"Izuku? Izuku!"
Izuku blinked, dragged back to the present. "…Huh? Mom?"
Across the table, Inko Midoriya frowned, concern written plainly on her face. "You've been staring at that dried fish for five minutes. Are you feeling alright?"
"Oh—yeah. I'm fine." He set his chopsticks down a little too quickly. "I'm done eating. I'll go train."
He stood, changed, and slipped out the door before she could press further.
Inko hesitated only a moment before following, a small camera clutched in her hands.
—
Izuku didn't head for his usual training route.
Instead, he drifted along the riverbank, hands in his pockets, idly kicking stones ahead of him. Each one skittered across the path before dropping into the water with a faint plunk.
"…So that's it."
The words came quietly, almost swallowed by the breeze.
"I didn't make it."
He kept walking, eyes unfocused.
"Maybe it's better this way. I can start thinking about something more realistic."
His steps slowed.
"…But was there really no chance?"
The question lingered, heavier than the rest.
His throat tightened.
"…I let him down."
It slipped out before he could stop it.
"I let All Might down."
His vision blurred. He wiped at his eyes, but the tears kept coming, stubborn and steady.
"I wasn't enough."
His voice echoed faintly across the empty stretch of river.
He stood there for a few seconds longer, shoulders tight, breath uneven—then forced himself to move.
"…No. If Mom sees this, she'll worry."
He dragged his sleeve across his face and straightened.
"Twenty kilometers."
His voice steadied, quieter but firm.
"Training doesn't stop."
He broke into a run.
From a distance, Inko lowered the camera, her grip tightening as her eyes glistened.
"…He's still trying."
—
By the time Izuku returned home, his legs felt heavy and unsteady.
He'd pushed past his usual limit—thirty kilometers instead of twenty.
"Yeah… that was too much…"
He opened the door, still catching his breath.
"…Mom?"
Inko stood waiting in the entryway, an envelope held carefully in both hands.
"Izuku—you're back. This came for you."
He froze.
"From U.A."
"What?"
He took it without hesitation and went straight to his room, closing and locking the door behind him.
—
He sat on the floor, the envelope resting in his hands.
He didn't open it.
Not yet.
Time stretched. A minute. Then another.
Finally, with a sharp breath, he tore it open.
A small, spherical device rolled into his palm.
"…This isn't a letter."
Before he could think further, it activated.
"I am here!"
A hologram burst into the room.
Izuku flinched back. "—! Could you not do that so suddenly?!"
All Might stood before him, larger than life even in projection, his familiar smile unwavering.
"Apologies for the delay," All Might said. "There were some formalities to take care of."
The background looked like a recording set.
"I've also joined the faculty at U.A. High School."
Izuku stared.
"…You're teaching there?"
Someone off-screen called out. All Might briefly turned, responded, then faced forward again.
"Now then. Let's discuss your results."
Izuku's shoulders tensed.
"If we're talking strictly about combat points," All Might said, "you scored zero."
The words were delivered plainly.
No pause. No softening.
Izuku's grip tightened around the device.
"…I figured."
He lowered his gaze.
"I already knew that."
But knowing didn't dull the impact.
"It still… hurts."
All Might studied him for a moment.
"However," he said, raising a small remote, "that's not the whole picture."
He gestured behind him.
"Take a look."
The screen shifted, and a recording began to play.
Izuku leaned forward slightly.
The girl from the exam appeared—the one pinned beneath the rubble.
"That's her…"
He recognized her instantly.
She stood before a staff member, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
"Um—excuse me," she said. "Have you seen a boy with green hair? Kind of messy… and freckles?"
She gestured awkwardly, trying to describe him.
Izuku's eyes widened.
"She's… talking about me."
"I was wondering… would it be possible to give him some of my points?"
Her voice was soft, but there was no hesitation in it.
"He said something like, 'I need at least one point,' so I thought… maybe he didn't get any…"
The recording continued.