I dragged myself out of bed at 6:13 AM with zero enthusiasm. Mornings existed purely to torment me these days. The hot shower helped a little, washing away the remnants of dreams I couldn't quite remember but left me feeling unsettled anyway. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I wiped away the steam and stared at myself.
Same green eyes. Same freckles. Same unruly hair. But something about the face looking back didn't match the memories I had of myself. The soft roundness of childhood was fading, replaced by sharper angles. The earnest brightness in my eyes had dulled to something more calculating.
"Izuku! Breakfast!"
"Coming, Mom."
Mom had made tamagoyaki, rice, and miso soup. She pushed the food across the table with a hopeful smile.
"Are you excited for your field trip today?"
I nodded, taking a bite. "Yeah. Should be interesting."
"You mentioned something about the CEO's son being there? What was his name again?"
"Harry Osborn." I sipped the miso soup. "Nineteen years old and already running Oscorp Japan. Must be nice having a father who hands you an empire."
Mom's smile faltered. "I'm sure he worked hard to earn that position."
"Sure." I finished my rice in three quick bites. "Because meritocracy is alive and well in our society."
The sarcasm hung between us like a curtain. Mom busied herself with clearing her own empty plate.
"I should go," I said, standing up. "Don't want to be late."
"Have fun, sweetie." Mom's voice followed me to the door. "Learn something amazing!"
I paused with my hand on the doorknob. "I always do, Mom."
The walk to school was the same route I'd taken for years. Same cracked sidewalk. Same convenience store on the corner. Same crosswalk where Bakugo had once shoved me into traffic as a "joke." The familiarity of it all made my skin crawl.
I slipped my wireless earbuds in and pulled up my playlist. Laufey's "Night Light" filled my ears. The morning sunshine felt less irritating with her voice in my head.
Aldera High loomed ahead, beige and forgettable. I adjusted my posture, straightening my spine, letting my shoulders fall into a relaxed line. Hands in pockets. Face neutral. The mask I wore these days.
The hallways were already crowded when I arrived. Bodies pressed against lockers, friends huddled in tight circles, couples intertwined like they might never see each other again. The air smelled of cheap body spray, floor cleaner, and the lingering ghost of yesterday's cafeteria lunch.
I moved through it all like water through rocks. People moved aside without realizing they were doing it.
Tetsuya Kishimoto, a guy with a minor rock-skin Quirk who used to "accidentally" shoulder-check me into lockers, saw me coming. His eyes widened slightly, his body tensing. I kept my gaze forward, expression bored. As I passed, he pressed himself back against the wall, giving me a wider berth than necessary.
Fascinating how quickly the pecking order shifts when you stop playing by their rules.
Near the water fountain, Nanami Sato glanced up from her phone. She'd once loudly wondered if my Quirkless status was contagious. Today, she offered a hesitant, almost apologetic smile.
I gave her a slight nod, polite but dismissive, and kept walking. Her smile faltered.
Sorry, Nanami. The window for friendship closed right around the time you compared me to a leper.
The classroom was twenty feet ahead when I spotted him. Katsuki Bakugo, walking from the opposite direction, flanked by his usual sycophants. His uniform was as rebelliously disheveled as mine, but where mine was a quiet "fuck you" to the system, his was a statement of superiority.
Our eyes met for a fraction of a second. His crimson irises flashed with something ugly. For a moment, I thought he might revert to form—explosive palms, creative threats, the usual Bakugo experience.
Instead, his upper lip curled. He made a sharp, contemptuous sound in the back of his throat and deliberately turned his back on me, addressing one of his cronies.
"Oi, did you finish that math homework? I need to check something."
I continued past him without breaking stride, without acknowledging the interaction at all.
Much more civilized. We're practically diplomats.
Inside the classroom, I claimed a seat by the window in the back row. One earbud still in, the other dangling loose so I could hear if the teacher said anything remotely interesting. The view outside was a brick wall, but at least it was honest about what it was.
The classroom filled slowly. Bakugo entered and took his usual front-row seat, immediately kicking his feet up on the desk and leaning back in his chair. The message was clear: the classroom was his kingdom, and he was lounging on his throne.
Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Takahashi, shuffled in five minutes after the bell. His shoulders slumped under the weight of twenty years of teaching apathetic teenagers. His tie was crooked, and he carried a stack of papers that looked on the verge of sliding out of his grasp.
"Alright, settle down, everyone," he called over the persistent chatter. No one settled down. He sighed. "QUIET!"
That got some results. The volume dropped from "shopping mall" to "busy restaurant."
"As you know, today is our field trip to Oscorp." He waved the papers in his hand. "I have your permission slips here. If you don't have yours signed, you'll be spending the day in the library with Ms. Nakamura."
A collective groan rose from several students who had clearly forgotten.
"Now, I hope you're all excited. Oscorp is one of the most cutting-edge research facilities in Tokyo. This is a rare opportunity to see real science at work."
"Is this trip mandatory?" called out Koji, a kid whose only distinguishing feature besides his eyes that could stretch was his ability to ask the dumbest questions at the worst times.
Mr. Takahashi pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, Koji. It's a school day. Attendance is mandatory."
I turned my music up slightly. Laufey's "From the Start" provided a suitable soundtrack to this familiar display of educational futility.
"Oscorp?" Bakugo's voice cut through the music. He hadn't turned around, hadn't even bothered to look at the teacher. "Whatever. Just another stepping stone."
Mr. Takahashi ignored the comment, having long ago learned not to challenge Bakugo publicly. "They'll be showcasing their bio-engineering division, their materials science lab, and their Quirk application research."
A girl near the front raised her hand. "Are we going to see Norman Osborn? The actual Norman Osborn?"
"Unfortunately, Mr. Osborn is only in Tokyo for the transition meetings. We will, however, be given a presentation by his son, Harry Osborn, who's taking over as CEO of Oscorp Japan."
This generated a murmur of mild interest. A nineteen-year-old CEO was unusual enough to penetrate the fog of teenage boredom.
I leaned back in my chair, already knowing most of this. I'd read everything publicly available about Oscorp, from their financial reports to their research abstracts. The presentation would be corporate propaganda, carefully sanitized for public consumption. The real interesting stuff happened behind closed doors.
Mr. Takahashi, sensing the tenuous grasp he had on the class's attention, played his trump card.
"And I know this is what most of you really care about," he said with the weary resignation of someone who knew his students too well. "Oscorp has generously offered our class access to their executive buffet for lunch. All you can eat. For free."
The reaction was immediate and enthusiastic. Cheers erupted. High-fives were exchanged. Even Bakugo's cronies perked up, though the explosive blond himself merely snorted, above such pedestrian concerns as free food.
I couldn't help the cynical smirk that tugged at my lips. Of course. Science? Innovation? The future? No. But unlimited food?
Now that's worth celebrating.
Mr. Takahashi spent the next fifteen minutes going over the schedule and the rules, which could be summarized as "don't touch anything, don't embarrass me, and for the love of God, don't use your Quirks."
I tuned him out entirely, letting my mind wander to what I actually wanted to see at Oscorp. Their bio-enhancement division was reportedly doing groundbreaking work on genetic modification. Their prosthetics department had created neural interfaces that could replace limbs with 95% natural function. Their Quirk stabilization research might even hold answers for people whose abilities harmed them more than helped.
That was the real prize. Not a fancy lunch or a sanitized tour.
The morning dragged on through three more classes, none of which held my attention. By the time we were finally instructed to gather in front of the school, I was mentally counting the cracks in the ceiling tiles to stay awake.
Outside, a sleek charter bus idled by the curb. It was nicer than I expected, with tinted windows and the Oscorp logo emblazoned on the side in green and purple. At least they were spending real money on this PR exercise.
Mr. Takahashi stood by the door with his clipboard, trying to maintain order as students pushed past each other to claim the best seats.
"Single file! No pushing! I'm keeping track of who's boarding!"
I hung back, in no rush to join the chaos. Through the windows, I could see Bakugo had already claimed the back row for himself and his immediate followers, establishing territory even in transit.
I was one of the last to board, sliding into an empty window seat near the middle, far enough from Bakugo to avoid his orbit but not so far forward that I'd be in the teacher's line of sight.
As the final stragglers found seats, Mr. Takahashi stood at the front of the bus, clipboard clutched to his chest like a shield.
"Now remember," he said, raising his voice over the chatter, "you are representing Aldera High! This is a privilege. I expect you all to be on your best behavior. Don't touch anything, be respectful, and please, try not to embarrass the school."
I slipped my second earbud back in and scrolled through my playlists, settling on something with enough bass to drown out the cacophony around me. As the bus lurched into motion, I leaned my head against the cool glass and watched Aldera High begin to recede.
I closed my eyes, letting the music wash over me, feeling the gentle sway of the bus as it merged onto the highway toward downtown Tokyo.