So, here we were.
"I've been wanting to talk to you."
I had practically dragged Midoriya away with me, but those were the first words I offered once we were on our way. Midoriya himself just looked at me, blinking in total confusion, his mind clearly failing to keep pace.
"It's about what happened last year," I continued. "You were involved in that incident at Tatooin Shopping District, weren't you?"
"Wh—! H-how do you know about that!?"
"I happened to be watching the news as it unfolded. When you lunged forward to save Bakugo... I saw it all. It felt as though I were standing right there in front of you."
"Ah... that. Well, I mean... my body just kind of moved on its own. And, uh... Kacchan told me he didn't ask for help, and the pro heroes chewed me out for being reckless..."
"Even so," I said firmly, "I believe that in that moment, you were more of a hero than anyone else on the scene."
Midoriya froze. He stared at me for a heartbeat, and then, quite suddenly, he began to weep.
"I—I'm so sorry. Did I say something out of turn?"
"No... no, it's not that..." he sobbed, his voice thick with emotion. "I just... I didn't think anyone actually saw what I was trying to do. I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying...!"
He kept apologizing while scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. I see. He was simply overwhelmed.
"...Still, for someone of your caliber, I imagine being praised isn't exactly a rare occurrence. You're remarkably humble."
"Huh...?"
"Am I wrong? I can't imagine that someone capable of moving without hesitation in a crisis like that would be lightly regarded by those around him."
That set him off again. More tears. Why?
"Actually... the thing is... I was Quirkless. Until a year ago. I... I was bullied for it, for a long time. So... having someone praise me like this... it just doesn't happen to me...!"
It was difficult to believe at first. And yet, I sensed no deception in his presence. More tellingly, his self-deprecating air was the unmistakable mark of someone who had survived prolonged systemic cruelty.
To think that the absence of a "Quirk" could be grounds for persecution. Is this the dark side of a society where the extraordinary has become the majority?
In other words, these supernatural powers have become mundane on this planet. They are taken for granted, and because they are so "normal," the typical cruelties of childhood have found a new way to manifest.
Children live in small worlds; it is not uncommon for them to show aggression toward those who don't fit the mold. It isn't right, but it is something that parents and teachers are meant to correct.
And yet, what were the adults in his life doing? It's deplorable. Truly deplorable!
"But... even if it was late, I finally got my Quirk," Midoriya said. He looked up, a newfound light in his eyes. "So, more than anything... I just want to keep looking forward."
He gave a small, bashful smile. It seemed he had already made his peace with his circumstances. If that was the case, it would be overstepping for me to dwell on it further.
What concerned me more was the flicker of dishonesty in his last statement. I couldn't tell exactly what he was lying about, but I decided to set it aside. It wasn't my place to pry.
Regardless, our conversation had cleared up one mystery for me.
"I see. That explains why your physical conditioning is so lacking."
"Wha—!?"
"The Quirk Apprehension Test earlier. You lost to almost all the girls—even Ashido and Hagakure, whose Quirks didn't exactly translate to high scores in those specific trials. In short, you didn't start training in earnest until your Quirk finally manifested. Am I right?"
"Ugh... y-yes... that's exactly right... I only started training after that incident..."
"Well, you clearly already know where you stand, so I won't lecture you."
He seemed painfully aware of his shortcomings—realizing during the test that there are simply too many things he cannot yet do. He knows he is in a position where he must work many times harder than everyone else. If he's realized that on his own, further comments from someone who isn't even his teacher would just be tedious.
To err is human. It is simply our nature. The important thing is whether one can find the insight within the error and apply it to the future.