Class 1-A didn't show up the next day. Recovery day. Villain attack, shaken nerves, and their homeroom teacher still stuck in a hospital bed glaring at nurses. General Studies still ran.
There was a knock. Light. Hesitant.
"Khan-sensei?"
"Yeah. Come in."
The door cracked open and Midoriya Izuku slipped inside, shoulders tight, backpack clutched to his chest. He closed the door behind him too carefully, then stood there waiting for instructions.
Khan didn't rush him.
Izuku cleared his throat. "Th-thank you for seeing me."
Khan smiled warmly. "You don't have to thank me. Sit wherever you want."
Izuku nodded fast, then took the chair across from him. He perched on it, spine straight, knees together, hands knotted in his lap. The kid looked exhausted in that quiet way that didn't show on medical charts.
"So," Khan said, sipping his coffee. "How's school going?"
Midoriya stared at the ground. "Um. It's… it's fine. General Studies is fine."
Students in General Studies said fine the way people said weather was fine when a storm sat one mile out.
Khan tilted his head. "Fine as in manageable, or fine as in nobody's bleeding today?"
Midoriya let out a short laugh before he could stop it. Then he flushed.
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize. I was aiming for that."
Midoriya relaxed a fraction. His shoulders dropped.
Khan nodded. "General Studies gets underestimated. Happens every year. People forget it sits right in the middle of the machine. Administration. Policy. Support. Analysis. Graduates from that track keep society running while heroes get the posters."
Midoriya's eyes lifted. "You... don't think it's a waste?"
Khan shook his head. "I graduated from General Studies."
Midoriya froze, then leaned forward without realizing it. "Really?"
"Yeah. Paperwork, psych evals, public response training. I didn't throw a punch in school. Still ended up here."
Midoriya stared. The tension in his face gone, relief came in then something close to hope.
"I didn't know that," he said.
He swallowed. His grip on the backpack strap loosened.
Khan shifted, crossing his arms loosely. "You've been keeping up with classes?"
"Yes," Midoriya said quickly. "I mean, yes, sir. I take notes. I review them every night. I try to stay ahead."
"I believe you."
Midoriya's shoulders eased again. He hadn't realized he was bracing for doubt.
Khan watched that happen and let it.
"You don't need to sell me on effort," Khan said. "I can see it."
Midoriya smiled, shy and crooked. "Thank you."
They sat in a quiet for a second.
Khan broke it. "You follow hero history?"
Midoriya brightened. "Yes. A lot."
"Before Quirks," Khan added.
Midoriya paused. Then nodded. "Yeah. I've read about it."
"Firefighters. Rescue teams. Emergency responders. Do you think they were heroes?" Khan asked.
Midoriya answered without thinking. "Of course."
Khan raised an eyebrow. "Even though they didn't have powers?"
"They saved people," Midoriya said. His voice steadied as he spoke. "They ran into danger. They trained. They showed up when others couldn't."
Khan smiled. "So what made them heroes?"
Midoriya frowned, thinking. "Their actions. Their choices."
"Exactly," Khan said. "Not their Quirks."
Midoriya nodded slowly. The idea settled into him.
"You're in General Studies," he said. "That doesn't mean you're behind. It means you're learning a different angle."
Midoriya hesitated. "But... heroes fight villains."
"They do," Khan agreed. "They also fill out incident reports. Sit through hearings. Make judgment calls that affect cities. Someone has to understand the system or the system eats them alive."
Midoriya let out a breath. "I never thought of it that way."
"That's fine. Nobody teaches it that way."
Midoriya shifted in his chair. "Can I ask something?"
"Go for it."
"Did you... ever want to be in the Hero Course?"
Khan shook his head. "I was born Quirkless," he said. "I knew early my road wasn't gonna look heroic on a poster. But helping people never belonged to Quirks in the first place. So I studied. Worked jobs nobody wanted. Learned how systems chew people up and how to wedge a hand in before that happens."
Izuku's eyes went wide.
"You're... you're Quirkless?"
Khan met his gaze and nodded with a smile.
"You awakened yours late, right?" he asked. "You know what that feels like. Watching everyone else sprint while you're still tying your shoes."
Izuku swallowed and nodded. "Yeah."
"It messes with your head," Khan went on. "People talk around you instead of to you. They decide what you can't do before you've even tried. After a while, you start doing it for them."
Izuku's fingers tightened around his backpack strap. His shoulders hunched, then eased again as he breathed.
Khan watched that shift.
"Good thing you awakened a Quirk," Khan said. "It's always better to have one than not. Even if you're not in the Hero Course."
Izuku swallowed.
"But I'm not using it," Izuku said. "Not really. Not here."
"You're using it," Khan replied. "Just not the way you thought you would."
Izuku frowned. "How?"
"You survived watching your dream walk past you every morning and still showed up," Khan said. "That takes more guts than throwing a punch."
Izuku stared at him.
Khan didn't rush him.
"You ever notice how most people quit quietly?" Khan asked. "They don't storm out. They don't cry. They just stop raising their hand. Stop talking about what they want. One day they wake up and convince themselves they never wanted it."
Izuku shook his head fast. "I don't want that."
"Good," Khan said. "Then don't let the building decide who you are."
Izuku leaned forward, elbows on his knees now, posture gone stiff. "I keep thinking if I just work harder, someone will notice. That I'll get pulled in. That it'll change."
Khan hummed. "It might. It might not."
Izuku stiffened again, bracing.
"That's not me being cruel," Khan added. "That's me being honest. The system doesn't reward hope. It rewards pressure applied in the right place."
Izuku chewed on that. "So what do I do?"
Khan shrugged. "You learn. You get scary competent at things people ignore. You build value where nobody's looking. When the door cracks open, you're ready to shove."
Izuku's eyes flicked up. "You really think that happens?"
"I've seen it," Khan said. "More than once."
Izuku shifted again. "Can I ask something else?"
"Sure."
Midoriya clenched his fist in his lap. Knuckles went white, then red.
"I have a strong Quirk," he said. The words came out fast. "One that can fight. I could've been there. At USJ. With everyone else. Instead I was here. Safe."
Khan let out a breath through his nose and leaned back in his chair.
"That's survivor's guilt," he said. "You're syncing yourself to people who got hurt. You're trying to carry their fear on your back because you think that's what good people do."
Midoriya's shoulders sagged. His eyes dropped to the floor.
"It says a lot about you," Khan continued. "It means you care. It means you've got a hero's heart. That part's real. But it's also not good for you."
Midoriya swallowed. "Why not?"
"For two reasons." Khan lifted a finger, then another. "First, you weren't there. Not because you ran. Not because you hid. Because you weren't assigned. You could've been in Class 1-B even if you were a hero student. You could've been sick that day. Your Quirk hurts you when you push it, right? You could've been benched by a medic. You can't beat yourself up over imaginary versions of the day."
Midoriya nodded, slowly. His jaw tightened.
"And second," Khan said, "that thinking trashes the people who were there."
Midoriya looked up, startled. "I didn't mean---"
"I know you didn't," Khan cut in. "But listen to what you're saying. You're telling yourself you would've done better. That you could've saved more people. That if you were there, things would've gone smoother."
Midoriya's mouth opened, then closed.
"That's not fair to them," Khan went on. "Those kids fought. They panicked, screwed up, got scared, still moved. They stood in front of things that wanted them dead and didn't fold. Acting as if you would've handled it cleaner cheapens that."
Midoriya's shoulders shook. He pressed his lips together.
"I'm not saying this to be harsh," Khan said. "I'm saying it because you're being harsh to everyone involved. Including yourself."
Midoriya stared at his hands. His fist unclenched. Fingers trembled.
"I keep thinking," he said quietly, "if I was stronger sooner... if I didn't miss my chance... then maybe-"
"Maybe nothing," Khan said. "That road doesn't end anywhere useful."
Midoriya rubbed his thumb over his knuckle, a nervous habit that had probably been with him since he was five.
"They looked so scared," he said. "I saw the footage. I saw the reports. They're my age. Some younger."
"They should've been scared," Khan replied. "That doesn't make them weak. It makes them alive."
Midoriya nodded again.
"You weren't spared because you're lesser," Khan said. "You were spared because schedules don't care about destiny."
Midoriya let out a shaky laugh. He straightened a little in his chair. "Then what am I supposed to do with this feeling?"
Khan shrugged. "You stop feeding it."
"How?"
"You catch it when it starts," Khan said. "When your brain goes, 'I should've been there,' you answer back. You say, 'I wasn't.' End of sentence."
Midoriya frowned. "That feels... cold."
"It's practical," Khan said. "Cold keeps wounds from swelling."
Midoriya thought about that. His gaze drifted to the window, then back.
"So I just... shut it down?"
"You don't shove it in a box," Khan said. "You don't pretend it doesn't exist. You let it pass through you without setting up camp."
Midoriya tilted his head. "That sounds hard."
"It is," Khan said. "That's why most people don't do it."
Midoriya huffed a small laugh. "Figures."
Khan leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk.
"You want to honor what happened?" he asked. "Do it by not turning it into a fantasy where you're the missing piece. Those kids don't need a ghost hero. They need classmates who show up tomorrow without drowning in yesterday."
Midoriya nodded, slower this time. Something settled in his chest.
"I think... I get it," he said.
"Good," Khan replied. "You don't need to punish yourself to prove you care."
Midoriya hesitated. "Can I ask something else?"
"Go ahead."
"Do you ever feel it?" Midoriya asked. "The guilt. From things you weren't part of."
"All the time," Khan said. "Difference is, I've had practice telling it to shut up."
Midoriya cracked a small smile.
Khan smiled back, brief. "Guilt feels noble. That's why it sticks. Makes you feel involved without actually helping anyone."
Midoriya winced. "Ouch."
"Truth stings," Khan said. "But it heals cleaner."
Midoriya sat back. His posture loosened. The tight coil in his shoulders eased.
"I don't want to disrespect them," he said. "The students who were there."
"Then don't," Khan replied. "When you talk about USJ, talk about what they did. Not what you think you could've done."
Midoriya nodded. "Okay."
"And stop calling yourself safe as if it's a sin," Khan added. "Being unharmed doesn't make you a coward."
Midoriya breathed out. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
They sat for a moment longer. The clock ticked on the wall. Somewhere down the hall, a door closed.
Midoriya stood, slung his backpack over his shoulder.
"I feel... lighter," he said, then winced. "That sounded cheesy."
Khan waved a hand. "I've heard worse."
**-**
Hello. I've finally set up my Patreon.
I mentioned this in the comments before, but this novel completed, and I'll be posting all the chapters there. I've already uploaded up to Chapter 32, and I'll be sharing the rest over the next week or so.
If you'd like to read the full novel and support my work, please feel free to check it out. I'm currently working as well, so editing and proofreading take a bit of time.
If I'm able to earn enough from this endeavor, I might even consider leaving my job.
Anyway, thank you so much for your support.
patreon.com/EternallyPoor