[Denki's POV - April Morning]
And just like that, April arrived with the cherry blossoms in full bloom, bringing with it the beginning of a new chapter—literally and figuratively. Students accepted into U.A. were ready to begin their Hero Academia journey, myself included.
I went through my morning routine on autopilot—shower, uniform, breakfast—while mentally preparing for what was coming. My parents were already waiting downstairs, both having taken the morning off specifically to see me off on my first day.
"You ready, Denki-kun?" my mother asked, her lightning-blue hair catching the morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I said while adjusting my tie one final time.
My father clapped me on the shoulder, his expression proud despite the slight moisture in his eyes. "You've worked so hard for this. We know you'll do great."
"Just don't blow anything up on your first day," my mother added with a teasing smile.
"I promise." I replied while grinning.
After exchanging farewells and enduring one last crushing hug from both parents—seriously, my ribs were going to have imprints—I met up with Mina and Eijiro at our usual meeting spot near the train station.
"First day at U.A High!" Mina practically vibrated with excitement, her pink skin glowing in the morning light. "This is so exciting!"
"It feels surreal," Eijiro admitted while adjusting his red-dyed hair nervously. "Like any second I'm going to wake up and realize this was all a dream."
"Well, if it is a dream," I said, starting toward the train platform, "we're all having the same one. So we might as well enjoy it."
The train ride to U.A. passed in a blur of nervous chatter and speculation about what our first day would be like. When we finally arrived at the massive school campus, all three of us stopped to stare up at the enormous building that would be our home for the next three years.
'Still as cool as ever,' I thought while moving towards our class.
...
[Class 1-A]
When we arrived at our designated classroom, we were early enough that only one other person had beaten us there.
A tall boy with dark blue hair, glasses, and the kind of rigid posture that screamed "class president material" sat at one of the desks, already reviewing what looked like study materials.
'As expected of someone "smart" like him,' I thought with mild amusement.
Tenya Iida noticed our entrance immediately and stood up with military precision, walking over to greet us with the enthusiasm of someone who'd been waiting for this exact moment.
"Hi! My name is Tenya Iida! It's a pleasure to meet you, classmates!" His voice carried that same overly formal tone I remembered from the anime, his hand chopping through the air in that distinctive way of his.
Mina and Eijiro introduced themselves politely, clearly a bit taken aback by his intensity.
I just smiled, recognizing this as the perfect opportunity to mess with him a little. Sliding into what I hoped was a friendly but slightly mischievous tone, I extended my hand for a shake.
"Nice to meet you, Tenya Iida. My name is Kaminari Denki. Since we'll be classmates for a long time, I hope we can get along."
He shook my hand firmly, his grip almost painfully precise.
Then I let my smile widen and patted him on the back while adding in a tone that was equal parts friendly advice, "So just relax a little, hahaha. No one likes someone who's too strict, even as a hero. Be more approachable, my friend. That's what it means to be a hero—someone that everyone wants to rely on, you know?"
Iida's eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, clearly not expecting casual life advice within the first thirty seconds of meeting someone.
Then, to his credit, his expression softened and he actually smiled.
"Ah, thanks for the advice, Kaminari-kun," he said, his hand-chopping slowing to a more reasonable pace. "I saw the score card, and you're the first-ranked student from the entrance exam. I trained extensively, but I only managed seventh place. I must admit, I'm curious about your training methods—"
Before he could launch into what was clearly going to be a lengthy analysis, the classroom door burst open with enough force to make several of us jump.
The third student to arrive was none other than Katsuki Bakugo.
His spiky blonde hair—'seriously, we really do have the same hair color,' I noted—caught the fluorescent lighting as his red eyes immediately locked onto where Iida and I were standing.
"Who did you say was number one?!" he demanded, his voice carrying that characteristic aggressive edge.
'Oh, this is going to be fun,' I thought while fighting back a grin.
I turned to face him with my most innocent expression. "Oh... so you heard what we were talking about. That is Interesting and since we weren't talking loudly, and when you opened the door that wasn't the last thing being said..." I paused for dramatic effect, letting my smile turn slightly teasing. "I can only assume that you must have been too nervous to enter the classroom and that's how you heard our conversation. Isn't that right?"
The reaction was immediate and spectacular.
Bakugo's face flushed red—whether from anger or embarrassment was unclear, possibly both—and he yelled loud enough to probably be heard in the next building.
"HELL NO, YOU SHIT HAIR! THAT ISN'T WHAT HAPPENED!"
The insult hit me completely wrong, and I couldn't help it—I started laughing.
"Hahahahaha— oh my god— hahahaha!"
Bakugo's face somehow went even redder, small explosions starting to pop in his palms as his anger intensified. "What are you laughing at?! Are you brain-damaged?!"
By this point, more students had arrived—Momo Yaoyorozu with her elegant posture and composed expression, Shoto Todoroki, Yuga Aoyama, and Tsuyu Asui with her large eyes observing everything with amphibian calm. They all stopped at the entrance, clearly uncertain whether they should interrupt whatever was happening.
Mina, Eijiro, and Iida stood nearby looking confused—Mina was fighting back her own giggles, Eijiro seemed torn between concern and amusement, and Iida looked like he was calculating whether this situation required intervention.
I tried to stop laughing, really I did, but then I looked at Bakugo's hair again and lost it completely. I laughed so hard I was almost out of breath, tears forming at the corners of my eyes as I pointed toward Bakugo's spiky blonde hair with a trembling finger.
"Hahaha— our hair— hahaha— our hair looks the same!" I gasped between bouts of laughter. "You just called yourself pee hair! Hahahaha— that's like— that's like you're insulting yourself as shit hair— ahahaha—cough."
I started coughing a little from laughing too much, my ribs actually beginning to hurt.
Bakugo's expression transformed into something truly murderous, small explosions crackling more intensely around his clenched fists.
I forced myself to stop laughing—or at least reduce it to occasional snickers—and held up my hands in a placating gesture, my smile still firmly in place. "Sorry, sorry. How about we start from the beginning? My name is Denki Kaminari."
Bakugo took a visible breath, clearly trying to rein in his temper through sheer force of will. His jaw clenched, but he managed to speak in something approaching a normal volume. "My name is Bakugo—"
"Blood type O-positive," I interrupted cheerfully, as if he hadn't been speaking. "Quirk: Electrification. Height: 180 centimeters. My address is—"
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
"Hahahaha, you're such a dumbass."
"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY?!"
By this point, even Mina had started laughing, her hand covering her mouth as giggles escaped. Iida and Eijiro were both trying to calm us down—well, trying to calm Bakugo down specifically, since he looked approximately three seconds away from using his Quirk to blow me through the nearest wall.
"Please, everyone! Fighting is not allowed in the classroom! Bakugo-kun, please control yourself!"
"Guys, come on, let's all just chill out—"
I decided to show mercy and backed off, still grinning as I raised my hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I apologize. Let's call a truce and find our seats."
Bakugo glared at me with enough intensity to bore holes through steel, but he didn't actually attack, which I counted as a win.
I made my way to what I'd mentally dubbed "the protagonist seat"—the desk by the window in the back row—and settled in with Eijiro taking the seat to my right.
'Perfect position,' I thought with satisfaction. 'I can see everything from here.'
Over the next several minutes, more students filtered into the classroom, each bringing their own energy and presence.
Mezo Shoji with his multiple arms and calm demeanor. Kyoka Jiro with her earphone jacks and punk aesthetic. Hanta Sero with his friendly smile. Fumikage Tokoyami with his bird head and dark, brooding aura. Toru Hagakure, who was completely invisible except for her floating uniform.
Minoru Mineta, whose eyes were already tracking every female student in the room with disturbing intensity that made my skin crawl. Mashirao Ojiro with his impressive tail. Rikido Sato with his impressive build. And a girl I didn't immediately recognize from canon—Emma Akane.
The various students began breaking off into small groups, conversations starting up naturally. Mina immediately gravitated toward Momo, Toru, and Jiro, their voices creating a pleasant background hum of feminine chatter. The boys mostly kept to themselves, some looking nervous, others excited, a few trying to project confidence they probably didn't fully feel.
I leaned back in my chair, watching it all unfold with a sense of surreal satisfaction.
My moment of reflection was interrupted when the classroom door opened again, revealing a nervous-looking boy with messy green hair and freckles.
Izuku Midoriya.
The same exchange I remembered from canon played out—Bakugo looking like shit at Izuku, Iida apologizing for his harsh judgment at the entrance exam, Ochaco Uraraka arriving and greeting Izuku with her characteristic friendliness. But I wasn't paying much attention to that.
My eyes had caught something else.
A yellow sleeping bag was slowly crawling—yes, crawling—toward the classroom entrance like some kind of bizarre caterpillar.
'There he is,' I thought, unable to suppress a smile.
I leaned over to Eijiro and whispered, "Hey. Someone's arrived. Might want to quiet down."
Eijiro blinked, following my gaze to the entrance just as the sleeping bag crossed the threshold. "Good morning, class..."
The voice was utterly dead—flat, emotionless, carrying the weight of someone who'd rather be literally anywhere else and was only here because some cosmic force compelled him.
Shota Aizawa emerged from his sleeping bag like a disheveled butterfly, his long black hair falling around his face in tangled waves, his bloodshot eyes scanning the room with the enthusiasm of someone attending their own funeral.
He was wearing all black—black pants, black shirt, black boots—with that distinctive capture weapon wrapped around his neck like a scarf.
His gaze zeroed in on the small group still talking—Midoriya, Iida, and Uraraka—and his expression somehow became even more dead inside.
"If you're looking for buddies to hang out with, then do it somewhere else."
The three students immediately froze, looking startled and vaguely terrified.
Aizawa's voice remained in that same flat, tired monotone as he continued, "This is the hero course."
He fully extracted himself from the sleeping bag and stood up, rolling his shoulders like someone who'd been sleeping in an uncomfortable position for far too long—which, to be fair, he probably had been.
"It took you guys eight seconds to calm down. Time is limited. You guys are not rational enough."
His bloodshot eyes swept across the entire classroom, making brief eye contact with each student. When his gaze passed over me, I met it calmly, keeping my expression neutral and attentive.
'So this is Eraserhead,' I thought. 'Underground hero. Specializes in stealth and capturing villains. Quirk: Erasure—can nullify other people's Quirks just by looking at them. Expelled an entire class last year for "lacking potential."'
'Also known as the teacher who gives exactly zero fucks and will crush your dreams without hesitation if he thinks you're not cut out for hero work.'
"I am your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shota," he said in that same emotionless tone. "Nice to meet you."
The classroom was completely silent, everyone too stunned or intimidated to respond.
'U.A. mostly hires Pro Heroes as teaching staff,' I mused, 'but I guarantee there's only one person in this room besides me who knows about Aizawa's hero identity. And that's Izuku Midoriya, hero fanboy extraordinaire.'
'Though even he probably doesn't recognize him without the goggles and with his capture weapon just hanging there casually.'
Aizawa reached into a podium near the front of the classroom and pulled out what looked like a gym uniform—specifically, a U.A. tracksuit.
"Go put this on," he said, holding it up for everyone to see, "and get out to the field."
He proceeded to hand out identical tracksuits to each student with mechanical efficiency.
'At least the uniform is comfortable,' I thought as I accepted mine. 'They must have done extensive research on material science and ergonomics. U.A. really doesn't exaggerate when they claim to be the best hero training school.'
...
[The Testing Ground]
After changing into our tracksuits—which were indeed remarkably comfortable, with breathable fabric that adapted to body temperature and reinforced stitching at stress points—we all filed out to the testing ground.
It was an impressive facility, a large open field with various equipment stations, measurement devices, and marked areas for different physical tests. The morning sun beat down with pleasant warmth, the sky clear and blue without a single cloud.
As soon as we assembled, the casual conversations that had started died immediately when Aizawa turned to face us.
"Today will be your Quirk apprehension test," he announced in that same flat tone.
He turned around briefly, presenting us with his back as if to emphasize how little threat he considered us.
Ochaco's hand shot up, her round face scrunched in confusion. "A Quirk apprehension test? What about the orientation?"
Aizawa turned back around, his expression somehow conveying both boredom and contempt simultaneously—an impressive feat.
"Orientation? This is the hero course. We don't have time for all those unnecessary ceremonies. We aren't like other schools." His voice carried absolute certainty, as if he was stating an obvious fact that only idiots would question. "Over here, you will be training to improve your Quirks. That is what we will be focusing on instead of those things."
'He's not wrong,' I thought. 'Orientation ceremonies are just pageantry. Better to jump straight into actual evaluation.'
...
[Aizawa's POV]
I looked at the children standing before me—twenty students who'd somehow managed to pass U.A.'s notoriously difficult entrance exam. These were supposedly the ones whose Quirks had the most potential to develop into something worthy of the Pro Hero title. They were Class 1-A, the "elite" group.
'Though "elite" is a relative term,' I thought with internal skepticism.
Usually, there were transfers between classes throughout the year as students proved themselves more or less capable than their initial placement suggested. But there were always a few who stayed in 1-A for all three years—the ones who truly had what it took.
I scanned their faces, mentally cataloging their Quirks based on the files I'd reviewed.
Shoto Todoroki stood near the middle of the group, his heterochromatic eyes calm and focused. Half-Cold Half-Hot Quirk, son of the number two hero Endeavor, trained from childhood to surpass All Might.
'With a Quirk like that, he'll definitely become a Pro Hero,' I thought. 'Whether he becomes a good hero depends entirely on whether he can overcome whatever psychological damage his father inflicted.'
Then my gaze fell on the student who I believed had the best raw potential in the entire class.
Denki Kaminari.
Blonde hair, golden eyes with confident posture without arrogance. And a Quirk that should have been mediocre but somehow wasn't.
'Electricity Quirks are common enough,' I mused. 'Usually flashy but limited in practical application. Most users never achieve their full potential because they rely too heavily on raw discharge without developing control or versatility.'
But this kid had gotten 300 points on the entrance exam. The highest score in U.A. history. That kind of performance suggested either incredible talent, exceptional training, or both.
'Time to see what he's really capable of.'
"Kaminari," I called out, my voice cutting through the murmur of nervous students. "You managed to get the most points on the entrance exam. What was your furthest distance for a softball throw when you were in junior high?"
The blonde student seemed to consider the question for a moment before answering, "83 meters."
'Good enough baseline. Above average but not exceptional.'
I pulled a softball from my pocket and tossed it to him. "Try doing it with your Quirk."
Kaminari caught the ball smoothly and walked toward the white circle I'd marked on the ground for throwing tests.
"Anything goes," I clarified, "as long as you stay within the circle."
He stood there for a moment, apparently thinking about his approach. The pause stretched just long enough to become mildly irritating.
"Come on, just go," I said flatly. "You're wasting our time."
Kaminari smiled—one of those infuriatingly cheerful smiles that suggested he found something amusing that I didn't. "Sure, Aizawa-sensei."
Then he did something I wasn't expecting.
Instead of winding up for a throw, he tossed the ball straight up into the air—high enough that it would take several seconds to come back down.
'What is he—'
Electricity began flowing through his body. Not a large amount, just enough to be visible—yellow sparks crackling across his skin as his hair standing slightly on end.
The ball reached its apex and began falling as more electricity concentrated in his right leg, yellow lightning wrapping around his calf and thigh like living armor.
'He's going to kick it?'
The ball descended as Kaminari's leg snapped up in a perfect roundhouse kick.
BOOM.
The sound of impact was like a small explosion, the shockwave actually disturbing the dirt around the circle. The softball launched away at incredible velocity, disappearing into a distant speck within seconds.
Well... I did say to him that anything goes as long as he stays in the circle but it is a ball throw. Well, I guess I will also say not to kick the ball to the next batch of students that comes around.
I looked down at the measurement device in my hand, watching the numbers climb higher and higher before finally settling.
2,923 meters.
'That's... impressive,' I admitted internally. 'Nearly three kilometers. And he did it with a kick instead of a throw, which requires significantly more body control and precision.'
I held up the device so the other students could see the reading.
The gasps were immediate and gratifying.
"Woooahhh!!"
The pink girl—Ashido, according to my files—bounced excitedly. "That looks like fun! I wanna go!"
Someone else in the crowd muttered, "Using our Quirks as much as we want! This is what I'm talking about!"
'And there it is,' I thought with dark satisfaction. 'The inevitable reaction. They think this is going to be fun, that hero training is all games and exciting Quirk usage.'
'Time to crush that delusion.'
I let my expression shift—from merely bored to actively cold. "Fun, is it?" My voice dropped several degrees in temperature. "You have three years here to become heroes. You think it's all going to be fun and games?"
The excited chatter died immediately.
I let a small, humorless smile cross my face. "Idiots."
The word landed like a hammer, and I could see several students flinch.
"Today you will compete in eight physical tests to gauge your potential," I continued, my voice carrying absolute certainty. "Whoever gets last place has none... and will be expelled immediately."
The shocked gasps and shouts were delicious. "WHAT?!"
I looked at each of them individually, making sure they understood I was completely serious.
"As I told you before, I get to choose how I run my class. U.A. is known for its unrestricted style—and that applies to us teachers as well. If there's a problem, you can head home right now."
The gravity girl—Uraraka—looked particularly distressed, her face flushed with a mixture of anger and panic.
"We just got here!" she protested, "You can't send us home! Even if it wasn't the first day, that isn't fair!"
'These little shits really don't understand anything, do they?'
I let my voice gain an edge of genuine coldness as I responded. "Oh, and you think natural disasters are fair? Or power-hungry villains? Catastrophic accidents that wipe out whole cities?!" I paused for emphasis, letting that sink in. "No. The world is full of unfairness. It is a hero's choice to try and knock back that unfairness."
I swept my gaze across all of them again, watching fear and determination war in various expressions.
"If you want to be a pro, then you will have to push yourself to the limit. For the next three years, U.A. will throw one terrible hardship after another at you."
I pointed at them lazily, my expression shifting to something that might have been a smirk under different circumstances. "So... go beyond... Plus Ultra style."
I gave another pause for dramatic effect.
"Show me that it's not a mistake that you're here. Now we're just wasting time by talking. Let the games begin."
....
[Denki's POV]
'Well,' I thought as Aizawa finished his intimidating speech, 'that was appropriately dramatic. Ten points for theatrical delivery, Sensei.'
I scanned the faces of my classmates, mentally cataloging their reactions and predicted performance levels.
Currently, by my estimation, the strongest student in Class 1-A was me—not arrogance, just objective fact based on my training and capabilities.
After that came a three-way tie depending on circumstances, Eijiro with his defensive capabilities, Todoroki with his versatile ice, or Bakugo with his explosive power and combat instincts.
'Eijiro's high defense makes him particularly effective against power-type fighters,' I analyzed. 'His Hardening has reached a level where he can tank hits that would incapacitate most people. That's going to surprise a lot of our classmates who underestimate defense-focused Quirks.'
But comparing power levels was mostly academic at this point.
'My Quirk has become more lethal the more I've trained it,' I reflected with a hint of concern. 'I have to be constantly aware of my output levels. One wrong move and I could seriously hurt someone.'
My eyes drifted to Izuku Midoriya, who looked absolutely terrified—his face pale and his knees are literally shaking while his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists.
'Poor kid,' I thought with genuine sympathy. 'He's got One For All now, but he has no idea how to use it without destroying his own body. This test is going to be rough for him.'
The first test began, the 50-meter dash.
Iida went first, using his Engine Quirk to achieve an impressive 3.04 seconds.
'Not bad,' I thought. 'That's essentially the speed of an average car on a residential street. Definitely above human capability.'
Other students took their turns—some using Quirks, others relying on pure athleticism, everyone trying their best to impress Aizawa-sensei.
Then my turn came. My running partner was Momo Yaoyorozu, who had created what appeared to be a sleek skateboard-motorcycle hybrid using her Creation Quirk.
'Clever,' I acknowledged. 'Using vehicles to compensate for her Quirk's lack of direct mobility enhancement.'
I noticed her nervous expression and decided to try to ease the tension.
"Are you nervous?" I asked as we lined up at the starting position.
She glanced at me, her composed facade cracking slightly. "Is it obvious?"
"Just a little bit," I said with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "But I bet you already researched all these tests beforehand. Didn't you?"
She nodded, her voice dropping to an almost whisper. "Yeah, I did. But... I still need to show that even though I got in through recommendations, I'm worthy of being here."
'Ah,' I thought with understanding. 'Imposter syndrome. Classic overachiever anxiety.'
Before I could respond, the measurement device announced, "Go."
Electricity immediately surged through my nervous system. My perception shifted, time seeming to slow as my enhanced processing kicked in. My hair stood on end, yellow sparks crackling across my entire body in visible arcs.
I could see Momo starting to move, pushing off on her created vehicle—she'd moved maybe one centimeter before I even began running.
'Probably shouldn't use full power,' I thought. 'That would be showing off unnecessarily. Let's keep it reasonable.'
FWOSH.
I arrived at the finish line in what felt like a leisurely jog but was actually faster than most people could visually track. The electricity faded from my body as I came to a stop, my hair settling back to its normal spiky arrangement.
The measurement device announced the result as "0.5 seconds."
The reaction was immediate and dramatic.
Every student apart from my childhood friends who heard that number immediately turned to stare at me, their expressions ranging from shock to disbelief to something that might have been fear.
Even Todoroki—stoic, composed, never-shows-emotion Todoroki—had his eyes slightly widened.
'Half a second to run 50 meters,' I thought with mild satisfaction. 'That's about right for holding back to roughly 10% of my actual top speed. Fast enough to be impressive, not so fast that it seems impossible.'
The rest of the tests proceeded similarly.
For Grip strength test, I channeled electricity through my arm muscles to enhance their output, achieving a result that made the measurement device's digital display flash in confusion before settling on a number that drew more shocked gasps.
For standing long jump test, I used electrical propulsion to launch myself across the entire sandbox and well beyond the measurement markers.
For sustained sideways jumps test, My enhanced reflexes and leg speed made this almost comically easy.
For Sit-ups test, I could have done these all day, but stopped at a reasonable number to avoid looking like I was showing off excessively.
For the toe-touch flexibility test, my almost perfect body control—honed through years of martial arts training—made it effortless.
The only test where I didn't get first place was the ball throw that Aizawa had already measured earlier.
Because Ochaco Uraraka used her Zero Gravity Quirk to make the ball weightless and then flicked it skyward, where it achieved "∞" distance by technically never coming back down.
'Infinity is indeed a bitch,' I thought with wry amusement while watching the measurement device display that symbol. 'Can't compete with conceptual loopholes.'
Throughout all of this, I maintained awareness of my surroundings, including the fact that we were being watched.
'All Might is here,' I observed, my enhanced senses detecting the distinctive presence of the Symbol of Peace hidden somewhere nearby. 'Probably watching Midoriya specifically, worried about how he'll perform.'
Sure enough, I caught a glimpse of blonde hair and that unmistakable muscular silhouette partially concealed behind a building corner. When All Might realized I'd spotted him, he gave me an enthusiastic thumbs up and struck a brief pose.
'That's... kind of weird, actually,' I thought with mild discomfort. 'Getting a thumbs up from the number one hero while he's technically spying on a class. Mixed signals, dude.'
Finally, it was Izuku's turn for the ball throw.
He stood in the circle, his face pale, his entire body trembling as he wound up for the throw. I could see the telltale glow beginning to form around his arm—One For All activating as power began building for that characteristic devastating punch.
Then the glow vanished completely disappeared as if it had never existed.
Izuku's throw was purely physical—no Quirk enhancement at all—and the ball traveled maybe ten meters before landing with an anticlimactic thud.
Meanwhile, Aizawa-sensei was already moving, his long capture weapon unfurling from around his neck as he approached Izuku with that same dead-eyed expression.
But now his eyes were glowing red—the telltale sign of his Erasure Quirk activating.
'And here we go,' I thought, recognizing this scene from canon. 'The moment where Aizawa teaches Midoriya that having power means nothing if you can't control it.'
Izuku Midoriya's face went pale as he stared at his trembling hands, his breath caught somewhere in his chest.
"I erased your Quirk," Aizawa-sensei said coldly, standing a few feet away, his tired eyes glowed red and those goggles beneath his scarf or capture weapons become visible as they began to float.
The moment Izuku saw them, realization struck like a hammer, and he gasped softly. Aizawa continued without pause, stating that the entrance exam itself was fundamentally flawed, his gaze cutting through the class before settling back on Izuku. "Even someone like you managed to get accepted."
The name finally clicked in Izuku's mind—Eraser Head.
Around the room, students instinctively gathered into small groups, murmurs spreading like static through the air.
"You can't control your Quirk, can you?" Aizawa said flatly.
Izuku stiffened as Aizawa went on, "I watched the entrance exam footage. One hit, and your entire arm was rendered useless. Are you planning to save one person and then rely on others to save you afterward?"
"That's not it—" Izuku started, but Aizawa's capture weapon snapped forward, wrapping around him and yanking him closer.
Their eyes met, "Regardless of your intentions, that's how you'll end up. A pro hero once saved a thousand people from a single disaster. With that same courage, do you intend to save just one person and then become a useless doll after a single use of your Quirk?" His words struck deep. "Midoriya Izuku," Aizawa concluded, "you can't become a hero with your power."
Izuku's eyes widened, fear and resolve colliding on his face as the group fell into a tense silence.
That was when I raised my hand. "Actually, Aizawa-sensei," I said in a calm and confident tone, "I believe Midoriya-kun can become a hero in the future."
Every head turned toward me. I smiled as a spark of excitement running through my veins. 'Let's fuck the canon.'