Chapter Text
The Hero Billboard Chart had always been more than just a list.
To the public, it was numbers. Rankings. Names appearing on screens across the country, printed across magazines, and repeated through countless news broadcasts. It was a simple order that told civilians who they could trust when disaster struck and which heroes they could rely on when everything went wrong.
But to heroes, it meant something entirely different.
It was a reflection of everything they had spent their lives building.
Every rescue they completed. Every villain they defeated. Every impossible decision they made when nobody was watching. Every moment where they chose to stand between danger and the people who needed them.
And over the last year, the rankings had started to change.
The generation that had fought in the Paranormal Liberation War had grown into something nobody could have predicted. They were no longer just students who had been thrown into a conflict far beyond their years. They were professionals now. Heroes who had earned their place, carrying the weight of what they had survived while trying to build a better future.
Lemillion had reclaimed the top spot with the same impossible optimism that had made people believe in heroes again. His name had become synonymous with hope, and there was hardly anyone who questioned whether he belonged there.
He had always represented what a hero was supposed to be.
Shoto Todoroki had remained near the top since entering the professional world, usually shifting between second and third place depending on the season, public opinion, and the circumstances surrounding each ranking period. His quiet determination, overwhelming power, and consistent results had made him one of the most respected heroes in Japan.
He didn't need to be the loudest person in the room to be noticed.
His actions spoke for him.
Dynamight, on the other hand, was harder to predict.
Bakugo Katsuki had the results. Nobody could argue with that.
His combat ability was exceptional, his instincts were unmatched, and his saves spoke louder than his attitude ever could. By the time he graduated, he was already well known across the country. His role in the war had cemented his reputation, and his infamous performance at the Sports Festival had only added to the public’s fascination with him.
But popularity had never been his strongest area.
Bakugo was intense. Blunt. Impossible to intimidate and even harder to impress.
He was not the kind of hero who smiled for cameras or gave carefully prepared speeches. He was the kind of hero who rushed forward without hesitation and forced the world to keep up with him.
Because of that, his ranking shifted constantly. Some periods placed him among the highest-ranked heroes in the country, while others placed him lower than his accomplishments suggested.
Still, he remained a hero people talked about.
A hero people remembered.
A hero who was impossible to ignore.
And then there was Deku.
Izuku Midoriya’s rise had been slower.
Not because he lacked ability.
If anything, that had been the first thing people noticed.
He had entered the professional hero world carrying a name that was already known across the country. Everyone knew what he had done. Everyone knew the role he had played in the war.
But recognition had never been what he wanted.
Izuku didn't want people to admire him because of what he had survived. He didn't want to be remembered only for the battles he fought or the impossible power he carried.
He wanted to prove himself through every rescue. Every person he saved. Every ordinary moment where someone looked up and needed a hero.
So he climbed.
One ranking at a time.
His name appeared higher with every new Hero Billboard Chart. Six places. Seven places. Sometimes more. Each jump made people stop and wonder just how far he could go.
The public watched his progress with growing interest.
But nobody expected what would happen next.
Not even Izuku himself.
A rescue operation only weeks before the newest Hero Billboard Chart changed everything.
It was the kind of mission that reminded people why heroes existed in the first place. The kind of operation that was replayed across news channels, analyzed by experts, and discussed by civilians long after it was over.
The details were complicated.
The outcome was simple.
Lives were saved.
And when the next ranking ceremony arrived, everyone knew the Hero Billboard Chart would look different.
Some new heroes had made their mark. Some veterans had proven they still belonged among the best.
But one name, more than any other, was about to change everything.