The Story Of Forever (Todobaku)

The Jacket

~JUNIOR YEAR~

Shouto scribbled into his sketchpad and ignored how out of place he looked.

It was as if UA enforced a uniform policy. As students piled into his third period history class, he counted fourteen out of twenty decked out in red or white. The dedicated ones dressed in both.

This was when it'd benefit Shouto to hold a stronger understanding of social cues. Apparently, committing to attend UA's baseball team's home opener wasn't enough. The best way to show support was to wear his school's merchandise, or at least their team's colors.

Luckily, Shouto had the small advantage of his dual colored hair. And with Hitoshi sitting next to him in all black attire, he couldn't be labeled the least school spirited.

"Jesus," Hitoshi said. "People really go out for this stuff."

Ochaco and Momo, occupying the seats in front of the boys, spun around in their chairs. Their outfits were identical: white Heroes tee, jeans, and a high ponytail tied by a red scrunchie.

"Of course we do," Ochaco said. "It's a big deal."

Momo nodded. "Didn't you hear? Apparently the team's favored to qualify for the national tournament this year."

"They will," Shouto said, dropping his pencil.

He had no doubt. Katsuki's journey with the Heroes wasn't a smooth one, but his presence on the team elevated their status to exemplary. Shouto didn't care how modest Katsuki was about his skill. His best friend was born to play baseball.

Shouto wasn't foolish to believe the Heroes could clinch the national title without overpowering serious obstacles. There were plenty of high schools across Japan with talented baseball players. Shiketsu was still the top ranked team. But he had faith UA could beat them as long as Katsuki was on their team. Shouto would always believe in Katsuki.

Hitoshi picked at his chipped nail polish. "It's just a game. I like to think there are more important things in life than how well someone can hit a ball."

"So you're not going to the game?" Ochaco said.

"Of course I'm going," he answered. "Denki threatened to cry if I said no."

Momo giggled. "Someone's whipped."

Hitoshi pulled his lips into a stiff pout. "Whatever." He turned to Shouto, eyeing his friend up and down. "You're going, aren't you?"

Shouto glanced at his sketchpad. In the two weeks since beginning eleventh grade, everything felt chaotic. So much emphasis was placed on the future. If he heard another teacher mention how junior year was the "most important" in terms of creating a path for success, he'd smash his head into a wall.

Shouto dreaded what came after high school. Throughout his sixteen years, art was his greatest passion. But could he transform that passion into a fulfilling career? He hoped to become a mangaka, but there was no guarantee it'd happen.

He could waste away his years. Create story concepts until his head exploded. Perfect his art style until his hand bled. But if he didn't possess the talent, then his goal would be forever stuck with his unwritten mangas: in his head, wasting away.

And the more that realization festered, the sillier he felt dedicating his free time to drawing.

Shouto needed a backup plan. Problem was, nothing else appealed to him. And when he was surrounded by students who seemed to have everything figured out (Momo already had a list of fifteen universities she wanted to apply to), he felt like a failure.