"This won't do." The principal stood his ground.

There wasn't much, but he stood it.

"But, sir…"

Nezu took a slow sip of tea, and pinched the bridge of his fuzzy snout between two small pawpads – as if all the stress of running an absurdly high-profile school for hormonal super-teens were seated there, and all he had to do was work it free.

"Honestly, old friend, I'm giving you all the latitude I can. But we both know you can't teach him everything."

"And why not!" All Might pounded the arm of his chair, fighting back the urge to wheeze. "I may not be changing the weather quite as often as I used to, but that has no bearing on the boy's lesson plan. Quirk control, risk assessment, urban combat – young Midoriya will need to know them all, and who else would you have in charge of his development?"

Nezu sighed. "You're not being replaced, All Might." He toyed with his cufflink in thought. It was a little golden stud shaped like a wheel of camembert. "You'll still oversee his primary coursework, and any other special tracks you sign off on. All I'm proposing is a… well, an elective! A mandatory one.

"… Yes, I know, I didn't hear it until I'd said it."

"With all respect, Principal, I still don't see why we've got to take time out of his…"

"But that's exactly it!" The little headmaster hopped upon his desk. He began to pace, good shoes tap-tap-tapping a familiar rut into the wood. "You can't see it, because you were the singular Symbol of Peace all these years. Where was the hero presence in this city before you broke up the cartels?" Nezu whirled and thrust an accusatory finger.

"Before you overpowered their muscle, took away their hiding places, exposed the crooked officials? You learned to do everything on your own, brought hope back to the populace – and at the shores that All Might blasted clear, a new generation of heroism rose from the seafoam!"

The rodent wound up and tossed a tiny uppercut, nearly bowling himself over along with the forgotten teacup. "By God, you were magnificent!"

The Symbol of Peace squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

"Ahem. But," Nezu continued, straightening his tie, "Midoriya isn't you. He shows remarkable spirit, but also resistance to some fundamental skills of modern hero work. And a serious case of schoolboy jitters, the poor sprout." Couldn't help but crack a smile at that one – ah, young Midoriya, you do have your quirks after all. "We have no idea if he'll end up as strong as you, or weaker, or-"

"Stronger," All Might said firmly. "He'll surpass me. You can bet your tail on it."

"-yes, well. Maybe one day, but today he still needs a support network. You understand? You didn't need to learn to rely on your peers; he will. Only more urgently in the coming months, I'm afraid."

"And that lily-livered shyness has got to go."

There was a note of truth there that made All Might stroke his emaciated chin. "Is the boy really such a risky investment? He keeps notebooks, you know. Knowledge being power and all, if he isn't jotting down every peanut allergy in the building this very moment, I'll be stuffed."

"There are notes," Nezu agreed, "and there is learning. And there are allies – and there are comrades."

A thoughtful pause fell over the room.

At length a loud WHAP broke it cheerfully open; All Might slapped the arm of his chair again with a hint of his old strength. "Fine, then! If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right. I'll brief him this very afternoon."

"You'll soon be tutoring a much happier egg, my friend. Wait and see." Principal Nezu clapped proudly – a gesture too adorable to politely comment upon – and leapt down to the carpet to walk him out, in strides as long as he could manage.

"Now send Lunch Rush in on your way out, please, we've got to review the new nutritional standards. Oh, care for a peppermint?"

"And in conclusion, the public depends upon an absolutely *sparkling* relationship between hero and police – brilliant heart to brilliant badge!"

A few people clapped weakly.

Aizawa looked like he'd been force-fed gravel for the past ten minutes. "Thank you, Aoyama. Seventy points. Minus fifty for reading your entire essay aloud, despite repeated protest from me and three other classes. I don't understand why you keep doing that."

The blond boy sat down, supremely satisfied.

"Everyone, topic statements only. Please. I only get to maim one of you per semester, and I'm trying to save it for midterms. Next is Ojiro-"

The bell rang, sending an armada of teenagers bouncing up from their desks.

"-or it would be, if that hadn't used up all our time. Your drafts are due by the end of the week, and I should have been an accountant," Aizawa finished, to a mostly deserted room. A few scraps of doodled-on scratch paper fluttered to the floor like dying birds.

"Thank you, Aizawa-sensei. See you tomorrow," Yaoyorozu said primly, organizing her pens.

Deku scribbled his last few bullet points, tongue stuck out in concentration. Uraraka waited patiently. "Hey! Mina-chan said she's setting up an afterschool dance league in the gym. Do you guys want to check it out?"

Iida adjusted his glasses. "Hrm. A waste of time. But between speed-based specialists, I do respect Ashido-san's athleticism. If this hobby is the secret, it would be perfectly appropriate to observe her form… nothing untoward meant, of course," he added painfully, to a few amused looks.

Oh yes. Deku could see himself now: trapped in a circle of howling bodies, flailing and yawing like a wounded giraffe, stomping not-at-all-in-time to music that made his skull throb. He tried a breakdance spin and kicked a girl in the face before jackknifing into a support beam.

That's how his dance career would begin. Screaming, blood, and several hundred yards of caution tape.

"I think they keep the caution tape in the gym, actually," he mused to himself.

Uraraka blinked. "Huh?"

"I mean- I'd love to!" he apologized hastily. "But, uhm, I really wanted to ask Cementoss-sensei a few things after class, and- loads of homework, you know…"

A gentle look tugged at the corner of his friend's mouth. "Deku-kun, you know no one would make fun of you or anything, right? Or they wouldn't really mean it. Except Bakugou. But fun isn't really his thing in the first place."

He hated it when she looked at him like that – all open and trustworthy. It made his throat dry and his face hot. He evaded her gaze, ducking textbooks into his bag. "Y- yeah, of course. I know that."

Uraraka bent down, studying him for a moment, until at last she broke out in a smile. "Okay. But you gotta take your nose off the grindstone sometime!" She shot out a finger and booped it, making him squawk. "It's buttony enough just the way it is."

Iida gave him a brotherly pat on the shoulder in exit. "You'll be a fine hero one day, Midoriya. But you mustn't burn yourself out all alone. See you at lunch, all right?"

Deku sniffed. He didn't deserve their concern.

Manfully, he held it together all the way down the hallway, keeping the stinging behind his eyes at bay, until a sudden deep cough made him jump.

"A, All Might?!"

There shone his mentor, like a battleship in a yellow three-piece suit. All muscle and twice the spirit, the Symbol of Peace seemed to fill the corridor. "Why, if it isn't young Midoriya!" he boomed with his characteristic force, nearly bowling Deku over. What a stunning coincidence! How are classes, my boy? Splendid!" he declared, before Deku could answer.

All Might bent over a little to sling a massive arm around the boy's shoulders companionably. "In fact, I've found an answer to your little thesis from last week!"

"But I didn't ask-" Deku said, confused.

"Nonsense! It'll make a grand paper, with a little heroic refinement," All Might thundered, swiftly scanning the hallway. It was empty. "Let's discuss it right—in—here!" He slid open the nearest classroom door and swept Deku inside.

No sooner had it shut than All Might let out a tremendous breath, shedding his over-strained bulk in a puff of steam.

Deku sped to pull out a chair, and the skin-and-bone phantom collapsed into it gratefully. "Thank you, my boy. Man alive, that's getting more taxing than ever."

"Is it really all right to push yourself so hard just for appearances, All Might?"

"Oh, for now – oof…" The stretch was heavenly relief; the gunshot acoustics from his cracking joints less so. "You'll find that people remember most what you show them first. A hero's job is to put on a brave face, no matter what."

"Oh, sure but- I just mean, I think everyone already knows what you look like, ever since…"

All Might's brow dipped in confusion … then he laid himself a mighty smack in the head, bellowing with mirth. "You're right! You're absolutely right. Ha ha… I've been hiding this wretched old bag of bones so long, I forgot I don't have to anymore!"

Maybe it was just his imagination, but for the first time in memory, that world-famous laugh somehow rang a little hollow.

All Might shook his mighty head. Then he leaned forward at the teacher's desk, tenting his fingers gravely.

"Listen, my boy," he began. "I'm sorry I interrupted you earlier. How are things going? In classes, in the dorms?"

Something in his tone told Deku this was more than a checkup. "Ah- fine, I think. I've been feeling more limber since Aizawa-sensei corrected my warmup method last month. I've been trying to push my power output a little bit day by day… I slipped two spots in the last exam, but with an extra thirty minutes in the lib-"

A thin hand in the air silenced him.

"I meant with your classmates, young hero."

All Might had gone right when Deku expected left.

"Are you having fun in school? Do they treat you well; include you in things? Any, oh… special interest in anyone?"

Now he did a half twirl sideways and sprouted wings.

"Wh- treat…? Interest?! All Might, I don't understand."

His mentor barked a short laugh. "Fine, Midoriya, fine! Deep breaths. It's just something the staff and I have been mulling over. An adjustment to your standard curriculum."

"More homework?" Deku guessed weakly.

"Pah. Hardly. If I'd had to take as many exams in my scholarly years as you lot do these days, I'd be one big ulcer. No, no – we'd rather you socialize, my boy." All Might thrust open the curtains, flooding the classroom with light.

On the grounds below, uniformed figures walked and sprinted and danced. They buzzed in friendly clusters like schools of fish, alive with giggles and easy banter, before some split off in the direction of the dorms or library or cafeteria and others joined in their place. A boy a little older than Deku, sporting long, curly red hair, shyly took another student's hand, and their friends erupted with squeals and whoops.

"You have the privilege of attending the finest hero academy in the country, with a lot of other bright young folks that will someday become the stewards of this nation," All Might said gently. "So if you want a lesson to mark, mark this." He snapped his fingers.

"There will always be time to lift more weight; to study the disaster videos; to invent some clever new stratagem. But, ah! One day the boots hit the ground, young man, and then there's never time for anything else. You've got to build those bonds now. A lesson I – failed to learn in time."

For a moment he looked lost, flexing a hand idly; as if there were something he meant to grasp but didn't know how.

"You… failed, All Might?"

He answered remotely, still gazing out the window. "You're familiar with the man they call the number two hero. The one whose son you saw to in the Sports Festival."

Deku was. He thought of Todoroki, and of his father. Of great hands wreathed in flame – of eyes scorched dark and narrow.

"You know something I've learned, my boy? You never know who's waiting for someone to just ask. I've never stopped thinking: what if I had just sat him down and talked things out, years ago? That, too, is a way of saving people… A friend today may spare you a foe later."

Friends.

What the hell did Deku know about making friends?

Absently, he fingered the scar on his leg. This one came from when his closest thing to a best friend kicked him down a riverbank in middle school. Then he loudly invented a score system for the flunkies trying to tag Deku with rocks.

He still couldn't bring himself to hate Kacchan, not really. Power was all he understood. He was just working from his own twisted playbook.

But Deku knew, in a deep place he didn't often visit, about the looks their classmates cast when the hitting and threats and browbeating started again. For the two of them, it was just picking up from old times. Who knew what Uraraka and Iida thought; or why Kirishima would tug at his buddy's shoulders, laughing with a little less easy vigor than usual – come on man, that's enough, hey, help me out with this worksheet here. Even Mezo had once let out a quiet, disapproving snort from a nose he'd sprouted somewhere discreet. At least Deku thought he had. Hard to be sure.

"Oh, now, it's not so bad. Buck up!" All Might clapped him a hearty one on the shoulder, and his grin shone with such real cheer and amusement that Deku couldn't help but feel a little better. That was what people loved about the No. 1 hero; he had a way of blasting your worries into sunny smithereens. "No mumbling, now. I guarantee it'll be easier than you think."

Deku regained his balance, barely. "I- if you say so, sir! But I'm not really sure where to start."

"Well, there's twenty students in 1-A; pick someone you don't know very well. Spend time with them. Make excuses. 'Hang out', as they say. Try their hobbies. Join their reindeer games." A reference Deku didn't quite grasp.

His mentor checked the time. "And given that lunch is half over, might I suggest the pot au feu?"

"O- oh! I promised to meet Iida-kun and…" Deku scrambled for his bookbag. He paused, and ducked a quick bow. "Thank you, sir. I have no idea how it'll go and I feel like I might die. But I'll give it a shot."

All Might barked with laughter. "I've got faith you'll survive, my boy! Off with you!"

The boy disappeared around the corner in a skitter of feet. All Might folded his skinny arms with some pride.

Before covering the window back up, he took one more long, fond look into the sun-splashed courtyard. The grin reflected back refused to go away. "You're gonna thank me again in a few years."

Poor kid. No idea they liked him already.

Fingers inches from the large double doors, Deku hesitated.

Okay. First day of the rest of your hero career. And by extension, your life.

He crammed down the dark thoughts that burbled up like poison, took a deep breath, and pushed.

The cafeteria was merry with conversation and moving bodies, tables stuffed to the ends with U.A. students in every size and stripe chatting, gobbling, laughing, flirting, drinking, arguing. Lunch Rush's assistants could be seen darting back and forth behind wall-to-wall serving counters, plating up steaming bowls of every conceivable foodstuff with superhuman efficiency.

Deku had always taken some private pride in the things his mother could do with a hot pan and a sack of value-priced groceries; but with the creamy scents of simmered herbs and good meat tingling his nose, everything else seemed far away.

He spotted his class by a pair of kinked horns bobbing above the crowd; they poked out of Mina's trademark frazzle of cotton-candy hair. She had one leg perched on a chair (skirt hiked dangerously high), like a pirate on an unearthed treasure chest. "So when you do the spin, you gotta throw some heat on it, like this-"

"Mina-chan, please, show some decorum!" Yaoyorozu pled, wringing her fair hands.

The boys' club sat together as usual. Sero had apparently dared Kirishima to down an entire turkey drumstick in one bite, which he crunched victoriously to a round of disgusted cheers. Deku saw a blast of pale yellow hair and shifted to avoid direct sight. But Bakugou ate too ravenously to look up, stopping only to duck a giant platter of pork cutlets that Satou awkwardly swung overhead.

In the corner seat, Kouda smiled a blissful, rocky smile under a large pair of headphones, his tofu curry forgotten. Jirou queued another song up for him from her phone. Nearby, Kaminari doodled jaggedy rock band logos in his brand-new notebook.

So many people. So many smart, talented, interesting, normal people. Ones with natural Quirks and a lifetime of practice. They were nothing like him.

And so many possible rejections; Deku watched each one play over and over in his head in perfect eternal horror.

There. Uraraka and Iida two rows down, jabbering about their essay topics. Uraraka was trying valiantly to sip her milkshake and pay attention at the same time; Deku watched as she chased the straw around the glass like a rosy-faced pufferfish. He snorted down a surprise giggle, and felt a little better.

All Might's wistful words rang in his head.

You never know who's waiting for someone to just ask.

The tray steadied in his grip.

Okay, then. Okay, then.

Who first?

This is the prologue to a series of one-shots, vignettes, and scenes about a sweet dorky kid making his first lifelong friends. The chapters that follow may be short or long, silly or highfalutin, flirty or friendly. They focus on different students in Class 1-A and beyond, and are only roughly connected. As they come out, feel free to read them in any order you like.

Thanks for reading.