A/N: Before you start reading this chapter I offer you some snacks and drinks:
🍵🍵🍵🍵🍵🍵🍵🍵🍵🍵🍵🍵🍵🍵
☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕☕
🌭🌭🌭🌭🌭🌭🌭🌭🌭🌭🌭🌭🌭🌭
🍱🍱🍱🍱🍱🍱🍱🍱🍱🍱🍱🍱🍱🍱
🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪
────────────────────────────────
The first things Izuku sees are small groups of people chatting with each other and some loners sitting at their desks with blank expressions, tipping fast on mobile phones that look either really expensive or dirt cheap. It's the exact same experience as yesterday.
But nobody notices the single 1-A student in the front of the classroom and Izuku feels like air - as if he's even more see-through than the ghost girl in the first row who chats with a pink haired and eyed boy... he goes by unnoticed.
The scene makes him look back into the past. It's not some sort of special memory or a single occurrence. Instead, Izuku remembers a dull pain in his chest that, day by day - sometimes even second by second, would grow and nourish. He recalls overhearing people talking about their meet-ups with their friends and what they did on their weekends. He recalls wanting to be a part of it so badly but never even trying after the first couple of half-assed excuses of why he wasn't invited when seemingly everyone else was.
Whether they are ignoring him deliberately or just haven't noticed him yet doesn't matter as the remembrance of those times still makes him retreat to the empty chair near the teacher's desk that's so obviously his because it stands out like a sore thumb, without attempting to strike a conversation with anybody.
Izuku is glad when the bell announces the start of English. The students don't have to wait long until a dishevelled Present Mic, carrying various utensils and, simultaneously, balancing a cup of coffee, strides into the room. He's less dramatic about it than one would think and his hero outfit is one of the only things that's the same when comparing this Mic to the exuberant one Izuku had seen at his entrance exam - for example, he doesn't show the usual enthusiastic grin he dons when talking to an audience. Also, he's careful when setting down his stuff as to not cause a big ruckus, Izuku presumes.
"GOOD MORNING, MY PRECIOUS PEOPLE!"
The teenager flinches. Okay, maybe Present Mic is just always Present Mic and Izuku is only interpreting things into useless observations... that's most likely the case.
"Good morning, Mic-sensei." the class drones back, letting a frown appear on the professional hero's face.
"A little bit more enthusiastic, COME ON! 3 - 2 - 1!"
"GOOD MORNING, MIC-SENSEI!" the sound of twenty-one very mismatched and not at all in sync voices echoes through the room. What a cacophony - something Izuku would never want to hear again - but, apparently, it's music in Mic-sensei's ears (which lets Izuku question his English teacher's hearing) because he flashes them a joyful thumbs up. "GREAT!" he adds to that, "What a nice way to start the morning. Tooooday! We! Will! Look! At! Our! Curriculum! ARE YOU READY?!"
"YEEEAH!" the students roar and a small, impish smirk forms at Mic-sensei's mouth corner.
"They got played." Izuku thinks sheepishly, watching his teacher start the projector. A presentation is shown and immediately, the green haired boy wants to groan. Ugh, what a bore. Izuku knows most things on the list, as far as he can tell, and he already is rather fluent in the English language. That's honestly one of the few things he's glad about when it comes to not having friends. Now, though, he wants to turn back time and erase the idea of using the English side of the internet.
How can he live through a full year of gathering information that's already inscribed in his brain? He fidgets in his seat when, after half an hour, words wants to form on his lips. So far, Izuku's been able to hold back that annoying muttering habit of his but without anything to focus on, the risk of it breaking out of control is much higher.
Although he suppresses the flow successfully, a small squeak nonetheless leaves his throat. Oh god. The class is quiet, now completely, and Present Mic turns around. "Eh?" he asks, eyebrows drawn up nearly to his hairline. Izuku sinks into his chair. Shit, shit, shit, abort mission. Abort mission! What mission?! It doesn't matter, just abort it! That doesn't make any sense. Shut up, shut up, shut up...
"Shut up!" Izuku squeals uncontrollably, in English - of course, gotta stay in the lesson-used language after all.
Mic-sensei blinks. Izuku's mouth remains agape, a helpless look appearing on his face. Some of the other students start to snicker, murmuring things to their desk neighbours. Finally, Izuku's able to pick up his dropped jaw and, simultaneously, the blond hero's lips form a bright grin as recognition flickers through his eyes. "See, class?! THAT'S THE SPIRIT, 1A-BOY!" Said 1A-Boy splutters when Mic motions for him to come to the front. Nonetheless, he shuffles closer to the radio host. Mic calls into the room: "May I introduce to you: Midoriya Izuku, the entirety of class 1-A! I was a bit frazzled today that's why I forgot to mention it but luckily, Midoriya-kun reminded me to shut the hell up to finally tell you what the freak's goin' on, YEAH!"
Izuku tries to throw in: "No, that's really not what I-" but Mic silences him, continuing his Introduction of Epic ProportionsTM: "This little guy here went into battle with a frying pan and a baseball bat in the entrance exam! He's the only one who survived Eraser's evaluation - AND HE DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A QUIRK, HE'S CRAZY!"
If there's ever been one time Izuku contemplates on becoming a villain instead of a hero, it's right in this moment. He looks at his teacher in a similar manner as Aizawa-sensei the day before when the man's heard Ryokin Roru's reasoning skills.
"No quirk?!" Ah, there it goes, his will to live.
"T... That's so FUNKY - I'm gonna GO WILD!"
"How the fuck did he KO robots with a frying pan?" "The guy's already a blast, I can tell ya that!"
At least they're not A) threatening him, B) questioning his worth or C) doubting his success. That doesn't mean it isn't slightly intimidating to have nearly a whole class' attention directed solely at him. "I-I'm not that great, really guys!" he stutters uncomfortably when the exclamations slowly die down and they start eyeing him, expecting some sort of statement from him.
"ALAS! Don't suffocate the poor dude! Oh, the lesson's ending! SEE YOU TOMORROW, YEAH!"
Present Mic leaves Izuku to fend for himself - which is a pretty bold move in and of itself but gets even bolder when he throws a wink at the startled Midoriya before heading off to who knows where. "What an asshole" the boy thinks as most people zero in on him. Some of them stand up to walk towards him - and... nope, Izuku's not going to let that happen. With all the might of someone who has spent nearly three years doing parcours, he sprints out of the classroom, adrenaline rushing through his body as he meanders in a breakneck speed around unassuming UA students. His destination is clear - the boy's toilettes on the very same floor.
Only when the lock clicks close behind him and Izuku's sitting fully clad on a cheap toilet lid that's bending under the weight of his rear, he realizes what he's done. "Ugh" he groans shamefully, hiding his heated face in his palms, "That's the worst reaction I could have had. What are they gonna think of me?! Oh god, I'll be known as an antisocial weirdo! Not only that but I also badmouthed a pro hero who didn't even do anything - I'm the worst at this! The absolute worst! Maybe Aizawa-sensei is going to expel me when he hears about this... I can't believe I've done this... I'm a piece of dirt - not even the good nourishing dirt where plants can grow, no! I'm the driest, ugliest, clumpiest piece of dirt out there. The dirtiest dirt in the entire universe! The-"
A knock on the stall door. "Um, are you alright?" No, Izuku wants to reply, I'm not nor have I ever been alright. But because that would be really dramatic (and he's trying to avoid drama - even though he's caught up in so damn much of it already) the Midoriya answers croakily: "Y-Yeah, I've never been finer before!" and promptly wants to bury himself in a thick layer of sand. "I've never been finer before?!" he asks himself quietly, grimacing at the cheesy line.
"Well then... I'll trust you on that." the other boy says, his tone betraying that he does, in fact, most probably not trust Izuku on that. However, it seems recess is about to end because the mess in the stall (also known as Midoriya Izuku) listens the stranger's footsteps becoming fainter until they can't be heard anymore.
Then the bell rings. Izuku is officially too late for Modern Hero Art History taught by Midnight. ...Taught by Midnight. His eyes widen. "Oh shit" he curses, sprinting out of the restroom, leaving behind his anxiety (just like Present Mic left him behind - he's not going to forget or forgive the man for that soon). Midnight, he knows, always has a cat-o-nine-tails with her and he doesn't want to risk being the first victim to receive her wrath.
...
After a... very interesting introduction to the subject of Modern Hero Art History, Izuku's relieved when the double lessons of mathematics afterwards prove to be demanding - demanding enough that his brain is focused on the task rather than on something else.
And Izuku absolutely relishes in it. He smiles throughout the entirety of those two hours (and thinks Ectoplasm-sensei may look a bit disturbed when he gazes in his direction to see that he's still smiling). Sadly, lunch break arrives sooner than he would have liked. Izuku is the first one out of the room, still inclined on not speaking to anyone - especially after his breakdown on the toilet. It could very well be, after all, that the other boy was somebody from his class. Concerning that topic, Izuku's just glad that the one who received his fist the day before isn't in 1-B.
He stumbles upon an empty corner, shielded from an outsider's perspective, and huddles into it like the pathetic childish wannabe hero he is - his self-esteem has been declining ever since he opened his mouth in English. Today, he thinks as he unpacks his mom's homemade bento box, is not his day. Sighing deeply, he shakes his head again at the thought of all of the messed up interactions he's lived through in the last... what was it?... five hours.
Izuku closes his eyes when his fingers begin trembling and the need to chuck himself out of the window becomes too much to bear.
He remembers Aizawa-sensei's little meditation exercise. Yeah, that forest looks good - green, fresh, smells nice - yes, and that deer is still adorable and yes, the two robins chirp happily. After repeatedly checking on these things captured inside his previously constructed mental landscape, he can at least eat his lunch without feeling like he's going to barf it all over the place.
The food is delicious and, he takes a look at his phone, he still has about half an hour until his first Heroics lessons with Vlad King. When the bento box lies emptily next to him, he notes he has finally calmed down entirely. It needs a bit of time for him to adapt. And, well, it's going to be no different from then on. No different from his elementary or middle school experiences social-wise. Izuku usually fucks something up in the first few days (be it merely being quirkless or hella awkward) and now that it's over (hopefully) he feels his neutrality settle in. In a way, he's glad nothing is going to change. He knows how this works. He knows only his determination will accompany him on his task of becoming a great hero. It's always been like this.
He allows himself a small grin that doesn't reach his eyes - but the anxiety of meeting new people, of being put in a completely strange class (twice! That was the crux of it all, to be honest) is slowly but surely backing off. And that's all that counts. Soon, he'll be his old, quiet self again.
That may be for the best, he muses, untangling his headphone cable and then tuning in to his 'I-Want-To-Be-Hyped' playlist until he has to walk to Heroics.
...
"Ooooh" Izuku is in love. Forget everything that has occurred up until this point because Izuku is in love. He touches his hero costume again, getting a feel for it and notices, once again, that he is in l o v e. "I think I want to marry whoever made you." the boy says, fastening his weapons on the designated belt. He finally has actual weapons and not a shitty ten year old frying pan and a baseball bat his mom has found on sale at the sports gear shop. Actual weapons!
Well, weapons which are allowed in a school like this in his first year, to be fair. Which means that he now wields another baseball bat (made of rubber but with little, not entirely sharp spikes on its end), a knife and a really strong rope. He counts it as a weapon due to the fact that he could strangle someone with it... not that he's going to.
Izuku throws his hood and the black face mask as well as the red tinted goggles on and takes a look at the mirror. Yes. He's definitely going to marry the designer of his hero costume.
"Woah, dude. You look like a ninja!" says a pink haired boy - one of the few students who are not done with putting their costumes on yet. So far, what Izuku sees of it is... underwhelming. A grey jumpsuit with a pink belt - no extras, nothing else.
"Oh, thanks." Izuku mumbles, surprised at the sudden praise. He fiddles with the hem of his black outfit (only a few red and white accents here and there) and doesn't quite know what to do.
"No, no, no! Really, look at you. I just have this thing here... it's kind of... Ah, I'm Nagare Kokoro, by the way." The guy wants to shake Izuku's hand (how western). Warily, the greenette takes it, shakes it... shakes it far too long. Oh, how long is it acceptable to shake someone's hand anyways? He's pretty sure he should have put it down a couple of seconds ago. Okay, now it's getting weird.
Kokoro stifles a laugh. "This is getting out of hand." he remarks cleverly but isn't letting go of Izuku's hand either.
Izuku snorts, replying: "A guide on handshakes would be handy."
"At least you're a handsome fella."
"Oh, now you're being a bit of a handful."
The spell is broken by another voice shouting: "KOOOOOKOOOO?" Nagare lets go, giving him a friendly wave before searching for the guy who's shouted his name. Izuku rubs his hand. Did he befriend someone? Is this friendship? Has he calmed down too soon? Is there going to be more of those unknown interactions waiting for him?
Haha, ha, haaaa... his anxiety strikes back. And he just accepted his fate, too! What the -? Ah, there's nothing he can do about it now. Izuku leaves the locker and sees the rest of 1-B. They look very heroic. The ghost girl is wearing a pirate outfit - interesting.
Nagare has fun with a tall dark skinned boy - they laugh. The dubbed 'Koko' points at his hand and then rather unsubtly at Izuku - they laugh again.
"Oh, okay" the quirkless boy thinks, not even mad at being made fun of. "No friendship then."
Vlad King looks over the group and nods appreciatively. "Welcome to Heroics! I'm Sekijirou Kan, also known as Vlad King. Is everyone here?" He counts, nodding once more, "Good, we're going to start with a small introduction - safety rules, how to use communicators and so on!" He proceeds by doing exactly that. Izuku listens closely, trying to remember everything. It's important because afterwards, when they're done with the basics, the pro hero smirks.
"Now that that's out of the way - let's divide you into groups of three."
Izuku has to swallow; his throat is dry, maybe he should have had a bit more water.
Their sensei takes a box out of his backpack. "I have written down your names here and will let luck decide." Yeah, that's not a good idea most of the time.
...
... Izuku finds himself in a group with two girls who glare daggers at each other.
Help?