The white news van pulled up to the scenic overlook at exactly 9:47 AM, which meant the reporter inside was already running behind schedule and probably pissed about it.
Izuku knew this because he'd been sitting on the seawall for twenty minutes, enjoying the ocean breeze and the fact that he didn't have to haul a single piece of garbage anywhere. Freedom tasted like salt air and the distant promise of good coffee.
The van's door slid open. A woman in her late twenties stepped out, tablet in hand, wearing the kind of power suit that screamed "I have seven stories to cover today and this beach cleanup is number six on my give-a-damn list." Her cameraman followed, looking equally thrilled to be here.
Hanako Tanaka, according to the text his mother had forwarded him this morning. Local news reporter. Specialized in human interest fluff pieces that aired between the weather and sports segments.
Perfect. A captive audience who expects nothing and will be amazed by literally anything.
Hanako glanced at her tablet, then looked up at the beach below.
She froze.
Her professional mask of boredom cracked like cheap plaster. Her mouth fell open. The tablet nearly slipped from her fingers.
"Holy shit," she said, which her cameraman immediately agreed with via a low whistle that conveyed approximately seventeen different emotions.
Izuku grinned from his perch on the seawall. Yeah. That reaction never got old.
The beach stretched out below them, pristine and perfect under the morning sun. Pale sand met sparkling water in gentle waves. Seagulls circled overhead, actually interested in the location now that it didn't smell like a tire fire had married a landfill.
Hanako looked at her tablet again. Back at the beach. Tablet. Beach.
The before photos on her screen showed a nightmare landscape of industrial waste, mountains of trash so high they blocked the ocean view entirely. The after was paradise.
"This can't be the same location," she muttered.
Her cameraman was already moving, getting wide establishing shots of the clean beach with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for discovering your favorite ramen shop has a secret menu.
Hanako turned toward the small shopping district behind the overlook. An elderly man stood outside his corner store, sweeping the sidewalk and watching the news crew with obvious interest.
She walked over, professional instincts kicking in.
"Excuse me, sir. Did you witness the cleanup efforts here?"
The old man's face lit up like she'd asked him about his grandchildren.
"Witness? I watched that boy every single morning for ten months." He gestured toward the beach with his broom. "That disaster down there has been rotting for years. City kept saying they'd handle it. Never did. Then one day, before sunrise, I saw this kid just... start moving trash. By himself. No volunteers, no community group, no fancy Quirk show. Just a boy with work gloves and more guts than the entire municipal government combined."
Hanako's reporter senses were tingling now. This wasn't page six filler anymore.
"Did he ever say why he was doing it?"
The old man smiled. "Never asked. But every morning when he walked past my shop, he'd wave. Polite kid. The kind who actually says thank you when you hold a door open. We thought he was crazy at first. Then we thought maybe he had a strength Quirk and was training. But he never looked flashy about it. Just worked. Day after day. Rain, shine, wind. Kid showed up."
The cameraman was getting all of this, of course. Gold. Pure interview gold.
Hanako looked back at the beach, her mind already constructing the segment.
Local teen accomplishes what an entire city couldn't. Herculean effort. Months of dedication. Perfect underdog story.
"Thank you so much for your time," she said, already turning back toward the overlook.
"You want to meet him?" the old man called after her. "He's sitting right there on the seawall. Has been for about half an hour."
Hanako's head snapped around.
Izuku waved.
Five minutes later, Hanako Tanaka stood face to face with her subject and tried very hard not to show that she was completely thrown.
The file her producer had given her said "fifteen-year-old local student." It did not mention that the fifteen-year-old in question looked like he'd walked off the set of a cologne commercial.
Izuku Midoriya stood at 186 centimeters of lean muscle wrapped in a fitted black turtleneck. Dark jeans that fit exactly right. Silver chain catching the sunlight. Forest green hair styled back.
He smiled at her, easy and confident, like talking to news crews was just something he did on Wednesdays.
Okay. Okay. Professional. You've interviewed Pro Heroes. You can handle one attractive teenager.
"Mr. Midoriya, thank you so much for agreeing to speak with us." Hanako gestured to her cameraman, who was already rolling. "This achievement is incredible. What made you decide to take on a task the city itself had abandoned?"
Izuku looked past her toward the beach. His expression shifted, became genuinely fond, like he was looking at something precious.
"Because this is my city."
He turned back to face her. Those green eyes were direct, sincere, completely without pretense.
"It looked like trash. I had the time. I had the ability to fix it. So why wouldn't I?"
"Still," she recovered, "the sheer physical effort this must have required. The dedication. Most people would have given up after a week."
Izuku's grin turned roguish. "For most people, sure. But I was raised to finish the things I start. Plus, this is way cheaper than a gym membership. Better view too."
The cameraman snorted. Hanako couldn't help smiling.
"So what's next for the young man who single-handedly moved a mountain?"
Izuku looked directly into the camera. His easy smile sharpened into something else entirely. Confidence crystallized into ambition. His eyes gleamed with the kind of hunger that built empires or burned them down.
"The U.A. High entrance exam is tomorrow. I'm going to be a hero."
Hanako blinked. U.A. The most prestigious hero academy in Japan. Acceptance rate lower than most medical schools. The place where legends were forged.
"And with a powerful Quirk like yours, you must be—"
"You'll have to watch me at the Sports Festival to see all my tricks," Izuku cut in smoothly, that charming smile never wavering. "I don't like spoiling the surprise."
He was controlling the narrative. Feeding her exactly what he wanted the public to know while deflecting everything else.
This kid is fifteen?
By the time they wrapped, Hanako knew two things with absolute certainty.
One, this was going to be her best segment of the year.
Two, Izuku Midoriya was going to be famous very, very soon.
===
That evening, Izuku sat on the couch next to his mother, both of them watching the six o'clock news.
Inko had made popcorn. She sat with the bowl in her lap, hands clasped together, completely still.
The Takoba Beach segment opened with sweeping drone footage of the clean beach set to inspirational music that was perhaps a bit much but whatever, Izuku could live with it.
The elderly shop owner's testimony played. Hanako's voiceover talked about months of solitary effort, unwavering dedication, the kind of determination that defined true heroism.
Then the interview.
Izuku watched himself on screen deliver that line about the city with perfect sincerity. Watched himself make the crew laugh. Watched the moment he declared his intention to become a hero with his eyes full of fire.
The segment ended with a freeze frame of his face, confident and sure, as Hanako's voiceover wrapped up with something about the next generation of heroes being in good hands.
Cut to commercial.
Silence filled the apartment.
Izuku glanced sideways at his mother.
Inko sat completely still. Tears streamed down her face in two steady tracks, catching the light from the TV. Her hands remained clasped in her lap. The popcorn bowl sat forgotten.
The commercial break ended. The news moved on to sports.
Inko made a sound.
It started as a sob, shifted into something that might have been a laugh, and ended somewhere in the territory of a war cry.
Then she launched herself at Izuku with the speed of a Pro Hero responding to a crisis.
"MY BABY!" she wailed, wrapping her arms around him in a full-body tackle that actually lifted him off the couch cushions. "MY WONDERFUL, BRILLIANT, PERFECT BABY!"
Izuku caught her on instinct, returning the hug, feeling her shake against him.
Okay. This is nice. This is sweet. This is the whole reason I did any of this and oh god she's squeezing really hard.
"I'm so proud of you!" Inko sobbed into his chest. "So, so proud! You worked so hard! You're amazing! You're going to be the best hero! Everyone's going to know how special you are!"
The pressure increased.
Izuku's ribs began to compress.
"Mom. Love you. Very much. Can't breathe."
She squeezed harder, her Quirk activating unconsciously. Small objects around the room started to vibrate.
"You looked so handsome on TV! So confident! My baby's all grown up!"
Izuku started tapping her shoulder. Light taps. Then more insistent ones.
The remote control flew across the room and smacked into the wall.
"MOM! THE EXAM IS TOMORROW! I'M SO CLOSE TO RETIRING YOU! DON'T KILL ME NOW!"
Inko finally released him, pulling back with tears still streaming down her face but wearing a smile so brilliant it could have powered the entire city.
Izuku gasped for air, clutching his ribs dramatically.
"I think you cracked something. I'm going to die. I survived ten months of Hano-sensei trying to murder me and I'm going to die on my own couch the night before U.A."
"Don't be silly, dear." Inko wiped her eyes, still beaming. "A mother's work is never done. Now come here, I need to hug you again."
"NO!"
Izuku vaulted over the back of the couch and ran for his room while his mother laughed behind him, the sound bright and warm and full of so much love it actually hurt a little.
He locked his door.
Leaned against it.
Smiled.
Tomorrow. U.A. The entrance exam. The real beginning.