The morning sun had barely crested over the rooftops of Musutafu when Izuku Midoriya sprinted through the streets, his bag bouncing against his back. He was late—again. Every footfall echoed in his ears, but the ticking of the clock in his mind was louder. Today mattered more than ever; today was his chance to prove he belonged at U.A., the prestigious school for heroes.
When he finally burst into the classroom, breathless and sweat-streaked, all eyes turned toward him. The teacher, an imposing figure at the front, raised an eyebrow.
"And where do you think you've been, Midoriya?" she asked sharply.
"I… I'm sorry, I was—" Izuku started, but before he could finish, the voice of Bakugou Katsuki cut across the room like a jagged knife.
"Hah! Look at him! Quirkless brat thinks he can get into U.A.? I'm the only one here good enough for that school!" Bakugou sneered, his arms crossed as a few of his friends chuckled.
Laughter rolled through the classroom, stinging more than any punch. Izuku's face burned crimson. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain calm, but the humiliation pressed in, a weight heavier than his late run.
By the end of the day, the laughter hadn't stopped. The taunts had followed him all the way out of the school gates. "No quirk, no chance," they whispered. "Go home, loser."
Izuku trudged along the alleyways near the school, lost in thought, replaying the cruel words over and over. He barely noticed the slick, green sheen spreading along the cracked pavement until it was too late.