Chapter 2: Setting the Pace
It would be difficult to decide what was more disorienting, waking up with a tube shoved halfway down his throat, or the sudden sensation of having two sets of wildly different memories colliding and fighting against one another.
His windpipes chose to focus on the tube for the time being.
He let out a hacking cough, and could feel his throat begin to constrict as he gagged around the implement. While the tube was designed in such a way that he couldn't possibly choke on it and asphyxiate, that didn't mean that his gag-reflex didn't violently protest its presence.
He was vaguely aware of someone speaking, but he was a bit too preoccupied to make out what was being said. A few moments later however, and he found himself blessedly able to breathe freely once more.
The lights above him were swimming, but slowly coming into focus, as were the garbled voices speaking softly, yet firmly, somewhere to his left. He blinked, and the ceiling came abruptly into focus. It was unmistakably the ceiling of a hospital. He'd seen enough in his days to recognize the ceramic ceiling anywhere. Glancing to his left, he met the eyes of a concerned, albeit incredibly pleased looking woman in a lab coat bending over near him.
He could register that she was talking, but the words were still coming out muffled. He closed his eyes again, and focused on what the woman was saying, when he opened them again, the strange muffle had disappeared and he could finally make out what was being said.
"-doriya, Mr. Midoriya, can you hear me? Just nod your head nice and slow if you can understand me." Her voice was calm, and reassuring. The matronly tone of a woman who had spent an entire career around the sick and infirm.
He tried to move his head, but found that his movements were slow, sluggish, as though wading through a thick bog.
The doctor beamed encouragingly at him, and pat him gently on the arm,
"You've had a lot of folks worried about you, hon," She said, "But don't worry, we'll get your mother down here to see you soon."
Later would be preferable, he decided. He wasn't sure if he was quite ready for that yet, not when his head was throbbing, and he was starting to see double. It felt as though someone were trying to split open his temples with the sharp side of a hammer. Flashes of memories, some familiar, others not, raced through his mind's eye. He was overcome with memories that were foreign and yet familiar all the same, and he subconsciously knew that these were the side-effects of the re-birth. That everything would be okay so long as he endured this tormenting hell just a little while longer.
But that certainly didn't make it any easier.
It was like watching himself go insane. Experiencing the world's most impressive identity crisis. Others still might have called it the beginnings of a full-blown psychotic break, that he was developing a split-personality and his mind was conjuring memories from his own imagination to match what he thought he knew to be the truth.
He let out a soft breath, and did his best to not to cry out as another sharp pain darted through his temples, followed briefly by the vivid memory of an ashy-haired youth pushing him down into the dirt. It was followed immediately by another memory of a dark-haired young-man desperately holding something onto his shoulders, an bright white streak appearing in his raven locks.
He closed his eyes again, and focused his breathing. A technique he…or Percy…man that was confusing…but he had learned the technique some time ago. It was meant to focus the mind and sharpen the senses, and he was pleased to see that it had the intended effect. With his mind firmly in control, the plethora of memories finally stopped racing, and slowed to a trickle. It wasn't perfect, but at least it didn't feel as though his head were being cleaved open any more.
He was peripherally aware that the doctor was performing a series of tests, and he was only half-conscious of his obeying the occasional demand.
With his mind finally somewhat in order, he was able to begin thinking through his current situation. As he…or rather Percy he supposed, was prone to do, he'd jumped headlong into this situation without much of a plan whatsoever. In hindsight, he should have asked Amaterasu what it was he was meant to do. Sure, he knew there was some great evil coming, and that he would need to destroy it, but what did that even mean?
He cursed himself, he'd always had made a habit of acting without thinking.
Or rather that had been Percy.
Which he still kind of was? But he was also Izuku?
It was…strange. There was more clashing inside of him than just the memories of two separate, and wildly different lives. It felt as though his own personalities were at war with one another. Percy had been impulsive, rambunctious, a smart-ass and out-going by any definition of the phrase. He'd been confident, self-assured and proud of his accomplishments and his own power.
Izuku on the other hand…well that was a different matter altogether.
Where Percy was outgoing, Izuku was shy. Where Percy had been confident, Izuku had been timid.
It was a clash of personalities, and he could feel his older personality winning out over the younger. But…not quite all of Izuku seemed willing to go. The intelligence. The cunning. The quick and analytical mind refused to be restrained.
It was as though the best parts of both of them were merging into one. He couldn't exactly call himself Percy anymore, and at the same time it felt…oddly wrong to begin referring to himself by the same name as the young boy he'd met in the underworld.
But this had been what he'd signed up for wasn't it? This was the job entailed.
So Percy Jackson…at least in name…would have to disappear, and Izuku Midoriya would have to live in his place.
It took some time, but eventually the doctor had finished running Izuku through the battery of tests that she had wanted to perform. Whether it was because of the rebirth, or Izuku was a hell of a lot more durable than he realized, he was in far better shape than anyone his age had any right to be after being in a coma for two months.
According to the doctor, the muscle atrophy that was typical with coma patients hadn't seemed to set in in the slightest. On the contrary, and quite to the surprise and confusion of the doctor, Izuku had somehow managed to put on muscle mass in his time asleep. Even more confusing for the physician was how Izuku had somehow managed to hit his growth spurt in spite of his vegetative state. According to the doctor, he'd grown nearly a foot in the two months he'd been under.
Izuku thought he knew the reason for that, but wasn't about to tell the doctor that his sudden growth spurt was likely a result of some divine magical bullshit that not even he would have been able to properly explain.
The doctor hadn't seemed too pleased when Izuku reiterated that he didn't have a quirk to explain the sudden change in his physique, and he was subject to yet another battery of tests, which only served to confirm his status as quirkless.
All too quickly, the moment he'd been dreading arrived.
The doctor had wanted to wait until after she'd completed her tests before she'd allowed Izuku's mother in to see him, and if he were honest, he was in no way ready for what was about to happen. While the feelings of love and family that the old Izuku had had for his mother burned intensely in his chest, the Izuku that existed in the here and now was not the one of old. This was not his mother, not the woman who had birthed him. Who had raised him. And he wasn't her son. The son she'd raised, and loved, and supported in all things was gone. Moved on to wherever the Shinto sent their dead.
The door to his room burst open, and Izuku barely had time to register a flash of green hair, and a plump figure, before something barreled into him, and before he could blink, Inko Midoriya was sobbing and babbling incoherently into his shoulder.
The feeling of apprehension and discomfort intensified.
This…this had been a mistake.
Guilt swelled up in his chest in bundles he lacked the ability to quantify. This woman, this poor woman, who had been sitting for months, worrying over her child, would never again have the boy she'd raised in her life again. He was gone, had left the mortal world for what laid beyond, and Percy had taken his place.
But he had given his word that he would care for this woman. That he would protect and care for her as though she were his own mother. And as he wrapped an arm around her, a familiar feeling of warmth and love burbled to life inside of him. Not all of the Izuku of old was gone. The feelings of comfort and safety while held in the arms of his mother still existed, and they thrived inside of the man who now owned and controlled his body.
"I'm here mom," He said softly, rubbing a soothing circle on her back, "I'm here. I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere."
The poor woman didn't seem to have the ability to form coherent words, and simply tightened her embrace on Izuku, only relinquishing her embrace when his doctor gently pried her away, reminding her that her son had just awoken from a coma.
Izuku had memories of his mother, but it was different seeing her in person than it had been in his memories. She was a short and stout woman, with hair and eyes the same shade of vibrant green as his own. She had a kind face, and kind eyes, even as they shone with tears of utter relief.
Even though she had relinquished her grip on him, she had refused to leave his side, and instead adopted an iron-clad clasp on his hand, as they listened to the doctor.
"Now Mrs. Midoriya," The kind-hearted doctor began, her tone gentle, "I don't really know how or why, especially given your son's lack of a quirk, but he doesn't seem to be showing any of the traditional signs of muscle fatigue or degradation." An uncomfortable expression passed over her features,
"I hate to have to ask this, but I need to know and I need you to be truthful with me Mr. Midoriya, because to be frank, I have no idea what to make of all of this. But, have you ever been exposed to, or recreationally used the drug trigger?"
His mother gasped in horror and revulsion, and Izuku's brain was suddenly flooded with the memory of a television report he'd seen as a kid about the powerful drug. Trigger was a highly volatile narcotic, that amplified the user's quirk and allowed it to evolve beyond the point it would be able to naturally. The benefits were a temporary and incredible boost in power, at the cost of a lack of cognitive abilities. There was an enormous underground network of Trigger dealers, that had links to the Yakuza and similar criminal organizations.
"No," Izuku said emphatically, and truthfully. Izuku Midoriya had been the very definition of straight-laced. Looking through the memories, it was honestly rather shocking that boy with such a kind heart even wanted to partake in something as inherently violent and combat oriented as Pro-Hero work.
The Doctor hummed in thought, "I didn't think so, there weren't any traces in your blood stream when we ran your blood-work, but I needed to be certain. Mrs. Midoriya, there wouldn't happen to be anyone in you or your husband's family with healing type quirks by any chance would there?"
"N-no!" The woman said shakily, still clearly a little distraught at the idea of her son being involved in something as dangerous as the Trigger trade. "My family all have emitter-type quirks, same with my husband."
The doctor hummed again, as she referred to her chart.
"Fascinating," She muttered, more to her herself than anyone in particular, "Very well then. Mr. Midoriya, you seem to be in rather excellent health, especially given the circumstances of your treatment, however we would like to keep you here for a few more days for observation."
Izuku nodded his head, he'd been expecting as much. He knew it was something of a modern miracle that he not only woke up from a two-month coma without any detrimental effects to his physiology, but it appeared as though his rebirth had in fact changed the musculature of the young man all together. It would have been more surprising if there hadn't been any questions.
"Unless you two have any questions for me, I'll leave you be for the time being. I think you two have a fair bit to catch up on."
Both Izuku and his mother shook their heads that they didn't have any questions for the woman, who smiled politely, before quietly excusing herself from the room.
A tense silence descended on the room, and Izuku squeezed his mother's hand tightly. As a former father himself, he couldn't even begin to fathom what had been going on in her head as her only child had been laying comatose in a hospital bed for months. So he offered what silent encouragement he could.
"Izuku…" His mother said, her voice trembling and choked with emotion, "W-what…what happened?"
He held back a sigh. He knew that this question had been coming, and part of him had wanted to tell the truth. To tell her what had actually, that her son had simply been overwhelmed with the realities and evils of the world, and it had become too much for him. But he couldn't do that to the woman. That would have been cruel…and while Inko Midoriya had not been a perfect mother, she had still loved him with all her heart, had been as supportive and loving as she could have been. It wasn't her fault that Izuku had not confided in her how cruel that world had been to her only child.
"I…I don't remember," He lied convincingly, frowning as though he were racking his brain to try and remember. "The…the last I can remember is going to the roof of the school to clear my head…I remember that it had been really windy that day, maybe…maybe I got too close to the edge and I lost my balance?"
He inwardly thanked the Stoll brothers; years ago the sons of Hermes had taken it upon themselves to teach him how to lie, and damn if it hadn't been worth the effort.
"I suppose it doesn't matter," His mother said softly, "I'm…I'm just so thankful that you're okay."
"I'm sorry mom," He said gently, "I didn't mean to worry you,"
The hospital, true to its word, held him for observation for the next two days, but after several more diagnostic tests that provided no explanation for his miraculous turnaround, they had no choice but to release him. Izuku's mother had always been a bit of a mother hen, but it was far worse when they finally arrived back at their home. She didn't seem to be willing to let him out of her sight, and as touching as the gesture was, it was beginning to become a bit tedious, especially given the plan that Izuku had concocted.
He'd been given a lot of time to think through his situation in the hospital, and had come to a few basic understandings. First and foremost, was this new body. While it seemed that Amaterasu had blessed him with some of the characteristics of his old body, this new form was still young and relatively under-developed. He'd decided that the best way to not only prepare for whatever was coming, but also to keep the promise he made was to make his way into U.A. University. Not only would he be able to be the hero that Izuku had always wanted to be, but they would surely have the resources he'd need to be as prepared as possible for whatever was coming.
While the entrance examinations were still roughly two years away, he was working with some exceptionally raw materials, and he would already be taking the exam at a rather large handicap. He knew from the younger Izuku's memories exactly what kind of quirks got their way into U.A., and if he wanted to stand even a hope in hell of getting into the university, then he would need to be stronger, faster, and better prepared than any of them.
Naturally, that meant that he needed to begin training, but when he'd broached the topic with his mother…well the horrified expression on her face had spoken volumes about how she felt about the idea of him becoming a pro-hero. It wasn't that she had outright forbade him from trying to achieve his dream, not that Izuku would have really listened anyways, but he decided that she was still feeling a little raw from the stressful few months.
That meant he needed to be a bit more creative about it. Izuku didn't have any memories about his high school having a weight room or anything, but it would certainly be worth the look when he went back to classes.
Something he was infinitely not looking forward to.
The only consolation was that Izuku didn't have any of the kind of learning disabilities that Percy had had. Add that in with the boy's natural intelligence, and at least repeating high school likely wouldn't be the nightmare that it had been the first time around.
Well, that and he wouldn't need to worry about monsters of mythology trying to jump him in the middle of dodgeball either.
He was curious how people would react to his return to school. From what he could remember, Izuku had been little more than a pushover. Timid and shy to a fault, Izuku had never been one to speak up in his own defense.
It went without saying that he wouldn't be quite the pushover the old Izuku had been.
He'd considered for the briefest of moments of simply trying to be the same person as Izuku, that his sudden change in demeanor and personality would come across as too drastic and suspicious. But honestly, that just sounded exhausting and unnecessary. There wasn't a point in hiding who he was, after all, it wasn't like anyone would ever come to the conclusion that the real Izuku had died, and his body had been taken over by a man who'd died nearly two hundred years previously.
Though it had led to a rather interesting conversation with his mother.
"Izuku…" She'd said one night over dinner, "I've-I've been worried about you." She was fidgeting uncomfortably with her chopsticks; playing with a parcel of food on her plate and refusing to meet his gaze,
"It's nothing bad!" She added hastily, finally looking up and meeting his eyes, "But you've just been more…erm…assertive lately. And-and it's not that I'm not happy to see you have some confidence or anything! But-but I'm just worried that something might be wrong…"
Izuku bit back a sigh, and finished his mouthful of food before answering.
"I'm fine mom, really," He reassured, giving her his best, most calming smile, "I've been doing some reading the last couple of days, and I guess it's perfectly normal for people in my…situation…to experience some changes in their personality."
She seemed to believe his explanation, and she hadn't pressed him any more on his apparent change in demeanor, for which he was thankful. He had enough on his mind with his return to the school, and he didn't need to worry about his mother becoming more suspicious on top of everything else.
He'd had a week of recovery before he was set to return to school. Whether a simple coincidence, or because Amaterasu had manipulated things to work out this way, he would be returning to school just in time to start the next term, so he wouldn't be missing out on anything.
He'd sort of known what to expect, what with his old memories of attending the Japanese high school, but it still felt strange to be forced to don a school uniform to attend high school of all things. On the bright side, the uniform was at least comfortable, he would have been irrevocably annoyed if he'd been forced to wear a suit and tie.
The school was considerably smaller than Goode had been, though he supposed that shouldn't have been a surprise. His graduating class alone had nearly four-hundred students, and there were only around a thousand students in the entire school. Still, he hadn't been prepared for how small everything would be. Though, that may in part have been because Japanese buildings weren't designed for someone who was pushing at nearly six feet in mind.
He hoped that his sudden growth spurt with his rebirth hadn't ended already, he'd enjoyed being as tall as he'd been in his previous life, and he was hoping that there was another growth spurt in his future.
Apparently, word had gotten out about what happened to him at the end of last term, because the moment he'd entered the school, the whispers began. Teenagers weren't the most subtle creatures on the planet, and it seemed that nobody was making even a remote effort to hide their curiosity as they whispered to one another, casting interested and worried glances in his direction.
Although, that could have also been because he'd seemingly grown a foot overnight.
Izuku could handle the staring and the whispers however. People could say whatever they wanted; it wasn't like it bothered him all that much. He had more important things on his mind, other than the petty grudges and curiosity of high schoolers. There was, however, one person in particular that Izuku was rather interested in seeing again.
Katsuki Bakugo.
When Izuku had been a child, he and Bakugo had been nearly inseparable. Best friends seemingly since birth, they'd done everything together. They'd play, they'd imagine, and they'd daydream about a time in their future where they were even stronger and more famous than All Might.
But all of that had changed when Bakugo turned four.
At the age of four, eighty percent of the population developed their quirk, and Bakugo's quirk had been one of the most powerful in recent memory.
Katsuki Bakugo sweated nitroglycerin, which he could use in turn to create explosions and sparks. It was a powerful quirk, and almost certainly put him on the fast-track to being a pro-hero, a sentiment that had been hammered home by his peers and teachers. The power of his quirk had changed the boy. Gone was the abrasive, albeit friendly boy that had been Izuku's best friend, and in his place came a cold, callous, and overly arrogant child. A boy who believed that the power of his quirk inherently made him better than those around him, a world-view that was repeatedly driven home by everyone around him.
Things had only gotten worse when Izuku had been diagnosed as quirkless. Bakugo, who valued strength and power above all else, had cast Izuku aside. Had mocked, belittled, and bullied the poor boy for something beyond his ability to control. The sudden change in his best friend had been devastating to Izuku, but he had done what he could to maintain a friendship with the boy.
Not that it did him any good.
Bakugo had furiously fought back against any attempts by Izuku to reforge their relationship, seeing him as little more than a useless weakling. The crass nickname he'd given Izuku had reflected that.
Deku.
It meant, according to Bakugo, worthless. Which to him, was precisely what someone without a quirk was. Worthless.
What started was over a decade of abuse, culminating in the fateful day that Izuku had flung him from the top of the school roof. Izuku Midoriya, forever a fan of any and all things heroic, had kept a journal on him at all times, in which he kept track of any and all quirks he came across. He analyzed heroes, villains, even common citizens whose quirk had proved to be even remotely interesting. It had been one of his few true joys in the world, and then, in a flash, it had been taken from him.
Bakugo had seen him writing in it, and had used his quirk to reduce it to ash. It had crushed him, but it was nothing compared to what he'd said next.
"Maybe you'll be born with a quirk in your next life, so why don't you take a swan-dive off the roof and find out!"
It had been too much for Izuku. And in a moment of weakness, he'd followed through on the advice.
He didn't know what the boy's reaction would be when he saw Izuku again, but he didn't need to wait too long to get the answer to his question. As had been the case every year since they'd been children, Izuku shared his homeroom with Bakugo.
Walking into the class, it hadn't taken the ashen-haired boy long to meet Izuku's eyes. His eyes went wide, whether from surprise at actually seeing him, or at the sudden reminder of his own failures, it didn't matter. What did matter, at least as far as Izuku was concerned, was that for the first time in years, there was no biting comment. There was no degrading remark or crude joke about his quirklessness. Bakugo simply turned away from him, his head bent low over his desk and his arms folded.
Well, if he was simply going to pretend that Izuku didn't exist, then that would work for him. He didn't need the distraction, and he was more than willing to make the relationship one of mutual isolation.
He was oddly melancholic however, as he took his seat and the class began. The old Izuku's memories and emotions, though subdued, were still prevalent in his subconscious. The poor boy had always held out hope that his once best friend would see the person he'd become, and they could go back to being the friends that they once were. Given the remorseful expression, and look of utter self-loathing on the ashen-haired boy's face, perhaps Izuku had finally gotten his wish.
It was a damn shame that such a change had come at the expense of someone's life.
But it was too late for any sort of wishful thinking now. As much as those feelings nagged at the back of his brain, Izuku was able to shunt them to side and ignore them for the most part. He had other priorities than dealing with the inconsequential trivialities of youthful transgressions.
The day passed with relative ease, as most students and teachers seemed to do their utter best to simply pretend as though nothing had happened. As though their own attitudes and attacks hadn't happened at all. That was all well and good as far as he was concerned though. His only priority was getting a head start on his training.
He grumbled in annoyance as he walked out of the school's gym. He didn't know if it was a cultural thing or what, but his high school only had a gymnasium and a track, but not a designated weight room. He considered briefly about whether or not he should ask his mother to help him out by helping him get a gym membership of some kind, but he had his doubts, especially so soon after he'd just woken up.
While he no longer had his connection to the sea that he'd once had, he still felt that the ocean breeze would prove comforting enough to help him think. The nearest beach according to his memory was Dagobah, and so he changed directions and began heading off towards the beach. He'd told his mother that he would be working out after school, so she wouldn't be expecting him home any time soon. While she likely wouldn't support buying a gym membership, because she'd be directly indulging his desire to become a pro, letting him workout at the school was an entirely different matter.
At least as far as his mother was concerned, and Izuku wasn't going to question the logic.
But he honestly wished that he hadn't bothered making the trip to the beach. Although, calling it a beach may have been a little…generous. It was more of a dumping grounds or an overly large scrapyard. Refrigerators, industrial equipment, even the odd literal kitchen sink. His heart legitimately hurt at the sight. In spite of his break from his connection to the sea, he would always have a soft spot for the ocean and for all aquatic life.
How on earth could something like this be legal? He could have sworn that the Japanese were good about waste disposal, how could something like this even happen?
But as he stared over the veritable scrapyard, an idea began to form in the back of his mind. It was either a stupid idea…or it was astonishingly brilliant. There was even an actual scrapyard not too far off. If he was right…he would be able to kill two birds with one stone. By moving the scrap from the beach to the scrapyard, he'd not only clean the beach but he'd be getting one hell of a workout while doing it. He smirked, as he dropped his school supplies onto the beach, thankful that he'd already changed before coming over to the beach.
Stretching his arms across his body, he let out a small laugh,
"Well…time to get to work."
BREAK
Yagi Toshinori sighed, before bending over letting loose a volatile series of coughs. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled a handkerchief free and dabbed at his lips. Sighing again when he pulled it away and seeing that once more, it had been stained red. He really should start investing in red handkerchiefs, this was a problem that wouldn't be going away any time soon.
He groaned as he clutched at his shoulder. He'd used a little too much power and gone a little too far when he'd fought that rhino villain earlier in the day. His time, already short, was getting shorter. He figured that he maybe had only a couple of years left in the tank before he wouldn't be able to use his quirk at all any more.
What a sad existence his life had become. Once heralded as the greatest hero on the planet, the venerable Symbol of Peace, and now he could only use a fraction of his power and only for roughly five minutes at that.
His Master would be rolling over in her grave if she could see what had become of him.
He knew that he needed to find his successor, someone to take the power of his quirk and become the new Symbol of Peace. He'd been keeping a watchful eye the past two years at the U.A. Sport's Festival for potential successors, but thus far he'd yet to see anyone that he felt lived up to the legacy his quirk demanded.
He didn't want to pick just anyone. His quirk…the legacy it had…the danger it presented…it couldn't go to just any young hero. They had to be true heroes, they had to embody the spirit and heart of true heroism.
A trait that had become sadly misplaced in the last several decades.
Ever since Pro-Heroes began signing lucrative endorsement contracts, and became prominent celebrities in society, more and more young children grew up with the hopes of becoming heroes, not to protect those too weak to protect themselves, but to earn money, fame, popularity.
It was disheartening.
Speaking nothing of his own reluctance to accept his own mortality. For decades, his strength had been all he'd had, and he knew himself well enough to know that he wasn't ready to retire yet.
Sighing once more, he shifted his groceries into the other hand, and he turned the corner of the street towards Dagobah Beach.
His heart always hurt when he passed this stretch of beach. Dagobah had been one of his favorite haunts as a youth, and to see it become the dumping ground of industrial waste that it had become hurt him. He'd often thought to come one day and clean up the beach himself, but with his new time restraints on his quirk, such a possibility had become impossible.
"Excuse me!" A young voice called out, and a young man darted past him on the sidewalk. He had the tall and lanky frame of a boy who'd just grown a lot in a short space of time, and his vibrant green hair was matted and sticky with sweat.
He let out a small chuckle as he watched the young man sprint down the road. The vigor's of youth at its finest he supposed. Perhaps the young man was yet another pro-hero hopeful, training his body in preparation for the U.A. entrance exam.
But he became confused as the watched the young man run down the stairs and down onto the beach.
Curious, he followed the young man, only to nearly be bowled over again as the young man reappeared. He was carrying a large file cabinet over his shoulders, and his face was turning red from the exertion. He side-stepped smoothly around the older man, and disappeared down the street again.
Was…was that young kid cleaning up the beach? But why? For what purpose? Was it training? If so…that was rather clever, but maybe he was just a concerned citizen. Either way, his interest was piqued, and he decided that he'd rather like to speak to the young man. He placed his grocery bags on the ground, thankful that he didn't buy any milk today, and rested against the railing of the stairs as he waited for the green-haired youngster to return. He gazed over the beach, and was pleased to see that a substantial amount of the debris had already been cleared away. The boy must have been working at it for some time already.
He didn't have to wait too long, as the red-faced, panting youth was already sprinting back down the street.
Lifting his hand in the air, he waived down the young man, who slowed to a stop. It took him a moment to catch his breath, and he had to wipe down the mess of sweat from his forehead.
"Hi?" The boy asked, "Can I help you with something?"
"I was just wondering what it was you were doing." Toshinori said breezily, "I've been coming to this beach for years now, and I've never seen anybody trying to clean it up before."
"Oh," The boy said "Well yeah, I've always felt pretty connected to the ocean, and I didn't like seeing what had happened here, so I decided to clean it up."
"Very admirable of you," Toshinori smiled genuinely, "Must be hard work,"
"It is," The boy smiled, "But I want to get into U.A. so this actually works out! My school doesn't have a weight room, and I don't want to bother my mom to get a gym membership so…" He shrugged and gestured to the beach, "I clean up trash. I've been doing it for a few weeks now, and it's already been helping a ton!"
That much was certain. The boy's muscle mass was far more defined than most his age. His suspicions about him being a pro-hero prospect also turned out to be accurate.
"U.A. huh," He let out a low whistle, "You must have a pretty impressive quirk if you think you have a shot to get into U.A."
"Eh heh," The boy chuckled nervously, "I actually don't have a quirk at all."
Toshinori felt his eyes unconsciously widen, quirkless? He felt something deep inside him stir at the mention of it. He too had been quirkless as a boy, up until his own Master had recognized his own potential for heroism.
Was…was this some kind of sign? Were the gods trying to tell him something? No…no that would be…the idea was ridiculous in and of itself. It was pure circumstance. While uncommon, there still had to be countless of children born without a quirk who one day dreamt of being heroes.
"Yeah," The boy nodded, seeing the look on his face, and snapping Toshinori out of his thoughts, "Yeah I know how it sounds. But I've always wanted to be a hero, ya know? To save people, to make the world a better place. I know it'll be harder because I don't have a quirk, but I know I can do it!"
Toshinori couldn't help but smile at the words. The boy's words were touching, and reminded him of himself when he'd been the boys age.
"Well, I wish you luck, that's a very admirable goal. I only wish I could say that all up and coming heroes shared your view of what heroism meant. Still, I believe you will have your work cut out for you. The entrance exams for U.A. are only a few weeks away you know."
"Oh, I'm only fifteen," The boy smiled, "So I have plenty of time to prepare."
Toshinori hummed in thought and then looked back at the beach. At the current rate that the boy was going at, the beach would be cleared by the end of the month. He hoped the boy had some other form of workout in mind, because he wouldn't be able to achieve the level of fitness necessary to compete at U.A. if he didn't have easy access to equipment over the next couple of years.
Maybe there was something he could do about that…
"Well sir, if there wasn't anything else, I really should be getting back to work,"
Toshinori chuckled, before nodding his head, and extending a hand, "Well I'd never want to get in the way of an enterprising young hero. Toshinori Yagi by the way, a pleasure to meet you."
"Izuku Midoriya," Izuku greeted, gripping his frail hand in one of his own calloused palms, "You too."
Chuckling, Toshinori retracted his hand and stooped down and picked up his grocery bags.
"Do you need a hand with that?" Izuku asked, and it was a touching gesture,
"No, no." Toshinori laughed, "Though I appreciate the offer, I'm not so old yet that I can't tackle a simple grocery trip on my own." He lifted a hand in farewell, "Best of luck to you, I hope you get the chance to achieve your dreams,"
"Thank you, sir," Izuku said brightly, waving back to him. Then, the young man turned on his heel, and turned to his exercise and cleaning efforts. Toshinori watched for a moment, before turning around and making his way slowly back to his home.
Izuku Midoriya huh?
Maybe he should keep an eye on the boy, he seemed…promising.
BREAK
Izuku panted, his hands on his knees. Sweat dripped down from his forehead as his entire body ached with the fruits of his arduous labors. Looking up, a happy laugh escaped him. It had taken months of dauntless work, and his body had fought him every step of the way, but he'd done it. The once littered scrapyard of a beach, was spotlessly clean. The beautiful sands could be seen once more, and the ocean was no longer littered with the contents of industrial waste.
His idea had proved far more beneficial than he could have ever hoped, and the fruits of his labors showed in the increased physicality of his physique. No longer was he a scrawny, lanky, fifteen year old. Instead, he had the hardened body of a young man who'd spent months at hard labor. He could feel the strength in his body that had been absent before. While it was still a pittance when compared to what he'd used to have, it was nonetheless a step in the right direction.
But as he looked over the spotless beach, he realized that maybe he hadn't thought through his plan all that well. Sure, his workouts at the beach had done exactly what he'd wanted, and he was more than happy that he'd been able to clean up the waterfront, but what did he do now? He still had just under two years before the entrance exam, and he didn't think he was anywhere near ready for whatever was going to be thrown at him. Sure, he knew plenty of at-home exercises he could try, but those would only be so helpful.
He groaned as he pushed himself back up to his full height, maybe he really would need to have that talk with his mother about a gym membership. Sure, money was a little tight with her since his dad's passing, but maybe she would see that this was something that was important to him. Plus, it had been months now since the incident, and maybe she would be a little more receptive to his wanting to be a hero. It had been a conversation that he hadn't really wanted to have with her, but he knew that it was one that needed to happen.
Sighing, he turned away from the ocean, and grabbed his belongings. Maybe the walk back to his home would give him the answers he needed, or at least he could think of something that wouldn't put undue burdens on his mother.
He didn't though.
As he pushed open the front door to the small home he shared with his mother, he lamented his brain's inability to think up a decent solution to his problem.
"Izuku?" His other called out as he took his shoes off and slipped into his house-slippers,
"Hey mom!" He called back, as he made is way towards the kitchen,
"You got a couple of packages today! Did you order something?"
"No?" He said, frowning in confusion before following his mother's voice to the living room. Sure enough, there were several large packages sitting in the living room.
"What is all of this?" He asked,
"I was hoping you could tell me." His mother answered, looking slightly worried, "They arrived this afternoon, and there was a note for you." She gestured to a small envelope on top of the largest of the packages.
Walking over, he grabbed the envelope, where his name and address were printed in neat penmanship. Tearing open the letter, he read the short note quickly,
Young Midoriya,
I noticed that you were nearly done with cleaning the beach. As a thank you for your kind act of generosity, I took the liberty of getting you some things that should help you in your quest to be a hero.
Thank you again, and never forget to continue chasing your dreams.
Toshinori.
A smile spread over his face, well that was unexpected.
"You know who sent all of these?" His mother asked, she'd been trying to read the letter from around his larger frame, and was looking up at him concerned.
"A friend," He smiled, "Met him while I was doing some exercises at the beach."
Placing the small envelope on the couch, he strode over to the nearest package, and tore the tape off easily and opened the box. Inside, was a put it together bench press and squat rack, along with a series of increasingly heavy weight equipment.
Izuku didn't fight the grin that spread across his face.
This would work out very nicely indeed.