybe it's because he was hoping for a fresh start with Middle School, maybe it's because he was hoping that they'll spontaneously become more mature. It was frustrating that he didn't know and that's probably what hurt the most. He had high expectations for other people, again, and they let him down, as always.

Shinji sighed and sat cross-legged across his pupil, examining him carefully. Izuku just kept staring at his shoes, stubbornly avoiding eye-contact. After a moment, Shinji sighed heavily. Startled, Izuku looked at his teacher, only to see the man rubbing his face in irritation.