"I just don't like being addressed that way," said Tenya Iida, taking a quick bite of his lunch. "So I changed how I refer to myself."
He adjusted his glasses, posture straight as always.
"My family runs a hero agency. I'm the second son. You may have heard of the Turbo Hero, Ingenium."
Across the table, Izuku Midoriya leaned forward at once, eyes lighting up.
"Of course! He's based in Tokyo, right? A lot of sidekicks, great reputation—wait…"
A small, proud smile formed on Iida's face.
"He's my older brother."
Izuku blinked, caught off guard by how simply he said it.
"My brother values order and responsibility," Iida continued. "He leads by example and earns people's trust. I chose to become a hero because of him. But I still have a long way to go. That's why I thought you might be better suited to lead the class."
Izuku scratched his cheek, smiling awkwardly. "I'm really not."
"You won't know unless you try."
"I'm sure about this one."
Iida opened his mouth to respond—
—and the alarm cut through the cafeteria.
"Attention! Level 3 alert! All students, evacuate immediately!"
The shift was instant. Conversations collapsed into noise as students surged toward the exits.
"What's going on?""Is this real?""Move!"
Izuku was already moving.
"Uraraka, lift us up! Iida, check outside! Yaoyorozu, make a loudspeaker!"
"Got it!" Ochaco Uraraka, Momo Yaoyorozu, and Iida answered in unison.
Gravity loosened its hold as Uraraka activated her Quirk, lifting them above the crowd. Iida shot forward, engines roaring, arcing cleanly toward the nearest window.
He braced against the glass and looked outside.
"…Reporters," he said after a moment. "Looks like the same group from this morning."
Izuku tossed him the loudspeaker. Iida caught it without breaking focus and raised it.
"Everyone, stop!"
His voice cut through the chaos, amplified and firm. Movement slowed. Heads turned.
"There's no threat. It's just reporters. This is U.A.—stay calm and act like it."
The panic unraveled gradually, tension easing as the message spread.
—
By the time the reporters were escorted off campus, nearly thirty minutes had passed. The atmosphere settled, though a trace of adrenaline still lingered in the air.
Back in the classroom, the chatter picked up immediately.
"Iida handled that perfectly.""Yeah, that was solid.""He really fits as class president."
Izuku returned to his seat without a word.
A few desks away, Iida stood surrounded by classmates, accepting their praise with a composed nod.
Izuku lowered his gaze.
The feeling was familiar—uncomfortably so.
A memory surfaced: childhood, a small circle of kids gathered around Katsuki Bakugo after his Quirk first appeared. Admiration, excitement… and distance.
"…Why now?" Izuku thought. "I have One For All."
The thought didn't sit right.
If that power disappears, what are you left with?
His fingers tightened slightly against the desk.
"I got into U.A. without a Quirk. That alone was enough."
And your goal?
He exhaled, steadying himself.
"I haven't forgotten."
"Midoriya."
He looked up. Iida stood beside him.
"What I did earlier—keeping everyone calm—that was because of your idea," Iida said. "You saw the situation clearly."
Izuku shook his head, standing.
"You handled it. I just pointed things out."
He gave a small nod.
"I'm going to step out for a bit."
—
The restroom was quiet, the noise of the classroom fading the moment the door closed.
Izuku turned on the tap and splashed water over his face. Droplets ran down his skin as he lifted his head and met his reflection.
He looked tired.
"Maybe I've been pushing too hard lately…"
He let out a slow breath.
"…but I can't afford to slow down."
He lifted the hem of his shirt, briefly checking his condition, then pulled it off completely.
Reaching behind his back, he began unfastening the weighted gear strapped across his shoulders.
The first set dropped with a dull thud against the floor.
He rolled his shoulders, wincing slightly as tension released, joints cracking softly.
"…No wonder that run felt off."
One by one, the weights came free.
With each piece removed, his posture shifted—lighter, steadier. The strain he'd grown used to quietly peeled away.
By the time he finished, his upper body was fully reflected in the mirror, lean and defined from constant training.
Izuku rested his hands against the sink, watching himself for a moment.
Then, slowly, he straightened.