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Third year was hard. Obviously, that was to be expected, but some were finding it harder than others. With all the new, promising second and first years, along with the expectation that they were supposed to be the greatest generation, there was a lot of pressure for 3-A to break boundaries and be the best they possibly could.Or go beyond, Plus Ultra.But whilst Midoriya could strengthen his quirk, Bakugou could improve his accuracy, or Kirishima could make himself more maneuverable, there was only so much that those with physical quirks could do.Sure, Hagakure had learnt how to bend light, and Shouji had worked out how to duplicate more and more limbs, but one person in the class had come to grinding halt, like running straight into a solid wall.“Set timer to 10 minutes.” Already sweating and panting, beaten and bruised, Ojiro forces his tail back to starting position as he voice-commands the timer to reset again. He’s already done this four times. It’s nearing an hour of him facing off against the gymnasium, which consists of an obstacle course, a martial arts area with moving targets, and a narrow hallway rigged with traps to avoid. Ojiro knew the course better than anyone else.He’s trained here to the point of passing out everyday, and yet his tail still won’t get any stronger!It’s frustrating. It’s insanely frustrating, and he pours all that into what should be the last run of the evening, using his tail to help him cross monkey bars, keep balance, and climb a sculptured wall with ‘trees’. He hits the targets as hard as he can, having memorised the order they come in at, trying to force his aching, exhausted body to move faster, hit harder, reach further! He misses one.“Shit!!” The simulation shuts itself off with a large FAILURE in red glowing letters along the banner at the top, showing he still had 7 minutes remaining. It’s the worst he’s done so far, and he punches the mats below him as he sinks to his knees, breathing hard and squeezing his eyes shut.“Why can’t I be… Better?” His heartbroken mutter fades in the silence of the room and he drags himself to his feet to head back towards the dorms. May as well shower and sleep before class tomorrow.He passes some first years on the way out, lifting a hand in greeting with an awkward smile, since he’s so soaked in sweat and pretty gross right now. He can hear them talking between themselves as they stop to enter the gym with number codes.“Who was that…?”“Probably a senpai.”“I don’t remember anyone with a tail…”“Could be support class, trying to get into hero course.”“Ah, bad luck they only got a tail then.” Ojiro slows to a halt, standing in the shadow of the building. He sighs as he hears the door close behind him.“Yeah… Bad luck.” His mood was already sour, but now it’s completely in the pits. He sighs with a surge of annoyance, more at himself than anyone else, dragging his tail through the ground as he half-limps into the dorms. Muscles aching, he sits on the sofa in the common room, well aware everyone has gone to bed already. He’ll go in a second. He just needs to shower first. And to do that, he needs to make it up the stairs. So it’s necessary to sit down for a few minutes.“Ojiro… Ojiro!” Something shakes his shoulder and he bolts upwards, eyes flying open. He’s vaguely aware that there’s drool pooling from the side of his mouth, and it’s light. He wipes away the drool, blinks rapidly, and shakes his head.“What- What time is it…?” His vision focuses and he sees a splotch of red, but Kirishima isn’t smiling like usual. Instead, he looks concerned.“Y’okay?” Ojiro hates it. He hates that recently, everyone treats him with pity whenever he fails in front of them, worries when he isn’t completely the same as the rest of them, or asks if he’s okay just because he’s on the sofa.“I’m fine!” Kirishima is obviously taken aback by the snappiness of the response, and Ojiro sighs, running a hand through his hair stressfully.“Sorry… Guess falling asleep on the sofa makes me kind of cranky.”“It is pretty lumpy. We’ve had it since first year, after all!” Kirishima laughs as he pats the back of the sofa fondly, receding into the kitchen. He’s still in his running clothes, the ones he wears on early morning jogs. Wait. Morning.“Kirishima, what time is it?!”“Uhhh… About Seven-ish? Late six-ish?” Ojiro’s muscles scream in protest when he pushes himself up from the sofa in a flurry, sprinting out the room much to Kirishima’s surprise, making his way towards his dorm room.“Uniform, uniform, where did I put it?” Back in their first year, Ojiro had a sense of peace in his room, had kept it tidy and plain, simple but comfortable, with everything in a certain place and prepared for the next day.Now, as his life spirals, his room is a mess. He can’t help but huff bitterly when he thinks about how it reflects his current progress to be a hero.“Mashi~!” He jumps at the sound of Hagakure swinging in through his doorway, his tail slightly twitching at her presence. That’s… Odd. Usually he senses her long before now. Hagakure takes one look at him and her shoulders droop.“Mashi? What’s up?” She lets herself in, moving to sit on the edge of his bed after pushing aside some stray homework, watching her friend frantically search though the clothing on the floor for his vaguely clean uniform, rather than the dirty one still awaiting a wash in the corner of his room.“Nothing, Tooru, everything’s fine.” She hums in thought, placing her elbows on her knees and invisible chin in her hands.“You seem kinda stressed. And your bed hasn’t been slept in. Plus you’re still in your hero outfit, you’re sweaty, and you’re covered in bruises.”“... I am?” “Yeah! Just look at your tail!” Ojiro sweeps his tail around on the floor, pushing everything else out the way and stares at the developing purple blotches with a twisted feeling in his stomach.“... Oh.” There’s a mix of emptiness and crushing failure inside him, and it just… Just makes him want to cry. Hagakure must see the water briefly building in his eyes, because she slips from the bed to kneel next to him, uncaring of the clothes on the floor.“Are you sure things are okay? You’ve seemed… Like you’re beating yourself up lately.”“Just training.”“No, it’s-... It’s more than that, Mashi. Not just bruises, but the person you are as well.” Ojiro abruptly turns his head away, his tail instinctively curling around himself, as if it could shield him from the truth he doesn’t want to face.“I’d like to get changed now, if that’s okay.” He still hasn’t found his uniform. Hagakure can clearly tell. But still, she sighs, letting herself out. Before the door closes fully, she whispers into the dark room.“You… Don’t have to hide if you’re hurting. We’re all your friends, Mashi. You can count on us.” The door closes. Something about the offered kindness hurts more than any harsh words or complete ignorance would have.He digs his fingers into the clothing scattered on the floor. What was he doing here…? If he wasn’t improving, wasn’t good enough, was just a tail, then what was the point…? Sure, he wanted to be a hero, but that impossible future seemed to get further and further away everyday.Because he’d already dragged himself down, and now he was hurting others.“I want… to be a hero…”You’re not good enough, the silence whispers back.“I just need to train more…”It hasn’t helped this far, echoes in his thoughts, in his room.“I’ll improve.”You hit your limit long ago, haunts the voice in his mind.“I can do it. I want to do it. I’ll become stronger.”Wanting isn’t enough if you CAN’T.“Training will help… It will! I can- I can do better.”It’s impossible.“I… I can’t be a hero at all, can I?”
What’s the point in trying if you’ll never succeed?
“But… I’m kind of strong… Right?”You’re just a tail. There’s nowhere to go from here..“I was… I was good in first year… I was good…”
That was long ago. Why are you here now?
“Why am I… Here? What’s the point…?” Ojiro hunches over his floor, curling up on forearms and knees, tucking his tail around him protectively as silent sobs take over. He’s been struggling a long time, trying to prolong the inevitable, but the breaking point has been reached. Slowly, clumsily, instead of searching through his clothes for his uniform, he scrapes it all into a big pile, emptying out anything remaining in drawers on top of it. Then, he pulls his suitcase out from under the bed.It’s been there, gathering dust since they moved into the third year dorms. But maybe Ojiro has always intended to use it again. Maybe he had known, deep down, that he would end up running away defeated, tail tucked between his legs.He always ran away. Ran from a fight, ran from himself, ran from reality. But for all he had tried to outrun his limits, it felt like they had caught up with him in the end, overwhelming him. Ojiro doesn’t bother to fold his clothes, or check his belongings are safely arranged before he closes the lid and zips it up. There are still voices out in the corridor though, so he doesn’t bother to move from his position. Never before has he felt so alone when people are nearby.By the time he does want to get up though, his legs have gone stiff and ends up just flopping back on the floor with a hiss. Even his tail feels numb, and he knows that’s from a combination of training excessively, not doing his cool-down stretches, and sleeping on the sofa.Unable to summon the energy to move, he simply flops his tail over his waist and lies there in the silence.And then there’s a knock at the door.“Who- Who is it?”“Open the door, Ojiro.” Oh no. That voice is unmistakable. Over the past two years, Aizawa has become less of a homeroom teacher and more of a full-time parent. The kids might be 17 now - Ojiro being one of the oldest - but that doesn’t stop Aizawa caring about them and parenting them. “... It’s open…” He manages to kick the suitcase under the bed just before Aizawa opens the door, but there’s still the fact that Ojiro is lying on the floor with numb legs, his tail flopped over his waist, in a despicable state of bruises and sweat and general grossness.Sighing, Aizawa rubs the back of his head and then moves to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning down to grab the handle of the suitcase that pokes out from underneath, and opens it. Without words, he starts taking things out and wither folding them up to put in a pile, or throw into the washing pile with mild disgust.“... Why…?” The tiny question has him pause, blinking down at his student before resuming his tasks.“Hagakure and Kirishima alerted me there was an issue. When you didn’t come to class - two hours ago - I came to find you.”“No, I mean… Why are you unpacking my stuff?”“Because it would be illogical for you to give up on being a hero.”“But I’m not good enough. What other option do I have?”“Stay.” It’s the simplest of answers, but for some reason, it strikes Ojiro harder than any motivational speech ever could. He feels like something has just hit him in the chest, but in a good way, and his shoulders start to shake.His tail curls up over him a little tighter, burying his face under the fluff, and he cries, something he hasn’t done in a long time. The entire time, Aizawa simply tidies and reorganises his room, rearranging it so it’s not this depressing environment it fell into at the start of the year, along with Ojiro’s confidence.“Come on. Get up, get a shower.” Ojiro slowly sits up, wiping at his eyes. The first thing he notices, on his desk, is the hero license he achieved in their first year. It’s been hiding in a drawer all this time. He reaches out and carefully picks it up.“Sensei… I don’t know if I deserve this anymore.”“Of course you do. You earned it with your own skill, didn’t you?”“Well, yeah, but…” He trails off, unsure of himself, and shrinks in stature a little when Aizawa sighs. Then, there’s gentle fingers carding through his hair. It’s comforting. “There’s no ‘but’ about it. You earned it. You deserve it.”“But I’m not getting better… I feel like I’m repeatedly slamming into a glass wall and I can see everyone else getting further away behind it, but I’m just… Left behind, trying to break through it and just- just stuck.” “Everyone gets stuck sometimes. But you don’t have to break that wall alone. Ask people to help you, or trust that they’ll be there when you need them most. It’s okay to be stuck.”“It’s okay?”“Mhm.” Ojiro sheepishly ruffles his hair, a small blush on his cheeks.“I- Umm… I think I may have overreacted slightly… I’m not going to be thrown out for this, am I?” Aizawa huffs a laugh, heading towards the door.“Bad days happen, Ojiro. Overreactions happen, and within certain limits, that’s understandable. As for being thrown out… Not if you take a shower.” For the first time in almost a full year, Ojiro laughs, bright and genuine, from the belly.“Okay, okay! I’ll go shower, I promise!” His legs wobble as he stands, but he manages to fight the ache in his body to clumsily stumble towards his bathroom.“Ojiro.” He looks back over his shoulder to see Aizawa speaking through a crevice in the door.“I’m glad you decided to stay.” The door closes. But this time, Ojiro doesn’t feel so alone.