I stretched in my chair, feeling the satisfying pop of joints that had been locked in writing position for far too long. The soft glow of my multiple monitors illuminated the organized chaos of my workspace – sticky notes with plot points, character relationship charts, and half-empty coffee mugs creating a writer's nest around me.
"Let's see how our little story is doing today," I muttered, clicking over to WebNovel. My eyes widened slightly behind my round glasses as I noticed something unusual. There, sitting above "My Hero Academia: Heavenly Restriction" was another MHA fanfic – "MHA: Cursed by Fate."
A laugh bubbled up from my chest, surprising even me with its nostalgic tone. "Well, well... I haven't felt this much pressure since the Heian Era." I paused, realizing how that might sound to anyone who didn't know better. "Not that any of you would remember that particular competition, of course."
My attention drifted to the stats, and I felt my eyes light up. "750 powerstones! Oh my precious readers, you beautiful souls!" I spun in my chair, the Stitch ears on my hood flopping with the movement. "You know what this means..."
I cracked my knuckles, a mischievous grin spreading across my face as I turned to address you directly – yes, you, reading this right now.
"Hello there, my wonderful readers! Your favorite meta-narrator here, coming to you live from my writing den of iniquity. First, I need to thank each and every one of you for getting us to 750 powerstones. Do you have any idea how much creative energy you've just unleashed? It's like giving a sugar rush to imagination itself!"
I reached for my ever-present notebook, flipping through pages of plot points and character notes. "As promised, this means you've earned yourselves a bonus chapter. And let me tell you, I've got something special planned. Though I should probably warn Recovery Girl to stock up on supplies... these characters do tend to get carried away when I'm feeling particularly inspired."
Pausing, I glanced at the story sitting above mine on the rankings. "Oh, and while we're here – you should absolutely check out 'MHA: Cursed by Fate.' It's actually pretty good! You know what they say – competition breeds innovation."
"You know, it's funny... some authors might get nervous seeing another story climb the rankings, but me? It just makes me want to write even more. There's something beautiful about multiple storytellers playing in the same sandbox, each bringing their own unique vision to life."
Adjusting my glasses, I gave a small, knowing smile. "Besides, after several centuries of storytelling, you learn that there's always room for more tales. The more the merrier, I say! Though I do hope they're ready for what I have planned next... I haven't even shown you all what Izuku can really do yet."
I pulled my notebook closer, uncapping a fresh pen. "So thank you, truly, for all your support. Those powerstones aren't just numbers – they're fuel for creativity, inspiration given form. And trust me, I plan to make every single one count."
A small doodle of Izuku appeared in the margin of my notes, seemingly of its own accord. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I have a bonus chapter to write. And if I know our boy here, he's probably getting impatient. You know how he gets when kept waiting..."
Though that might just be because I may have left him in a rather... interesting situation in my last draft. Oops.
"Keep those powerstones coming, my lovely readers! And remember – Plus Ultra isn't just a motto, it's a way of life. Even for meta-narrators like me."
"Now then," I whispered, more to myself than anyone else, though I knew you could still hear me, "let's show them what a properly motivated storyteller can do, shall we?"
======
I stood in the locker room, hands braced against cold metal, forcing my breathing into a steady rhythm. My heart thudded against my ribcage like a caged animal seeking escape.
Breathe in. Hold. One... two... three...
Breathe out.
The weight of responsibility pressed down on my shoulders. Not just the speech - though that alone would be enough to unsettle anyone. No, this was bigger. My performance here could open or close doors for countless others who dared to dream beyond their limitations.
Breathe in...
"I can't believe how many pros are out there!" Ashido's voice cut through my meditation. She bounced on her toes, pink skin practically glowing with excitement. "Did you see Mirko in the VIP section? Mirko!"
...hold... one... two... three...
"Not just Mirko," Kaminari sprawled across a bench, affecting casualness despite his obvious nerves. "Did you see all those talent scouts? This is our chance to get noticed!"
Breathe out.
Around me, my classmates' energy manifested in different ways. Kirishima shadowboxed in the corner, muttering about manliness. Jiro twirled her earphone jacks, the movement betraying her anxiety. Manga's speech bubble head displayed rapid-fire sound effects - DOOM! CRASH! KAPOW! - each more dramatic than the last.
Breathe in...
"What if I trip?" Hagakure's floating uniform paced back and forth. "What if my boots fall off during the festival? What if-"
"You'll be fine," Ashido assured her. "We've trained for this!"
...hold...
"Trained?" Mineta's voice dripped skepticism. "Against robots. This is different! The whole country is watching!"
...one... two... three...
"Exactly." Camie's steady presence materialized beside me, her hand finding my shoulder. "The whole country gets to see what Class 1-A can do."
Breathe out.
The constant chatter of nerves, excitement, and fear swirled around me like leaves in a storm. Each voice carried its own flavor of anticipation - Kirishima's determined enthusiasm, Jiro's quiet resolve, Ashido's barely-contained energy.
Breathe in...
"Two minutes to showtime!" Present Mic's voice boomed through the speakers, sending a fresh wave of tension through the room.
...hold...
I straightened, turning to face my classmates. Their eyes found me automatically - not just because I was class president, but because they'd seen me fight. They knew what I could do.
What we could do.
Breathe out.
"Listen up." My voice cut through the chaos, steady and sure. "I know you're expecting some big speech. Some dramatic rallying cry about proving ourselves or showing the world what we're made of."
They stilled, waiting.
"But I'm not going to do that." I met each gaze in turn. "Because I don't need to. We're Class 1-A. We've already faced real villains. We've already proven ourselves where it counts."
Several of my classmates nodded.
"So fuck the cameras. Fuck the pros watching. Fuck everyone's expectations." A grin spread across my face, sharp and certain. "We got this shit."
The tension broke like a dam. Kirishima whooped, pumping his fist. Kaminari and Sero exchanged high-fives. Even Yaoyorozu smiled, some of her rigid posture relaxing.
"Hell yeah we do!" Ashido bounced higher, practically vibrating with energy.
"Plus Ultra!" Manga's head displayed a massive exclamation point.
I turned toward the tunnel entrance, ready to lead them out-
"Midoriya."
The voice cut through the locker room's fading energy like a blade of ice. I turned slowly, already knowing who I'd find.
Hitomi Todoroki stood apart from the others, her presence commanding attention without effort. Her mismatched eyes - one gray as winter storm clouds, one turquoise as tropical waters - fixed on me with laser focus. The scar around her left eye seemed to glow faintly in the fluorescent light.
"Yes?"
"I need to tell you something." Her words carried the precise, measured cadence of rehearsed speech. "Before we step out there."
The rest of the class stilled, sensing the shift in atmosphere. Even Kaminari's nervous energy quieted.
"Everyone's been so focused on Class 1-A's performance at USJ." Hitomi's gaze never wavered. "On how we fought real villains. But they're missing what's truly interesting."
She took a single step forward.
"You." The word fell like a snowflake. "Quirkless. Yet you fought a creature designed to kill All Might."
I said nothing.
"Objectively, I have the strongest quirk in our class." Another step. Frost crystals formed where her right foot touched the floor. "Half-Cold, Half-Hot. The perfect combination for a top hero."
"And yet..." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You intrigue me, Midoriya. Your strength. Your skill. The way you move like water and strike like lightning."
The room had gone absolutely silent. Even Camie, usually quick with a comment, watched the scene unfold.
"So I'm declaring this now, before we step into that arena." Hitomi's voice carried the weight of absolute conviction. "I will defeat you. Using only my ice. To prove that natural talent still trumps mere training."
Ah… so that's how it's gonna be.
A smile spread across my face - not warm, not friendly. The kind of smile that made villains nervous.
"Natural talent?" I let out a low chuckle. "Is that what you call it? Riding daddy's coattails?"
Hitomi's eyes widened fractionally - the first crack in her icy composure.
"You want to prove something?" I closed the distance between us in two smooth steps. "Then prove it with all of your power."
"You dare-"
"I dare because I earned every ounce of my strength." My voice dropped lower, meant for her ears alone. "While you've been hiding behind half your potential, afraid of what using it might mean."
Color bloomed high on her cheeks - anger? Embarrassment?
"Uh, guys?" Kirishima's uncertain voice broke through the tension. "Maybe we should-"
"We're on the same team here," Camie added, a note of warning in her tone.
"True." I never broke eye contact with Hitomi. "But out there? Only one person can be number one."
The speakers crackled overhead: "CLASS 1-A! YOU'RE UP IN 30 SECONDS!"
"Well then." I stepped back. "Shall we?"
Hitomi's expression had shifted - something complex playing behind those mismatched eyes. "After you... class president."
I turned toward the tunnel entrance, where gray concrete gave way to blinding stadium lights. Behind me, my classmates fell into formation - twenty students united by circumstance and forged in real combat.
"Remember what I said." My voice carried clearly in the enclosed space. "Fuck their expectations. We write our own story today."
The tunnel stretched before us like the throat of some great beast. Somewhere beyond, thousands waited to judge our worth.
Let them judge.
We had nothing left to prove.
"Plus Ultra," I murmured, and stepped into the light.
The roar hit us like a physical wave - thousands of voices merging into a single wall of sound. Camera flashes exploded like static lightning, turning the world into a strobe-lit dreamscape.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Present Mic's voice boomed through the stadium speakers. "PLEASE WELCOME... CLASS 1-A!"
I scanned the stadium, taking in the sea of faces. The sheer scope of it threatened to overwhelm - not just the physical crowd, but the weight of attention. Cameras tracked our every move, broadcasting this moment across the nation.
"Holy shit," Kaminari whispered behind me. "That's a lot of people."
"Keep it together," I murmured, just loud enough for the class to hear. "We've faced worse than a crowd."
But even I had to admit, this was different from USJ. There, we'd fought for survival. Here, we fought for our futures.
"AND WHAT A CLASS THEY ARE!" Present Mic's enthusiasm filled the stadium. "THESE FIRST-YEARS HAVE ALREADY MADE HEADLINES BY FIGHTING OFF A VILLAIN ATTACK! TALK ABOUT GOING BEYOND, AM I RIGHT?!"
The crowd's response was deafening. I caught glimpses of signs in the audience - some supporting UA in general, others already displaying specific names. Yaoyorozu's face beamed from several professional-looking banners, clearly prepared by her family's PR team.
"Look!" Hagakure's sleeve pointed upward. "They're showing clips!"
The massive screens around the stadium played footage from USJ - heavily edited, of course. No shots of real violence or injury. Just enough to build the narrative: young heroes rising to the challenge.
I noticed they focused heavily on certain moments. Bakugo's explosive counterattacks. Todoroki's ice barriers.
And me.
My breath caught as I watched myself move on the giant screens. The footage was grainy, captured by security cameras, but there was no mistaking the fluid grace of Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist.
"Damn, Midoriya," Kirishima whistled low. "You look scary as hell up there."
"Language!" Iida chopped his arms robotically. "We must maintain proper decorum-"
"Fam, we're on national TV," Camie cut in, her hand finding mine. "Pretty sure they can't hear us over Mic-sensei anyway."
"JOINING THEM FROM THE HERO COURSE, NOT TO BE OUTDONE IS CLASS 1-B!" Present Mic's voice drew attention to the tunnel opposite ours.
The other hero class emerged to their own wave of cheers. I studied them carefully - we hadn't interacted much, but they'd be our main competition today.
"Did they fight villains too?" Someone in the crowd asked loudly.
"No, just 1-A!"
"Must've been not as good or something..."
I winced internally. That kind of talk would breed resentment. Sure enough, I could see several 1-B students tensing at the whispers.
"FROM GENERAL STUDIES - CLASSES C, D, AND E!"
The general course students filed in, including Hitoshi Shinso, whose calculating gaze found mine instantly. The crowd's enthusiasm dimmed further.
"SUPPORT COURSE CLASSES F, G, AND H!"
A pink-haired girl bounced energetically among the tech-focused students, waving what looked suspiciously like an experimental weapon. The audience response bordered on perfunctory.
"AND FINALLY, MANAGEMENT COURSE CLASSES I, J, AND K!"
By now, the spectators barely mustered token acknowledgment. The disparity in reception couldn't have been more obvious - or more inflammatory. Glares from other classes burned into our backs like laser beams.
Movement caught my eye - a figure ascending the stage with grace. Midnight, the R-Rated Hero, her costume leaving precious little to imagination. My recent training sessions with her flashed through my mind.
She cracked her whip, the sound splitting the air. "Now, for our introductory speech!"
The stadium erupted again, masculine appreciation drowning out everything else. Catcalls and whistles echoed off concrete walls. Another crack of her whip restored relative quiet.
"For the student pledge, we have..." Midnight's eyes found mine. "Izuku Midoriya!"
The crowd's tone shifted instantly. Female voices rose in pitch and volume.
I squeezed Camie's hand, earning a supportive smile. A quick glance at Momo revealed calm reassurance in her dark eyes. Time to deliver.
Midnight handed me the microphone, leaning close. "Show them what you're made of, handsome." Her whisper carried an edge of challenge.
I faced the sea of faces, thousands of eyes fixed on me. Somewhere in the VIP section, my mother watched. Around the country, countless children dreamed of standing where I stood.
What kind of example do I want to set?
What kind of hero did I want to be?
Nezu's question echoed in my mind. The answer crystallized, clear as morning sunlight.
"When I was four years old," my voice carried across the stadium, "my doctor told me to give up on being a hero."
The crowd stilled.
"He wasn't the last. Teachers, classmates, pros, friends - they all said the same thing. 'Be realistic.' 'Know your limits.' 'Choose an achievable dream.'"
I let my gaze sweep across the gathered students.
"Look around you. Every person here has heard some version of that. Too weak. Too plain. Wrong quirk. Wrong background. Wrong dreams."
Movement rippled through the crowd as heads turned, students recognizing their own experiences in my words.
"But we're not here because we listened to those voices. We're here because we dared to believe in something bigger."
My eyes found Shinso in the general studies section. "Some of you are here to prove you belong in the hero course."
The support students. "Some are here to show that innovation matters more than raw power."
The management students. "Some are here to demonstrate that heroism needs more than just fighters."
"And you know what?" Energy surged through my voice. "You're all exactly where you need to be."
Murmurs rose from the crowd.
"UA isn't about maintaining artificial divisions between courses. It's about pushing past perceived limits. Breaking through barriers. Going beyond."
The stadium hummed with growing energy.
"So I ask you - are you ready to show Japan what the next generation of heroes looks like?"
"YES!" The response thundered back.
"Are you ready to prove that every single person here deserves their shot at greatness?"
"YES!"
"Are you ready to break every expectation, shatter every ceiling, and rewrite what's possible?"
The roar nearly drowned out my words.
"Then let's do what UA does best." I raised my fist toward the sky. "Let's go..."
The crowd knew what was coming. The wave of sound started in the student section and rippled outward like a tsunami:
"PLUS..."
Even the pro heroes joined in now, their voices adding depth to the growing crescendo.
"ULTRA!"
The sound system crackled under the assault of thousands of voices merged into one defiant cry. In that moment, we weren't separate courses or competing students.
We were UA. All of us.
And we were ready to show the world exactly what that meant.
I handed the microphone back to Midnight, who'd watched the whole speech with an unreadable expression. As I turned to rejoin my classmates, her whip cracked once more.
"Well said, Midoriya. Now then... SHALL WE BEGIN!?"
The crowd's energy shifted from inspiration to anticipation. The real test was about to start.
Time to put actions behind those words.
Time to show everyone exactly why I belonged here.
Time to make history.