Author's Note: Todai is short for the University of Tokyo. And the JCAIP is essentially the Japanese accountant's equivalent to the Hero Commission.

Oh, and sorry for the wait.

Chapter 3: Welcome Aboard

Izuku remembered furiously looking into any general equivalency program for heroics after he'd overheard those guys discussing it, back when he learned he might've had a quirk. It was how he'd known waking up that there was a seminar for it at the University of Tokyo of all places.

Inside, Izuku entered a large lecture room with gray carpets, a somewhat low ceiling for the dim lights, and several rows of blue seats lined up in a curve before a platform that sort of looked like a stage. The expensive decor that mended the line between modern and traditional in direct comparison to the dull and drab of the JICPA building made him feel so out of place in this university.

People came here encouraged to decide for themselves what they were gonna be, and where he went it was like preparation to sell his soul to the rather empty view of numbers and finances. There was a noticeable difference in the people there, too. Some were just as dead-faced as they were in the JCAIP, but more were lively and excitedly chatted with friends.

Even in the lecture room, he overheard people talking about movies, video games, mountains of homework they'd yet to accomplish, even finances the way he used to. But that was what separated both institutions—there was a choice. And it made Izuku feel something akin to nostalgia despite having never experienced it. Or was that him longing because he'd never experienced it?

He frowned, but remembered where he was, and what he was doing. He was making his own choice here. He was taking control of his own destiny. He was an equal to everyone else inside.

The absence of a collared shirt and slacks on a weekday reminded him he missed work to come. He had enough sick days saved up, but he rarely took time off. It was the first time that day he'd even thought of his job, and he promptly shooed it away.

Finally, the lights dimmed, and a few at the front of the room remained as they were. There was a very short, petite woman with long pink locks organized in a ponytail up there at a desk previously chatting with someone in a suit. He saw her check some documents before tapping a small microphone.

She introduced herself as Manami Aiba, and Izuku felt the recollection of a similar looking woman doing stuff like...well, mostly robbing banks. Robbing banks very theatrically, with someone even more dramatic. It was very cartoonish in nature, looking back.

But as he closely examined her noticeably large pink irises from the back row, it almost clicked.

Was she really La Brava, villain sidekick to The Gentle Villain...?

Slowly, it came together. The thought of a woman of similar stature, but obviously different goals with her pink hair in high pigtails, a bang aimed down the middle of her forehead, and an elaborate outfit reminiscent of something masculine from fifteenth-century Europe confirmed the connection. It had to be her.

And she wasn't in jail, oddly enough. Did no one recognize her?

A cautionary look around his fellow audience suggested so. Maybe she was reformed? She had to be, if this was the woman who'd been approaching their legislators with this.

Naturally, Izuku was a little on edge, even if her discussion points on why the program was a necessity interested him.

"...Believe it or not, there are actual people out there, some in the audience I take it, with a genuine desire to actually use their quirk for good—people with good hearts and capable abilities that maybe didn't realize them until after they finished high school, or simply had a quirk that wasn't able to impress the likes of, let's say Endeavor. No matter the case, why should such a profession be off limits because you weren't so sure about your path in life at fourteen? It shouldn't be, and you shouldn't be expected to know it at such an age," She said, inspiring several nods in the crowd.

It made him think of something in Hero's Weekly he'd read when he still had his subscription. He wondered if this was her segway into vigilantism, since what she described was precisely what incited most of it. According to the article, anyway.

"The nods I'm getting are telling on their own. Some people in the audience actually attend this university, some came from Kyoto, some don't go to school at all. And that's fine. You're all here, taking control of your destinies,"

...Well, he liked that. Despite knowing her words were tailored for people like him, it unonsciously elevated his spirits. For some reason, it didn't feel so cheap. It made him smile too, just a little.

"Maybe you saw the ad for this online, or on TV, it doesn't matter. What matters is you saw a second chance for yourself in this program. I'm happy to let you know that showing up was your first step,"

She was echoing all he'd been thinking without even realizing.

With that, Izuku wasn't paying attention to the other attendees—he was sold. This really was his second chance, to do right by himself for once. Everything Aiba said following felt like gospel, like if he didn't hang onto every word he'd lose out on this forever, despite everyone being given a pamphlet before they entered.

He'd learned that the General Equivalency Program for Heroics was essentially preparation for a group of tests meant to replicate the official Hero License Exams that youngsters usually took. Aiba was the one who drafted the bill and had it passed through legislature, though it took several years. She'd also be the one overseeing the program.

She spoke of having a friend that actually attended UA until he was expelled, and unofficially barred from any heroics program since the expulsion was on his record. Better late than never she said, but the program would've circumvented that if it was around in his time.

He couldn't help but nod in agreement, and be glad this came about when it did. Just the right time, it seemed.

Eventually, the seminar came to an end, with Aiba requesting the audience to fill out a form up on the table up front if they were interested. There was a link on the digital screen behind her if they needed more info. It was great.

He felt accomplished signing his name in three different places. The real satisfaction came from writing his quirk at the very bottom of the form—Super Human.

He peered to where Aiba was chatting with an enthusiastic attendee and wished he'd signed his form a little earlier. It was no bother. He'd probably get a chance to speak with her eventually. Two weeks, to be specific.

As he ventured out the door, the university students' words from a week ago rung in Izuku's ears, and softly stopped him from gaping at the decor a second time. It was like a bell on a counter that beckoned some kind of staff.

"—Ground Zero's gonna be there?"

"—He's actually gonna be speaking to us,"

He sighed in relief, and didn't give it much thought. Whether Katsuki cancelled because he saw something like this as a handout was none of his concern.

...

Izuku went to sleep that night knowing he couldn't responsibility call out of work a second time. So when he woke, everything he did was robotic.

Upon reentering the fields of consciousness, he took a leak, brushed his teeth, but didn't change out of his plain shirt and boxer shorts just yet. He ate plain cereal scrolling through his plain phone because he still hadn't gotten a new television. If he had much thought to him he would've noticed himself getting used to the silence.

But he didn't, so he scrolled soullessly through a redundant national newsfeed and only opened one of them. He went as far as the headline before he did notice the time and tucked it away.

A change of clothes later, Izuku was garbed in a plain black suit and tie, missing only his backpack. He looked around his apartment and felt the overall composition lacking. Like it was missing something. Everything felt like it was missing something that morning, despite the amazing day he had preceding. Maybe he needed to call his Mom, they hadn't spoken yesterday.

The train was full that morning. He was forced to stand, hang onto the railing, and hope there wasn't a bump that made him fall into someone else. Last time he did that was exactly four years ago and he still remembered sometimes.

He was used to it but, he gussed part of him was spoiled from being able to take it easy on the way back and forth, even if it was for a day or two. He hoped work would be a little easier on him.

It wasn't.

Well, it was the same way it always was, but this time it felt different—felt worse. Sitting at his computer, preparing these documents, looking over the books at his desk felt so...banal.

The barriers of his cubicle felt like they were closing in, and soon they would be all he'd ever know.

Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic. But he was definitely ready to leave within his first two hours—minutes clocked in.

Izuku typed in several numbers in the chart he was working on, and back to the notepad in front of him to make sure the data was correct. It felt like having to transcribe the name of every ward in Japan onto the bricks of a large pyramid.

'Wasn't Hisashi a salaryman?' like himself?

Izuku had never known much about him, but he did know that for sure. Even though his father had to have left them for work. But while money was always being wired to him and his Mom growing up, it always felt like they had been bailed out on.

If they were, perhaps he understood why. It didn't sit right with him, and he'd never do the same under any circumstances, but he couldn't say he didn't understand why he would've wanted to abandon his life in Japan for something else.

Hell, every once in a while, Izuku wished he could skip town and live a new life like he'd grown to assume his father had. But the difference between them was that...Hisashi had more than Izuku. He had a loving wife, and an okay son. Quirkless, but okay. Izuku had nothing in comparison.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed the program on the computer. It would've been nice if there was a window he could've looked out of.

"Your training's gonna include combat and rescue trials moderated by special instructors, as well as..."

Theorem of heroics. They'd be learning to use their quirks offensively and defensively while also learning of the philosophies and history of Regulated Heroics as a whole. Part of him theorized they'd be working with Pro Heroes or retirees. It didn't matter. Izuku was excited nonetheless.

it was why a smile came on, but it fell. He acknowledged he wasn't focused on his work, and sighed.

He still wondered how the combat trials would go, if only to quickly discern whether or not his quirk would pose a risk to his soon-to-be fellow classmates ahead of time. It made him chuckle—he had to worry about accidentally hurting someone instead of coordinating against potential risks to himself now.

'If we'll be working with pros, will I be assigned to fight them?' he wondered. He hoped so. Maybe after he'd even be able to talk with some, should their schedules allow it of course. He wasn't so big-headed yet to assume they'd offer first only because of what he was capable of. Still, it'd be nice.

The thought made the next few hours a little easier. How there was a chance he'd gain the respect of people he'd looked up to since elementary whether it be off the first meet, or when they see him demonstrate his quirk. Even if it didn't happen it wouldn't matter, because at least now he had the chance. Needless to say, he'd never had that before.

People usually overlooked him or didn't like him. They didn't hurt him the way they could in his much younger days, but at least right then they definitely couldn't. He'd find out come two weeks, but he doubted it was possible.

And with that, his work equipment, his desk, his cubicle all felt incredibly fragile, like if he wasn't careful he could've accidentally broken it apart any second.

Which he could've.

It made his desk feel smaller, but in a good way. He didn't take notice of the people he worked with often for his own sake, but that day he stood up, and let the top of his head peek over the cubicle as he took a look around. He saw the heads (and some horns, even a pair of rabbit ears) of his coworkers and felt...different from them. He didn't belong, but not because he was privileged to be there.

Izuku sat back down and resumed his work.

Usually he was on top of his tasks, but ever since his headspace was so shaken up at home, he'd become unfocused with roughly everything at work. There was a subtle weight that held him down little by little with the knowledge that he could've been doing something better with his time, with his life. It made his responsibilities seem more like general guidelines. There was a liberating undertone that made it seem uplifting, but Izuku let himself consider it a weight. It'd make the day go by faster.

Really, it was the understanding of the concept of rent and other necessary expenses that kept him from acting on his desires right then. But that didn't mean part of him didn't agree quietly, as though doing so would make it pass.

On the bright side, he commonly wondered to himself what he was doing there and what was to come, but this time he had an answer—he was just waiting for the program to begin, content that it'd coincide the start to what he considered a new path. Was it odd that he already could envision himself completing it successfully and working alongside the pros? Maybe, but he wasn't used to registering victory as an actual possibly, so he allowed himself the peculiar belief.

For once, he believed in himself.

It brought a small smile that blinkered when he remembered he still had work to do. Its absence was marked by the familiar set of frail footsteps he heard coming closer.

It was a long two weeks.

...

Day 4 (Nine days to orientation)

Izuku started counting the day before, for his own security if nothing else. It eased his mind to know the clock was ticking, even if sometimes it felt as though it picked up the pace and dropped dead on its own accord. But, he wasn't deterred when the latter occurred. Not too much.

He woke up, got himself ready, and was off to work. No issue.

He still didn't have a TV, and it didn't look like he was getting one soon. He'd been used to the silence, though. He would hope his landlord would never find out about the crater behind where it used to be, but a trip to the store provided all he needed—an All Might poster covered it up now. A stroke of genius, he knew.

He also got a new notebook to accompany his regained interest in Quirk Theory. He didn't write in it with as much vigor as he had when he was in high school, but when he was in private, or at work with his agenda taken care of, he found himself creating entries on any quirk that caught his interest in the last few hours. He detailed potential versatility on the hero field, but didn't put much thought into the potential weaknesses they came with the way he used to.

He also visited his Mom that day. It was nice.

Day 6 (Seven days to orientation)

Izuku began to discreetly write in his notebook while he was on the clock. It wasn't anything major, just some tidbits he'd forgot to write down on a specific quirk beforehand.

Then he started keeping it on his desk next to his mousepad. It was nice to have on hand when he was bored, which increasingly became the second he clocked in to the second he was clocked out.

He'd always known his job wasn't anything that gave rise to enthusiasm, but it hit him differently compared to his first year there. If he had to speak on it—it hadn't been a problem or a detriment until then, and all Izuku could compare it to was a sedated animal waking up only to realize its binds. He was stuck—he just knew it then.

Day 8 (Five days to orientation)

He'd been slipping on his work lately. His boss confronted him about it. In his office, Izuku nodded when he needed to, apologized, and promised to reclaim his previous work ethic.

Then he took the next day off. He had the personal days, and he had the sick days. He'd probably just use them all until the orientation finally came around. It was selfish and irresponsible, and when Izuku laid in bed that morning he scolded himself for allowing himself to take up such behaviors. He still made the call.

That day he made his return to Dagobah Beach just to test himself as an alternative to wasting away at home. There was still a stink in the air that the ocean breeze couldn't wash away, but laws barring public quirk use were mere general guidelines in the face of the seclusion the beach offered.

He mostly lifted things he wouldn't have been able to lift a year ago, and threw kitchen appliances in the water while trying to estimate the distance; it was abandoned, and he'd come to learn trash already washed up on the shore, so no real harm was done. As for the estimates, everything he tossed damn near disappeared from immediate view, so he had to guess...really far?

Izuku wondered if there was a quirk gym he could go to test this out himself with professional equipment, and maybe to work on his form. Despite his immense strength, he was still a little lanky. By sunset he'd worked up a sweat, so that had to be a little start.

Day 11 (Two days to orientation)

Another day, another day off. That, and a sleep-in. Izuku already had his agenda ready; he'd relax under his sheets for an hour, freshen himself up, and hit the beach. A funny thing to have on one's agenda in November under normal circumstances—thank God these weren't those.

He probably would've fallen back asleep, but Izuku realizing there were only forty-eight hours left until orientation made the very idea evaporate from his agenda. He felt a knot behind his rib build up at the knowledge.

Aiba said he took the first step when he attended the seminar, but two days from now he'd be taking the actual first steps. He'd start his training and there'd only be moving forward. Through the anxiety, he grinned, stepping out of bed and paced back and forth because he had to start moving in some way.

What was that, elation? Restlessness? Whatever it was, it felt good.

It dimmed a little by the time he got to the beach, but burnt just as bright once again when he laid eyes on the trash. He wondered if he should've cleaned it all up earlier, since he knew he could. But tgen he thought of how it'd likely draw other people to it, and he'd lose what he'd made his space.

He sighed, and knew he'd have to get to it eventually. Just not today.

That day he tried something different, and he made sure he had his new notebook on hand to scribe any new developments. Usually he just moved things around with his strength, but he wanted to check how further out of commission he could put one of these hunks of metal in.

Setting his things down, he walked over to a...boat. Or a yacht? Something people obviously set sail in.

Izuku wasn't so close to the designated beach entrance, but he wasn't necessarily close to the shore either. That however, was as much thought he put into it before he cocked his fist and got to work.

There was a new hole in side of the hull, and as he pulled his arm out, he felt out of place. He wasn't used to destroying things, but he noted it gave way with abysmal resistance, though Izuku had to take into account the material might not've been that strong in the first place. He'd have to try and look it up later.

Izuku took several paces to reach the front of the bow, only to shake his head in disappointment—he wouldn't be able to lift it from the front. The railing would give before it'd happen.

He settled for an old car. Not the same one that'd fallen on him, though he would've appreciated the irony.

Izuku squatted down to place his hand on the bottom of the vehicle, uncaring of the dirt, grime and God knows what else found his hand, and put his other one on the top end, making sure his grip was steady before lifting the car on its side. It was like what holding up his bookbag used to be like.

He slid to the hood, still hanging on but letting the bottom end hit the sand with a sharp ache. Finally he took a deep breath, tightened his grip and let the crash of metal and machinery resound through the landfill after he smashed the car on the sand.

He got the hang of it later.

Orientation

The general equivalency program he was sent to wasn't hosted at Todai. He didn't know why he didn't realize it when the show-up address was different from the school, but it didn't deter him. Not in the slightest.

He still woke up the earliest he could, too positively anxious to catch any more than five hours of sleep. He would've hoped exhaustion wouldn't take hold, but it was the furthest from his mind at the moment. He couldn't help but think of his life years ago when he'd let himself rot and felt he was changing for the better.

Musutafu University wasn't as spacious, but sizable nonetheless. The architecture was less traditional in design, and more modern in direct comparison to the last campus he went to. The gates were just as intimidating.

He was nervous, but hopeful. The days where he couldn't remain at home after waking up or hit the beach wore him down. It made the sight of the main campus building along with the prospect of what was to come feel like a release.

The walls inside weren't unlike Todai's, however. Plain white, business-like with diamond-patterned floors and labels above the doors lining the halls. It'd remind him of the building he worked at if the floors there weren't carpeted, and there wasn't natural lighting allowed to enter the space. The long and wide windows at the side of him revealed the sun's position graciously. Where he was then, he had a view of the train tracks that sent him here.

And the people walking around, engaging in conversation and occupying the space was another pleasant contrast. It was much more lively, however subtle.

Aside from that though, the logistics of the program he'd be attending finally interested him. He was sent to one university and others were sent to ones spread out across the country. He was fortunate his commute was convenient. Imagine if he was sent to Kamino!

Eventually, Izuku unconsciously tightened the grip on his backpack with a smile when he reached the door he was looking for. Right behind it hid the instructors that would be officially teaching him the ways of heroism.

It was poetic, in a way that pleasantly made his heart flutter. There Izuku was, about to open the door he'd been locked out of for as long as he could remember.

He slowly reached out, dead set on the handle, when—

Thunk!

His forehead was caught on the surface of the door. He was too busy stumbling back to wonder if it should have hurt. Then he realized he (momentarily) blocked someone's exit.

"Sorry!" Izuku apologized, and rationally knew this likely wouldn't cost him a good impression, but still worried a little.

Then the tall, imposing figure of a man bearing features akin to a killer whale came through the door, and Izuku's mind practically screamed Gang Orca! Gang Orca!

But that was it.

'I can't place a full name!' he realized.

"It's fine, kid," He said, with a deep, curdling voice in a tone so casual Izuku's mind was sent to reset—a Pro Hero was talking to him like it was nothing! He just wished he could've worked out an expression to make sure he wasn't being a nuisance, but his white eyes gave nothing away, especially not the red pupils or the rings circling them.

He took notice of his backpack, "I take it you're here for the General Equivalency Program?"

Izuku noticed he wasn't in the suit he usually wore during public appearances, apparently having opted for a black turtleneck and matching slacks, along with a gold chain—civilian clothes. He must've been roughly fifty years old by then, but there was nothing on him to suggest it. Did that come with having a mutant quirk?

Izuku smiled(tried to) in the face of his (imaginary) error, mostly because it put him at ease, "Yeah, actually. I'm really excited," He revealed, "A-are you—"

"Teaching? Yes," The man took two paces past Izuku, but not without clasping his entire shoulder, "Welcome aboard,"

Izuku took a minute to settle down.

But with him gone, he was back where he started. Unlike the last time, Izuku fearlessly opened the door. Whatever bravado he was building up however, vanished as soon as he walked in, and he couldn't help but shrink into himself as he laid his eyes on everything he possibly could.

The room was large, much larger than he expected. There were a couple tables that stretched from one end of the room to the other, each one in a row that was elevated higher than the one before it.

Like Gang Orca, the other Pros were out of costume too, all just lounging up front. It stuck out to him like a doe in the woods. Ironically though, he must've looked like the deer caught between headlights.

When a man his age with vermillion hair as spiked as the back of a hedgehog Izuku immediately recognized as Red Riot looked over, he knew he'd probably been standing there for too long. He speed-walked up the short staircase to the side and to a desk in the back with an "eep!"

It wasn't just him, though. There were already five people seated as well that he hadn't paid attention to. Thankfully, none were in the back.

With that, he pulled his phone out and got to scrolling, but found himself flashing his gaze to the actual heroes a few yards ahead of him.

He knew they were his age, but they were same people his five year old self would've raved over. To be in their presence was positively nerve racking. In a way that told him 'Yes, this is happening'

He spied a man with short blonde locks and an easygoing smile talking to someone, but it was the distinct black set of strands in his hair shaped like a lightning bolt that made Izuku recognize him as The Stun Gun Hero: Chargebolt!

The woman he was talkimg to had a rounder face with eyes as large as Izuku's, and it was the auburn bob with two prominent strands framing her face that practically screamed at him Uravity! The Gravity Girl!

Before he could inspect the other three pros, he heard the door open and saw [Sakamoto?] walk in a second later, gold chain swaying with his strut a little. It occurred to Izuku then just how much taller Orca was than anyone in the room.

The other heroes subtly lining up and facing the room(facing him, facing him!) made him forgot all about it though.

"Alright, everyone! Welcome to the General Equivalency Program for Heroics. If you're here, it's 'cause the Hero Commission wants to make my life just a little harder," He introduced, folding his large hands behind his back.

"Let's begin,"

Author's Note: Did some of you think I'd put him in UA? Anyway, I had to look up how to plot a seminar, and how to become an accountant in Japan for this. No regrets.

And I know Gang Orca's real name is Sakamata.