The classroom was deathly quiet. Tension hung in the air, thickening with every passing second. No one dared to move—even breathing became cautious. The students, like the teacher, instinctively huddled in their seats, trying to stay as far away as possible from the two sources of trouble standing opposite each other, staring intently.
The teacher, trying not to attract attention, felt a slight vibration in his pocket. He cautiously took out his phone and glanced at the screen — a notification from the class group chat. Several new messages from students were flashing on the display.
Teacher, tell them to stop!
Make them calm down!
You have to do something, or this will end badly!
He glanced at the two boys and grimaced inwardly: interfering now would be like sticking his hand into a nest of angry bees.
The messages urging him to act were growing in number. The phone screen was filled with pleas and demanding exclamations. No matter how much the teacher wanted to pretend that nothing was happening, it was clear that sitting back and doing nothing was not an option.
Taking a deep breath, he gathered all his determination, seasoning it with a dash of courage and a pinch of desperate bravery. Slowly, as if climbing out of a trench, he poked his head out from under the table... then his shoulders... and finally stood up to his full height.
The students greeted him with quiet applause and murmurs of approval. The words of encouragement he caught encouraged him. With renewed courage, he spoke decisively:
"Midorii and Katsuki, stop that immediately..."
He didn't have time to finish. A baseball flew in through the open window from the street, hitting him squarely in the nose with such force that the teacher almost collapsed to the floor. The blow was clearly hit by someone with a serious swing. Blood immediately began to flow from his broken nose, and the man tried to maintain his dignity by holding it with his hand.
But then, as if fate had decided to finish him off, another projectile flew into the classroom — this time a soccer ball. It hit the teacher in the face so hard that he staggered but miraculously remained standing.
There was no trace of his former determination. Now his eyes were filled with panic.
"I'm sorry, students, but... I need to go to the infirmary urgently," he mumbled, and without waiting for a response, he bolted out of the classroom.
The door slammed behind him, leaving the students alone, face to face with the coming storm.
They, in turn, hurled more curses and complaints at their missing teacher's back, but for the two standing in the center of attention, it no longer mattered. The tension between them was palpable, and it only grew stronger.
Bakugo, glaring at Izuku, finally spoke, enunciating each word carefully:
"Let's get this straight. You don't have a quirk — that's one," he raised his hand, extending his index finger.
"You're a weirdo who does nothing but cause trouble. Look at yourself — you showed up here in your underwear and shoes! That's two," he raised his second finger.
"And finally, you're sick in the head!" Katsuki's voice rang with venom. "You constantly take revenge on anyone who says anything offensive to you. That's three!" He straightened his third finger, as if putting a fat period on his words.
"How do you even imagine you could become a hero, Deku?" he growled. "And dare to challenge me?"
Bakugo's words stabbed Izuku's mind like sharp knives. If he were the same person he was two years ago, he would have lowered his head and remained silent. Back then, he was truly weak, unable to stand up for himself.
But now... everything was different.
Two years of "absolute choice" had changed him. The strange, sometimes shameful tasks he had been forced to perform had hardened him. Gradually, the shame dulled, and timidity gave way to cautious but steady confidence. He stopped being terrified of attention, learned to look people in the eye, and no longer felt the same horror in front of Bakugo... although, of course, he remained cautious.
Tilting his head to one side, Midoriya replied as if it were the most obvious answer in the world:
"So what?!"
There was no defiance in his voice — only a calm confidence that irritated Bakugo far more than any insolence. This angered Bakugo, but he restrained himself. Two years ago, he would have simply punched Izuku — not out of malice, but to "put him in his place." The teachers, as usual, would have pretended nothing had happened.
But now everything had changed.
From the moment this nerd started acting like a clown, any even slight teasing turned into strange "accidents." The offender could suddenly fall down the stairs, cut themselves, lose something valuable, get poisoned, bruise themselves... or, in the worst case, get hit by a car.
The latter, by the way, had already happened to Bakugo himself. On his way home, he didn't notice a car flying out of the yard. He managed to jump out of the way at the last moment, but the bumper still hit his leg. A fracture. A week in the hospital. And this wasn't the first "accident" after he tried to teach Deku a lesson.
Bakugo wasn't stupid — he could put two and two together. He came to the conclusion that Midoriya was somehow taking revenge on him. Attempts to figure it out or do something about it ended in nothing. In the end, he decided it was better not to mess with this sick bastard for no particular reason. Otherwise, he could end up in an even worse situation.
"Don't complain later, you damn nerd," he muttered through clenched teeth.
Sticking his hands in his pockets, Bakugo silently walked away from him and plopped down in his seat. Izuku, without saying a word, took a rag and a bottle of cleaning fluid. Gritting his teeth, he began to scrub his desk clean of sticky blackcurrant stains and crumbling ash — the aftermath of Kachan's explosion. The other students breathed a collective sigh of relief, as if a storm had just passed.
The bell rang to signal the end of class. Midoriya quickly gathered his things and, without delay, left the classroom and then the school. On the way home, he again caught the sidelong, curious, and mocking glances of passersby. But the teenager stubbornly ignored them, continuing to walk forward with his head down, lost in his own thoughts.
And he had a lot to think about. Kachan's words stuck in his mind like sharp knives, and the more he thought about them, the deeper they cut. How was he ever going to become a hero? Was it even possible for someone like him? Maybe it was time to admit that this dream was just a childish fantasy that he needed to give up?
Deep down, he knew that his dream was now almost impossible. It was all because of that damn multichoice, which seemed to have been designed to trigger at the worst possible moment. Izuku could easily imagine how, while fighting a villain, those same floating options would suddenly appear before him... and one of them would force him to do something stupid, dangerous, or humiliating. And then not only he, but also the people he was trying to protect would be in danger.
Nevertheless... he still dreamed of being a hero like his idol.
Since childhood, he had watched the Almighty's debut video dozens of times — the day when the legend single-handedly saved a bus full of people engulfed in flames. The hero emerged from the smoke with a broad, confident smile and uttered his signature phrase:
"Everything's okay now. Why? Because I'm here!"
Those words always sent a shiver down his spine. He dreamed of becoming a hero like that — strong, unshakable, capable of inspiring hope with just a smile. But everything came crashing down on the day the doctor delivered his verdict.
"Unexceptional."
One word destroyed all his dreams. He still remembers how, with tears in his eyes, he asked his mother if he could ever be like the Almighty. But instead of answering, she just hugged him, barely holding back her own tears, and whispered that she was sorry...
That wasn't what he wanted to hear.
And then it only got worse. In kindergarten, the children he used to play with began to shun him. At first, they just stopped inviting him to play, then they started whispering behind his back, and soon they were openly mocking him: throwing stones at him, taking his toys, calling him names. The teachers looked at him with pity... but also with some hidden irritation, as if he were an annoying insect they wanted to get rid of.
That was when he got his nickname, "Deku." The word sounded especially poisonous coming from Katsuki's mouth. "Useless" — that's what it meant. Bakugo, unlike him, was born with a powerful and impressive quirk, perfect for a career as a hero. Children admired him, and adults unanimously insisted that he would surely become great.
Little Midoriya followed him everywhere, like a puppy following an older dog. He believed that Katsuki would grow up to be an amazing hero. And, to be honest, he still thinks so. After all, Bakugo always trained, always improved his abilities, and was one of the best in school. Anyone could envy his determination... even Izuku himself.
And sometimes, in the most difficult moments, a treacherous thought crept into Midoria's head: maybe it was time to give up on his dream? He pushed it away, convincing himself that he couldn't give up... but those words kept coming back, like a quiet whisper in the dark.
Now, after everything that had happened, that whisper had grown louder. He began to rethink his entire life — from his childhood memories to the present day. And he couldn't help but ask himself:
"Did I do everything I could to get closer to my dream?"
He really had tried. He read books about heroes, spent hours studying their battles on video, wrote down every detail in his notebooks so he could learn everything down to the smallest detail. He trained as hard as he could, learned to analyze situations faster and plan his actions. But all these efforts repeatedly hit the same wall — the curse of multiple choice.
Two years ago, when he turned twelve, everything changed. The curse of multiple choice appeared — strange and merciless. It struck at the most unexpected and inappropriate moments, offering only two absurd options for action. And no matter what he chose, the consequences invariably ruined everything he had achieved.
He remembered how once, during a school competition, instead of finishing the race and winning a prize, he was forced to stand at the finish line shouting nonsense while the others passed by. Or the time when an important conversation with a teacher turned into embarrassment because of another crazy choice.
With such a burden... his dream became something illusory. Not because he didn't want it or didn't try, but because fate seemed to deliberately trip him up.
Logically speaking, with such a curse, the path to heroism is simply impossible.
No matter how persistent he was, the multiple choice would always find a way to turn any chance into a mockery.
Izuku stopped at the entrance to a dark tunnel under the bridge. For a second, he just stared into the depths, as if hoping that the darkness would answer him.
Then, quietly, almost in a whisper, he repeated:
"Deku..." His lips trembled, and his voice was filled with bitter exhaustion. "It seems I really am worthless. Maybe... maybe it really is time to give up on this dream."
Izuku raised his head, took a deep breath, and after a few seconds slowly exhaled.
"Hmm... I thought it would hurt more," he muttered, looking himself over from head to toe. "Hmm..." A thoughtful mumble escaped him. "I feel a kind of... lightness, I guess."
Smiling slightly, he continued on his way with a more cheerful step.
"Well, since I've given up on being a hero, I should think about my own happiness... and finally think seriously about the future," he sang in a low voice, almost playfully.
But his cheerful tone was cut short when he heard a strange, wet, sticky sound behind him. He spun around and froze. Behind him, right before his eyes, something disgustingly swamp-colored was gathering from the dark puddles on the asphalt, thick and quivering like slime with rare bubbles struggling to rise.
This "something" quickly took on the shape of a tall, hideously flexible body with empty eye sockets. There was no need to guess — it was evil.
Izuku was about to run away, but the world seemed to shake before his eyes.
In a familiar, sickeningly hateful manner, a voice rang out:
"Choose."
[1. Lie down with your legs spread apart in front of him and whisper intimately, "You can do whatever you want with me, baby."]
[2. Take off your pants, sit down, and... do your business while looking the villain straight in the eyes.]
"...Yeah, villain," he said grimly. "But damn it... why now? Why always at the worst possible moment?!"
Such thoughts swirled in the head of the unfortunate Izuku, who now cursed this stupid "choice." There was no time to complain about fate — besides, an increasingly strong, oppressive feeling of pain was already beginning to pierce his head.
Gritting his teeth and summoning the last of his pride, he chose the first option.
The villain, who had already assessed his "invisibility cloak" and clearly noticed the boy's lack of normal clothing, was about to grab him... and suddenly froze.
Midorija simply lay down on the ground, spread his legs, and, his face flushed like a traffic light, tried to give his voice an intimate tone:
"You can do whatever you want with me, sweetie."
The world seemed to stop. The villain froze, staring at the scene, and stood motionless for several seconds, as if he had been hit on the head.
"What the hell?!" he finally exploded.
Izuku remained silent, continuing to lie in his humiliating position.
"Hey, are you out of your mind?" the villain asked irritably. "Just like that, spreading your legs in front of a villain and flirting? That's... that's not normal! Do you understand that?"
But the guy remained silent, staring off into the distance.
He may have been a villain, but he was clearly not stupid. A couple of seconds of thought, and a simple logical chain formed in his head: the guy was obviously trying to stall for time until help arrived. Clever. But here, in the dimly lit tunnel, few people could see him, and he hadn't seen anyone calling the police or heroes. So it wasn't even clever, it was stupid.
"Fine, to hell with it," the villain grimaced, realizing how ambiguous that would sound. "I'll just use your body..." He grimaced again. "Damn, that's not what I meant."
He was already reaching for Midoria when suddenly a loud metallic BOOM split the air. The sound came from below. A manhole cover flew up, hitting the pavement with a dull clang, and a tall, broad-shouldered man with muscles that looked like they were carved from stone rose from the dark hole. He was holding a regular grocery bag in his hands, which contrasted with his imposing figure.
"Don't worry, young man!" he declared loudly, flashing a dazzling smile. "Everything's fine now. Because... I'm here!"
"Oh, damn..." was all the villain managed to mutter as he swung his fist.
The giant dodged the blow with such ease, as if in slow motion, and, straightening up abruptly, struck with his fist, shouting:
"Texas... SMASH!"
The air exploded, forming a shock wave that hit the villain with such force that his liquid body scattered into hundreds of splashes and fragments, crashing against the walls and floor.
Midorija, still lying on the ground, instinctively jumped to his feet. At first he looked in shock at the defeated villain, then at his savior.
Everything inside him went cold, and goosebumps ran down his spine.
There he stood before him. The legend. The symbol of peace. The number one hero.
The Almighty.
"Are you okay?" The Almighty's voice was warm, yet full of confidence.
"Y-y-y-yes," Izuku managed to say, trying in vain to stop his voice from shaking.
"Excellent," nodded the number one hero and, without wasting any time, began to gather the scattered fragments of the defeated villain into a large plastic bottle, as if it were something ordinary.
"Sorry for getting you into this, young man. I don't usually make mistakes like this. Today is my day off, and I confess I was a little... careless," he said calmly, continuing to carefully stuff even the villain's eyes into the bottle. "I advise you to see a doctor anyway. Just in case you have any bruises.
"You don't have to apologize!" Midoria waved his hands, his eyes literally burning. "On the contrary... I... I should thank you for saving me!"
"No need to thank me, kid," an all-powerful smile lit up his face. "It's my job."
"But still..." Izuku began, but was immediately interrupted:
"Don't you need to get home?"
"Oh... right! But... can I...?" He frantically rummaged through his backpack, pulling out a notebook and a pen, and handed them to the hero. "Can I have your autograph?"
The almighty didn't even hesitate:
"Of course."
Taking the pen, he wrote his signature in broad, energetic letters on the blank page and returned the notebook.
Midorija stared at it as if it were a relic. His face broke into a blissful smile, and his heart pounded as if it were about to jump out of his chest.
He was on cloud nine.
He had just received an autograph from the Almighty.
"Well, I'm done," said the Almighty, tightly screwing the cap back on the bottle containing the defeated villain. He then headed for the exit of the underground passage.
Midorian had already opened his mouth to ask another question, but stopped himself at the last moment.
"Take care of yourself, young man," the hero said over his shoulder before leaping into the sky with a powerful jump.
Izuku stood watching him go until the silhouette of the Almighty disappeared behind the rooftops. For a few more seconds, he simply processed what had happened, then, with a heavy sigh, headed home.
The road was surprisingly quiet. No villains, no accidents — even the dog that usually lunged at him in his neighbor's yard was sleeping in the sun.
But as soon as he approached the entrance to his house, a familiar cold voice rang in his head:
"Choose."
[1. A beautiful girl will fall on you.]
[2. A huge statue of Buddha will fall on you.]
Izuku frowned. This choice was different from most of the previous ones — there were no familiar crazy or shameful options like "walk down the street in your underwear" or "yell something indecent in a crowd."
Although... the second option definitely sounded like a joke. A joke that could end with his funeral.
"Yeah, sure..." he muttered and, without thinking, chose the first option.
The icon with the choices immediately began to slowly dissolve into thin air...
Izuku stood there, racking his brains — what was going to happen now?
Suddenly, a growing whistle sounded from above, and he instinctively looked up, managing only to exhale:
"What the...?"
BANG!
Something heavy and quite soft hit him with force, knocking him off his feet. He hit his back on the asphalt and for a second thought he might be dead... But the cold and roughness of the sidewalk convinced him otherwise.
Carefully opening his eyes, he saw the figure of a girl who had fallen... right on top of him. She was on all fours, in a bridge position, her back down, her legs pressed against the ground on either side of his head, and her hands also pressed against the ground.
Izuku immediately noticed her short skirt, which gave him a glimpse of her underwear, and his face instantly turned red, like a ripe tomato. He quickly looked away, but his heart was already beating like crazy.
The girl easily, without any embarrassment, pushed herself up from the ground with her palms and stood up. Her sky-blue eyes met Midoriya's emerald-green eyes.
"Midorii Izuku-san!" she said loudly, almost solemnly.
The boy, still lying on his back, tried to look at her face, trying to ignore everything else.
"Y-y-you... k-know me?" he asked in a trembling voice.
"Yes," she nodded confidently. "I know everything about you."
"B-but who are you...?" Midoriya managed to say, a little calmer.
The girl smiled slightly, as if she knew something he couldn't even imagine.
"And the truth, what is my name? But that doesn't matter. I'm here to free Midoriya-sama from the curse!"