At exactly six o'clock, I knock on door 3-A. Not because I'm punctual, but because I'm starving and the smell of someone's homemade curry has been wafting down the hallway for the past twenty minutes, making my stomach growl loud enough to be classified as a Quirk.
Broccoli opens the door mid-knock, nearly getting his nose flattened by my fist. He jumps back like a startled rabbit, green curls bouncing.
"S-sorry! I was just about to... I mean, I heard footsteps and thought..."
I lower my hand. "Relax, Midoriya. I'm not here to punch you."
He's changed out of his travel clothes into a t-shirt that just says "T-SHIRT" in kanji. It's so absurdly literal that I almost laugh.
"Nice fashion statement," I say, nodding at his shirt.
His cheeks flush pink. "Oh, this? It was on sale."
Of course it was.
I'm still wearing my black jeans but I've swapped the jacket for a simple black henley. No point getting too comfortable—first impressions matter, and the cafeteria will be full of our new classmates.
"Ready to go?" I ask, already starting toward the elevator. "I'm so hungry I could eat one of those robots from the entrance exam."
Midoriya follows, a nervous bundle of energy compared to my deliberate stride. His hands fidget, clasping and unclasping in front of him.
"I wonder what they serve," he mumbles, mostly to himself. "Lunch Rush is supposed to be in charge of the cafeteria, and his food is meant to be incredible. His cooking has nutritional properties specifically designed to enhance stamina and recovery rates. There was this article in Hero Weekly where they analyzed the caloric intake of students before and after he implemented his specialized menu, and the results were fascinating because—"
Christ, does he breathe?
"Broccoli."
His mouth snaps shut. "Sorry! I talk too much when I'm nervous."
"Are you always nervous?"
"...Yes."
"Then you always talk too much."
The elevator arrives with a soft ping.
"So," I say casually as the doors close, "that one-punch trick from the exam. You do that often? Seems like a messy, high-cost way to win a fight."
His shoulders tense. "It's not... I mean, I'm still learning to control my Quirk."
"What's it called?"
"Super... Super Strength."
He says it like a question, not an answer. Interesting.
"And it always breaks your bones?"
He winces. "For now. I'm working on containing the power output, but it's difficult. It's like trying to funnel a waterfall through a garden hose."
Waterfall through a garden hose. That's actually a pretty good description.
"So you're a glass cannon," I say as the elevator reaches the ground floor. "All power, no finesse."
He nods reluctantly. "That's fair. What about you? I saw your Quirk during the exam—you can make things explode?"
"Kinetic Charge," I correct him, leading the way across the lobby. "I convert an object's potential energy into kinetic energy. The explosion is just one application."
Midoriya's eyes light up, and I immediately regret giving him even that much information. His hands start moving as he talks, gesturing wildly.
"That's fascinating! So theoretically, you could apply that energy in other ways? Like enhancing the momentum of thrown objects, or even using it for mobility by charging surfaces you push off from? The applications for rescue operations alone are—"
"Hey, write a book about it later," I interrupt. "Let's eat first."
The cafeteria—or "Omega Mess" as the sign proclaims—is enormous. High ceilings, massive windows, and enough seating for what looks like the entire student body. Despite the institutional setting, it smells amazing—a blend of spices, grilled meat, and fresh bread that makes my mouth water.
"Wow," Midoriya breathes beside me. "This is nothing like my high school cafeteria."
"Mine either," I admit. My last memory of a school cafeteria involves mystery meat and plastic trays. This place looks like a high-end food court.
We grab trays and join the line. The selection is impressive—everything from traditional Japanese cuisine to Western comfort food, all prepared with obvious care. The prices posted beside each option are absurdly reasonable.
"They subsidize the food," Midoriya explains when he sees me checking the prices. "Part of the tuition package."
"A perk of being at the top," I muse, loading my plate with grilled salmon, rice, and vegetables. "Might as well take advantage."
Midoriya selects a katsudon bowl, looking at it like it's made of gold. "My favorite," he says with a small smile.
We find an empty table near the window. Midoriya keeps glancing around nervously, taking in the other students scattered throughout the cafeteria. Most are upperclassmen, already comfortable in their surroundings.
"So," I say between bites, "what made you want to be a hero? Besides your All Might shrine, I mean."
He chokes slightly on his rice. "It's not a shrine!"
"Fine. Your 'appreciation corner.' Whatever. The question stands."
Midoriya sets down his chopsticks, his expression suddenly serious.
"I want to save people," he says simply. "I want to be the kind of hero who helps everyone with a smile, no matter how bad things get."
There's no artifice in his voice. He means every word.
Huh.
"That's... surprisingly straightforward," I admit.
"What about you?" he asks.
I'm saved from answering by the approach of a girl with round cheeks and big, expressive eyes. She's wearing a simple pink cardigan over her uniform, and her short brown hair frames her face in a bob that somehow manages to be both practical and cute.
"Um, excuse me," she says, her voice high and sweet. "You're Midoriya, right? From the entrance exam?"
Midoriya's face turns the color of a tomato.
"Y-yes! That's me! Midoriya Izuku!"
Smooth, Broccoli. Real smooth.
The girl beams at him. "I'm Uraraka Ochaco! I wanted to thank you properly for saving me during the exam. When that zero-pointer was about to crush me, you jumped in like WOOSH! AND BAM! It was amazing!"
Midoriya looks like he might spontaneously combust.
"It wasn't... I mean, anyone would have..."
"No, they wouldn't," she insists. "Most people ran away. But you ran toward the danger. That's real hero stuff!"
"Mind if I join you?" she asks, already setting her tray down.
"Of course not!" Midoriya says too quickly.
I lean back in my chair, studying our new companion. Her clothes are clean but well-worn. She's chosen one of the least expensive meal options. When she talks about the campus, she mentions the practical facilities first, not the luxury amenities.
"I don't think we've met," she says, turning those big eyes on me. "Are you in the hero course too?"
"Yukio Murano. And yes, I'm one of the lucky few."
"He was at the exam too," Midoriya adds. "He coordinated a whole team during the robot battle."
Uraraka's eyes widen. "Oh! You're the one who helped take down the zero-pointer too! I remember seeing you right before..." She trails off, glancing at Midoriya. "Well, right before everything went crazy."
"Guilty as charged," I say, popping a piece of salmon into my mouth. "Though Broccoli here stole the show with his one-man demolition derby."
"Broccoli?" Uraraka repeats, looking confused.
"It's just a nickname," Midoriya says quickly, his ears turning red. "Because of my hair."
Uraraka looks at his green curls and giggles. "Oh! I see it now. Broccoli!"
"Please don't encourage him," Midoriya groans.
"I think it's cute," she says, which only makes his blush deepen. "So what do you call Murano-kun?"
I smirk. "He hasn't earned nickname privileges yet."
"Well, I guess I'll have to come up with one for you then," she says, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
I study her round face, the softness of her features contrasted with that hint of steel in her eyes.
"You know what?" I say. "You remind me of mochi. Sweet on the outside, substantial on the inside."
She blinks, then laughs. "Mochi? Really?"
"It suits you, Mochi," I say.
"I guess that's fair," she admits, still smiling. "Especially since I love eating mochi."
"See? Perfect."
Our conversation is interrupted by the approach of a tall, blue-haired boy with rectangular glasses. He walks with military precision, back straight and movements crisp. Before he even opens his mouth, I can tell exactly what kind of person he is.
Great. A rules guy.
"Excuse me," he says formally, his voice clipped. "I couldn't help but notice that you were both at the practical exam. I am Iida Tenya, from Somei Private Academy."
He bows slightly, then launches into a series of sharp, chopping hand gestures as he speaks.
"I wanted to apologize for my misconception during the exam briefing. Midoriya-kun, you perceived the true nature of the test when I did not. Your actions were befitting a hero!"
Midoriya looks overwhelmed by this barrage of formality. "Um, thanks? I didn't really think about it that much..."
"Precisely! Your instincts led you to the correct course of action, while I was blinded by the parameters as stated! A valuable lesson!"
Does this guy have a volume control?
"Would you care to join us, Hall Monitor?" I ask, gesturing to an empty chair.
Iida's forehead creases. "Hall Monitor? My name is Iida Tenya."
"Yeah, I heard you the first time, Glasses."
His posture becomes even more rigid, if that's possible. "Such casual disregard for proper address is inappropriate for U.A. students! We should strive to maintain decorum at all times!"
"We're eating dinner, not addressing the Emperor," I say, taking a deliberate sip of water. "Relax."
Iida looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel, but he sits down anyway, placing his tray with geometric precision.
"The proper schedule for evening meals is between 6:30 and 7:15 PM," he informs us, adjusting his glasses. "This allows for optimal digestion before evening study and sleep."
Midoriya checks his watch. "It's 6:20 now."
"Precisely! We are within acceptable parameters, though only just."
Uraraka catches my eye across the table and has to hide her smile behind her hand.
"So, Hall Monitor," I say, enjoying the way his eye twitches at the nickname, "what class are you in?"
"I have been assigned to Class 1-A," he says proudly.
"Me too!" Uraraka exclaims.
"Same here," Midoriya adds.
"Well, isn't that convenient," I drawl. "Looks like we're all classmates."
Iida immediately launches into a speech about the honor of being selected for 1-A and our responsibility to uphold the school's standards.
I tune most of it out.
"So you can just... super-strength anything?" she asks, making a punching motion.
"Sort of," Midoriya admits. "But I can't control it yet. What about you?"
"I can make things weightless," she explains, showing him the pads on her fingertips. "But if I use it too much, I get super nauseous."
"Fascinating! The—"
And they're off, trading Quirk details with the enthusiasm of collectors showing off prize stamps. It's interesting to watch Midoriya's nervous energy transform while Uraraka's cheerful demeanor takes on a more professional edge when discussing her abilities.
These three are going to be important players in the class. Midoriya with his raw power and analytical mind, Uraraka with her practical attitude and versatile Quirk, and Iida with his strict adherence to rules and obvious physical capabilities. All useful potential allies, or at least people to avoid antagonizing unnecessarily.
The Heart, the Hustler, and the Rulebook. And then there's me.
Class 1-A is going to be so much fun.