Age: 15 (POV Izuku Midoriya)
The tatami mat scraped against my cheek. The smell of stale sweat and old wood filled my nostrils.
"Dead," a raspy voice said above me.
Sensei Ogawa pulled the wooden knife he had pressed against my carotid artery away and stepped back.
I lay on the floor for a second, breathing hard. My chest rose and fell rhythmically, seeking oxygen. My ribs ached where Ogawa had kneed me, and my forearms burned from blocking his attacks.
I jumped up, dusting off my gi.
"Again," I asked, getting into a stance.
Ogawa sighed, wiping his glasses with the hem of his shirt. He looked older today. The wrinkles around his eyes were deeper.
"Sit down, Midoriya."
It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order.
I sat in seiza, hands on my thighs, bowing my head.
"You won three out of five technical rounds today," Ogawa said, pacing around me. "You disarmed me twice. You took me down once using my own weight against me. Your technique is flawless. Your reading of the opponent is..." he paused, searching for the word, "terrifying."
I looked up, hopeful.
"So I'm ready?"
Ogawa looked at me. His dark eyes didn't hold the gleam of pride I expected. They held a resigned sadness.
"You are ready to survive, Izuku." He used my first name, something he rarely did. "If someone attacks you in an alley, you'll make it out alive. If a villain tries to rob you, you'll probably break his wrist. You are the best hand-to-hand fighter to step foot in this dojo in twenty years."
He crouched in front of me, leveling with my eyes.
"But you want to go to U.A. You want to be a Pro Hero. A Symbol."
"Yes, Sensei."
Ogawa pointed to the wall, where there was an old crack in the concrete.
"Punch that wall."
"Huh?"
"Punch it. With everything you have. Don't hold back."
I stood up. Walked to the wall. Took a deep breath, channeling all the power from my hips, rotating my shoulder, tensing every muscle fiber Kacchan had helped me build over a decade.
CRACK!
My fist impacted the concrete. Pain exploded in my knuckles, shooting up my arm like lightning.
I pulled my hand back, hissing. My knuckles were red and bleeding slightly. On the wall, there was a small dent. A little concrete dust fell to the floor.
Ogawa walked over and touched the dent.
"You broke the skin of the cement. Maybe caused a micro-fracture." He turned to me. "Bakugou would have blown this wall and the building next door apart with a flick of his wrist."
I lowered my head. The comparison hurt more than my hand.
"I know."
"That is your ceiling, kid." Ogawa's voice was soft, but brutal. "You have the mind of a general and the heart of a lion. But your body is human. Just human. Physics has limits. You can't lift a school bus to save children. You can't stop a collapsing building with your bare hands."
Ogawa put a hand on my shoulder.
"I have taught you to be a ghost. To be a snake. To win unfair fights. But I cannot teach you to be a god. And in this world of monsters and villains who can level cities... technique has a limit."
I felt my eyes filling with tears. I hated them. I hated being the "crybaby," but the frustration was acid in my throat.
"So... is it useless? All the training?"
"No," Ogawa said firmly. "It's not useless. You are dangerous, Midoriya. But you have to understand that if you enter that world, you will be fighting a war with a knife while everyone else has nuclear bombs."
He stood up and went to his desk. He pulled out a paper and handed it to me.
It was my certificate of completion from the dojo.
"I have nothing left to teach you. Go. And try not to die."
(...)
I walked out of the dojo with the crumpled certificate in my hand and my knuckles bandaged.
The afternoon sun blinded me for a moment.
"Hey, Izu-kun!"
Toga was sitting on the entrance railing, swinging her legs. She was wearing her leather jacket and eating an ice cream. Kacchan was beside her, leaning against the wall, checking something on his phone with a frown.
Seeing me, Kacchan put the phone away and scanned me. His red eyes stopped at my bandaged hand.
"Did you break something?" he asked.
"Just skin," I said, forcing a smile.
"Old Man Ogawa graduated you, huh?" Kacchan pointed at the paper in my hand.
"Yeah. Said he has nothing left to teach me."
"Good." Kacchan pushed off the wall and started walking. "That dojo was getting too small for you. You need to train against real Quirks, not retired cops."
We walked together toward the station. Toga skipped between the pavement tiles, humming. Kacchan walked with his usual arrogance, as if he owned the street.
I walked half a step behind.
I looked at Kacchan's back. It was broad. Strong. He could fly. He could generate explosions that shook the ground. Toga could disappear and become other people.
I could only punch walls and hurt my knuckles.
A glass ceiling, I thought.
I could see it. I could see the sky where All Might and Kacchan were. I could touch the glass with my fingers. But I couldn't break it. No matter how much I trained, no matter how much I analyzed, there would always be a biological barrier.
"Hey, Deku."
Kacchan stopped and turned around. He looked at me with that intensity that always made me feel like he was reading my mind.
"Stop thinking so loud. It's annoying."
"Sorry, Kacchan. It's just that... Ogawa said..."
"I know what Ogawa said. That you're human. That you can't stop a train with your teeth." Kacchan snorted. "News flash, nerd. Water is wet."
He walked up to me and flicked my forehead, right where I had the scar.
"You don't need to be a god to be a hero. You need tools. And if your biological tools are shit, we'll build others."
"But..."
"Tomorrow," he interrupted me, his voice dropping to a serious, almost prophetic tone. "Tomorrow is the day. I have a feeling everything is going to change. For everyone."
Toga stopped and looked at us, licking her ice cream.
"Is something bad happening tomorrow?"
"No," Kacchan said, looking at the sky where the first stars were appearing. "Tomorrow our real story begins."
I looked at my bandaged hand. Then I looked at my friends.
Kacchan believed in me. Toga believed in me. Mom believed in me.
Maybe Ogawa was right and I had a limit. But Kacchan had taught me that limits are there to be bombarded until they yield.
I clenched my fist, ignoring the pain.
I'm going to break that ceiling, I promised myself. Even if I have to break every bone in my body to do it.
"Let's go home," I said, catching up to them. "I'm hungry."
Tomorrow would be another day. And according to Kacchan, it would be the day.