𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘍𝘭𝘺 || 𝘒. 𝘉𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰

4. Hit Where It Hurts

Staring at the leaderboard, I wasn't surprised who sat at the top. What unnerved me was who was at the bottom.

Midoriya.

I couldn't even find it in myself to care that I was number 10 as I looked at the rankings. That there were nine people ahead of me—nine who were better than me. I could remedy that soon enough. I would have time to work and train and learn to be better. I'd be here to do it. I'd have a chance.

But Midoriya...

Dead last. Number 20.

There was no way. He couldn't possibly go home.

Could he?

But that was the stipulation Mr. Aizawa had put in place before the exams started—that last place would be kicked out of UA and sent home.

My eyes trailed reluctantly from the digital board to where Midoriya stood beside me. His head was downcast, no doubt falling in defeat when the ranks appeared. His hands trembled, clutched tightly at his side. One finger was bruised and broken– an ugly violet thing amongst the rest.

He had hurt it during the ball throw.

If the violent disruption of air particles were anything to go by when he activated his quirk, I could understand a broken bone or two. The air charged the moment he conjured it forward—It was concentrated, precise, robust. I felt the vibrations down to my core—had any malice accompanied the power, it may have scared me, but there was nothing but sheer determination behind it.

Midoriya had gone the duration of the exams without ever once using his quirk.

It was impressive. To not have to rely on your power—not be dependent on anything but your strength and resolve when facing an endeavor.

That concept is lost on many. Most people relied on their quirk like it was a crutch. Like they would be helpless to do anything in life without its help. If I didn't admire him before, I sure did now.

Well, more so a mixture of admiration and envy, if I was being frank.

Midoriya seemed fearless in areas where many other people fell short—in areas I fell short. He had a certain quality about him that refused to be overlooked. Despite his humble disposition, his presence emanated strength and, most importantly, desire.

How anyone could count him out—I had no idea. He deserved to be here or at least deserved a chance.

That's what we all longed for in life, wasn't it?

A chance.

"Oy, nerd! What the fuck was that? What happened to the quirkless loser I've known all these years, hah?" My head snapped toward the last person anyone wanted to see—Midoriya and I, especially. "You think you can lie and make a fool out of me all of these years?!"

To his credit Midoriya kept his head down, ignoring Bakugo. Showing unfathomable restraint—a lesser man probably wouldn't have shown such merit and would have socked the blonde right in his stupid face for his douchebag tendencies and called it a day.

Luckily, I wasn't a man—so screw merit, honor, and all that bullshit. My fingers were itching to connect with the aforementioned stupid face.

"Where the hell do you get off talking to him like that?" I said, stepping around Midoriya and up to Bakugo. "Better yet, talking to anyone like that?"

The mood shifted instantly. 1A's mindless chatter died down to a dull roar as it had earlier in the classroom. Nothing more than white noise, static, the ambiance that was becoming a background track of sorts to these joyous meetings with this boom-boom bastard.