The Marked Trajectory

The plan came together Wednesday morning as I watched Izuku rewrite his hero notes for the twentieth time. He was sitting on the windowsill in the Aldera hallway, swinging his legs, scribbling furiously in his notebook. From the outside it looked like just a kid writing. But I saw something else: structured analysis, breakdowns of strengths and weaknesses, tactical notes. And then it hit me. "Green," I said, walking over and positioning myself to block his sunlight. "Huh?" He looked up and blinked. "After school today, you're coming with me." "To the home?" "Yeah. Time to meet my neighbors." He went a little pale. Which makes sense—for someone used to being an outcast, the phrase "meeting new people" sounds about as appealing as "voluntarily facing a firing squad." "Uh... why?" he asked cautiously. "Because you've been training with me for a while now. And they're my neighbors. This was bound to happen sooner or later." I shrugged. "And don't be scared. They don't bite. Except Ryohei. But only on holidays." "Is that a joke?" "Of course it's a joke. Ryohei bites on no set schedule." Izuku gave a nervous chuckle and stuffed his notebook into his backpack. "Okay," he said. "But if I say something wrong..." "You will. You absolutely will. And that'll be fine." I turned toward the classroom. "Meet me at the gate after school."

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"Okay, listen up," I announced as we approached the gates of Tsuin. "There are four of us in the room. Me, Koji, Takumi, and Ryohei. Koji's the redhead, loud, his Quirk is Finger Extension. Takumi's quiet, skinny, can see in the dark. Ryohei's perpetually grumpy, changes skin color. Plus there are other kids from other rooms, they might drop by. Questions?" "What about Honda-san, the one you've mentioned a few times?" Izuku asked. "She won't mind guests?" "Honda-san sees everything." I smirked. "Literally. Her Quirk is Eagle Eye—three hundred sixty degree vision. So she already knows we're coming." "Already?!" "She spotted us from two blocks away." I pushed open the gate. "Don't be scared. She's strict, but fair." We walked in. The yard was empty—the daytime bustle had settled, and dinner was still a couple hours away. Izuku walked beside me, nervously fiddling with his backpack strap. I felt his tension but didn't comment. Let him get used to it. "Oh!" came a voice from above. A red head poked out of a second-floor window. Koji, as usual, radiated enough enthusiasm to power a small town. "Is that the famous Green?!" "The very same," I confirmed. "Come down." Ten seconds later, Koji stood before us, wiping his hands on his pants. He stared at Izuku with such interest you'd think he was at least an exhibit in a Quirk museum. "So you're the Quirkless one?" he blurted. "That's me," Izuku said, shrinking a little. "Cool!" "What?" "Well..." Koji hesitated. "You don't have a Quirk, but you're still training to get into U.A. That's like playing soccer with one leg missing. But you're still playing!" I rolled my eyes. "Koji, do you even know how to give compliments?" "What? I told the truth!" He extended a hand to Izuku, his fingers stretching a good half meter before contracting into a normal handshake. "I'm Koji. My Quirk lets me stretch my fingers. Want to see a trick?" "I'd love to." Izuku was already reaching for his notebook, but stopped himself. "I mean... yes, thank you." "Then let's go to the room!" Koji spun around and raced toward the doors. "Takumi! Ryohei! We have guests!"

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The room was, as usual, slightly messy. Koji's bed was piled with wrinkled gym clothes. On Takumi's nightstand sat a stack of books. Ryohei had a perfectly made bed and not a speck of dust. Ryohei himself sat on the windowsill, arms crossed, his skin sporting a dull grayish hue today. Takumi lay on his bed, reading. "This is Izuku Midoriya," I said. "The training partner I told you about." "The Quirkless training partner," Ryohei clarified. His voice sounded neutral, but I caught a note of skepticism. "Thought you were joking this whole time." "Not a joke," Izuku answered for himself, his voice barely wavering. "I really am Quirkless. But that doesn't mean I'm useless." Ryohei raised an eyebrow. His skin turned slightly green—the color of doubt, as I'd learned. "Uh-huh. And what use could you possibly be?" "Ryohei," I raised a hand in warning. "He's a guest." "Just asking. No aggression." "It's fine," Izuku said. He looked around, noticing Takumi's books, Koji's piles of junk, Ryohei's perfectly neat bed. "Can I ask something? About your Quirks." "Go ahead." Koji flopped onto his bed and crossed his legs. "But just so you know: if it's a secret, I'll tell anyway." "You don't have secrets," muttered Takumi, not looking up from his book. "I do! I just haven't invented them yet!" Izuku smiled weakly and turned to Takumi. "You have Night Vision, right? How does it work? Do you see in the dark like it's daytime, or is it heat vision, or something else?" Takumi finally looked up from his book and studied Izuku over his glasses. "Like daytime, but only in shades of gray. No heat. Colors are lost too." "What about peripheral vision? Does it expand?" "A little. Maybe up to two hundred degrees." "And you can read in the dark?" "Yeah." "That's amazing!" Izuku had already forgotten his shyness. His eyes lit up. "You could be the perfect night scout. If you develop stealth movement skills, you could move through total darkness without a light and notice what others miss." Takumi blinked. I noticed his fingers tighten slightly on the book. "I... never thought about it that way," he admitted. "But it's so obvious!" Izuku had already turned to Ryohei. "And you! Your Quirk is Skin Color Change, right?" "So what?" Ryohei still looked skeptical, but the green tint had shifted to yellow. Curiosity. "That's perfect camouflage. You can blend into your surroundings. In the city, in the forest, indoors. If you learn to change color instantly and match your background precisely, you could become practically invisible." "I only do it roughly," Ryohei admitted. "Mood colors and stuff. Never tried to deliberately match anything." "Have you tried training in front of a mirror?" Izuku asked. "Looking at the background and trying to reproduce its shade? Not based on mood, but consciously?" Ryohei opened his mouth, then closed it. His skin turned bright orange for a second—surprise mixed with irritation. "Haven't tried," he grumbled. "Sounds dumb." "It's not dumb!" Izuku was fired up now. "Quirks are like muscles. You can train them deliberately. Seiha-kun trains his Mark all the time, and it gets more precise and faster. Why should your Quirk be any different?" I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms. Watching this was entertaining. Green, who five minutes ago had been afraid to speak, was now lecturing on Quirk development like a seasoned coach. And the interesting part was that the guys were listening. "Alright," Ryohei jumped down from the windowsill. "Let's say that makes sense. But what about him?" He jabbed a finger at Koji. "What about me?" Koji blinked. "You have Finger Extension," Izuku turned to him. "How far can you stretch them?" "About a meter and a half. Maybe a bit more." "And the strength stays? Can they grab objects as firmly as normal fingers?" "Well... yeah. Even stronger." "Then you could be an excellent support fighter. Imagine grabbing someone or something from a distance. Disarming them, restraining an opponent's arm, reaching switches or levers that nobody else can reach. If you develop your coordination, you could do it faster and more precisely." Koji stared at his fingers as if seeing them for the first time. He wiggled them. They stretched out and tapped the ceiling. "I... I could be a support fighter?" he whispered. "Of course you could." "But I thought it was just for fun..." "No Quirk is just for fun," Izuku stated flatly, then cut himself off, blushing because he'd spoken too loudly. But he continued. "You just need to find the right application." Silence fell over the room. Takumi looked at Izuku over his glasses with a new expression—something between surprise and respect. Ryohei frowned, but I could see him turning the words over in his head. Koji kept staring at his fingers. Then the door opened a crack, and the head of one of the younger kids poked through—a little boy named Yuki. His Quirk let him curl into a ball and roll at considerable speed. Useful for games, useless for everything else—or so he thought. "Can I ask something too?" he squeaked. "Come in," I waved. Five minutes later, about a dozen kids had gathered in our room. Little ones, older ones, boys, girls—everyone who'd caught wind that Seiha's visitor was "some Quirkless kid who gives advice." Izuku stood in the middle of the room, red as a tomato, but he kept talking. Clear, calm, breaking down each Quirk to its bones. "You secrete mucus? What's the viscosity? Can you make it slippery? Perfect! That could be a trap for enemies—imagine coating the floor with mucus in front of a fleeing villain!" "You have echolocation? You can navigate in total darkness and through walls? Do you know how useful that is for finding people trapped under rubble?" "You extend your tongue? It sounds funny, but actually you could grab objects from a distance. Or even latch onto ledges and swing like on a rope!" The kids listened, mouths open. Some took notes. Some immediately started trying out new ideas. One girl with a Quirk for glowing hair was already trying to blink at different frequencies—"for signaling," as Izuku had suggested. I walked over to the window and watched. Koji sidled up next to me. "Hey," he whispered. "Your Green..." "What?" "He's weird." "I know." "But cool." I glanced sideways at him. Koji was staring at Izuku with genuine respect. "He analyzed our Quirks in five minutes better than we have our whole lives," Koji continued. "And he's Quirkless. Completely. How does he do that?" "He's observant," I said. "And he's dreamed of being a hero his whole life. When you really want something, you learn to see what others miss." "That's cool," Koji repeated. "I want to be friends with him." "You want to be friends with everyone." "Not everyone. Ryohei, for example, is hard to be friends with. He's always grumbling." "Ryohei grumbles because he's bored." I shrugged. "Give him time. Maybe after today, he'll stop."

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An hour later, Honda-san looked into the room and announced that the guest had to go home. The kids left reluctantly, still discussing new ideas for their Quirks. Yuki, curling into a ball and rolling out into the hallway, shouted: "Midoriya-san, thank you! I'll try rolling on the walls!" "Not in the hallway!" Honda-san bellowed after him. Izuku stood in the middle of the now-empty room, looking like he'd been hit by a truck. Exhausted, but happy. "That was..." He shook his head. "I don't even know how to describe it." "Don't describe it," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Just remember it." "Your neighbors... they're good people." "Yeah. It's just that nobody ever told them their Quirks could be useful. Just like nobody ever told you that you're not worthless." He looked at me for a long moment, then smiled—this time with confidence. "Thank you for inviting me, Seiha-kun." "Don't mention it, Green. Same training tomorrow." "I'll be there!" He said goodbye to Koji, nodded to Takumi and Ryohei, and left. I walked him to the gate and returned to the room.

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That evening, when the blue outside the window had turned to black, I lay on my bed and listened. Tsuin was quiet, but not completely silent. Muffled voices drifted from the hallway. The kids were discussing Izuku. "...seriously, he said I could catch fish with my tongue. What if I become a fishing hero?" "Idiot, heroes catch villains, not fish." "What's the difference? Villains are just as slippery and they struggle too." Laughter. Then another voice: "He told me my Quirk isn't stupid. That if I learn to control the viscosity, I could immobilize enemies. Like Kamui Woods, but with slime." "Cool." "Yeah." "He's weird, but cool." I smirked into the darkness. Exactly right, Koji. That's exactly what everyone's thinking. "Is he really Quirkless?" asked one of the younger kids. "Completely." "But he understands Quirks better than anyone." "Maybe his Quirk is super-brain." "Then he would have said. He doesn't lie." "How do you know?" "You can see it in his eyes. He's kind." Silence. Then the same voice: "I want to be a kind hero too. Like him." I rolled onto my side and stared at the wall. Something inside me—let's call it the professional pride of a co-author—quietly rejoiced. Izuku Midoriya, a Quirkless boy, had won the respect of an entire crowd of children in one evening, simply by analyzing their abilities and believing in them. Not with his strength—with his mind and his sincerity. Green had gained allies. Not just acquaintances, but people who would root for him. People who would remember his words and, maybe years from now, say: "I became a hero because one guy once told me my Quirk wasn't useless." I closed my eyes. Tomorrow an ordinary day awaited us: school, training, the usual attempts to improve known techniques. But something had changed. A small, subtle shift in the overall picture. Izuku was no longer just "Seiha's training partner." Now he was "the guy who helped the kids from Tsuin believe in themselves." "Hey, Seiha," Koji whispered from the neighboring bed. "What?" "Do you think he can get into U.A.? For real?" I paused, then answered: "If he keeps it up—he can. And more." "I think so too," Koji said, shifting to get comfortable. "Good night." "Night." Silence. The streetlights came on outside. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. I lay there thinking about how strange the world was. A person who had nothing, in one evening, gained something money can't buy—respect. Genuine, childlike, without a trace of envy or self-interest. And this was only the beginning.