Whipped Cream {Sequel to Marshmallow}

Chapter Four

Shouta had picked on many students through the day - subtle - but clear. From cancelling a dash the second before it started to berate and throw off a student, to even pushing obstacles in front of cocky students. He had a reason for everything he did.

Izuku just didn't see it. 

Chewing his lips, he watched as Hitoshi stepped to the side, allowing the brain washed Katsuki into the circle and forcing him to throw the ball. 

Izuku had to think of a way to increase his score in a way that proves he's found a way around his Quirklessness. He was drawing a blank. He'd managed it for most of the others - he was general fit and had semi-decent scores - but this was useless. It was nothing against people using their Quirks.

He was confined to the small square, using specific muscles and a certain skill. Furrowing his eyebrows, he moved to the circle as his name was called - oh yeah, he'd gone back to Midoriya for safety reasons, he didn't really mind, it reminded him of his Mama - and grabbed the ball.

Still half focused, he pushed as much force into it as he could. His hand froze above his head, ball falling and bouncing off his head as a material wrapped his wrist. It snapped him out his thinking - he wasn't even sure he remembered getting into this position - and he straightened, gaze travelling to Shouta.

His stomach twisted and the class froze with him. The biggest problem with his Unkie training him lay in the fact he could tell; could tell when Izuku was distracted and tell when Izuku was lazying about. Of course, he couldn't show it.

They didn't know each other.

"For someone to lack the tool everyone else is here for, I would expect you to have perfected simple stances as such to improve your performance."

And there it was. The bomb shell. Izuku looked down slightly, bending his knees a little. His Unkie was right.

He lacked a tool - a thing people had made the single requirement to the profession he wished to follow. Whereas others could afford to slack off and rely less on their body; he couldn't. He didn't have anything to fall back on. Eraserhead hadn't seen Izuku train the last year - they didn't want any bias. He didn't know what Izuku could do.

Izuku needed to impress him more so - just like the class.

"From what I've seen you let your thoughts distract you at critical moments, leaving yourself vulnerable. Did you believe someone would come and save you after you crippled yourself?"

A twitch of his Teacher's wrist caused his body to be pulled forward by his own. 

"Whatever hopes you may have nursed of your immense rescue, as you can see, nobody is in a position to come to your aid. There's a certain insufferable Hero who made a name for himself rescuing over a thousand innocents from a disaster all by himself. You've got his brute courage ... but all you'll manage to do is run around like a blockhead who needs saving himself."

He grit his teeth. Shouta hated All Might - and hated he saw the same stupid self-sacrificing loom in his nephews eye.

"Find a middle ground - don't think too little and don't think too much. Face it, you've got to work harder than everyone else to be a Hero in the eyes of the people who matter."

The strip of Capture tape unwound from his wrist, and Izuku scooped up the ball, thinking the words over. Shouta wasn't being unnecessarily mean or harsh - he was a man of the truth and the truth he was telling. 

Izuku wasn't perfect because he grew up with him, that would be illogical. His Unkie had purposefully restrained from giving him a help up with becoming a Hero any more than the average child before entering the school. 

Helping him would be stupid - he wasn't any more or less important or capable because he was Quirkless.

"Try the ball pitch a second time. Let's get this over with."

Izuku took a deep breathe, letting his thoughts continue. He needed to work with them, use them as the tool he lacked. He had practised, trained to perfection. So, perfection would be what he did.

Feeling the adrenaline run through his body, he focused on his stance, on his movements, taking his thoughts criticism and using them to move. 

The ball released his hand with a gasp, his muscles straining, and he stumbled slightly. He watched the ball, eyes moving to Shouta as he looked at the machine.

Seventy-eight.

He didn't miss the surprised look on Shouta's face.

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Hey guys! This chapter was a little boring but I thought it necessary to show the thought process of Izuku and Shouta. I didn't want to change the story or have any bias towards him.

Also! I use the technique of using my own criticism a lot when I do my own sports and letting my more negative thoughts be my guide. It generally kinda works lol.