The story of a hero in my hero academia

9 year old hiroki…

Today is the big day.

We've made it to the finals of the prefectural tournament — in Saitama Prefecture.

I've had to carry our team this far. At my age, I've got the best build and probably the most potential for kendo.

Well, it's not really that I'm talented — it's just that, thanks to growing up using chakra, my body has become kind of semi-superhuman.

In the last two years, my swordsmanship has improved by leaps and bounds. Even Sensei noticed. That's why he made me captain of the junior team.

"Alright everyone, we're here," Sensei said as the bus pulled in. "I want you all to focus and give your best. I'm not gonna say that crap about how just participating matters. We're here to win — not just to show up. Win, and we're going to the regionals."

"Hai!" we shouted in unison.

We probably looked like a little army of mini samurai.

We hurried off the bus and entered the gym.

Whoa—so many people! And there are even TV cameras here.

Someone not from this world might wonder, who even cares about kendo in a world where people have superpowers?

I used to think the same thing.

But I was wrong. Japan is a traditional, conservative country, and people never stopped watching normal sports. In fact, kendo is still one of the most respected and followed.

"Look, Hiro! They're going to broadcast our matches!" said one of my teammates.

"Yeah, must be because it's the final. We're in the big leagues now," I said.

The matches started. Everyone on our team had their own individual fight.

The last match was between the aces of each team.

"Good luck, Hiro!" my team shouted.

Alright. It's showtime.

My opponent stepped forward. He was at least 155 cm tall (5'1") — that's a good 10 cm (4 inches) taller than me.

Seriously, what are his parents feeding him for breakfast? I've never seen someone this big in my age group.

We bowed, took our stances, and then…

"Hajime!"

The match began.

I rushed in fast, trying not to let him use his long reach.

But he didn't budge. Every hit I threw, he blocked head-on without even flinching.

Tch. He's not trying to beat me with speed — he's waiting me out. He wants me to get tired and then finish me with a single big move.

Smart pig.

Fine. Let's play your game.

I kept slashing — high, low, vertical, horizontal — speeding up my attacks until even I was amazed at how fast I was going.

But eventually, my arms started to slow. And just then — he moved.

He came at me with a full-power slash, thinking I was wide open.

Poor guy.

He took the bait.

At the last second, I dodged, stepped in, and hit him with my strongest strike.

Direct hit.

He went flying. Match over.

Hehehe… That was my first real challenge in this tournament.

Maybe the regionals will be even tougher?

My team rushed me, cheering and lifting me up like I was some kind of hero.

These brats just won't let me go.

Alright, I'll let them have their moment today.

After the match, we attended the award ceremony.

"Come on, Captain, lift the trophy for us!" one of the guys said.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

"One, two, three—we are the champions!" we all shouted as I held the trophy up.

Come on… It's just a prefectural tournament.

But when I looked at Sensei…

I'm pretty sure I saw the corners of his mouth twitch.

He was proud.