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Izuku… wasn’t sure about this whole interview thing.

It was meant to be some kind of practical activity, a whole-class interview on an actual, live news show. They’d all been extensively briefed on what (and what not) to say, and Aizawa was there to stop them from doing anything absolutely stupid, but it was still well out of Izuku’s comfort zone. It was hard enough to talk to people without it being on live air, after all.

Still, he supposed that if he wanted to be an effective hero in future, and have civilians trust him, he would have to connect with the public. Not everyone could be a cryptid (*cough cough* Aizawa) who avoided the media at every turn. Plus, using the media to advocate for important social issues might be good in future, and having a myriad of small interviews like this up his sleeves would be useful. It would give him more credibility and his opinions more weight, at least in the public’s eyes.

Despite all the logic in the situation, Izuku still felt like he could faint as the cameras went live.

“Good evening, Mustafu! Tonight we have, as promised, an exclusive interview with the one and only class 1A and their teacher, Eraserhead!” The reporter waved her obnoxiously bright salmon pink nails in the air in a dramatic gesture, and Izuku could practically hear fake, sitcom laughter in the background. His discomfort increased. “This class has gone up against real villains time and time again, and prevailed, despite being 15 and 16 years old!”

Yeah, Izuku was really beginning to hate this.

The reporter turned to the class. Izuku was in the front row, for some reason, and he struggled not to fidget, in view of the cameras as he was. “Tell me, what were your first impressions of your classmates?”

The interview progressed smoothly from there, to Izuku’s relief. He answered a couple questions, but mostly left it to the other students so they could get their brands out there. They were all simple, mundane questions with simple answers; Yes, Yaoyorozu and Iida made for very diligent class representatives, no, there were no couples in the class (or, at least, no couples that wanted to announce that they were dating on live air, which was unsurprising), yes, Sato often baked for the class.

They got through a full three minutes without any incidents, which should have made them all very scared. Izuku had expected an outburst within the first thirty seconds, but he guessed that everyone was more nervous than he had thought.

Really, Izuku should have seen it coming. Nothing went this well for them, something was bound to happen at some point. Class 1A was the living embodiment of Murphy’s law.

And, true to form, at four minutes and twelve seconds in, it all went sideways.

And, as it often goes for these things, Izuku Midoriya was the unwilling centre of the chaos.

“So, what do you think of UA’s entrance policy for quirkless students?”

The rest of the class floundered, off-guard and unsure, but Izuku had researched this. “I think they’re incredibly progressive! Quirkless people are so often marginalised and underestimated, and it fills me with hope that, one day, we might live in an equal society.” With a quick thought, he added, “Or, at least, as society that is mostly equal. Equality is still a long way off, but it’s a step in the right direction.”

The reporter almost recoiled, her features distorting in revulsion for a split second before she covered it up with a nondescript smile. “Oh? I thought, at UA, they would teach you certain values?”

Her words made Izuku freeze. He felt a humming, rumbling feeling in his bones, a discordant roar that made his ears ring.


The smile dropped off Izuku’s face, replaced by a stoic, almost predatory gaze. Calm, collected, angry.

“And by ‘values’, do you mean bigotry?” His voice was soft but sharp, like razorblades hidden in velvet and silk.

Izuku, in his focused state, didn’t notice the rest of the class preparing to book it out of the studio, interview be damned. They had never seen Izuku like this, and they weren’t sure if they wanted to.

Aizawa was contemplating whether he should stop him or not, but decided to see where this was going.

(It was entirely possible that Aizawa wanted to see this bastard get ripped to shreds by a teenager. Sue him.)

The reporter stuttered, unsure. “Why, that’s a rather harsh way to put it. I would believe judgement is a better term.”

Izuku let out a short laugh, light and musical, and everyone watching all took a collective gulp.

“Oh, UA fosters judgement. The logical kind, however, instead of needless prejudice.” Izuku cocked his head, his curls bouncing slightly. “What is your opinion of UA’s entrance policy for quirkless students, I wonder? Such a loaded question implies a strong value behind it.”

Aizawa disguised a laugh as a cough behind his hand, head ducking into his capture weapon to hide his grin.

“I-I-” The reporter shook her head, and stood her ground. “I believe that it is a silly rule. It’s not like a quirkless person would be able to make it into a hero school, anyway, let alone such a prestigious one.”

The humming in Izuku’s bones grew louder, his eyes growing wider in a mockery of innocence. “But Miss,” he said sweetly, “you haven’t passed the entrance exam either. Aren’t you saying that you have the ability of a quirkless person? Which would mean that quirkless people are just as capable as people with quirks?”

Aizawa was going to find a clip of this, and watch it over and over again. And get Izuku to do this more often. So much more often.

The camera crew was practically cackling, albeit quietly.

“I haven’t ever tried to pass the exam!” The reporter was on the defensive now. “I’m sure I could if I wanted to.”

Oh, that was the wrong thing to say.

“Are you saying that you are better than the thousands of applicants that get turned down by UA each year?”

This time, class 1A chimed in.


“I know heaps of people who failed the entrance exam!”

“What the heck? That’s so rude!”

The reporter was growing more and more pale, clearly not knowing how to react to being heckled by a bunch of kids. Izuku heard a slight beep, before the reporter relaxed, looking back at the cameras. “Sorry, that’s all we have time for today. Thank you for coming onto our show!”

The camera crew counted down from behind the camera, and Izuku sighed as the ad break was signalled. He turned to Aizawa, ready to apologise, only to be met with a feral grin.

“Do that more often.”

Izuku blinked, before smiling back sadistically. “Gladly.”

Izuku walked over to the reporter, tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention.

“What?” She sounded annoyed, and perhaps a little fearful.

“We never finished that chat, now did we?”

The reporter paled.

Izuku smiled.