That morning, after finishing his usual routine, he returned home drenched in sweat and slightly winded. As he stepped through the gate, something caught his eye.
A letter sat in his mailbox.
He paused, eyes narrowing.
"U.A." he thought immediately.
With a calm but steady hand, he pulled the envelope out. Unlike the others he often ignored—bills, advertisements, and junk—this one felt important.
Once inside his room, he didn't waste time. He tore open the envelope, and out dropped a sleek holographic disk—lightweight and smooth, with U.A.'s emblem engraved at the center.
Izuku held it between his fingers, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"In this world, some things are insanely advanced…" he muttered, staring at the disk.
"…and yet, some are still stuck in the past. All because certain people want to keep them that way."
He placed the device on his desk, sat down, and activated it with a tap.
The projector whirred softly to life.
It was time to hear U.A.'s answer.
As the projection started, a loud and familiar voice echoed through the room.
"I AM HERE… as a projection!" boomed All Might's energetic voice, filling the space.
Izuku blinked in mild surprise.
"I thought this was just a standard notice from U.A.," he muttered to himself.
Still, deep down, he already had his suspicions. U.A. was too cautious to send simple paper letters when they were constantly wary of villain moles or surveillance. Using a holographic message like this? It was meant to seem secure.
But unknown to them, Izuku's AI system, SYNC, had long since evolved beyond what most could imagine. It had already detected the faint RI (Reflected Infrared) signals hidden within the device—used by U.A. tech to monitor recipients remotely for image and audio.
"U.A. might be the number one hero academy," Izuku thought, "but they've underestimated a teenager who's been refining both information tech and mechanical systems for years."
He'd improved SYNC repeatedly. It wasn't just an assistant anymore—it was a surveillance countermeasure, a hacking tool, and a full-scale combat aid. U.A.'s tricks wouldn't go unnoticed.
The hologram continued.
"Sorry I haven't been able to contact you these past few days," All Might said, his voice softer now. "I had some work… actually, I came to this town to take up a post at U.A. as a teacher."
Izuku, feigning surprise, widened his eyes.
"What? All Might… as a teacher at U.A. High?" he said out loud, acting appropriately shocked for any listener that might be watching.
All Might chuckled, then added seriously:
"I know you already know that you've passed the entrance exam."
"But what you don't know… is that you didn't just pass."
The projection shifted.
"You topped the exam. Not just this year—
—you've scored higher than anyone in the entire history of U.A. High School."
Then All Might grinned.
"And… there's a surprise."
The screen flickered. A video played. It was Uraraka, nervously standing next to Present Mic.
Izuku raised an eyebrow.
"Oh… vomiting girl."
Uraraka's face was red, her hands clenched nervously.
"Um… about the boy with green, curly hair… like a green lightning bolt? He… saved me during the exam…"
"I-I wasted his time. I think he could've gotten more points if not for me. So… I want to transfer some of my points to him. Please!"
She bowed deeply.
The video paused.
All Might's voice grew serious.
"Your actions didn't just earn you points. They inspired others. That's true heroism."
The video resumed. Present Mic stepped forward.
"Sorry, little lady. Transferring points isn't possible…"
"…but it's not necessary."
Then All Might reappeared on screen, radiant with pride.
"At U.A., heroic spirit must never go unrewarded. That's why we have rescue points—awarded by judges for acts of selfless bravery."
He smiled wide.
"Izuku Midoriya: 500 points."
"Ochaco Uraraka: 45 points."
"You both passed."
The screen dimmed. All Might's final words rang out:
"Now come, Young Midoriya… come to U.A.—the path to becoming a hero starts now."
The projection ended.
Izuku stared at the device, his face calm and composed.
Inside, he felt nothing but quiet boredom.
"It was expected," he thought.
But on the outside, he exhaled deeply, eyes slightly damp, as if overwhelmed with emotion.