The Marked Trajectory

Being sick sucks. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling my body slowly but surely turning into jelly. A week without training. A week without the beach. A week without being able to hurl rocks at rusty refrigerators and feeling my Quirk respond with a pleasant itch somewhere deep in my mind. Koji, the bastard, came back from his run every evening and made a show of cracking his joints. "Oh, Seiha, what a run it was today!" he'd say, stretching out on his bunk. "Wind, sunset, muscles humming. You would've appreciated it." "I'd appreciate it if you'd shut up," I'd answer without turning my head. "Poor guy. Got sick. And here we are setting records with Green." "You trained with him?" "Yeah. Yesterday and the day before. By the way, he said you promised to help him with dodging multiple projectiles. So get well soon." I sighed. Izuku was training without me. That was… strange. Over the months we'd been working out together, I'd gotten used to seeing him on the beach every evening. His stubbornness, his burning eyes, his endless muttering. And now I was lying here like a sack of potatoes while my partner was grinding away. Then again, getting mad at being sick was stupid. The body is a stubborn thing, and if it needs rest, it'll take it. Whether your consciousness wants it or not. I turned onto my side and pulled the blanket up to my chin. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'd get up, no matter what it cost me. Takumi, sitting in the corner and reading a book by the dim light of the nightlight—his night vision let him keep the main light off without disturbing the rest of us—spoke up. "Has your fever gone down?" "Seems so." "Then sleep. Tomorrow you'll be as good as new." "Like a used one," I clarified. "But it'll do for a run."

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The next day I woke up at five in the morning, when the sky was just beginning to turn gray and the birds outside hadn't woken up yet. My body obeyed. My head was clear. My nose breathed. I sat up in bed, stretched until my spine cracked, and smirked. Life was looking up. Koji was dead asleep in his bed, sprawled out like a starfish and snoring. Ryohei was curled up, blanket pulled over his head—his skin faintly glowed swamp-green in the darkness. It seemed his Quirk worked on autopilot even in his sleep. Takumi slept soundlessly, like a vampire in a coffin. I slid off my bunk without a sound, pulled on sweatpants, a T-shirt, and sneakers. Gloves on my hands—a habit drilled to the point of reflex. I stepped into the hallway, careful not to creak the floorboards. The children's home was quiet at this hour, only Honda-san clattering dishes somewhere in the kitchen. Did that woman ever sleep? Given her Quirk, she probably dreamed in all three hundred sixty degrees at once. I slipped outside through the side door. The cold morning air hit my face, chasing away the last remnants of sleep. I took a deep breath and coughed. Residual weakness still lingered. My lungs hadn't fully cleared yet, and my throat was scratchy. "Alright," I muttered, rolling my neck. "Nothing crazy. For the first day, a light jog will do." I ran. The route was familiar: from the home to the park, through the park to the embankment, along the embankment to the stairs leading to the industrial zone, and back. I used to cover it in forty minutes, but today I decided not to look at my watch. Just run. Feel my muscles working, my heart pumping blood, my lungs expanding more freely with each breath. The city was waking up. Windows lit up in buildings, a dog barked somewhere, the first early-morning car drove by. I ran and thought about how much could have changed in a week. Koji had said something about Izuku, but in his retelling everything sounded like usual: Green ran, lifted weights, dodged projectiles. Nothing new. Yet something in Koji's tone had put me on alert. A certain reticence. Well, I'd see him and find out. I reached the park, turned onto the path by the pond, and noticed a familiar figure. Izuku was sitting on a bench, tying his shoelaces. His sneakers were muddy—he'd clearly already been for a run. Next to him lay his ever-present notebook, but it was closed now, and he himself looked… different. I slowed down, shifted to a walk, and took a closer look. Straight back. Shoulders squared. His gaze was far more confident. He was looking at the pond, at the ducks gliding across the water, and his face held a calm, almost serene expression. Not a trace of the nervous uncertainty I'd grown used to over the months of knowing him and which he'd gradually started shedding. "Green!" I called as I approached. He flinched, turned, and smiled. Wide, genuine. But something else flickered in his eyes. Something he was clearly trying to hide. "Seiha-kun! You're already on your feet!" "Did you doubt it?" I flopped onto the bench beside him and caught my breath. "A week in bed—sure, it's fun, but I'm already sick of the ceiling. How are you?" "I'm… fine. Completely fine." "I can see that." I glanced sideways at him. "You seem different somehow." "D-different?" He immediately grew flustered, and for a second I saw the old Izuku—the one who would blush and stammer at any compliment. "What do you mean?" "I don't know. You're sitting straighter. Your eyes are burning. It's like All Might himself told you you're awesome." Izuku choked on air. "W-what?! No! I mean… why would All Might say something like that to me? Ha-ha… ha…" He was laughing. Strained. Fake. As if I'd made a shot in the dark and landed it dead center. I said nothing. Just hummed and turned back toward the pond. Interesting. Very interesting… Of course, I remembered canon. Or rather, what was left of it after two seasons and a pile of fan theories. At some point, All Might passes his Quirk on to Izuku. One For All. That was one of the spoilers I still recalled from my past life. But when exactly did it happen? Before the exams? After? I couldn't remember. Could it have happened already? Or maybe it was just my paranoia, and Green was simply happy that he'd finally managed to stand up to Bakugo in my absence? Fine. I wouldn't push. If Izuku was hiding something, that was his right. We were friends, not investigators. "Alright," I said, getting up. "Since you're already warmed up, let's head to the beach. I want to see if I've forgotten how to throw rocks." "Are you sure? You've only just recovered…" "Green, I've been lying in bed for a week. If I don't stretch out, I'll start throwing furniture back at the home. Honda-san wouldn't appreciate that." Izuku smiled, this time sincerely, and grabbed his notebook. "Then let's go."

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Dagobah Beach greeted us with its usual smell of rust, seaweed, and old tires. The mountains of trash hadn't gone anywhere, though here and there I noticed some progress. Izuku, it seemed, had kept clearing the debris while I was sick. Good job. We walked over to the cleared patch—our training area. Makeshift targets made from old boards and metal sheets stood here, a pile of rocks of various calibers lay ready for my throws, and several tires that Izuku used instead of weights were stacked nearby. "Well, shall we start?" I pulled the glove off my right hand and looked around. "Let's see if I've lost my touch." Izuku nodded and stepped aside, ready to observe and comment. I picked a target—an old microwave about twenty meters away. Touched it with my bare right hand. The Mark locked on. Then I picked up a stone, aimed, and threw. The stone traced a smooth arc and slammed into the microwave with a dull clang. It wobbled but stayed upright. "Working," I noted. "Thank goodness. You never know—maybe sickness affects Quirks." "Viruses don't affect Quirks," Izuku corrected automatically. "It depends on the user's physical condition, but the ability itself doesn't…" "Green, I'm joking." "Oh. Right. Of course." I smirked and grabbed a handful of small stones. One, two, three—each flew at the microwave, hammering a rhythm against the rusty metal. One stone ricocheted and vanished somewhere into the trash heaps. Another hit dead center. The third hit the upper corner. "My grouping is off," I remarked. "Got to get it back." "Noticeably," Izuku nodded, opening his notebook. "You're throwing with the same force, but the spread has increased. Possibly your muscles haven't fully recovered after the illness." "Or I'm just rusty. Either way—we'll fix it. By the way," I said without turning around. "Koji told me you trained here without me. How'd it go?" "Fine," Izuku shrugged. "Ran, lifted. Tried to come up with new exercises." "And? Did you come up with any?" "Well… some things." He hesitated. I turned and looked at him straight on. "Green, you're being shady. I can tell." "I'm not being shady!" "You are. It's written on your forehead: 'I have a secret and I don't know how to hide it.'" Izuku blushed and buried his face in his notebook. His lips moved—he was muttering under his breath again, but this time so quietly I couldn't make out a single word. I sighed and turned away again. "Fine. If you don't want to talk, don't. But you've clearly changed this week. And I'm not talking about physically. You've become… I don't know. More confident, I guess." Izuku raised his eyes from the notebook. Something like gratitude flickered in them. "It's just… something happened," he said slowly. "Something good. Really good. But I can't tell you yet. Sorry." "Don't apologize. Everyone has their own secrets." I picked up another stone from the ground and tossed it in my palm. "The important thing is that this secret of yours helps you get stronger, not the other way around." "It helps," Izuku said. And such conviction rang in his voice that I couldn't help but smile. "Then everything's fine." I threw the stone again. This time at a different target—an old road sign sticking out of a trash pile. The stone hit dead center. "By the way, Koji said you found some kind of trainer?" Izuku flinched so hard he almost dropped his notebook. "A t-trainer?!" "Yeah. A physical conditioning specialist. Or something like that." "Ah! Yes! Right! Trainer!" He nodded so fast his head might have detached and flown away. "Exactly. A specialist. A very good specialist. A professional. We… train together." "And what's this specialist's name?" "U-uh… Yagi-san?" It sounded like a question. As if he wasn't even sure of his trainer's name. "Yagi-san," I repeated. "Interesting name." "Well, yes. Perfectly. Nothing special." "I see." I turned away to hide my smirk. Izuku absolutely couldn't lie. If a real detective were questioning him right now, he'd crack in three seconds. But I wasn't a detective. And prying into someone else's secrets when the person didn't want to share them—I considered that the lowest thing. "Alright, Yagi-san it is," I said placatingly. "As long as he doesn't make you eat sand and do push-ups on landmines. I know those trainer types." "What?! No! Yagi-san is really nice! He… he…" Izuku cut himself off, realizing I was joking, and blushed again. "You're making fun of me again." "A little. But with love." I clenched another stone in my fist and launched it especially hard. The stone hit the sign, making it ring like a bell. "You know, Green," I said without turning around. "I don't know what happened to you this week. But whatever it was—I'm glad. You've become stronger. And I'm not talking about muscles." Izuku was silent. I heard him shifting from foot to foot, the pages of his notebook rustling, him trying to find the right words. "Thank you," he finally said. "That… that means a lot to me." "You're welcome. Now enough with the sentiment, let's train. You ready to dodge?" Izuku put his notebook in his backpack and stepped out into the open space. His eyes lit up with that familiar competitive fire. "Ready." "Then catch!" I threw the first stone. Izuku dodged to the side easily, almost playfully. The second missed again. The third he met by holding up his palm and deflecting it aside—a technique I'd taught him a couple of months ago. "Good!" I shouted, scooping up a new handful. "Now a barrage!" The stones flew one after another. Izuku dodged, ducked, went into rolls. His movements had become smoother, more economical. He no longer wasted extra energy on every motion like before. Someone had drilled him well. Yagi-san, then. Right. Sure. I thought about what I knew of the canon. If things were going like the original, Izuku was now training with All Might. Hauling trash on this very beach, preparing to receive the Quirk. That made sense: physical conditioning before transferring a Quirk took a lot of time, but it was just enough to make it before the U.A. entrance exams. But I could be wrong. I'd watched the anime a long time ago and far from all of it. Maybe All Might hadn't shown up yet. Maybe this Yagi-san really was just some trainer. Yeah, right. A trainer who made Green blush, stammer, and go wide-eyed at just a mention. Like I'd believe that. "Seiha-kun, you're distracted!" Izuku shouted, and the next second the stone I was supposed to catch—we sometimes switched roles—hit me right in the forehead. "Ow!" I rubbed the sore spot. "That was mean." "You yourself taught me to seize the moment when the opponent loses focus," Izuku reminded me with a completely serious face. "Yeah, yeah. Only I didn't expect you to use it against me. Traitor." He smiled. And in that smile there wasn't a shadow of fear or uncertainty. Before me stood a person who had found his goal and was walking toward it no matter what. I caught myself feeling proud of him. In just a few months, this guy had gone from a timid, bullied boy to someone ready to look the Symbol of Peace in the eye and stand his ground. "All right," I said, rubbing my forehead. "Since you're so awesome, let's make it harder. I'll set two Marks, you dodge projectiles from both hands at once. Ready?" "Ready." I pulled the glove off my left hand and touched a second target—an old bicycle wheel. Now I had two Marks: one on the sign, one on the wheel. "Let's go!" I launched stones from both hands. They flew toward different targets, and Izuku had to dodge, constantly changing direction. It was harder than before. The stones flew along unpredictable trajectories, curved around obstacles, collided with each other in the air. One stone, thrown by my left hand, ricocheted off the body of an old car and nearly hit Izuku in the shoulder, but he ducked in time. "Excellent!" I yelled. "More!" We trained until the sun rose above the horizon and started to beat down. Izuku was drenched in sweat, but he didn't slow down. I was tired too—my body was still not in top shape after the illness—but I didn't want to stop. At some point I noticed that Izuku was no longer just dodging but also trying to catch the stones in mid-air. Pure madness, given that each stone was flying at a decent speed and along an unpredictable arc. But once, twice, three times his fingers closed on a passing projectile, and he hurled it back at me. "Hey, that's not fair!" "You said it yourself—seize the moment!" I laughed and threw a particularly large stone with my right hand. It described a wide arc, curved around a pile of tires, and flew at the back of Izuku's head. He spun around at the last moment and caught it. "Alright, enough!" I declared, raising my hands. "I admit it. You've gotten better. Much better." Izuku was breathing hard, but his face was beaming. He tossed the stone onto the pile and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "It's all… training," he gasped. "Yagi-san's?" "Y-yeah. His too." I nodded and walked over to clap him on the shoulder. "Tell your Yagi-san he's doing an excellent job. And if he ever wants to take on another promising hero-in-training, he can let me know. I'm not proud." Izuku looked at me as if I'd suggested flying to the Moon on a paper airplane. "I… I don't think he… takes more than one student," he mumbled. "Too bad. But it's fine. I'll manage on my own." I picked up my gloves from the ground and pulled them back on. "Seiha-kun," Izuku said suddenly. "Are you upset? That I can't tell you?" "Why would I be upset?" "Well… we're friends. And we train together. And I'm hiding something important from you." I thought for a couple of seconds. Then answered—honestly, as I felt: "Green, I'm hiding something too. Not just from you—from everyone. But that doesn't mean I don't trust you. It's just that there are things a person has to digest on their own. Or can't tell for other reasons. I understand that. So don't worry about it." Izuku looked at me for a long moment. Then nodded. "Thank you." "You're welcome. Now let's wrap it up. I still need to get back to the children's home, or Honda-san will think I've run off again and make my life very interesting." "Haven't you run off before?" "That was in the past. Now I'm a diligent ward. Almost." I winked, grabbed my backpack, and headed for the stairs leading up from the beach. "Tomorrow, same time?" I asked, turning back. "Yes!" Izuku waved. "I'll be waiting." I climbed the stairs, stepped onto the embankment, and strolled leisurely toward the home. The morning was sunny, warm, truly summery. The city was waking up, filling with noise and movement. A train rumbled somewhere in the distance. Thoughts circled in my head. Yagi-san. Trainer. Physical conditioning specialist. Right, right. Sure. I was almost certain that Izuku was being trained by All Might himself. It explained his progress, his confidence, and his reluctance to share details. If the Symbol of Peace asked him to keep it a secret, anyone in Green's place would keep their mouth shut. And if he also promised to pass on his Quirk… Though maybe it was all just my speculation. The fanfiction I'd read and theories I'd heard didn't necessarily match the reality of this world. I'd already realized that things here were a little different. More alive. More unpredictable. But even if Izuku was now becoming the successor to One For All—so what? What difference did it make to me? We were both heading toward the same goal. Him on his path, me on mine. And if we both got into U.A. in the end, that would only be a good thing. Though there is one problem, I thought, turning toward the home's gates. If Green gets super strength, he might accidentally demolish half the beach. I should suggest he train in an open area. Or find sturdier targets. At the home, the smell of porridge and the clatter of dishes greeted me. Breakfast was in full swing. I slipped into the dining room, took my portion, and sat at the table where Koji, Takumi, and Ryohei were already sitting. "So? How was it?" Koji asked with his mouth full. "Did you go for a run?" "Yep. And trained at the beach." "With Green?" "With him." "And how is he?" I shrugged, stuffing my mouth with porridge. "Fine. Better than fine. I think he's found himself some kind of awesome trainer." "A trainer?" Koji raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Who is it?" "Some Yagi-san. I don't know. He didn't say." "Yagi…" Ryohei scratched his nose thoughtfully. "Never heard of him." "Me neither," I admitted. "But judging by how Green is improving, this Yagi-san knows his stuff." Takumi looked up from his book—he read even at breakfast—and remarked: "Maybe a retired hero? Or ex-military?" "Maybe," I shrugged. "What does it matter? The main thing is he's helping." Koji snorted and went back to his porridge. The situation was getting more and more interesting. Well, Yagi-san. Whoever you are—thank you for Green. You're giving him something that I, for all my desire, couldn't give him. Belief in himself. I finished my porridge, took my plate to the sink, and went to my room. A long day lay ahead—lessons with Yamada-sensei, then another training session, then dinner, then lights out. The ordinary life of a children's home teenager. But with each passing day, that life was becoming less ordinary. Because somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, the U.A. entrance exam was already looming. And both of us, me and Green, had to be ready. No sweat. We'll manage. I gave my word: no Quirk is useless. And I'll prove it. I lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. I felt at peace. Everything was going according to plan. Even better than planned.