Friends, I have now written two chapters in one day, I hope the novel chapters will be good
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Chapter Seventeen
(Shota Aizawa) stood like a particularly weary monolith, his tired gaze sweeping over his students clad in their training uniforms.
He had brought them to one of the many sprawling training grounds, a vast, sandy arena under the sharp blue sky.
This was a test.An evaluation of their capabilities.
He'd been doing this since their first week of training,a necessary ritual to understand them, to figure out how to mold their raw potential into something resembling strength.
His calloused fingers, wrapped in the gray cloth of his capture weapon, tapped idly against a tablet.
He was reviewing their files,one by one, the digital glow reflecting in his dry eyes.
His stare lingered on the green-haired boy, (Izuku Midoriya).
The boy possessed the overwhelming power ofOne For All.
Right now,he was trying to run a basic agility drill.
His body moved with a cautious,almost painful slowness.
It wasn't strong enough yet.Not nearly strong enough to handle the cosmic-scale power trying to reside within it.
(Aizawa) watched a tremor run through (Midoriya)'s arm as he attempted a simple push-off.
If he tries to put even a fraction of that power into his fingers,the teacher thought with a clinical detachment that barely masked a sliver of concern, they'll shatter like spun glass.
He had ideas. A few threads of methodology that could help the boy.
But he'd decided to stay silent.For now.
(Midoriya)needed to discover these things on his own.
Having them explained would be a shortcut,and shortcuts bred fragile understanding.
True mastery,especially of a power that could break its user, required a deep, personal comprehension, carved through trial and error.
Or,in (Midoriya)'s probable case, trial and more error.
His gaze then shifted, sliding across the training field like a searchlight.
It landed on another student.
The one with blue hair.
He was,(Aizawa) mused, certainly not the weakest in the class.
Not when(Minoru Mineta) existed in the same breathing space.
(Suzuki Saito.)
Frankly, he had a good physique. Well-trained. The opposite of (Mineta), who seemed to have trained only in the art of poor life choices.
(Suzuki)possessed skills. Analytical intelligence.
True,he was different from (Momo Yaoyorozu), the class's other strategic mind.
He lacked her social ease,her ingrained poise.
But(Mina Ashido) was, unsurprisingly, acting as his unlikely social lubricant.
He'd seen a change in him.
After gaining access to the Support Department—a privilege (Aizawa) had quietly approved—the reports had trickled in.
From(Power Loader), the gruff head of Support, and the instructors there, the picture was… interesting.
(Suzuki)was developing his equipment with the help of a girl named (Mei Hatsume).
A prodigy. Brilliant.
Even(Power Loader), a man who communicated mostly in grunts and the screech of metal, had begrudgingly praised her.
'Obviously a bit unstable, energy-wise. Seems like she's about to combust. But her scientific enthusiasm is… notable. And helpful.'
Perhaps (Hatsume) would help (Suzuki) become better.
But that thought didn't extinguish the low,persistent ember of worry smoldering in (Aizawa)'s gut.
Yes, the kid is strong. And smart.
But he's Quirkless.
He knew this feeling intimately.
His own Erasure allowed him to nullify the Quirks of others.
But it couldn't cancel natural mutations.Extra limbs. Genetically enhanced musculature. A tail.
His Quirk wouldn't erase those,and they would remain.
So,he himself relied heavily on support gear—his capture weapon, his fighting style—to level the playing field against physically enhanced opponents.
In the end, he had a Quirk that was a hard counter to most heroes and villains he fought.
The ability to erase abilities was uniquely advantageous,a trump card that gave him an edge.
But what about (Suzuki)?
He couldn't use equipment to its fullest potential if it wasn't part of him.
What if it malfunctioned mid-fight?A jammed release mechanism. A dead battery at the worst possible moment. A cracked lens in a vital visor.
What if,despite all his ingenuity, the gear simply… wasn't enough?
What if he faced a villain whose raw,Quirk-enhanced power could simply smash through his clever contraptions?
He would die.
And if that happened…
(It would be my responsibility. I'm his teacher. It's my job to make him strong. To make him survive.)
Well.
These were precisely the reasons why(Shota Aizawa) didn't particularly like teaching.
The weight of it.The looming specter of failure measured in a student's broken body.
Yet,at the same time, a contradictory, stubborn part of him wanted to be here.
He wanted to forge the next generation of heroes into something stronger,more self-reliant than the last.
This internal contradiction was the core of his character,a knot of duty and cynicism he could never quite untangle.
And so,he had no right to blame anyone but himself.
He'd chosen this.The desire to teach. The simultaneous, bone-deep aversion to watching his students suffer.
Huff… huff…
On the other side of the sandy field, the subject of his grim musings was training with a methodical, almost robotic precision.
(Suzuki Saito)was doing push-ups.
Not the energetic,explosive kind. His were slow, controlled, each descent and ascent measured to the millisecond, his body a straight, rigid line.
Up. Pause. Down. Pause.
But his crimson eyes weren't fixed on the ground beneath him.
They were engaged in covert surveillance,subtly tracking the movements of the other students between reps.
His primary target of observation at this moment was the student with spiky red hair and an enthusiasm that seemed to manifest as visible sparkles around him.
(Eijiro Kirishima).
This young man was performing hardening exercises, his skin flashing to a rocky, jagged texture with a sound like grinding stones—crrk-ckkk—before softening again.
He was laughing,shouting something encouraging to (Kaminari) nearby.
A genuinely solid guy.
(Suzuki)'s mind, however, was parsing data, not camaraderie.
Eijiro Kirishima. Quirk: Hardening. High durability. Personality: initially insecure in middle school, found resolve after a critical incident. Current drive: to become an 'unbreakable shield' to protect the weak. A good person. Fundamentally kind. Also, highly excitable.
(Mina) was beside him now, her pink skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat as she laughed at something he said, her movements a fluid dance even while standing still.
(Suzuki)noted this social connection.
Observation: (Ashido) and (Kirishima) share a pre-established relationship from middle school. High probability of positive rapport. Further observation: (Kirishima) potentially harbors non-platonic feelings for (Ashido). Useful data point.
His strategic calculus whirred.
To acquire a reliable'shield,' a steadfast ally, approaching (Kirishima) directly could be efficient.
Using the existing social bridge of(Mina) would be the optimal infiltration vector.
A connection was a tool.And when you had a tool, you used it. Wasn't that right?
He finished his set with a final, silent push-off, rising to his feet with a soft thud of his boots on the sand.
Dusting his hands,he began to move. Not directly, but on a tangential path that, through a series of seemingly casual redirects, brought him closer and closer to the duo.
(Mina), with her hyper-awareness for social vibes, spotted him first.
Her golden eyes brightened,and a wide, friendly grin split her face.
"Saito-kun! Do you wanna train with us? I'm working on my dance moves! It's, like, my fighting style!"
Her body, even in a simple stance, had a liquid grace.
Her proposed'training' looked less like combat drills and more like an impromptu pop-and-lock session.
(Suzuki)observed, his analytical mind forced to concede a point.
Her stylewas effective. She merged acrobatic dance techniques with a fluid, unpredictable movement pattern that perfectly suited her acid Quirk and natural agility.
It made her a difficult,swirling target.
(Eijiro), standing beside her, smiled as he watched her, a simple, warm expression.
The bond between them was obvious,a comfortable, worn-in familiarity.
(Suzuki) saw his opening.
Since a relationship existed,now was the time to utilize it.
He shifted his gaze, turning the full intensity of his serious, red-eyed stare directly on the hardening user.
The social equivalent of aiming a targeting laser.
"That's right. I was noticing your training. You are very good, (Kirishima)."
His delivery was flat, factual. A statement of observed data, not flattery.
(Eijiro) blinked, momentarily thrown by the directness.
Then his face broke into a proud,slightly embarrassed grin.
He flexed an arm,his skin rippling momentarily into its hardened state with a soft crick-crack.
"Thanks, man! I'm giving it my all! Still not good enough, though!"
He sounded confident, but (Suzuki)'s week-long behavioral study detected the subtle tells.
The slight drop in his gaze.The way his smile tightened just a fraction.
(Eijiro)wasn't used to receiving praise from near-strangers.
His big transformation,his embrace of the 'manly' ideal, had happened late in middle school.
This was only the second week of high school.
To the others,he was still the 'new,' improved (Kirishima), and he was acutely, if cheerfully, aware of the social audition he was undergoing.
He wanted to be seen as outgoing, but true social comfort took time to build, even for someone with his natural exuberance.
(Suzuki)had booked this exact transitional period in (Kirishima)'s social development for his own use.
The moment he had gotten close, he had decided to deploy direct, strategic praise.
"No. Your Quirk is very strong. Frankly, I wish I had an ability like that."
(Eijiro) laughed, a loud, hearty sound.
But then,abruptly, his expression shifted to one of curious recollection.
His eyes,previously crinkled with laughter, focused on (Suzuki) with renewed interest.
"Oh, yeah! Hey, (Suzuki)-san, I just realized… I still don't know what your Quirk is! You were using a bunch of gear earlier, right?"
He gestured vaguely toward the old, functional but basic support items (Suzuki) had worn during earlier drills—simple reinforced bracers, sensor-equipped goggles.
Of course,(Suzuki) wasn't using the new arsenal yet.
The glorious,terrifying 'children' he and (Hatsume) were breeding were still in the final stages of development in the Support lab.
He needed until the end of the week.They required final stress tests, calibrations.
Thanks to the advanced simulation tech in the Support classroom,he was 90% confident they were precise, well-manufactured, and wouldn't explode in his face.
90%was, in his risk-assessment matrix, an acceptable probability for a first field test.
But back to the question.
(Eijiro)'s question.
(Suzuki)simply smiled. A small, tight, utterly unreadable smile.
"I don't have a special Quirk."
The statement was simple. A delivery of raw data.
Whirr-click.The sound of social gears grinding to a halt.
(Mina Ashido), who had been bouncing slightly next to him, froze.
Her golden eyes went wide,her jaw dropping just a little.
She hadn't expected him to just…say it. To lay it out there like stating the weather.
But (Suzuki) really didn't care.
The idea of them knowing he was Quirkless?It was a foregone conclusion.
He'd never been interested in hiding it.People would find out sooner or later.
Let them find out now,on his terms.
On the other hand, (Eijiro Kirishima)'s face underwent a dramatic transformation.
His normally cheerful,sharp-toothed grin vanished, replaced by pure, unadulterated disbelief.
His eyes bulged.
"No way! You don't have a Quirk? But… how?"
Even for a person who loved manly action and believed in guts and spirit, this was a paradigm shift.
(Kirishima)'s voice,usually loud and boisterous, had risen in sheer astonishment.
It wasn't a shout,but it carried.
Skkkrt.The sound of (Jiro)'s earphone jack accidentally scraping the ground as she turned to look.
Thump.(Sato) paused mid-lift, the weight in his hands forgotten.
Across the training ground,heads turned. Not everyone heard the words clearly, but the shocked tone, the sudden island of stillness around their little trio, had definitely drawn attention.
(Suzuki) stood in the center of the quiet ripple he'd created, his expression unchanged.
The chessboard was shaking.Time to see how the pieces settled.
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End of Chapter.
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A Note from the Strategist's Shadow:
The cat is not just out of the bag—it's been formally introduced to the canine unit. Suzuki's blunt admission has sent the first real shockwave through Class 1-A's social landscape. How do you think the class will react? Will Kirishima's 'manly' spirit see this as a weakness or the ultimate challenge? Will Bakugo have an aneurysm? And poor Aizawa-sensei... that ulcer is definitely growing.
We want to hear your tactical analysis! Comment below with your predictions: Who will be the most accepting? The most dismissive? And what's the first piece of support gear you think Suzuki will unveil to prove his point? The floor is yours, future heroes (and commentators).