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Chapter Text

Hi.

Nice to meet you all, I'm Banana Peak,

Now I know this must be confusing, so to quickly explain, I'm demon Knight's friend and we agreed to share this account.

And this is my first ever fanfiction story. I hope you all like it, because I plan on making this story, along with all the others ones I'll be releasing, into a masterpiece.

Before you begin reading, there are two things I must mention.

1) the pacing for this chapter and for chapter 2, (and very possibly, though I will try not to, chapter 3 and 4) will be a bit slow as there are essential details or relevant patterns that need to be properly established, so it may feel as though I'm repeating the same detail or being overly thorough in the description to the point of annoyance.

But it's only like that for this chapter and the next chapter or two after because these details, as annoying as they can be to be so scrutinized, plays an essential role in shaping Izuku to what I have in mind.

2) This story will somewhat follow canon, but it also won't, there will be quite a few changes that you can spot here and there, and most definitely one that you will spot in this chapter and the chapter after, and we're doing this, because this story is going to be much darker than the original anime/manga.

And therefore, will also make the sharingan much more pronounced since there is even more sorrow and grief around that would fuel Izuku with his sharingan.

Now that we have that out of the way, please enjoy.

Start:

The sight of the Sludge Villain engulfing Katsuki Bakugo affirmed everything the world said Izuku Midoriya couldn't be.

Among the crowd that screamed for the Pro Heroes in the scene to do something, Izuku's voice seemed trapped in his throat. Where people gasped at the explosions around them, his breath hitched - his chest heaving with the weight of his failure.

All the hope, the dreams he had carried since he was a child, felt like cruel jokes at that moment. He'd always wanted to be a hero like All Might.

To save people, to make them smile.

But how could he, when he couldn't even move to save his long time ago friend and now current bully at a time like this?

And with what Quirk?

The irony of the thought almost made him want to laugh at himself, as though he finally understood when Bakugo screamed in his face that he was delusional to want to be a Pro Hero. How can the pathetic Deku in any state save anyone with no Quirk?

"Can someone like me without a Quirk be a hero like you?"

Izuku remembered asking All Might this question just a while ago on the rooftop of a building. Where other fans would have been content to find their notebook autographed, Deku had clung - perhaps quite literally - for some sage advice.

Deku had just turned 18, but the sight of All Might before he had him wind the clock back to eight. This man saved a hundred people so many years ago in his debut and did it with the biggest smile Deku had ever seen.

A hero like this surely had words Izuku desperately needed to hear.

Izuku was waiting for All Might to say something generic - that he could be a hero, if he worked really hard - or anything, really, just to give him a reason to at least try to convince himself he could do it.

Even if he didn't have any Quirk to show for it, in a world where Quirks almost always defined what you can become.

But then, the All Might he saw "deflated" into a thin adult. His voice was as light as his thin stature, a far cry from All Might that Deku had seen on television. Certainly not of the stature of his favorite All Might toy since childhood.

Instead of answering his question, he raised his shirt. He revealed a massive scar on his left torso. Again, things All Might didn't have on television. For the first time in his life, Deku had been horrified at something involving All Might.

For the first time, All Might wasn't beaming his bright smile.

In a few short minutes, All Might told Izuku that he, the World's Number One Pro Hero, had been missing his stomach for the past five years. He explained vaguely of a battle that had taken place five years ago.

And this moment they met - right there and then - was the last of the very few hours that he, Toshinori Yagi, was medically allowed to become All Might in a single day.

However, and Toshinori said this with emphasis, he continues to fight as All Might even if it means constantly pushing himself to the brink of death - because evil cannot learn that the Symbol of Peace is inches away from retirement.

They can never learn that.

"A Pro Hero should always be ready to risk his life," All Might told Deku, the hero now as the ordinary human Toshinori Yagi for the rest of the day.

A Pro Hero must risk their life, to push themselves beyond their limits, if it means saving others.

Plus Ultra. All Might's catchphrase.

"So, can you risk your life without power?" Toshinori asked rhetorically before shaking his head.

"I don't think so."

The sage advice Izuku was looking for? Turn his clock back to the present. All Might's last words to Deku on the rooftop were the exact words Deku remembered before snapping back into what was happening in front of him.

"You need to be realistic, kiddo."

Izuku had to face reality.

In the middle of all this, Deku belonged only in the crowd.

Not among the Pro Heroes trying to defeat the threat in front of them, nor the police trying to contain the situation, not even the reporters aboard helicopters surveying the area.

Deku was a mere bystander. He must be content as a bystander.

The youngster stared at the person responsible for him crashing down to reality: the Sludge Villain let loose, his slimy body now expanding to cover much of an alley that had now turned into a warzone, with almost the entirety of Katsuki Bakugo's body inside of him. What Sludge Villain had revealed of Katsuki's head, he nestled against the tip of a slimy tentacle he had transformed into a knife.

"One move and I'll cut off his head!" he screamed before laughing maniacally, knowing how helpless the heroes were.

Bubbles started forming around his body, glowing alongside his laughter. And not a second later came the explosions, like firecrackers so awfully close to human contact.

Everyone but Deku flinched.

While Deku saw Bakugo's signature angst, he also noticed the green of the grime of the Sludge Villain that held his classmate hostage. It didn't even take a moment for recognition to set in. This wasn't a splash of cold water. For Deku, this chill traced his spine and drained all the color around him.

Sludge Villain was the guy that All Might fought to save him a few hours ago. Deku's eyes widened. Not because of that fact, but if Toshinori Yagi said Deku caught up with All Might at a bad time, and that All Might could only fight for a few hours a day…

…then would this mean…?

The sound of more firecrackers cut Deku's thoughts, and the shockwave of the Sludge Villain's explosions sent debris spiraling towards the crowd. Death Arms swiftly stopped them with a swift parry while Kamui Woods deflected some with a wall of wood sprouting from his arms.

Deku knew these Quirks. He had written them in his Hero Journal and always admired how they used them to save lives. Quirks.

That I don't have.

That All Might couldn't use anymore because he saved me.

"Where's your precious All Might?!" the Sludge Villain yelled tauntingly - no, mockingly. The explosions started popping all around him as though mimicking an elevated heartbeat. Sludge Villain's, no doubt, given his excitement. "Even he thinks I've become too powerful, huh?!"

"Th-that's right," one among the crowd - an old lady, Izuku noticed - said in a panicked strain. "Wh-where's All Might?"

That's when the murmurs started.

"Where's All Might?"

"What happened to All Might?"

"Shouldn't All Might be here by now?"

"Where's All Might? The kid might die!"

The voices drowned Izukus ears as more from the crowd began asking a question he knew the horrifying answer to.

…All Might isn't here because of me.

Here he was - powerless, useless, and now directly responsible for someone else's suffering.

All Might should've just let him be. He was Quirkless, basically useless. All Might said it himself: Izuku couldn't be a Pro Hero because he didn't have powers. Not unlike Kacchan who, angsty as he may be, Deku knew for a fact would soar in the big leagues.

The guilt curled his insides like the hand of a beast twisting Izuku for his own weakness. He bit his lips so hard he tasted blood, and his trembling hands balled into fists. He wanted to scream, to cry, to apologize a thousand times over, but the words were stuck in his throat.

Even then, what could he say? That Kacchan will die because of him?

The concrete of the ground before him almost became a mirror to his mind, the sounds of screaming still permeating through the air.

He wasn't even worth Pro Heroes and civilians to panic over.

"Where is All Might?" someone continued to ask.

He isn't here.

"Maybe someone else with a better Quirk will come!" another one of the Pro Heroes, Izuku couldn't identify who, said. The sound of explosions permeated the air, as is the muffled laughter of a manic Sludge Villain.

All Might isn't here because of me.

"The kid might die!" another screamed.

Die and lose a worthwhile future. And what's left is me - a worthless civilian.

Worthless with no Quirk.

Worthless.

The twisting guilt had started to boil in scalding oil. Raw and raging and scorching, beginning to bubble.

As people wailed for an All Might that wasn't coming, so too did the pit of despair inside Izuku get filled with something he hadn't recognized before. He began to feel a redness gnawing at him - an anger he didn't know was there this whole time.

Anger at Bakugo, who had tormented him for years and, just that morning, told him to jump off a building because he was worthless.

Anger at All Might, an idol from his childhood, a man he placed on a pedestal so high he thought nothing could tarnish it. A hero he thought would at least soften the blow but instead chose to plunge a knife into his chest: a hero is worthless without his Quirk.

Anger at himself, for always taking the abuse, for always thinking maybe someday things would change. For thinking the world would be a kinder place for a Quirkless person like him.

That maybe, for once, they could stop telling him he was worthless, that he wasn't good enough.

All of it - years of pain, mocking, rejection, and now the sheer anguish of knowing his actions will lead to the death of a schoolmate - came crashing down on him in a wave so overwhelming he thought he might drown in it.

It should've been me. Then, no one would have to worry.

Izuku's eyes darted towards Bakugo's face, still squirming as he tried to get out of the tight grip of the Sludge Villain but to no avail. He saw Kamui Woods and Death Arms only staring in horror as they waited for someone who could at least deal with this kind of Quirk.

Why don't they try?

Izuku dismissed the thought. Bakugo would die, of course. They can't try - it was too much of a risk.

Sludge Villain is made of slime: as long as parts of him are left, they can just reform even when scattered. Even if they manage to separate him, just a tinge of slime on Bakugo, would still leave him at the mercy of the Sludge Villain.

Yes, but why won't they try?

Izuku's eyes began to burn. At first, he thought it was from the tears streaming down his face, but the sting grew sharper, hotter, as if someone had just lit a fire behind his eyes. The heat began radiating outward until his head throbbed. Blood - or what he thought was blood - rushed all around his body, the warmth even reaching all around his head, and especially his eyes. He could feel the heat of all the rage starting to boil.

All Might isn't here, so why don't they try?

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning softly, but the pain didn't stop. This was the first time this happened to him, a headache so strong it felt as though his brain was trying to claw its way out of his head. And the burning in his eyes was more of actual fire than sheer warmth. He couldn't understand any of it. He only knew that this all felt like a primal urge that only now had the opportunity to let loose.

And the only way the pain subsided was when he started to think.

Think about what?

There's no one here with enough power to separate the Sludge Villain. Their Quirks are too "solid" - they cannot split the Sludge Villain without hitting Bakugo. That's the risk they couldn't take.

They are Pro Heroes. Surely they can think of some other way?

Deku had to massage his temple with a few fingers. He did so vigorously as the pain turned into frustration. There isn't a Pro Hero in the area with that kind of Quirk. Of course, the choice is to wait for backup.

But why aren't they trying?

There's the matter of the explosion, too. Somehow, the Sludge Villain can also produce explosions with crackling sounds similar to Bakugo's -

The explosions.

Then came the loudest ringing Izuku had ever heard in his life. Like thunder before lightning, the ringing lasted a split second before a pounding hit his head with a force that felt as though enough to shatter glass.

The pain didn't subside. The raging heat swelled even more. The throbbing only intensified, like something deep inside his soul was telling Izuku he was too stupid to only realize it now.

Sludge Villain has two Quirks. He has the properties of a slime, and he can create explosions.

The throbbing became a pulsating sensation, like his head was about to explode. Like he was missing something.

Wait, two Quirks?

Izuku massaged his temple. The pain started to circle his head, intensifying around his eyes. They burned when he blinked. They burn when he doesn't do anything. Izuku felt his body get hotter because of the pain, like he could pass out at any moment.

You can't. Not now.

Think.

Think to ignore the pain.

Izuku tried to get the noise of the panicking crowd out of his head. He tilted his ear to the side, trying to mimic the ringing he'd just heard. The pain shifted to where he was leaning, his eyes still burning, his surroundings beginning to sharpen as the heat had started drying the tears in his eyes.

I've never encountered anyone anywhere having more than one Quirk.

Izuku recalled everything he's ever obsessed about until now - news clippings of Pro Heroes, footage of their exploits, theories in forums, his own Hero Journal where he documented the Quirks of his favorite heroes. To his knowledge, he hasn't encountered anyone with more than one Quirk.

A Quirk with two separate properties?

There's Quirks with weird properties, but they often work in tandem with each other. Kamui Woods can control everything about wood. Death Arms has large arms that give him super strength. Correlation. Always correlation.

Sludge Villain had a slime body and… could cause explosions like Bakugo? And he coincidentally absorbed a hostage with the Explosion Quirk? That doesn't make sense.

The throbbing had paused for just the slightest second.

Unless…

…he gets the Quirk of the person he absorbs?

The throbbing continued, worse this time, like a sculptor pounding a hammer brutally onto a chisel. Parts of his head stung with a sharp pain that made Izuku gasp and recoil, his eyes turning warmer than ever. He darted his eyes upwards, gazing at the Sludge Villain who, for the past minutes, had been causing explosions all around him.

None of the explosions had hit civilians - a fortunate occurrence to take advantage of. A luxury Izuku was using to think, as for some ungodly reason, his anger had been causing the worst headache of his life.

Either way, in his hubris, the Sludge Villain's taunting will give Pro Heroes the time to plan their next move. In retrospect, was it really hubris? Was it the Sludge Villain not knowing how to use Bakugo's Explosion Quirk?

Does it matter?

A voice in his head responds. It just might.

And Izuku responds. That means he doesn't have control over the Quirk he absorbs.

A pulsing sensation had hit Izuku from the inside of his head. The burning in his eyes started to worsen, like they would melt at any moment.

…but if he can't control it, can he hit himself?

The throbbing grew stronger and more methodical this time, like a metronome starting to breathe life into a painful melody. It's like somewhere, deep past all the pain, is a voice telling Deku that the pieces are coming together.

And if his own explosions hit his slime body…

Death Arms had an ear to his comms while Kamui Woods walked away to talk with more of the police in the area. Izuku couldn't understand what they were saying. Something about demands. The throbbing began to worsen as he walked towards them. The idea was stuck in his head. He had to get it out.

"D-Death Arms, s-sir," Deku started, stammering from both the pain and the embarrassment. "I m-might have a su-suggest-"

True to his name, Death Arms did have large arms. Death Arms extended an arm in front of him, the teenager now facing a palm the size of his face. Deku was taken aback - he was quite literally signaled to talk to the hand.

"Let the pros do it, kid," Death Arms said, eyes still on the Sludge Villain. "Get away before you get hurt."

Izuku noticed the police officers already making his way before he could even react. It didn't take long before arms started to gently nudge him to a dedicated civilian area. From the sounds around him, the standoff was becoming worse. Truth be told, Deku couldn't even pay attention because the headaches were becoming worse.

They won't listen because I'm a civilian?

Deku scanned the area for any Pro Hero he could approach - to talk to - hoping to clear the pain in his head. The throbbing forced him to think, think, think. Who had a Quirk capable of pulling off what he was thinking? Who would listen? Why would they listen?

Why would they listen to a Quirkless?

Deku gazed upon the Sludge Villain, still laughing while explosions peppered the street like fireworks. The other Pro Heroes in the area had been clearing civilians or catching debris, being careful not to provoke the villain who still had the youngster inside him.

Izuku can still hear people around him ask for All Might, and the police telling them they're waiting for a Pro Hero with "the right Quirk" to fight the Sludge Villain.

It's always about the Quirk.

Finding the right Quirk.

Izuku, despite his head throbbing like there was no tomorrow, labored to focus his sights towards his classmate. There he was, Bakugo, as angry as ever, struggling to free himself from the Sludge Villain's grasp.

Quirk. Quirk. Always about Quirks.

Izuku couldn't see them before, but the warmth in his eyes helped him see the subtle crackling inside the Sludge Villain's body where Bakugo's arms were tucked away. Bakugo was trying to create his own explosions, but the villain's slimy body stopped his Quirk from activating.

Bakugo was, as arrogant as he is, trying to find his own way to escape. Deku could see the confidence in his eyes - he had a Quirk, which gave him the freedom to try.

Deku's head throbbed at the realization.

If you don't have a Quirk, you can't try.

Deku looked at Bakugo, squirming for release. Deku fought through the pain and zeroed his focus on his schoolmate.

Bully.

Once a upon a time friend.

For a second, Izuku was thrust back into their favorite playground. Even back then, it was always Deku and his All Might toy. And in front of them, out on the horizon, were the wows and the who, as of everyone surrounding Kacchan, the youngster proudly showing the cracking happening between his hands like fireworks on command.

This was how it always was: Kacchan always forward, striving to be the best.

A person with one of the coolest Quirks.

And this was how it always was: Deku always behind, striving to take a step forward.

The distance between Deku and Kacchan on the playground felt exactly the same distance between Izuku and Bakugo now.

Deku, the boy without a Quirk.

Bakugo paused in his efforts as though gathering his strength. He tries again, but to no avail. The Sludge Villain laughed, probably realizing what Bakugo was doing. The bubbles in his body begin to glow and the explosions happened soon after.

The villain laughs at Bakugo's failed defiance. Bakugo squirmed in sheer fury.

And for a moment, he and Izuku locked eyes.

Within what seemed to be a split-second, the recognition within Bakugo's eyes suddenly turned into a look of horror - like he had seen something that shouldn't happen.

You can't fight without a Quirk.

The next thought that arrived in his head was his… but also not. It spoke with an anger he hadn't felt before. A primal urge made Deku shake his head.

Says who?

For the first time, Izuku defies.

The fire had built up too much. Izuku's vision had practically turned red. Heat emanated from his eyes, his face releasing a warmth he could only describe as flushed fury. The stinging in his eyes didn't fade, but he didn't care.

He looked at Bakugo, who had started his struggle anew. He's trapped. He knew what he was doing might be pointless. Bakugo also doesn't care.

All Might wouldn't care.

Izuku rubbed his eyes amid the pain in his head. And the world shifted as he opened them. Colors were now brighter, the edges sharper, the chaos around him even more vivid. Deku's heart began thundering in his chest, the pain in his head starting to dissipate into focus.

He recalled the footage of All Might standing atop a school bus, carrying the last of the people he rescued. The world told him he wouldn't make it, but he still saved all those people. All Might defied all odds. All Might always does.

But All Might isn't here.

The realization felt like yet another bucket of water, this time ice cold, blasting towards Izuku. In his mind's eye, despite the throbbing pain across his head and around his eyes, he dodges it.

Not today.

For the first time in his life, Deku felt something else - determination.

And I can't wait for All Might.

It wasn't the blind hope he had clung to all these years, but a burning certainty in his chest. The voices of the crowd melted away, replaced by the rush of blood in his ears and the singular focus of his mind.

So I have to do it myself!

And do it, he has.

For the first time, Deku ran.

For the first time, Toshinori Yagi ran.

The guilt gnawed at his chest, twisting what was left of his torso in a pain worse than what he was already enduring. He clutched at his shirt, his hand balling into a fist out of sheer frustration. Here he was, the World's Number One Pro Hero, on the rooftop of a small building overlooking a kidnapping that shouldn't have even happened if not for his own incompetence.

Useless, was the only thing he could tell himself.

He coughed. With blood, as he predicted. As he felt. Every day, his body ached for rest. And every day, he denied it. Yet here he was, following Recovery Girl's advice.

"Better limit yourself than be sidelined forever," was her official (but confidential) prescription.

Toshinori could only chuckle in defeat.

Some Symbol of Peace he turned out to be.

Toshinori wasn't among the crowd, but within the very street they barricaded. From his vantage point, he saw the back of the Sludge Villain he failed to cast and the silhouette of the blond teenager he had just taken hostage. Beyond them, a few meters away, a police line and comrades who responded to the call. All Might could always trust Kamui Woods and Death Arms to keep the civilians behind them safe. However, he knew their Quirks weren't fit to face the Sludge Villain's regenerating slime.

He slammed his fist on the balcony wall in frustration, something that hurt him more than it hurt the concrete beside him.

If they were following protocol, this means waiting for someone with the right Quirk.

Can they afford the time?

Toshinori looked helplessly at the teenager at the mercy of the Sludge Villain and how he squirmed for the past few minutes. A valiant but useless effort. The teenager had no choice but wait for another Pro Hero to stop this rampage.

Something I could have stopped.

Toshinori hated this helplessness. It's precisely this feeling that made him accept Shimura-sensei's offer. That he trained to exhaustion under Gran Torino. That he toured the United States to make sure even villains abroad knew someone would never rest until they were all put to justice.

And somehow, years later, All Might will have to rest every couple of fights.

Pathetic.

Pathetic!

Toshinori wanted to close his eyes and surrender the situation to whoever tried to save this kid. He could only pray they succeed.

Which is why he opened his eyes as soon as he heard the scream.

Worry rushed over his body as Toshinori saw a familiar silhouette beginning to run past the police line. Moments had to pass before Toshinori could fit the features together. It's this… this…

…this kid from earlier!

A thorn had pricked something deep within his chest. Toshinori could only grasp at his shirt as he recognized the horror of the sight before him. Explosions were happening around the kid but he didn't seem to care. He just ran.

He would die…!

Toshinori could only widen his eyes.

Because I wasn't there.

And yet, that boy kept running.

It was a defiant effort for a kid out to save perhaps a friend or even a stranger.

It carried the same pacing that All Might felt whenever he rushed towards a fight - nervous, desperate, excited, and, most importantly, determined.

However, something was different. Toshinori couldn't quite place it.

The boy, Izuku he believed his name was, who talked to him was too timid, shy, and passive. He almost pitied the teen, whose dreams of becoming a Pro Hero were quashed by genetics. A kid destined to lose as soon as he was born. He saw in his green eyes the quiet acceptance of passivity.

Toshinori spent a second trying to look at Izuku, to see for himself the kind of courage the kid had carried with his steps. Had the moss green of his eyes turned into an emerald that can shine in the sunset?

To his surprise, his eyes stumbled upon crimson.

Not just Izuku's eyes. Around his body, amid the smoke and the crackling of explosions, was the faintest hint of reddish mist. It felt like a fever forcing itself out of his body like a rage violently clawing out.

Toshinori had to blink, widen his gaze, almost lean forward, all out of disbelief. The kid had green eyes. And yet the Izuku running towards his friend had the bloodiest tinge of red eyes he had ever seen.

He was speechless. The only thing he could remember was the kid's question.

"Can someone like me without a Quirk be a hero like you?"

The sight of Izuku running ground to a halt in Toshinori's mind.

Someone without a Quirk.

Green eyes turning red.

A reddish aura.

Toshinori shook his head, his hand curling into a fist. The heat from within his body had dispersed around him in smoke.

No matter. It doesn't matter.

None of this matters if Izuku and the hostage die.

The thin and frail adult had focused past the strangeness of Izuku and instead listened intently to the crowd's screams.

Toshinori, no, All Might knew what he had to do.

Despite the screams, Izuku ran.

Past the crowds in front of him. Past the police barricade. Past Kamui Woods, who took a second to realize what had just happened. Past Death Arms who, as large as his arms might be, couldn't grab a hold of him.

"Hey, kid!" Death Arms screamed. He could only scream. "Get back here! It's too dangerous! Stop running!"

But Izuku ran. And ran.

This was the fastest Deku ran, but everything felt slow at the same time. Izuku could feel every step he took, the way his shoes rebounded on the cement in front of him, even the dirt his foot scraped back with every panicked step. He felt a strap of his knapsack just slipping his left shoulder, the way it contorted and stretched his school uniform.

The throbbing in his head never dissipated, the burning in his eyes never abating. The shooting pain of it all forced Deku to lock his eyes forward, to take in all the details so he could stop feeling his head being torn apart.

There was a redness around his vision Izuku hadn't seen before, but everything else was at a clarity he hadn't expected. He saw the granulation of the concrete road below him, how its yellow paint started to lose its luster. He noticed the traffic lights at a distance still working, but with no cars in sight. He saw the gurgling of the Sludge Villain in front of him, and his eyes contorted in horror at the sight of the kid rushing towards him.

This only lasted a moment, because the Sludge Villain's eyes started to reek of malevolence enough to send shivers down Deku's spine.

Why, though? Why am I doing this?

The fear had started to grasp its way towards Deku's psyche, but the pain in his head was too much for him to bother looking away. He maintained his sights towards the villain, even when a voice in his head shrilled in a panic.

Why am I running to him?

With the way the Sludge Villain had almost contorted his body back, he asked himself the same thing. And after that, he braced himself forward, now laughing as bubbles started to boil around his body, glowing with a subtle light Deku had become all too familiar with.

"Looks like you have a death sentence!" the Sludge Villain screamed in pure bliss. "Let's kill you, then!"

For an instant, Deku heard even Kacchan let out a terrified grunt.

Bakugo knew what was going to happen. Izuku knew it, too. The voice in his head had crackled in fear, realizing what the next seconds would mean for them.

The explosions are coming! I'm going to die! I'm going to die!

And in a split second, something inside Izuku jolted his sights on the villain.

Focus! It's coming!

The bubbles from the Sludge Villain's body stopped glowing, which meant the explosions would be there any second. Izuku almost wanted to brace for impact, to scream at himself how stupid he was to get in without a plan.

No, he realized, remembering. A foot almost tripped because his body wanted to flinch, but the burning pain in his mind forced him to jump back.

I have to see this through!

Assuming the Sludge Villain had taken Bakugo's power, he has a copy of his Explosion Quirk. Izuku remembered Bakugo using it either directly outside his palms or a little over his body. This might be why the Sludge Villain's explosions sent debris towards the crowd, not the explosions themselves.

It would make sense to brace for impact because explosions had happened around where Izuku was stepping. However, Deku thought, why would I have to flinch when the explosions can't follow me?

In that case…

The crackling was the cue. As soon as he heard the faintest trace of a crackling sound, the foot he had just stepped forward sprung him back. Smoke filled the area in front of him as explosions peppered where he once stood. Izuku could feel a stinging pain as some debris shot up around his arm, but he'd gotten so used to Kacchan's Explosions that the sensation felt more familiar than horrifying.

Izuku wanted to cough through all the smoke around him, but his theory was right. The Sludge Villain can't control the Explosion Quirk.

But this is just half the fight. It would only take moments for the smoke to dissipate fully and he would open for another attack. It's as though the throbbing in his head also knew this, and the pain started to swell around his head again.

Think! What's next?

What would a Pro Hero do?

Izuku's mind scanned what he's written in his Hero Journal, of the Quirks of his favorite Pro Heroes and the ways they used them on television. He was looking for something, anything, that they did when fighting with smoke.

Normally, a Pro Hero would use smoke to mask a powerful attack, but it's not like Deku had anything resembling that. Izuku's mind raced, he knew he was running out of time and he hasn't planned this far ahead.

He didn't want to fight the Sludge Villain, he just wanted to save Kacchan no matter what it took.

Izuku's mind paused at the thought.

Save Kacchan.

Save.

For a moment, the pain cleared when Izuku knew what he had to do.

Even the Sludge Villain seemed to be waiting for all the smoke to clear.

"Come out, kid! I'll tear you to shreds!"

And as though instinctively, a voice replied in a shriek.

"Tear this!"

Out of the smoke popped a backpack that zoomed towards the Sludge Villain. It hit him square in the face, contents spilling around him, a pencil conveniently propping up against one of his deformed eyes.

The Sludge Villain recoiled, screaming in sheer fury. Bubbles had started to glow one after the other, like lights on haywire. Moments later, more explosions peppered the surroundings, causing more of the crowd to scream.

And, as Izuku thought, the Sludge Villain screamed even louder as some explosions happened too close for comfort. Pieces of slime flew around the air as the Sludge Villain hit himself with his own blasts. The slime around Bakugo slightly recoiled, retreating for an instant.

There!

Izuku grabbed a piece of broken pipe from the ground and hurled it with all his strength.

The metal struck the Sludge Villain's other bulging eye. The creature roared in pain, its grip around Bakugo loosening even more. Izuku didn't hesitate, lunging forward and Bakugo's arm. He started pulling with all his strength.

"No, you don't!"

The Sludge Villain tightened again, but Izuku grit his teeth, refusing to let go.

"I won't let you die!" he shouted, the voice cracking with the sheer force of his emotion.

Bakugo's eyes were already flickering in and out of consciousness when he heard the familiar shrill shriek of someone he just wanted to slam on his desk. Which was probably why the sight of Deku, crying and snot-filled with a death-grip on a metal pipe, came as quite a surprise.

"Wh-why are you here…?" Bakugo said weakly, exhaustion already setting in his voice.

Deku could only smile at Kacchan, almost delirious because of the pain.

"Because you looked like you needed help!"

Bakugo coughed weakly, his eyes flickering with shock and disbelief as he saw the new look on puny Deku's face. He saw something… new.

This wasn't the kid he would just kick for being so annoyingly optimistic. Not the classmate he would randomly greet with an explosion whenever he felt annoyed. Not the former friend he abandoned because he was incapable of surviving in a world where the strong live.

He gazed into Deku's emerald eyes and saw none of the weakness that had irritated him to no end.

No, he saw something else.

Determination.

Red.

"Wh-why do you have a…"

Bakugo already slipped into unconsciousness before he could even finish what he said, and the maniacal laughing of the villain behind them didn't give Deku any opening to respond.

There was no time for words. The Sludge Villain roared, rearing back, ready to crush them both.

"Prepare to die!"

Izuku looked behind him as a lurking shadow had revealed a Sludge Villain extending its size, with tentacles resembling arms propping up from his sides before turning into gigantic fists. The Sludge Villain raised them before slamming as hard as he could, hell-bent on squishing the two teenagers to a pulp.

The pain in Izuku's head reduced itself to a shrill, high-pitched wailing.

It's over.

Izuku resigned himself. He let out a weak smile.

At least I tried.

Izuku surrendered to his fate. He felt the rush of the wind that had come with the Sludge Villain's attack and he braced himself for impact.

Mom, Deku said to himself, I'm sorry…

Izuku closed his eyes and waited for nothingness.

All that came was the impact of strong wind. Too strong, in fact, as he felt his body being ricocheted away by the impact. And then, the ringing in his head was replaced by an all-too-familiar scream.

"DETROIT SMASH!"

Izuku barely had time to catch his breath before the impact had sent him and Bakugo rolling away from where they stood. The all-too-familiar voice boomed across the street and into the skies, grounding everything to a screeching falt save for the whooshing of the wind and the alarm horns of police vehicles on the scene.

The youngster felt the strong winds about to throw him off had it not been for the hand that clutched him and Bakugo by their collars. They were propped to the side by the same arms that now went to their savior's waist in all-too-familiar pose.

Right there, in front of him, stood a man with a white shirt that barely contained his musculature. Perfectly slicked back blond hair topped the figure, two spikes protruding upwards rather optimistically. On the man's face was an all-too-familiar smile that beamed light in the darkness. He took a deep breath.

"It's fine!"

The murmurs finally stopped as all heads turned towards the silhouette who had now appeared before them.

"Why? Because I am here!"

The chaos of panic was replaced by the chaos of cheers. There he was in front of them, All Might - the Symbol of Peace. In the eyes of the crowd, he came in just the nick of time - saving the boy who had rushed in to save his fellow youngster from the clutches of an evil villain.

The roaring of applause had filled the air that made even the Sludge Villain appear small. The Pro Heroes began rushing towards the scene, evidently rushing towards All Might.

The World's Number One Pro Hero looked at them in acknowledgement and then nudged towards the unconscious Bakugo. It didn't take seconds for paramedics to appear and carry the teenager to safety. They turned towards Izuku, but All Might dismissed them with a wave.

The hero then turned his head towards the Sludge Villain, or at least what's left of him. The Sludge Villain now wasn't as large as he had appeared then, as bits and pieces of himself had lain scattered on the road. What's left of him started to wiggle, as though trying to get their bearings in order.

It didn't take too long for Izuku to understand what had happened. All Might struck Sludge Villain with a Detroit Smash powerful enough to send him flying backwards, like blowing water off a table. He was that strong.

No, Izuku told himself. The pain in his head slowly resurfaced, as though punishing him for that thought. No, it didn't work that way.

The Detroit Smash would have just made a dent, and Sludge Villain would ricochet back into normal just as fast. All Might needed a force strong enough to get the Sludge Villain off-balance, to separate his body far enough that they could be contained before he could even reform.

Izuku's eyes widened in realization.

The wind.

"I scattered the parts there!" All Might said loudly, both as a request and a command.

It didn't take long for Kamui Woods to see the wiggling masses of green slime all over the area. He responded by pointing his hands towards them, with branches and vines immediately sprouting from his arms and rushing to the location. Where there was slime, there came wood that propped them up like a spatula. The wood then closed upon itself, becoming wooden boxes that fell on the ground.

The other Pro Heroes soon arrived with the same container bottles All Might had carried with him a few hours ago. It seems the police already had them on hand - they were just waiting for the right Pro Hero to arrive.

Izuku sighed in relief. What a genius All Might was. People think he's just strong, but he used that same strength to generate wind powerful enough to separate Bakugo from the Sludge Villain, and to separate Sludge Villain into pieces. It's as though All Might knew the further the parts scattered, the longer it would take for them to reform.

What an amazing analysis.

Deku needed minutes to understand the Sludge Villain's powerset, but never came up with a solution. All Might had the situation solved before he even struck a hit.

So this is how a Pro Hero thinks…

"Young man, that is remarkable."

Izuku's train of thought derailed at the all-too-familiar sound beside him. He looked up and met the gaze of the very idol he had talked to a while ago. Not Toshinori Yagi, but the beaming blue eyes of All Might.

"I must apologize," he whispered. "I've told you Pro Heroes need to be ready to risk their lives, and yet I was afraid to go beyond because of some medical advice."

All Might stood tall and proud, his figure recognizably admirable even without his signature blue and red costume. He looked at the Pro Heroes before him, gathering the Sludge Villain as he squirmed profanities at the heroes who had just caught him.

"You've done what no Pro Hero couldn't today," All Might said. "You rushed in to save the hostage even if you don't know how to fight. And here I was saying you can't be a Pro Hero."

He looked at the youngster. "I have to practice what I preach."

Izuku looked back at All Might, surprised to see he was already staring.

"Plus Ultra, right?"

They weren't green, was the only thing All Might could think of.

When his gaze met that of the adoring Izuku, he saw not the leaf-green of innocence but the red of rage. Fixed on the top of his eye was a black comma, like a smudge of ink with no intention of getting out.

The heat emanating from the teenager was evident, but only from this close. From afar, no one would even notice his temperature was through the roof. Whatever this kid had done just now couldn't be done by the Izuku who had talked to him a while ago.

Toshinori saw everything, even before he decided to intervene.

Izuku somehow knew that the Sludge Villain was capable of absorbing Quirks from his victims and that he couldn't control the victim's Quirk that fast. Since the inexperience caused explosions everywhere, Izuku must have figured he could use the smoke to mask an attack. True enough, the distractions angered the Sludge Villain, who fired even more explosions.

When the explosions happened too close to the Sludge Villain, the criminal would recoil and have to let go of the hostage even for a second. That was the opening Izuku waited for.

All of that thinking in a short span of time.

The passive kid who met him would never have thought of all of this.

"Can someone like me without a Quirk become a Pro Hero like you?"

Toshinori gazed upon the black comma that fixed itself in place, floating on Izuku's red eyes like a drop of ink on blood.

Did his eyes do this?

Is he really a Quirkless?

"Right?"

All Might zoned back into reality when he realized Izuku awaited his response. He didn't realize his eyes were still fixated on the boy's.

Toshinori blinked.

They were green now.

Toshinori, as All Might, mulled over what the boy had said for a few seconds. In truth, he was still trying to make sense of what he had just seen. In the end, he simply crossed his arms and gazed on the Pro Heroes at a distance, now darkened silhouettes by the orange glow of the sun that had just begun its retreat.

"Right. Plus Ultra."

End

Pretty exciting, right!?

Now as mentioned, this chapter, and the chapter after, can be a bit slow-paced, (next chapter especially) but that's only because we're setting the groundwork for greatness!

Speaking of next chapters, I do have more on my p.a.t.r.e.o.n

Here is the link: www.#patr#eon.#com/Demon_Knight939 (Just remove all the hashtags)

Now don't worry, I will be posting chapters here regularly, but if you'd like to read the chapters in advance without waiting, subscribing to my p.a.t.r.e.o.n helps with letting you see the chapter one month early.

See you guys on the next update!

Chapter Text

Hi.

Here is chapter 2, before you all read it, I got to warn you, it can be…

Well, it's better to read the notes and understand.

NOTES

Trigger Warning: Violence, Bullying

This chapter will be a tough read, as we really establish a new level of animosity between Izuku and Bakugo.

Expect Bakugo to be written as more aggressive, to set him up for a wilder, more worthwhile redemption chapter.

Expect Izuku to feel conflicted about his feelings about himself, as Bakugo's excessive bullying will drive him to the brink of hopelessness. This makes All Might's presence, the Sharingan's influence (the Uchiha Hatred), and his own determination more important in terms of his growth.

Callbacks: Repetition and emphasis on seemingly-unimportant items are important for future setups.

Now, this chapter will be pretty long, almost double the amount of chapter 1 and future chapters, but as mentioned, that's only because we wish to implement the groundworks for Izuku to be an absolute menace, in a good way of course.

and one last thing, this chapter may seem repetetive like chapter 1, but that's only because of essential the foundations are that we're building, each chapter after this will no longer be repetetive (except maybe chapter 3, but even then, it won't be as bad as chapter 1), hope you all like it.

Start:

Izuku Midoriya spent the afternoon walking the way he had usually done - head down, shoulders on guard, arms close to the chest, and hands clutching both straps of his knapsack as hard as he could.

Spend enough days meeting the business end of Katsuki Bakugo's explosions at the slightest hint of defiance, and one would think to just keep a low profile.

Around this time of day, Izuku should have already recalled today's assignments, worrying about laundry in the evenings (if he had the unfortunate encounter with said business end - which happened a lot), and maybe grab the occasional sandwich from the konbini.

Of course, today's version of events was something Izuku hadn't necessarily expected to change his routine.

He tucked his knapsack with his hands and savored the memory: he was in high school, and inside his bag was the very Hero Journal he got All Might to sign! That All Might - the World's Number One Pro Hero!

The thought lingered in Izuku more than he could have imagined. He shuddered a bit because it was not the only thing that happened that day.

The events of the past hour just rushed into his head: he was a high-schooler, and yet he dashed straight into a crime scene, stared the face of death, and struggled in futility as he attempted to save his very bully from the clutches of a villain who would have certainly killed the both of them without a second thought.

No wonder the Pro Heroes at the scene gave quite the stern lecture. Had it not been for All Might arriving at the nick of time, both Kamui Woods and Death Arms would have presented him to his mother in a body bag.

"C'mon, don't give the kid a hard time!" Izuku recalled All Might telling the two just as they ended their speech about leaving everything to the Pro Heroes. Even as he recalled it, Izuku almost scoffed at the thought.

Had I not rushed in, Bakugo would be dead anyway.

Izuku simply smiled at the recollection. All Might actually stood up for him. "We heroes should practice what we preach," he told the two back then. "I told this youngster a while ago that we Pro Heroes spend every day knowing we'd risk our lives, and yet this one -" he patted Izuku, which made the youngster jolt up in surprise, "- was just a student when he tried saving this young lad here! We should cut him some slack!"

"That's not what we teach at U.A, All Might," Izuku remembered Death Arms telling the World's Number One Pro Hero. "Even Hero Program students are taught to assess the situation and call for backup when necessary. Not everyone can be like you."

The thought lingered even further. The embarrassment started to send shivers all over his body. That wasn't the only thing that happened today.

All this - encountering the Sludge Villain, All Might saving him, All Might signing his childhood journal, seeing the Sludge Villain again but this time holding Bakugo hostage, Izuku abandoning all reason as he rushed in to try and save his bully, All Might saving him again, and Pro Heroes lecturing him for being careless - in three hours.

No wonder he thought going to high school still felt surreal.

And with Izuku's idea of a "dream school" in the picture, he remembered that "surreal" might be a depressing understatement.

"U.A University?!"

You didn't have to emphasize every syllable.

"This little punk really wants to go to U.A. University?!"

Katsuki's voice boomed across the room and past the roaring laughter of their classmates. Even their teacher chuckled at the thought. Aldera Junior High was no elite school to nurture "surefire passers" to Japan's top universities, but Izuku could go to a prestigious prep school and still not make the cut.

"Now, now," their professor started, closing his marker and placing it in his bag, not minding the laughter that kept going as he spoke. "We shouldn't blame Izuku for dreaming. I suppose anyone can dream of going to U.A. University."

Izuku blushed at this point. He kept his hand raised just as much as he kept his body tucked close to his chair. He flinched a bit when he heard Bakugo's reaction, knowing how the youngster would feel hearing such a ridiculous proposition. Still, the teacher did ask who applied where. And while Izuku could have kept quiet, any Pro Hero who graduated from U.A would have been proud of their choice.

"Tch," was the only quiet word that had come from Bakugo before the loud cracking of explosions and the assorted clanging of school desks filled the room.

The professor could only sigh as Bakugo had practically propelled himself off his desk with his Explosion Quirk without so much as a care in the world, his feet dangling in the air as he hit one chuckling classmate after the next. It didn't matter if Bakugo's trajectory hit some books or put desks in disarray. Some began to mind their own business, others gazed at the angry teen in the same way they were looking at an everyday occurrence.

Whenever Bakugo releases his Explosion Quirk, he owned the classroom. It didn't matter if even the Principal was there.

Everyone looked at Bakugo's destination - an act of unison amid the chaos of scattered paperwork and desks just minutes before school ended for the day. Eyes were set on Izuku's unsuspecting green, and the teen let out a hearty chuckle as though this hasn't been happening for the past five years.

It didn't take a moment for Bakugo's face to be right in front of Izuku's. As if on cue, Izuku had the luxury of smelling Bakugo's breath at barely a finger's distance. Izuku could hear the subtle popping around Bakugo's hands that were now conveniently on both sides of his face.

"You are going to U.A?!" Bakugo said, practically screamed, at his face. The mockery was implied - the sweat and spit practically enhanced the flavor. Izuku couldn't even catch his breath at this distance, especially with Bakugo laughing directly at his face.

"Ha! Poor little De-ku wants go to U.A ?!"

"You okay there, kiddo?"

Izuku almost jumped. The sound of another voice when Bakugo's permeated his brain was a jolt back to reality he didn't expect. The encounter at school happened a couple of days ago, but Bakugo's voice echoed in him like a broken record.

That wasn't the part that surprised him, though. What made him jump was the fact that he was too deep in his thoughts that he forgot All Might - the World's Number One Pro Hero - walked beside him.

Except, All Might shouldn't be just a foot or two taller than Izuku. The thin and frail man who walked with him was Toshinori Yagi, the man formerly known as All Might.

Izuku distinctly remembered their conversation on the rooftop mere hours before their fated encounter with the Sludge Villain. According to Toshinori, he was only permitted a three-hour shift as the World's Number One Pro Hero before the physical toll would start getting the better of him.

A rather peculiar tidbit, for sure, but Izuku knew not to pry when he saw his childhood idol pluck one blood-filled tissue strip and replaced it with another. If Izuku went back in time to tell his snot-filled, crying younger self that he would eventually walk side by side with All Might, he wouldn't believe it for a second. And if a younger Bakugo caught wind of this news, he would've probably started bullying Izuku a few years too early.

Yet he walked the way home beside All Might's real identity, of all things. What surprised Izuku even more was that a thin Toshinori that gasped for breath as he chased after him as soon as he left the crime scene. Kamui Woods and Death Arms authorized him to leave as soon as he handed his version of events. Izuku wanted to include "the ineptitude of Pro Heroes" as part of the reason why he sprang to action in the first place, but All Might's presence made him think otherwise.

When Izuku asked why Toshinori followed him, the latter said he just wanted to walk with him before he went home. Izuku simply nodded, before eventually realizing -

Izuku, this crybaby that got bullied at school all the time, met All Might - perhaps the most remarkable creation of U.A. University.

As the two walked together, Izuku distinctly remembered what Death Arms told the Symbol of Peace.

"Not everyone can be like you."

That was funny, Izuku thought as he gazed at Toshinori beside him.

We all wanted to be like All Might.

When the younger versions of Izuku and Katsuki pledged to go to U.A when they'd finally grow up, it all came with the imagination of getting a physique as strong as All Might's and the power to defeat all the bad guys.

And now that Izuku had a chance to look at U.A's material - not just the brochure and the website, but even the climactic final fights of the yearly U.A. Sports Festival - he knew the school could offer the best education for anyone whose dreams ever involved becoming a Pro Hero.

U.A. University was the cream of the crop among Pro Hero training academies. When Quirks became more widespread, and superheroes became the norm, the world soon realized they needed educational institutions where young Quirk users with the most potential to be heroes were trained while getting their secondary education.

That way, they can go straight to doing superheroics under Hero Agencies, work government positions, or even become independent Pro Heroes as soon as they graduate.

And when All Might climbed to superhero stardom, so too did U.A. University's value skyrocket. Although Izuku had no way to explain it from a business perspective, he knew All Might's presence was enough to get U.A government sponsorships and all the branding deals to support whatever spending they needed probably.

Izuku would have dabbled deep into the economics of superheroics of their time, but he often lost himself in the fantasies of people cheering for him as he saved lives - the same way All Might had done.

The same way All Might just saved him today.

Izuku recalled his idol asking him a question. He could only nod in response.

"Y-yeah," he told his idol.

Izuku thought Toshinori Yagi probably wondered why this was their only exchange for the past half-hour.

In truth, Toshinori Yagi probably had no idea what kind of privilege he's given Izuku. Any bystander who knew what was happening would have likely scolded Izuku for not asking all the details about All Might's adventures.

Izuku could only imagine the things he could get to ask: How does being Number One feel? Does Endeavor have a shot at actually beating you? Who's gonna be the next All Might?

Anyone who knew All Might - and that's the whole world - would probably have traded their lives with Izuku if that meant being next to the world greatest like Izuku currently was.

Izuku almost sighed at the thought.

Would I wish that to another person?

Would I really want someone to bear years of hearing Bakugo call them -

De-ku. Deku.

Bakugo spat the nickname - the name he picked for Izuku - with disgust.

Fool. Useless. Good for nothing.

Izuku let out the quietest chuckle that he could.

You don't have to stress the word every time you say it.

He flinched at the sight of Bakugo's eyes as they looked straight at him, especially now that they were barely inches apart. Bakugo responded with a snort.

"What are you gonna do at U.A? Sharpen their pencils?"

The class laughed at the chide. Izuku only let out another chuckle. Bakugo's jokes could use some work, for sure.

"I asked you a question," he said amid the laughter of their fellow classmates.

This was the banter between Izuku and Bakugo every day. Whenever Izuku caught a professor's attention - be it a correct answer, a decent presentation, or anything in between - it's as though Bakugo made it his personal mission to put a foot down and give Izuku an intimate exchange with the floor.

Izuku initially wondered why Bakugo seemed so hell-bent on ruining his life until it became second nature. When Izuku went to school, he anticipated Bakugo becoming angry at something he'd do.

Izuku would constantly flinch the first few years this had happened. A countless ruined lunches, dirtied uniforms, vandalized lockers, and beatdowns by the gate later and Izuku had just accepted this as part of his daily life.

He never bothered telling his mother this; she would just worry. He also didn't tell her he actually put in an application to U.A. She'd probably think it was a joke. And as Izuku predicted, even his classmates thought he was doing this as a gag.

The way Bakugo's eyes met Izuku's told him he wasn't joking, though.

"I said - "

Bakugo slammed an open fist on Izuku's table, the crackling expanding into a much louder boom that had begun catching everyone's attention. By the time the smoke cleared, even those who had just begun packing their bags were tuned in on the two. Izuku could see Bakugo's red eyes flash amid the curtain of what smoke remained, his teeth grit a fatal shine in a growing darkness of fear that had begun filling Izuku.

Katsuki's free hand grabbed Izuku by the collar and lifted him up his chair. The youngster lost grip of his pencil and notebook, and both clattered on his desk. Izuku had already felt weak with the constant ridicule, but when he noticed his thin body was lifted by Bakugo with ease, it added a different level of humiliation within him.

Bakugo continued.

" - I asked you a question."

"You walk this way home, huh?" Toshinori asked, again after a few minutes.

Izuku nodded weakly.

"Y-yeah," he simply said.

Izuku used to answer a question on demand, never the one to start a conversation. Anytime he tried to talk, Bakugo answered with a fist or a foot. It's probably why he immediately flinched when he saw All Might raise an arm. To stretch, not to hit him.

Toshinori noticed this. It didn't take for him to realize.

Anyone who's experienced this will know.

The stunned silence, being conditioned to only answer when talked to - often done by someone else. Toshinori recognized the slight tinge of torment that made Izuku's green eyes lose their shimmer.

"People probably told you never to talk until asked, huh?"

Izuku blinked, widening his eyes in surprise. The question caught him off guard.

"Wh-what?"

"I know that reaction," Toshinori said, almost quietly. He smiled a weak smile. "You don't have to do that with me, kiddo. You can talk freely."

For some reason, Izuku couldn't help but just attempt to smile. Water wanted to form around his eyes, but his body resisted on instinct. He touched his stomach unconsciously like he would meet a fist if he let his guard down.

Toshinori looked at Izuku, and then at the horizon. He munched on his sandwich. Izuku tried to interpret this - maybe he tried to make him feel comfortable. Perhaps he was just hungry. He continued.

"At U.A. thet teach students that humans evolved as social creatures." He paused, like he picked the words he had to say. "We had to spend thousands of years learning that we can't live alone because the outside world is so dangerous."

Toshinori took another bite. He continued as he munched his food.

"We learned that, by living with each other, we can feel safe because we're in the presence of other people. We can be comfortable to grow and be ourselves. We became the society we know today because of that."

Toshinori munched some more before he continued. "As Pro Heroes, we teach students to always appeal to everyone's good side. Not to coddle them - but to make sure they feel safe, validated, and most importantly, reassured that evil won't harm them."

Izuku just nodded. Where was he getting at?

Toshinori sensed Izuku was waiting for a point, so he continued.

"We normally have no reason not to open up because we're hard-wired to be curious and explore the world around us," Toshinori said. "Which means if your body is all curled up like a ball and you get worked up with what I said, something -"

He saw Izuku look on the ground.

"-or someone-"

He saw Izuku flinch, like he recognized something out of that language.

"- is making us want to protect ourselves. It's a defense mechanism."

Something curled inside Izuku's stomach. The slightest tinge circled his head like he was anticipating blame.

He knew just with the way I acted? Was I too obvious?

It's as though Toshinori noticed what he thought because his following statement was -

"Don't take this the wrong way," he said, raising a free hand as the other held the few bites remaining in his sandwich, "I didn't mean to imply that someone was hurting you or something."

Izuku didn't respond.

Toshinori's voice dropped down to a hush. "But someone was, yeah?"

Izuku didn't know why he balled his fists. He only stopped when he realized his sandwich was about to pop out of its wrapping. He just nodded.

Toshinori almost stopped on his tracks. "Do you want me to call someone?"

Izuku shook his head. "High school is about to end, almost a year is left. There's no point."

Toshinori fell silent. He took the last bite of his sandwich. He was trying to think of what to tell the youngster beside him. What should he say? What would he want someone to tell him back then?

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Toshinori knew Izuku would shake his head, but he also knew the least he could offer was an ear. This was probably why he was surprised Izuku didn't shake his head. He noticed Izuku cleared his throat, opened his mouth, and then closed it again - like he hesitated at the last second. Toshinori understood that, too.

"What can you even say about it?" Izuku asked quietly, almost in a whisper. He had also eaten the rest of his sandwich. He folded the wrapping and put it in his pocket before he wiped the breadcrumbs on his uniform. "You're the World's Number One Pro Hero. You stop crimes, not things like this."

"I am not All Might now, though," Toshinori said with a smile. "So don't worry. You can tell me anything, young Midoriya. What's on your mind?"

"I asked you a question, De-ku."

The repetition stung, and the insistence a blatant insult. Izuku noticed water forming around his eyes but resisted the tears.

"St-study to become a hero, o-obviously," Izuku said, swallowing between words to retract the water in his eyes. He's not about to start crying again now.

Bakugo stared at him for a moment, as though trying to comprehend if the words that had come from his mouth were serious or not. It's only when Izuku didn't continue that he understood the youngster was, indeed, intent on getting into U.A. High.

"You," Bakugo said, eyeing Izuku from head to whatever his face could see at this distance. He practically spat. "You really applied?"

Izuku let out a weak nod. Truth be told, Izuku had no clue why Bakugo would make this a big deal. There's a huge chance he'd fail. Even Izuku knew this at the back of his head. But if applications were free and there were no real repercussions to them, why not apply?

Truth be told, Izuku considered this the best gift he'd given himself for his 18th birthday - pursue his dream, for once. He should ignore if people said no. He's heard that all his life. At this point, what's the worst that could happen?

The wall at the end of the classroom meeting Izuku's back was the worst thing that could happen.

Izuku didn't realize Bakugo could have such strength. Even their other classmates were surprised. The professor noticed the escalation.

"Oi!" he yelled as he walked towards them, with a few students making way as the rest gathered around the commotion. The professor would have already asked Izuku how he was had Bakugo not pointed an open palm in front of his face. When Bakugo turned his head towards the professor, to describe his glare as "fierce" is an understatement. Their teacher felt a chill run down his spine and froze where he stood.

He gazed worryingly at Izuku, who struggled to stand, and especially more so when Bakugo turned and kicked him on the stomach.

At this point, heads peered from the small glass panel on their locked door. The noise evidently caught the attention of the other classes. Bakugo paid no mind.

"You're a Quirkless!" Bakugo screamed, hitting Izuku again with his foot.

Toshinori felt his heart crushed by what he'd just heard.

He at first wondered if Izuku had already crossed his own line when he talked about his experience with Bakugo. Normally, someone would not entrust anyone else with such a heavy struggle. And yet Izuku seemed not to have a hard time sharing it with him.

When Toshinori looked at Izuku's sad but somehow lively eyes, he realized All Might was probably Izuku's only bastion of peace when he got home after a rough day. That invitation of his earlier, of urging Izuku to share, was probably the first time someone has ever done that to the kid. "Trauma dumping" was the term kids used these days, and this was something Toshinori and his fellow teachers were taught at school.

And from what he saw in Izuku's eyes, the trauma ran deep.

Toshinori could only nod slowly. He understood. He knew.

He could only imagine the kind of pain Izuku has experienced. No, it's because he can imagine - no, lived - that the weight felt all too real. He was thrust back into the past, in even more chaotic times when one's Quirk dictated one's social status. The very times he swore to change by becoming a hero, even with nothing to show for.

Toshinori's response to people looking down on him was to strive to become even better. To never let his lacking define himself. He couldn't exactly preach this to a teenager who just told him he spent the good five years of his life being kicked every day for the tiniest of slights. By a person he considered his friend, no less.

All because he was Quirkless.

It was that term again, even as they talked on the rooftop at lunch.

Quirkless.

"He said I can't go to U.A. High because I'm a Quirkless," he remembered the kid say back then.

But Toshinori also remembered the way the teenager's green eyes switched to red when he rushed to save his bully from the Sludge Villain.

Quirkless.

Toshinori pondered as he remembered how the term was also used to define him before he became All Might.

And yet, Toshinori repeated the word in his mind, specifically in the way Izuku said it. And he replayed the events that led to their walk now - Izuku rushed to help Bakugo with red eyes, not the green he saw today.

That's a Quirk, right?

Toshinori realized there's a slight chance Izuku might be oblivious to his Quirk, but couldn't find an opening to ask. At that time, Toshinori wasn't so sure this would affect his assessment of the youth. Would being "truly" Quirkless matter after he received the mantle? Would already having a Quirk erase the meaning of what the mantle represented?

Izuku groaned lightly, placing a hand on his stomach. He resumed his story.

The youngster groaned in pain as his foot made contact with his torso.

This was routine to them, but Izuku couldn't fathom the animosity that had arisen in Bakugo this time around. He was just applying to U.A. High, what's the big deal?

Izuku looked down as he mustered his strength to get up. Bakugo obliged. He grabbed him by the hair and lifted him before he slammed him against the wall.

"What's gotten in your head, De-ku?" Bakugo asked.

Whether rhetorically or not, Izuku couldn't identify with the pain.

"You're expecting me to believe there is some possibility I will see myself in the same high school as you? A Quirkless? Dream on, loser!"

Izuku couldn't exactly reply with a counterargument - Bakugo had a point.

Most Pro Heroes in Japan were U.A alumni, including his - and technically Bakugo's - idol, All Might. And for a doting fan like Izuku, what better way to honor his idol than to go to the actual university where he went? If it's for the chance to apply to U.A, Izuku was more than willing to endure a few more years' worth of Bakugo insults.

Izuku knew Bakugo was fully intent on going to U.A. This was practically their dream as children - at least, until Bakugo discovered Izuku didn't actually have a Quirk.

While Bakugo distanced himself from an outcast like Izuku, the latter thought the former wouldn't seriously think Izuku would give up on their dream so easily.

Izuku knew he would likely bomb the application. He might pass the test but never the practicals - everyone had to have a Quirk to participate effectively. Izuku wasn't stupid, he knew there's eventually going to be a wall he was never going to cross.

Truth be told, Izuku prepared himself to get a rejection letter as soon as he submitted his application. Years of being called Deku would make someone always anticipate for the worst. Izuku just applied for the hell of it.

So Izuku didn't expect Bakugo's words to sting. It pierced something in his core.

I cannot dream?

Bakugo backed off.

"You better drop that application, Midoriya," he said as he fixed his clothes. It was the first time in a while Izuku had heard him use his last name.

"Th-there are a million reasons they can reject me," Izuku said as he smiled weakly. "A-applying there is like asking for an instant rejection," he just added.

Bakugo's eyebrows met. "And I am saying drop it. Jump off a building while you're at it."

The classroom remained silent, save for a few who chuckled. The attempt died as soon as no one else followed through. No one could determine whether Bakugo was serious or not this time around.

This was the first time he was extra violent toward Izuku. And by the way Izuku made momentary glances towards his classmates, it seemed none of them had any idea why Bakugo got so riled up at the mere idea of Izuku going to the prestigious Pro Hero training school.

In the end, Izuku chuckled a bit of light laughter. "C'mon, Kacchan, that seems a bit intense!"

Wrong move.

It was probably the Kacchan that ticked him off. With every "Deku" that came from Bakugo's mouth equalled a "Kacchan" from Izuku's.

"Kacchan" was an even older nickname that existed even before Bakugo christened Izuku with a reminder of his inadequacies. Today, Izuku just spat "Kacchan" as a friendly retort. Although a part within him also thought…

I ought to remind everyone we used to be friends before you reduced me to a nickname.

Bakugo had Izuku by his collars again before the latter got to "intense," either Bakugo got the hint or got annoyed Izuku even tried dignifying his threat with a response.

"You seem to be defiant today, De-ku," Bakugo said, and again he emphasized the words. For some reason he grinned, as though he finally let loose. "Now, why is that? Did applying to U.A. get you a spine? What are you so proud of? You really think All Might would pay attention to you?"

Izuku felt Bakugo's loosened grip as the blond teenager had actually backed off. The former was actually stunned in sheer surprise. That is, until Bakugo caught wind of something on Izuku's desk. It glared with the sunlight, as though begging to be noticed.

Izuku felt weight crushing down as soon as Bakugo had a notebook in his hand. It was his Hero Journal.

"Oh god, you actually kept this?" Bakugo asked, both rhetorically and hysterically. He looked at the crowd before him and he raised the notebook like it was some sort of trophy.

"This here," Bakugo said, he raised his hand higher as Izuku desperately tried to reach it, "is De-ku's precious Hero Journal."

"A Hero Journal?" Toshinori asked. He repeated what Izuku had just said. "What's a Hero Journal?"

Toshinori noticed Izuku had smiled. A real one, with the way his eyes glowed.

The youngster quickly swung the knapsack to the front of his body. Nevermind that his shoulder and arm screamed in pain as he had done so. Toshinori noticed the way Izuku's eyes beamed after he asked the question, the way he rummaged through his things before he showed him the same rugged notebook he signed.

"This one," Izuku said with evident pride. He turned a page and showed his signature. "The one with your autograph!"

Toshinori remembered.

When he saved Izuku from the Sludge Villain that morning, this was the first thing Izuku showed when he asked if the youngster had anything he wanted signed. It was standard superhero routine when encountering a fan, and All Might always delighted in seeing the populace so at peace whenever he was around.

He was surprised that Izuku called this a "Hero Journal."

Or perhaps he wasn't. The way Izuku flipped through the pages and showed him everything - the crude drawings, the notes, some random scribblings - made him seem like a child so eager to show something to his parents. Somehow, Toshinori wondered if Izuku had showed this to anyone else.

The way the notebook was constructed made him feel this was the only place Izuku had felt free with all the things happening in his life at the time.

When Izuku handed Toshinori the Hero Journal, the World's Number One Pro Hero didn't even have to read through everything intently to understand what the notebook meant for the youngster. A different pang constricted in his chest - a suffocating feeling overwhelmed his senses.

The Izuku who filled the pages of this notebook was vastly different from the Izuku he's walking with right now. Every spread was dedicated to a Pro Hero. The lack of real identities and crude drawings aside, Izuku nailed almost every detail the public would have seen or heard.

He gave some Quirks their own names, some of which scribbled out as their registered Quirk names were written beside them - probably after he researched them or encountered them from somewhere more official.

There were dates beside some anecdotes, small notes about how Pro Heroes used them and some questions on whether certain Quirks could be used in certain ways. For a guy who's just turned 18, this single Hero Journal was possibly the most practical source of handwritten Pro Hero information Toshinori has ever seen.

Truth be told, Toshinori had already thought of Izuku as someone he could trust, the same way with how Nana trusted him. To see how this youngster had paid so close attention to superheroes seemed like plus points to his mental resume.

Toshinori was still looking at the notebook while they walked.

"This is impressive," he said. "You have a website of it or something?"

Izuku was caught off-guard. He shook his head, his hands following.

"Oh, no no!" he said, followed by a weak laughter. "This is more of my private journal. Just stuff I liked about Pro Heroes. My notebook doesn't have much - the internet is filled with more theories and stuff. I'll leave it to the professionals. It's just a childish keepsake."

A childish keepsake he's kept in his bag all the time, Toshinori thought. He didn't show it in his face, but in his thoughts he smiled.

"And besides, no one will believe a Quirkless like me," Izuku continued just as fast.

That word again.

Toshinori nodded slowly, more for acknowledgement than approval. He stopped at a particular page.

"All Might," it read. "Quirk - Unnowhn. The World's Numbbr One Pro Hero. He's super strong, super fast, and super tough!"

The writing looked much older than the rest of Izuku's notes. The spelling mistakes weren't erased. The page dedicated to All Might was the center sprawl, and the drawing included here was what appeared - at least, after Toshinori rotated the notebook a couple of times - his outfit during the Golden Age. There were other stick outfits drawn beside it, too, and a wave of nostalgia just hit him.

All Might's page was probably the first one, he thought. The one he drew first as a kid.

And then the realization sunk. This was probably the only reason Izuku was able to move forward all these years. He remembered how the youngster said U.A was an aspiration he knew he'd never reach because he was content with what he was able to write in this Hero Journal. Whatever he's written here were probably during the times the world told him he was useless for seemingly being "Quirkless."

He looked at Izuku. This boy probably didn't even care. As long as he had that notebook, he was safe. He takes a step forward knowing he can go into that Hero Journal anytime and spend as much time as he wanted to with his favorite heroes. The smile showed it all.

Izuku giggled like a kid as if he hadn't been in a life-threatening situation mere hours before. His torso contorted slightly when he did, and while he tried to laugh harder to mask the pain, Toshinori saw it.

"Keep this safe, yeah?" he just said, handing the notebook back to Izuku. The kid slowly took the notebook off the Pro Hero's hands, taking care to touch the whole parts while not hitting the blackened edges. He wanted to ask why Izuku chose a half-burnt notebook but dismissed it as probably a stylistic choice.

"I'd probably ask for that when I retire to read and reminisce," he continued with a smile. Toshinori didn't know why he said that. Or perhaps he already did.

Izuku was practically grinning.

"Really? Wow."

Toshinori looked at Izuku, his eyes glowing with the brightest emerald sheen he's ever seen.

Where Toshinori decided never to let the world define him for what he lacked, Izuku resigned to not caring. Toshinori understood. It's difficult to fight a world that keeps on saying no - and for Izuku, between just wanting a normal life and a doting mother, fighting was something he probably couldn't afford. He wouldn't blame Izuku for wanting a day to breathe without constantly watching his back.

These innocent eyes will forget every pain for even a second of bliss…

Toshinori remembered the pair of crimson he's seen on that same face just an hour ago. The sight burned into his eyes.

… but those raging eyes will remember.

Bakugo remembered.

Izuku couldn't keep his head straight. All he wanted was to get the journal back, but Bakugo's elbow was on the way. He groaned in pain and couldn't raise his arm as high as he wanted. Sweat started to pour from his forehead. Izuku knew the direction where this was going.

Bakugo gave Izuku's shin a kick so the youngster would kneel down. This was the opening he needed to actually open it, scanning its pages in front of the class.

"Oh man, this actually had his sketches when he was a twerp," Bakugo chided, his laughter almost hysteria at this point. None of their classmates knew if it was their cue to laugh with him. They just left Bakugo alone as he scanned Izuku's Hero Journal.

Izuku's eyes pained at the sight. Bakugo held his most precious possession.

No, it wasn't why it was painful.

He remembered.

Bakugo was one of the only people Izuku showed his Hero Journal to. This was the mark of Izuku's shame - the one thing he couldn't have but obsessed about. He didn't have Quirks, but he recorded the Quirks of everyone he admired. All Might, Pro Heroes, almost everyone he encountered that held some form of significance. Anytime they used their Quirk in a new way, it goes straight to Izuku's Hero Journal.

Izuku knew his Hero Journal from cover to cover. He knew exactly where every drawing was, which page had whose Quirk, and how many pages were still blank. So when Bakugo paused reading, Izuku knew he had just reached the page named "Kacchan."

And when Bakugo glared back at him, the hand holding the Hero Journal practically balled into a fist and starting to crumple the pages, Izuku knew he had crossed the line.

"You recorded me?" Bakugo asked, almost nonchalantly. "You actually had the nerve to write about my Quirk?"

Izuku mustered the courage to stand up. He had to.

"Please," was the only thing he could get out of his mouth. The pain in his leg put him on his knees. He had clung both hands on Bakugo's pants. He pleaded.

"You think you know my Quirk so much, huh?" Bakugo asked as he tilted his head to the side as though a screw had just went loose. He thrust the Hero Journal in front of Izuku, pages still facing him.

"Explosion," Bakugo read. "His sweat can make explosions he releases when he opens his palms. He can use this to propel himself around the battlefield."

When he was done, Bakugo's voice went from mockery to somewhat amusement.

"I'm impressed," Bakugo said, nodding as though he's just read something insightful. "You're not as stupid as you look."

Izuku stood there. He didn't exactly know how to react. He simply let out a weak smile. Maybe Bakugo would just hand the Hero Journal back if he's happy?

"Except…"

The hand that held the journal erupted in a crackling that released the harshest popping sounds Izuku had heard in his life. Smoke burst from his hand, evidently from the impact of his Explosion Quirk.

Izuku's eyes widened at the sight his Hero Journal engulfed in smoke. Bakugo's smile went from ear to ear.

"...you didn't know I could activate my Quirk that way, huh?"

Izuku's mind went blank, and then screamed with the loudest ringing. What normally would have been a migraine skipped straight into despair. Something in him just snapped.

Bakugo bullying him, he can take. This friend - no, former friend - insulting him, he can take. This person somehow spending every day of the past five years telling him he was worthless trash, he can take. As long as Bakugo didn't touch the Hero Journal, everything was free real estate. This was the pact Izuku made with himself, to bear as long as it took.

Except this.

"Why you - !"

Izuku already met the ground before he was able to extend a fist. Bakugo simply shoved him. It wasn't even a hard push, just a reaction. Bakugo started laughing the same way he used to laugh everyday, but no one followed him.

All eyes were on Izuku. Everyone was asking the same question.

Did he try to punch Bakugo? Did he actually fight back?

Izuku felt the notebook hit him before it clattered on the ground. He reached for it but let out a yelp when Bakugo slammed a heel on the top of his palm. Izuku groaned, but desperately tried getting his hand off his classmate's shoe anyway. It took Bakugo a few good stomps before he let go, and a foot to the chest had pushed Izuku on the ground before he could tend to his reddened hand.

"I'll pretend you didn't actually try that," Bakugo said. Izuku noticed the hint of surprise in his face.

Izuku endured the pain and clutched the notebook with both arms.

He took a bloodied right hand and scanned what remained of his damaged Hero Journal. Bakugo had actually went light on him, only burning a bit of the front and the edges. Most of the pages were intact, save for some with scribbles now covered in the black of burnt paper.

Izuku finally started tearing up.

"He almost destroyed it?"

Toshinori was aghast. He had just seen the kind of dedication Izuku had poured into this Hero Journal. It must've taken years to fill it with this many scribblings. And he probably started since they were kids, too. Perhaps the thing that bothered Toshinori the most was that Bakugo knew how much this meant to Izuku.

"It's as though he deliberately wanted to destroy it," he whispered out loud.

Izuku nodded as he smiled weakly. "I first wondered why he was so mad I wanted to go to U.A but -" he groaned, touching his stomach that twisted ever so slightly in pain "- I guess at some point you just accept it."

Toshinori shook his head. "Th-that's wrong. That's unfair."

Izuku could only shrug. "What could I do, All Might? It's not like I have a Quirk."

That again.

Izuku continued, smile as weak as ever.

"If you don't have a Quirk, you can't dream."

The notebook was safe. That's what's most important.

Izuku would have breathed relief had his stomach not contorted in pain. A reddened hand held the notebook ever so slightly to his chest. He curled up like a ball on the floor, water now flowing in his eyes.

The notebook was safe. It's all that matters. He might not have a Quirk, but he can at least dream of his adventures with heroes.

At least he had the decency to leave me with a dream.

And like a harbinger of nightmares, Bakugo's silhouette felt as though he's telling Izuku he will always dictate what he is - and especially isn't - allowed to dream.

This time, Bakugo loomed over Izuku like a gigantic wave about to hit the shore. At this vantage point, the ceiling light glared across Bakugo's back that he practically cast a shadow over Izuku below him.

He only said the words this time. Izuku vividly remembered the absence of his comedic cracking, the lack of papers falling, and his peers laughing. Silence had filled the air as though Bakugo had put the universe on mute to ensure Izuku would remember his words.

Izuku gazed upon Bakugo's red eyes amid the silence. To describe it as filled with bloodlust is an understatement.

"You set foot in that school, and I will kill you."

Toshinori wasn't so sure how he should react.

Izuku had told this - that a former friend threatened to kill him - matter-of-factly like it was an everyday occurrence.

And the insistence on the Quirk thing, too.

Toshinori figured now was as good a time to ask as any. That was his answer.

"I guess it's a slap in the face that you tried to save him, then, Young Midoriya" Toshinori simply said.

He tried to smile, even though the statement caught Izuku off-guard. The youngster blushed, giggled, and had an arm hold the back of his head in embarrassment. Hearing no reply, Toshinori continued.

"And all while you possessed a simple Quirk, too -"

Toshinori caught Izuku's giggling stop, but his words came out faster than he could react.

"- it's not like you could fight with it conventionally."

It took him two steps before he realized Izuku stopped on his tracks.

He looked back, noticing the youngster's face as though hit with water from a bucket. The shimmer in his eyes was gone, replaced with the blankness of disbelief. Izuku spoke before he could ask, his words filled with stunned coldness.

"What did you just say?"

"Y-your Quirk," Toshinori wasn't quite sure why he stammered. In between breaths, he tried figuring out what he had said had changed the boy's mood. "I didn't mean to say it was weak or anything. Just unconventionally non-combative. I thought you'd understand with your notes."

Izuku's eyebrows were probably contorted the same way his stomach had.

"I don't have a Quirk," he said, almost quietly. "What are you talking about?"

"That time when you saved Bakugo," Toshinori simply answered. "Y-you used your Quirk, right? To change your eye color?"

"Eye color?" Izuku replied, although it felt more like a statement than a question.

He wasn't sure for who - to himself, to All Might.

"Is that a joke?" was his mere follow-up.

A familiar ringing found its way around his head.

It sounded like a bell but echoed like a thunderclap, like a push that became an earthquake before he could even blink.

He was quite sure Toshinori said no, but the ringing masked any semblance of sound in his head. His eyes saw Toshinori move his lips, and for a second even his brain somehow recognized the words that came out of his mouth, but a shooting pain - from the ridiculosity of it all - just gave everything a reddish hue.

Why would he joke about something like this?

The pieces hit him like shards of glass desperate for him to gather. Each thought stung as he began to put them together, like a knife that cut through flesh. The throbbing ran deeper the more he tried to stop thinking, and only abated whenever he tried to make sense of why his idol would even think he had a Quirk.

Unless he's in on it.

That's when the ringing turned silent. Izuku looked Toshinori - no, All Might - dead in the eye. Transposed across his rather long face was Bakugo's own deathly red stare.

"You really think All Might would notice you?"

What chill ran down his spine transformed into a warmth that twisted his insides. It's as though he heard the food that he just ate churn from within, and the acid rose to his throat. His chest started beating faster, the redness reaching his face.

Izuku muddled over what just happened. He just poured everything to All Might, his idol, who said he could share anything. Everything that's happened for the past five years, the recent horrible thing Bakugo had done, the beating he's got - all of it, this person knew and somehow he joked about him having a Quirk.

The one thing people insulted him with.

Izuku didn't need anyone else to drive the point. He already knew the point. He wasn't so sure where he'd be insulted - that All Might straight up just joked he had a Quirk, or the Quirk he came up with was related to changing his eye color. Of all the mundane Quirks.

It didn't matter that the pain was practically squishing his head together. Everything reeked of Bakugo.

Of course Bakugo would somehow get the World's Number One Pro Hero to pull off this prank.

The pain shot up his head. It was sudden. Izuku groaned and put a hand on his temple.

He knew All Might saw this. The expression in Toshinori's face changed. He approached.

"H-hey."

"Step back!" Izuku flailed an arm as he almost fell to the ground had it not been for the feet he had planted together. He shook his head in disbelief. He wanted to laugh but the headache was too unbearable. Izuku opened his eyes. Tried to, anyway, but the pain made him feel like he wanted to collapse.

He held his ground - he needed All Might to hear this.

"Fine," Izuku said as he waved his arm aimlessly, almost drunkedly. "You can tell Bakugo I give up. I'll waive my application."

Toshinori raised an eyebrow, the confounding in his voice evident. "What?"

Izuku stammered the syllables, the headaches growing more intense.

"I don't know h-how w-we can hire Pro Heroes to d-do pranks, but I get it," Izuku just said. This time he crouched on the ground, both hands on his temples, the throbbing just raging at this point. Everything was starting to make sense. He wanted to scream the words to make the pain go away, but he could only slur them.

"I'll w-waive my application. G-give it up," he said, simplifying, as though he couldn't think of the proper ways to say it. He just had to say it.

"Th-this is not a prank…" Toshinori said slowly, his eyes drifting to the ground, as though in deep thought.

Izuku didn't care, he could use the silence. He noticed Toshinori looking straight at him, his eyes widening, and then somehow started rummaging through his pockets.

Izuku wasn't so sure what he said that left Toshinori standing there for a few seconds.

Was this not part of their script?

The next thing he knew, Toshinori took something out of his pocket. A mobile phone. In a few clicks, he showed its screen to Izuku. It was the front camera. In it was his face too red in both embarrassment and anger. His hair was disheveled, his eyes almost wet with tears. Just a typical day where Izuku leaves the house and comes back as poor De-ku.

"You can post my face," Izuku said - he almost slurred his words, waving his hand. "Proof of the prank. Something or other. Whatever."

Toshinori shook his head. "No, your eyes. Look."

Izuku wanted to lie down on the floor due to the pain, but Toshinori held his arm. "Look!" he whispered, almost pleading.

Izuku gazed upon his sorry reflection on the smartphone. He observed himself again. The disheveled hair, the dirt all over his uniform, the wetness of tears in his red eyes. What's there to see?

The pain ceased. For a moment, even the ringing in his mind vanished.

Red eyes?

Izuku blinked one, two, then three times. He yanked Toshinori's phone away from him, fiddling with the brightness and sent it to the maximum. At one point, he got the screen almost inches away from his nose.

Toshinori started scratching his head. He seemed just as confused as Izuku was.

Izuku was even more perplexed.

"I have red eyes?" he asked, loudly, not sure if to himself or Toshinori.

"Wait," Toshinori answered just as quick, "You don't know?"

Izuku flicked a finger to switch into video mode. He turned it on before staring at himself. This was no trickery with the light. His green eyes were truly red.

It was a deep crimson, with a black comma floating on top at a size as large as his pupil.

"What the hell?" Izuku just whispered. He looked at All Might.

"But I don't have a Quirk. Th-the doctors, they -"

Toshinori nodded, almost blankly. He probably recognized what Izuku was talking about. When children up to the age of eight have yet to demonstrate any Quirks, they're taken to a Quirk Specialist to get checked. They provide an assessment whether a child would have any chance of developing a Quirk later as a "late bloomer" or none at all.

Izuku's diagnosis was the latter. He was Quirkless.

Izuku stared at his red eyes. The black comma receded into the red, and the crimson washed out into green. They were normal again. Izuku stopped the video. He looked at Toshinori.

All Might's alter ego just nodded.

"Apparently you're not Quirkless. Congratulations."

Izuku's eyes widened at the realization.

Oh god what have I done?

He looked at Toshinori - no, All Might. He cupped his mouth.

"Oh god," was the only thing he said.

Toshinori could only give out a hearty laugh. Izuku was as red as his… eyes. He shook his head.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry I shouted at you," Izuku started, stammered, struggled to find his bearings. "I re-really thought this was all a pr-prank, and th-that it's all a - "

"It's alright, kid!" he told Izuku as he patted him on the shoulder. "We all had that reaction when we first got our Quirks."

Izuku paused at the realization. He put fingers on both his eyelids. The camera wasn't in front of him anymore, but the imagery was too vivid to forget.

My eyes turned red.

Izuku shook his head. No, more specific.

I can turn my eyes red.

No, the thing he always wanted to hear.

I have a Quirk.

For the first time in a long time, Izuku felt calm. He smiled. It was the first genuine smile he's given since the doctors reported he was Quirkless. The first time in a long time since he's smiled without fear of being accused of something, of being hit, of being ridiculed.

He wasn't the powerless De-ku anymore.

For the first time, he belonged.

But why now?

"W-why the late awakening?" was the only thing Izuku could say. "H-how do I even activate it?"

Toshinori shrugged. "I dunno."

Izuku almost fell to the ground, like a weight had fallen on his head.

"S-surely you have a better answer than that!"

Toshinori chuckled. "C'mon, you're taking it too seriously! You should celebrate," he said. "You have a Quirk! Your dream!"

Izuku paused.

That's right. That was my dream.

Izuku raised his eyebrows. No, he said. That wasn't the dream.

Izuku didn't know what had gone on in his head. He put both palms beside his face and slapped his cheeks, sensing if he was dreaming. Realizing this was all real, he turned to face All Might.

"I have a Quirk," he told him. He told his idol, the World's Number One Pro Hero. He told him almost declaratively, like an announcement.

Toshinori couldn't help but nod with what seemed to be pride. Izuku continued.

"Does that mean I have a shot at being a hero now?"

Toshinori spent the next few seconds in silence.

Truth be told, Izuku didn't care about All Might's answer. He was determined.

Nevermind telling his mother, or bragging about it to Bakugo. He couldn't care less if Bakugo would beat him up when he learned little powerless De-ku actually had a Quirk. A Quirk that, even if it can't harm the Sludge Villain, was still used to save him.

There he was, having discovered a Quirk after years of perhaps practically begging the universe for him to be a late bloomer. Izuku knew the kind of devastation a child would've felt once the doctors told him he couldn't get any Quirk that would make him similar to his heroes, or the kind of denial Izuku had taken up as he grew older, knowing the kids he used to play with will eventually become superheroes while he stayed firmly rooted on the ground.

Usually, a person who discovers they have something that makes them unique will want to make it known to the rest of the world. Everyone deserves to be proud of something they have or have done.

"I want to make sure no one else will get hurt the same way I have," Izuku said.

He looked at All Might, but his mind's eye showed him the back of a child left behind by his peers as they ran towards the horizon. He can finally nudge his younger self to run with them.

Toshinori simply smiled.

"Do you know the reason why I transformed earlier and saved you and your friend?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. "Even though I told you I can only be All Might for a few hours every day?"

Izuku slowly shook his head. Toshinori took this as a sign to continue.

"I saw you go in there and rush to save Bakugo - mind you, a former friend who used to torment you -" he added. The emphasis didn't sting as much when Izuku heard it now. "- even if it meant you could die."

Izuku almost managed to open his mouth to answer, but Toshinori interrupted him.

"This was before you knew you even had a Quirk," he said. "You could have died if I hadn't arrived. Humans are not predisposed to bring themselves in danger. Only a few people have the courage to do that."

Izuku paused at the thought. All Might was right. He never really has given much thought, even during their walk together. Shops have already transitioned into houses and orange skies transformed into an even warmer hue, and yet Izuku hadn't even remembered the kind of danger he put himself in a while ago.

Toshinori continued, interrupting Izuku's train of thought.

"That should've been my job, keeping you safe," Toshinori said. "I shouldn't have cared about my life. That was the risk I knew I had to take when I started doing this."

He paused.

"You reminded me of that," Toshinori - no, All Might - said. "In my eyes, quirk or no quirk, you're already a hero."

The words went from one ear and straight out of the next.

It took Izuku a few seconds to interpret what the World's Number One Pro Hero had said, although it only took an instant for the water to start surging from his eyes.

"Quirk or no quirk, You're already a hero."

Izuku didn't realize how the words, in that order, had forced his eyes to water on command. Maybe it's because he's spent the entirety of his childhood being told that having no quirk meant he couldn't fight villains. That he couldn't make a difference. That he couldn't be a hero.

He could still see how vivid the silhouette of Bakugo - ever the figure on a pedestal - was looking down on him all this time. "You can't be a hero," was something he heard almost everyday that it had practically been the only version of the sentence that existed in his head.

And here is All Might in front of him, his most vulnerable form now a blur with all the tears flowing from Izuku's face, telling him - from the World's Number One Pro Hero to basically nobody - that he can.

It's no surprise Izuku had begun clutching his chest as he fell on his knees. The sentence wasn't absolute.

The words were released into the world.

At first, Toshinori wondered what he'd done to cause the scene.

Toshinori almost panicked at the sight, but he realized he was exactly like the teenager before him when Nana had affirmed his own potential.

Before he became her apprentice.

Before he inherited it.

Toshinori looked at Izuku and saw himself. He's the one.

He thought about it during their entire journey, the entire time Izuku narrated his experiences. Izuku might not have said it, but Toshinori knew the youngster had tried his damnest not to snap and hurt Bakugo the same he had done to him. That was admirable - truly a mark of someone who had the makings of a hero.

Then again, not everyone is perfect. Toshinori heard from Izuku's voice the pent up rage and frustration from all the years of pain he experienced. He couldn't exactly blame the youngster - kids as bright and kind as him often carried the burden of understanding.

A burden that would make the likes of Izuku "let it go" simply because they "understand," while others "lash out" in ways they know they can. An injustice in Toshinori's eyes, and even more perhaps from the perspective of Izuku. Should he receive this gift, this responsibility, this burden - would he be able to maintain this burden of understanding? Would this child not use this for revenge, especially when he finally realizes he can have the power to change everything?

Toshinori braced himself. Now comes the hard part.

Izuku cried when he noticed the thin figure now knelt in front of him. For someone he thought was frail and skeleton-like, Toshinori's hands were firm when he held him. He propped him up. Izuku still wiped his tears with his arms.

"Th-thank you," Izuku said, still in between breaths. "I-I didn't know I would c-cry. Th-this just means so much. Y-you have no idea."

"Actually, I do," Toshinori said. Firmly, which is what caught Izuku's attention. The tears started to stop, and Izuku started to zone in back on the conversation.

"W-what do you mean?"

"I have to be honest, I don't know where to start," Toshinori said as he scratched his head in embarrassment. He pondered for a moment as though finding his words. He shook his head. If he wanted to ask Izuku to do this, he had to come from a place of complete honesty. Toshinori braced himself.

Here goes…

"I'm actually Quirkless."

Izuku almost groaned. Not in pain, but in frustration. "Oh come on," the youngster almost whispered. "Not this again."

Toshinori smiled, but he also chuckled a bit. "No, I am not pranking you. I truly am Quirkless."

Izuku snorted in derision but fell silent when Toshinori didn't talk any further.

"You're not joking."

Toshinori nodded. He had some time to think where to start. He figured this might be the best direction:

"The world called All Might the Symbol of Peace because he represented a light that saved the world from darkness, and all those things the news liked to say about him," Toshinori said. He probably wondered if Izuku was noticing the way he chose his words. The youngster nodded, so he paid no heed to his thoughts. "Well, there is some modicum of truth to that," he added.

"I mean, you really are a light in the dark," Izuku said, finally handing the phone to him. "You're an inspiration!"

"No, no," Toshinori said, now pocketing it - and remembering where he put it - and then nudging at Izuku to continue walking. And as a traffic light stopped them close to the highway, Toshinori continued.

"You ever wondered why All Might never asked the media to change the Symbol of Peace into something, I dunno, less overwhelming?" Toshinori asked as they crossed the road. Izuku was silent for a good half-minute as they passed bystanders and other groups of students walking and biking by. He finally shook his head. "I never thought about it. I thought you'd - I mean, he just liked it."

Toshinori almost laughed. Izuku understood the kind of wordplay he wanted with his identity in public. All Might was a completely different entity for people who knew who he was. He continued.

"All Might could always ask to be called the World's Mightiest Hero, the Light Knight, Your Friendly Neighborhood Avenger, and all sorts of fancier titles," Toshinori said. "He chose the Symbol of Peace because it's true."

Izuku's eyes widened, like he finally understood. Toshinori nodded in affirmation.

"The Symbol of Peace is a mantle."

Izuku nodded slowly, as though trying to follow the train of thought. "Yeah, whosoever holds the title of All Might is the Symbol of Peace, kinda thing? But what's that got to do with being Quirkless?"

Toshinori shook his head slowly.

"No, Young Midoriya," he said, chuckling lightning. "I'm not the Symbol of Peace because I'm All Might, and I'm not All Might because I'm the Symbol of Peace."

Izuku scratched his head.

"You're just mixing things up!"

Toshinori sighed. "Okay, let's put it this way. The Symbol of Peace is just a title," he finally said. "All Might became the Symbol because the world needed him to be."

"Okay…" Izuku said, as though with acknowledgment that words were said, but not that he understood. "But how can you be Quirkless if you can do a Detroit Smash? Are you wearing armor or something?"

Toshinori shook his head. "If you know All Might well - and I know you do - you know he doesn't want to wear armor." He then reduced himself to a whisper. "And don't mention him like we're the same person!"

Izuku skipped the part where was supposed to apologize, as though he's chasing a train of thought. "Okay, but no human can physically do what you do. No one can just get a hulking physique in a snap."

Toshinori smiled. He's getting there. "Alright, so how do you surmise I can transform?"

Izuku put his fingers on his chin, an arm over the other, and started thinking. It took a few seconds before his eyes widened like an owl's. He whispered.

"Quirk Transfer?"

Toshinori nodded. The kid was indeed smart.

"Th-that's possible? That's only a theory!"

Toshinori nodded, still. "It's very possible. Mine has been happening for a long time."

Izuku could only blink.

"Whoa. So you're just like me, then. No, no, I'm just like you."

Toshinori looked around him as they started walking on a relatively quiet street. There was no one around him. Within the next instant, Toshinori exploded into a puff of smoke, surprising even Izuku.

Toshinori was no more. Beside Izuku was now the hulking All Might, with a physique that almost popped out of Toshinori's previously baggy clothing.

"What you're looking at is the manifestation of my Quirk - One For All," All Might, deep as his voice was, told Izuku. It was not a booming voice of a hero's, but rather a deep one of a teacher to a student. "This is a culmination of the energy left behind the Quirks of many other users before me."

Izuku could only reply with, "Cool."

All Might noticed the way Izuku looked at him with awe. Sometimes, he forgets he's the World's Number One Pro Hero. He shouldn't do this often. He felt the pain starting to curl up from his stomach, but for this youngster - for this demonstration - he had to endure.

"I chose to be the Symbol of Peace not because this Quirk has made me strong," All Might continued as he stayed in place. The pain started to spread around his body. Toshinori could feel his heart wanting to give out, but he ignored it. "But because I owe it to those before me to do what they couldn't in their lifetime: save lives."

Izuku nodded.

"Being All Might doesn't mean being the Symbol of Peace," All Might said. "Becoming the Symbol of Peace means fulfilling a promise, not just to my predecessors, but to the world."

Izuku nodded. Much slower. It's like the point is slowly being lost. All Might understood this. He had to stop with the metaphors. His time was running out anyway.

"Which is why there is no light way to say this," All Might started, before a puff of smoke had transformed his hulking physique into that of the thin Toshinori.

This moment felt like it took forever to finish. Inside Toshinori's head remained a man in conflict.

Things were already set in stone - Nighteye already assigned Togata-kun to the role, would Izuku really measure up to U.A's best?

Truth be told, this was not the part where Toshinori was most concerned. The kid had just learned about having a Quirk all this time. Was now really the time to spoil the festivities with such a responsibility? And yet, Toshinori remembered that each day passed without a successor to properly train is a day that more evil can spread in the world.

A child like Izuku will make it. He felt it. Nana-senpai probably felt it when she saw him, too.

A part of Izuku felt this wasn't for theatrics, especially when he saw Toshinori coughing blood.

He looked at Izuku matter-of-factly, like it's precisely because of this - the blood he had just wiped from his mouth - that they were having this conversation.

"I want you to be my successor."

Izuku's head almost tilted to the side at the question.

Wait, what?

"Y-you're kidding, right?" Izuku said, almost with a chuckle.

Again, Toshinori stared at him.

"C'mon, you're…" he reduced himself to a whisper "…All Might," and then returned to his normal register. "Surely there are more qualified Pro Heroes out there!"

Toshinori was quick to shake his head. "Not with your kind of heart," he said. He raises his shirt, revealing what remained of his side torso from the brutal outcome of the mission years ago that left him with his debilitating condition.

"I don't have a lot of time, Izuku," Toshinori said as he coughed. "What happened to my body can't be repaired with modern medicine. I will have to retire soon."

Izuku didn't expect the word to instill a sense of dread.

"Retire?" he repeated. "As in, stop at all?" It's that bad?"

Toshinori could only nod. "I only have years, at best."

"Y-you have to search for someone strong then!" Izuku said. He almost screamed until he willed himself to pipe down. Anyone would panic. "Is Endeavor strong enough? Maybe Hawks can help! We need to find someone fast. The world can't lose their inspiration."

Toshinori nodded in the affirmative, faster this time. "Yes. That's why it has to be you. It has to be young, someone who can inspire the next generation."

Izuku shuddered at the thought.

Someone weak like me can't become a Symbol of Peace. Maybe Bakugo -

Izuku felt the pain of the thought physically. He couldn't bear completing it, even though a part of him knew this was a more practical step. He looked at Toshinori.

"You said Pro Heroes need to risk their lives all the time, so they need power to do it," he said. "My eyes turn green to red. I literally just learned I could do that minutes ago. Now you spring me with the invitation to become your replacement? You do realize how crazy that sounds."

He almost wanted to continue with, a weakling like me can't become the world's greatest hero! That's the biggest insult I have ever heard!

"Not true," Toshinori said as he coughed once more.

"I initially said Pro Heroes always risk their lives, so they need power to make sure they can save others. I didn't say they needed powers that can defeat villains."

Izuku wanted to nod, but something in his head itched. Like something was amiss.

"Yeah, but logically speaking, changing eye colors can't really save people from, like, earthquakes and such."

Toshinori chuckled. "You're the one not using logic, Young Midoriya."

Izuku almost pouted. He felt just the tiniest bit of insult there. But before he could do anything, Toshinori continued.

"Who said it's got to be your power?"

Toshinori waited for a few seconds before Izuku started shaking his head.

Surely he doesn't mean…

"I want to make you my apprentice," Toshinori said. "I want you to take my Quirk at the right time."

Again, words in a particular order Izuku didn't exactly expect to come together and directed at him. Again, Izuku scratched his head.

"Did you forget the part a few seconds ago where we said I could only change my eye color? You saw how I did not defeat the Sludge Villain, right?"

Something tickled inside Izuku. Somehow, after he learned Toshinori wanted him to get his powers made something deep inside Izuku warm up with… joy.

He replayed the scene in his head - Bakugo kicking him on the stomach, Bakugo kicking his hand as he reached for his Hero Journal. He imagined catching his foot with a gesture. Or, hell, Bakugo following through but Izuku not moving an inch. How exactly does All Might feel when he's punched but he isn't hurt, anyway?

Something - someone - inside Izuku smiled.

Oh boy, the expression in Bakugo face's if that happens.

And somehow, Izuku lifted himself from the depths of these thoughts and resurfaced in their conversation.

"It's easy for anyone with a Quirk to dash straight into battle to fight another Quirk user," Toshinori said. "You'll be on equal ground, so the stakes aren't as high. You on the other hand," he paused, evidently for effect, "Spent most your life Quirkless. And yet you saved your bully. You could've left him for dead, yet you didn't."

Izuku almost felt the shame filling his body. Oh, the temptation was there, was his only thought, and the relief that he hadn't followed this instinct. For a moment, Izuku was dumbfounded to have these thoughts. They were his, but also weren't.

"My point is," Toshinori continued, "I'm not looking for the most powerful person. I'm looking for someone who knows exactly what it means to be weak, to be powerless. Someone who know how I felt."

Izuku couldn't deny the way the words stung when he'd heard them. He may have had a Quirk, but having his eye color changed doesn't exactly scream superhero. Who would he be, Eye-Boy?

But, somehow he understood. He and All Might - no, Toshinori - were Quirkless. Izuku spent years enduring the pain, the hate, for what he was. And somehow, no matter how tempting it would be to fight, a part of him held back.

It's easy to isolate someone when they're misunderstood. It was probably easy for Bakugo and his peers to pick on him because, well, he's different. He's probably a walking target.

If the next All Might did have a powerful Quirk, would they even know the difference?

"I need my successor to understand why they can't stop at nothing to save lives," Toshinori said. "I need someone to go above and beyond."

All Might's catchphrase echoed in Izuku's head.

Plus Ultra.

"I met that person today."

Truth be told, Izuku couldn't comprehend how wild this day had become. He just wanted All Might to tell him he could be a hero if he wanted, not if he could be a hero now.

Anyone would be ecstatic at the prospect of receiving All Might's powers. To be the greatest - to lift cars, endure powerful hits, to run at incredible speeds, to leap past buildings. Izuku could feel his younger self tugging at his uniform, jumping and telling him to say yes.

They can go to places they've never been before. People will want to take pictures with him, ask for autographs, name babies after him. Hell, maybe Bakugo will even kneel and beg for forgiveness. A part of Izuku - something deep inside - snickered at the thought.

Then again, Izuku also wondered… he might not be as inspiring as All Might, but he could probably stop other kids like him from suffering at the hands of other kids like Bakugo.

Izuku sighed. That should be enough.

"So, what do you say? Are you with me?"

Izuku's eyes fixated on All Might's - no, Toshinori's - grin, something that hasn't practically changed even if his idol's "true" form had turned out much skinnier than he had actually thought. The youngster stared at Toshinori, still in disbelief that he had actually seen the hidden identity of the World's Number One Pro Hero more times than… well, anyone… could have.

If this was a dream, now's a pretty good time to wake him up.

"Young Midoriya!" Toshinori exclaimed, catching Izuku's attention.

Toshinori was now extending an arm. "I said, are you with me?"

"Sorry!" Izuku scratched his head in embarrassment before taking All Might's hand. His grip was firm, but warm enough to convince Izuku this wasn't a dream. It was all real. He's actually more awake than he's ever been in his life.

All Might didn't just affirm to Izuku that he could be a hero. He practically wanted him to be a successor.

Izuku simply nodded.

He took in everything around him - the chirping of birds as they flew to the horizon, the orange of the skies about to send the sun to its final goodbyes, the subtle cold of the night breeze, even the honking of traffic across the horizon. He took the details of the road he used to walk alone after school, the houses he passed, the way people left their cars outside their homes after returning from work. He took note of his uniform, the way his backpack brushed against his shoulder, All Might's white shirt and jeans, their very exchange of hands.

Every detail.

All of this will be the last thing he sees before he changes his life forever.

Toshinori left the child deep in thought.

It's not like he asked him an easy question. Izuku moved his eyes around him, as though thinking intently. As he should.

And when Izuku's eyes moved, he probably didn't realize All Might was following with a gaze of his own. When Toshinori dropped the question, Izuku's eyes had immediately gone from green to red, as though he sent the kid into an adrenaline rush.

There it is again, the red eyes, Toshinori thought. This time, Izuku hadn't clutched his head in pain. It activated on instinct.

He wouldn't be surprised if the Quirk had manifested at a moment like this - if Izuku had begun hyperfocusing as soon as he started to realize the gravity of what he just asked. He was probably thinking of what this implied, of all the possibilities this would produce, of all the things that would change when he responded.

Toshinori didn't have a similar Quirk, but his mind probably raced just as fast as Izuku's. Whatever the kid decides can never be changed. He cannot give up and quit when they're in too deep - especially when he takes the Quirk. Toshinori was unsure the kid could even make it that far, but this was a risk he had to take.

This was a risk the youngster should realize he had to take.

"Pro Heroes need to risk their lives all the time," was something Toshinori said to the youngster. If Izuku really wanted to be a Pro Hero, now was the time to prove it.

And even then, there was the matter of making sure Izuku will use the Quirk for the right reasons. Toshinori felt the pang of spite and rage inside Izuku when he described Bakugo. He could only hope to still be there to ensure Izuku is guided to channel this rage appropriately, because a part of him felt Izuku was always at the tipping point.

Izuku was no mere child whose hopes and dreams were always to save others. He was not always liked, not always respected, and not always treated fairly. To attain One For All means slingshotting one's way into the pinnacle of powers - was this something Izuku will be able to truly use for good?

Toshinori was glad Izuku hadn't had his eyes on him, because a split-second would be long enough to see the doubt that formed in the Pro Hero's eyes. Am I making the right choice? was something Toshinori asked the entire time.

Was it unfair to assume the worst, if the world was at stake? Was it unfair to assume the worst in Izuku, when he should deservedly be in a position to beat the ever-loving crap out of Bakugo for everything he's done? Would Izuku truly be the "bigger person" if he doesn't teach Bakugo a lesson, to ensure others would no longer be harmed the same way he has?

All of these were interesting ethical discussions for sure. Unfortunately for Izuku, all of these were questions he will have to answer when he's taken the new mantle.

This was no mere responsibility. He was asking a youngster, with a Quirk that somehow only changes his eye color, to replace him as the Symbol of Peace - and everything that entailed.

To eventually carry on a Quirk burdened to protect the world.

Izuku took a deep breath, as though about to leap for a swim.

"Yes," the youngster simply said.

And he thrust himself into the pool. If only Toshinori could tell him its depth.

End.

So… Kinda intense.

But you can also see more clearly, just how we differed from canon in this chapter.

I do hope it was to your liking regardless, and don't worry, future chapters won't be intense like this one was, intense in the sense of Izuku's bullying (which will actually stop now).

More Chapters are posted on my p.a.t.r.e.o.n Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

www.#patr#eon.#com/Demon_Knight939 (Just remove all the hashtags)

See you all on the next update!

Chapter Text

And we’re back with chapter 3!

Now here are the notes for this chapter:

NOTES:
Pacing! Things start to pick up the pace here. We’ve established Izuku’s emotional turmoil, now it’s time to move the story forward.
We’re going through his Takoba Beach training arc, but with more depth.
We’re getting close to the Entrance Exams! All Might just needs to confirm some things…
The Sharingan will affect this training.

Start:

 

The morning sun cast long shadows across Aldera Junior High’s entrance, but for once, Izuku Midoriya didn't hug the walls or scan frantically for escape routes.

 

Izuku’s shoulders, usually hunched forward in perpetual anticipation of the next blow, stood straight and proud. Each step felt lighter than air, as if the weight of years of torment at Katsuki Bakugo’s hands had evaporated overnight.

 

All Might chose me. Me!

 

His hand unconsciously drifted to his backpack where his Hero Journal lay safely tucked away, the signature of the World’s Number One Pro Hero having now graced its pages. Just a week ago, that same journal had been scarred by explosion marks, sailing through the air outside the classroom window. Now, it felt like a badge of honor.

 

I have a Quirk. I actually have a Quirk!

 

The thought still didn't feel real. After years of doctor's visits confirming his Quirklessness, after countless nights crying himself to sleep, after enduring endless taunts of De-ku – here he was, chosen as the successor to the Symbol of Peace himself. The irony wasn't lost on him.

 

As he walked through the school gates, Izuku noticed something odd. Students glanced his way and whispered behind their hands. Not the usual looks of pity or disdain he'd grown accustomed to, but something different. Some even pointed at their phones, huddled in small groups.

 

Why are they…

 

Then it hit him.

 

The Sludge Villain incident. His reckless charge into danger. His attempt at saving Bakugo from the clutches of a villain even the Pro Heroes didn’t dare provoke.

 

Heat crept up his neck and flooded his cheeks as he remembered the viral videos that must be circulating – the Quirkless nobody rushing in where Pro Heroes feared to tread.

 

What would Kacchan think?

 

The thought of his childhood friend – no, his bully – brought a complex mix of emotions. Would Bakugo be even more furious that the useless De-ku had tried to save him? Or would yesterday's events somehow shift their dynamic?

 

Izuku couldn't decide which possibility terrified him more.

 

His feet carried him through familiar hallways, each step feeling surreal. Was this really the same school he'd dreaded entering every morning? The same corridors where he'd perfected the art of becoming invisible?

 

Today, they felt different.

 

Today, he felt different.

 

I will be a hero, he told himself. All Might believes in me. I should, too.

 

As Izuku reached for his classroom door, the usual cacophony of morning chatter and Quirk-enhanced horseplay leaked through. He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders the way he imagined All Might would. The door slid open with a decisive clack.

 

The classroom fell silent. Twenty pairs of eyes swiveled toward him, including a particularly intense crimson glare from the back of the room. Izuku stood in the doorway, his heart hammering against his ribs, but for the first time in his life, he didn't immediately look away.

 

This is my new beginning.

 

His gaze swept across the room, inevitably drawn to the back corner where Bakugo sat. Their eyes met briefly before Bakugo clicked his tongue and turned away with an irritated "tch."

 

The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Izuku wondered why everyone hadn't returned to their usual morning chaos until –

 

"Ahem."

 

The sound came from directly behind him. Izuku nearly jumped out of his skin, his face now red as he realized he'd been blocking the doorway. Their professor stood there, one eyebrow raised. Izuku scurried to his seat after an apology, his momentary confidence wavering.

 

So much for a dramatic entrance.

 

The morning dragged on with excruciating slowness. Every scratch of pencil against paper, every cough, every shuffle seemed magnified in Izuku's heightened awareness. He could feel the weight of unspoken questions hanging in the air, pressing down on him like a physical force.

 

Just breathe. Focus on class. Pretend everything's normal.

 

But nothing was normal. Not anymore. His classmates' glances burned against his skin. Phones appeared between textbook pages, their screens displaying that moment – his moment of either madness or bravery, he still wasn't sure which. The video had gone viral overnight: the supposedly Quirkless kid charging headlong into danger while Pro Heroes stood paralyzed.

 

In a society built on the backs of people who had Quirks, a heroic act caught on cam might get viral quickly but would also get stale just as fast. Even then, this was Izuku’s first time, and he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the attention.

 

What would All Might think if he saw me now, hiding from attention?

 

Each time someone whispered behind their hand, Izuku's stomach twisted into knots. He wasn't used to being the center of attention – at least, not this kind of attention. Usually, he only drew notice when Bakugo needed a target for his frustrations. Speaking of which...

 

Bakugo's desk creaked under his white-knuckled grip whenever he caught someone watching the video. Small wisps of smoke curled up from his palms, carrying the acrid scent of nitroglycerin. His usual groupies maintained a careful distance, sensing the storm brewing beneath his silence.

 

Has Kacchan always looked this... uncertain?

 

During the literature period, someone's phone accidentally played the audio from yesterday's incident. The sound of explosions and screaming filled the classroom for a brief second before being hastily silenced. Izuku noticed how Bakugo's shoulders tensed, how his jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth.

 

Somehow, Izuku sensed a part of him deep inside that made him want to smile.

 

He remembers being helpless. Just like I always was.

 

The morning crawled toward lunch break, tension building like static before a storm. Izuku could feel it coming – the confrontation was inevitable. Bakugo's pride wouldn't allow anything else. When the lunch bell finally rang, Izuku's hands were trembled slightly as he packed his books.

 

That's when Bakugo made his move, crossing the classroom in three quick strides. The explosive impact of his hands on Izuku's desk sent pencils rolling to the floor. Small explosions crackled from his palms, scorching the wood.

 

"Show it, De-ku," he growled, voice low and dangerous.

 

"Stop acting like you're better than me. Those eyes of yours yesterday... you've been hiding something, haven't you, you sneaky bastard?"

 

Izuku’s eyes widened.

 

He noticed? But how?

 

A cold wave of panic washed over Izuku. Had his eyes changed in front of Bakugo? He hadn't even noticed, too caught up in the desperate need to save his former friend..

 

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Kacchan," Izuku stammered, genuine confusion mixing with his desire to keep all this a secret. His heart pounded so hard he was sure everyone could hear it. He flinched when he realized he just called him Kacchan.

 

"Don't play dumb with me!" Bakugo's voice rose, cracking slightly at the edges. "You're looking down on me, aren't you? Think you're hot shit now because of yesterday? Because you played hero?"

 

The word “hero” struck something deep inside Izuku. All Might's words echoed in his mind:

 

"You can become a hero."

 

The trembling in his hands stopped. The fear that had been his constant companion for so many years suddenly felt... distant.

 

Something snapped inside him – not violently, but like a chain finally breaking after years of strain. Maybe it was the weight of years of torment, or maybe it was All Might's words still ringing in his ears, but suddenly he found himself standing, his hands slamming against his desk with enough force to make the whole class jump.

 

"I have no idea what you're talking about!"

 

His voice came out sharp and clear, nothing like his usual mumble. It carried across the suddenly silent classroom like a thunderclap.

 

"And if this is your twisted way of saying thank you, then fine – I accept your half-assed apology!"

 

Did... did I just say that?

 

The silence that followed was absolute. Even the usual sounds of lunch break from the hallway seemed muffled, as if the whole world held its breath. Students pretending not to watch now stared openly, phones forgotten in slack hands. Someone's lunch box clattered to the floor, the sound sharp as gunfire in the quiet.

 

Bakugo's face cycled through several emotions – shock, rage, and something that might have been embarrassment – before settling on a scowl. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled them back from Izuku's desk, leaving scorched handprints behind. For a moment, just a moment, he looked like that scared teenager from yesterday, trapped and helpless in the villain's grasp.

 

Without another word, he turned and stalked out of the classroom, shoulders rigid with suppressed fury. The bang of the classroom door echoed like a judge's gavel, final and decisive.

 

Izuku slowly sank back into his chair, his hands trembling slightly. The adrenaline drained from his system, leaving him feeling hollow and somehow lighter. Around him, the classroom erupted into furious whispers, but they felt distant, unimportant.

 

Where did that come from?

 

He stared at his hands, still tingling from their impact with the desk.

 

Yesterday, these same hands had clawed desperately at the Sludge Villain, trying to save someone who had spent years making his life miserable.

 

Today, they had helped him stand up to that same person.

 

Maybe... this really is a new beginning after all.

 

Every dawn had its sunset, Toshinori Yagi mused, watching the dying light paint Takoba Municipal Beach Park in fierce oranges and deep crimsons.

 

From his perch atop a rusted refrigerator, the beach's mountains of refuse cast long shadows across the sand, like the silhouettes of fallen giants. The sea breeze carried the tang of salt and metal, ruffling his unkempt blonde hair as he waited.

 

Just yesterday, the sky wore these same colors when I caught that villain.

 

Toshinori’s sunken eyes scanning the beach's entrance. The memory of the previous day's events played vividly in his mind: the Sludge Villain's capture, the rooftop conversation, and most importantly, that remarkable moment when a supposedly Quirkless boy had charged headlong into danger.

 

That boy's eyes – they had shifted from emerald to a shade even more vibrant than the current sunset, though Young Midoriya seemed utterly unaware of the transformation. The coincidence of finding both a worthy successor and an undiscovered Quirk user in the same person made Toshinori's hollow laugh catch in his throat.

 

Am I making the right choice?

 

His fingers unconsciously traced the scar beneath his shirt. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders, heavier than any villain he'd ever fought.

 

Nana Shimura's face flashed in his memory – her determined smile, her unwavering faith in him. She had chosen him not for his power or skill, but for his burning desire to be a light in the darkness, to make a difference in a world that desperately needed heroes.

 

“Sometimes the brightest lights come from those who know darkness best,” she had told him, her words carrying a weight he wouldn't understand until years later.

 

In his presence, that philosophy had seemed almost defiant – a declaration that heroes could rise from anywhere, even in the shadow of evil.

 

Now, in this era of peace that he'd helped build, perhaps it was time for a different kind of hero. Someone who understood not just the grand battles against villains, but the everyday struggles of those who felt powerless.

 

Young Midoriya had shown that instinct, rushing to save even his tormentor without a second thought.

 

But doubt gnawed at him.

 

Should I really give such power to someone who's been bullied for so long?

 

The thought made him shift uncomfortably on his makeshift seat.

 

What if the weight of One For All becomes a tool for revenge rather than justice? What if years of being powerless has left scars too deep to...

 

His troubled musings scattered as a familiar figure appeared at the beach's entrance. Young Midoriya moved like a cartoon burglar, each step tentative and wincing as debris shifted beneath his feet. The boy's eyes darted around nervously, clearly uncertain if he was even allowed to be there.

 

Toshinori had to stifle a chuckle – he'd forgotten to mention that while the beach was technically private property, nobody had enforced that rule in years.

 

He always walked straight home before, Toshinori recalled their conversation from yesterday. Every step he takes now is into new territory.

 

And wasn't that what being a hero was about? Taking those first uncertain steps into unknown territory, driven not by confidence but by the simple desire to help others?

 

The memory of yesterday's video footage flashed through his mind – Midoriya charging forward while others hesitated, his newly-awakened Quirk manifesting not in anger or fear, but in the desperate need to save someone who had caused him so much pain.

 

Perhaps that was answer enough to his doubts.

 

With a slight grunt, Toshinori stood up, feeling power surge through his withered frame. In a burst of steam and energy, All Might emerged, his massive form silhouetted against the dying sun.

 

"Young Midoriya!" His voice boomed across the beach, carrying all the confidence his true form lacked. "I am here!"

 

The boy's reaction was priceless – a yelp of surprise followed by a stumble that sent him sprawling onto a pile of worn tires. All Might's legendary laugh echoed across the water, genuine amusement mixing with fondness for his chosen successor.

 

But beneath the theatrics, watching Midoriya scramble to his feet with that familiar mix of enthusiasm and nervousness, All Might felt his earlier doubts transforming into something else.

 

This boy, who had known powerlessness intimately, might be exactly what the next generation of heroes needed – someone who understood that true heroism wasn't about wielding power, but about how you chose to use it.

 

The real hardship is just beginning, young man, All Might thought, maintaining his bright smile as Midoriya rushed forward, already pulling out his notebook. But maybe that's exactly why you're the one who can show us what being a hero truly means.

 

"A-All Might, sir!" Midoriya finally caught his breath, brushing sand from his uniform. "What are you doing here? And where will we train?” He then sank into a hilariously suspicious whisper, “We're not even supposed to be on this beach, are we?"

 

All Might's perpetual smile widened as he gestured broadly at the trash-laden landscape.

 

"This, young Midoriya, is exactly where you will be training! By cleaning this entire beach!"

 

The boy's face cycled through several expressions – confusion, disbelief, and then something approaching panic.

 

"Clean... the beach? Maybe you meant train at the beach? After we clean a small portion?"

 

"Nope!" All Might's booming laugh echoed across the water. "You will clean this entire beach. Every last piece of trash, every abandoned appliance, every scrap of metal – all of it!"

 

"The... the entire beach?"

 

Midoriya's eyes swept across the vast expanse of accumulated junk, his face paling slightly.
"Where do we start?"

 

"Ah, young Midoriya," All Might raised one massive finger. "There is no 'we' in this training. This task is yours alone. Your training will be complete when you have restored this beach to its former glory – by yourself."

 

"But that could take forever!"

 

"Then you'd better get started, shouldn't you?"

 

All Might's grin somehow managed to grow even wider.

 

Watching the boy's expression, All Might caught a flicker of disappointment. He recognized it instantly – the same look he'd worn decades ago when Nana-senpai had tasked him with rehabilitating an abandoned park.

 

You were expecting something more dramatic, weren't you, young man? Some secret technique or spectacular training montage?*

 

Before All Might could elaborate on the purpose of this seemingly mundane task, movement at the beach's entrance caught both their attention. A mother and child walked past, the little girl's hand clutched tightly in her mother's.

 

"Mama, can we go to the beach tomorrow?" The child's voice carried clearly across the evening air. "I want to play in the sand!"

 

"I'm sorry, sweetie." The mother's voice was gentle but firm. "The beach is too dirty now. We'll have to stay home."

 

"But this is where Daddy and I used to play." The girl's voice quivered slightly. "We made the biggest sandcastles..."

 

"I know, baby." The mother's squeeze of her daughter's hand was visible even from a distance. "I miss him too."

 

All Might watched as young Midoriya's expression transformed. The disappointment vanished, replaced by something fiercer – determination crystallizing in real-time. Before All Might could say another word, the boy had already shed his school jacket and was attacking a nearby pile of debris with surprising vigor.

 

Well, well...

 

A knowing smile spread across All Might's face as he watched his successor-to-be struggle with a waterlogged mattress.

 

The boy had grasped the essential truth without needing it explained: a true hero's work wasn't always about flashy battles and dramatic rescues.

 

Sometimes it was about the unglamorous tasks, the lengthy battles fought one small victory at a time, all in service of bringing smiles back to faces that had forgotten how.

 

Midoriya's pace increased, his movements becoming more determined with each piece of trash he moved. The setting sun caught the sweat already beginning to bead on his forehead, making it gleam like the tears of frustration he was clearly fighting back.

 

Yes, young Midoriya. This is exactly what it means to be a hero, All Might thought, his chest swelling with pride. Doing whatever it takes, no matter how impossible it seems, to make the world a better place – even if it's just one beach at a time.

 

The sound of Midoriya's efforts echoed across the beach – the scrape of metal on metal, the thud of debris being sorted into piles, the occasional grunt of exertion. Each sound was a promise, a declaration that this impossible task would be completed, no matter how long it took.

 

Nana-sensei, All Might thought, watching his chosen successor throw himself into the momentous task. I think I finally understand why you made me start with that park.

 

Some lessons about heroism can't be taught – they have to be discovered through sweat and determination.

 

The first stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky, but Midoriya showed no signs of slowing down. If anything, his pace had increased, as if the little girl's disappointed face had lit a fire within him that no amount of exhaustion could extinguish.

 

The true mark of a hero, All Might mused, isn't in how they handle the big moments, but in how they approach the small ones.

 

And Young Midoriya... you're already showing signs of greatness.

 

"All Might, sir," Izuku had asked that first evening, after agreeing to the beach cleanup training. "About my... my Quirk. The one you said made my eyes turn red. Could you help me activate it again? Maybe it could help with the training?"

 

The Symbol of Peace's eternal smile had softened slightly.

 

"Young Midoriya, discovering the nature of your own power must be a personal journey. Learning to activate and control your newfound Quirk by yourself will teach you valuable lessons about your limits and capabilities."

 

He placed a massive hand on Izuku's shoulder.

 

"These lessons will be crucial when you inherit One For All. After all, how can you handle my power if you haven't yet mastered your own?"

 

Izuku paused, as though about to ask how he could figure it out when he’s literally never experienced this before. He just nodded, realizing he added another seemingly impossible task to his growing list.

 

Izuku caught himself slouching on his way to school and immediately straightened his spine.

 

The memory of last night's little girl flashed in his mind – her disappointed face as she looked at the beach where she once played with her father. He squared his shoulders, lifted his chin slightly.

 

I'm going to inherit the Symbol of Peace's power. Maybe I should start acting like it.

 

The sun had barely crested the horizon when his alarm rang that morning. His muscles protested as he rolled out of bed, still sore from yesterday's impromptu beach cleanup. All Might's training schedule, meticulously written in his notebook, started with the basics:

 

50 push-ups, 50 squats, 100 crunches - BEFORE BREAKFAST!

 

Plus Ultra indeed, Izuku thought, his arms trembling as he finished the last push-up.

 

The assortment of rusty weights and barbells he'd salvaged from the beach now occupied a corner of his room. His mother had raised an eyebrow at the peculiar collection but said nothing beyond a worried "Be careful, Izuku." He'd cleaned and restored them as best he could, though they still carried the faint scent of sea salt.

 

During his walk to school, Izuku mentally reviewed All Might's instructions.

 

"Young Midoriya," he'd said, his voice unusually serious even in his muscled form, "the beach cleanup is your evening priority, but your studies cannot suffer. A hero must be able to balance multiple responsibilities.”

 

“Plus," he'd added with his signature laugh, "your mother would kill me if your grades dropped!"

 

Assuming she learnt about him of course.

 

Balance. Right. Like juggling dumbbells while doing homework.

 

Lunch period brought new challenges. His bento box now contained a carefully measured portion of grilled chicken breast, brown rice, steamed vegetables, and two hard-boiled eggs. His mother's surprise at his sudden dietary requests had been evident.

 

"All this protein, Izuku? Are you... planning something?"

 

He'd fumbled through an explanation about joining a fitness club, while privately wondering if All Might's extensive nutritional knowledge came from personal experience or necessity. It was hard to imagine the skeletal Toshinori Yagi planning protein-rich meals.

 

How does he maintain that muscled form on such a thin frame anyway?

 

The routine settled into his bones over the next two months, each day adding another small change to Izuku Midoriya's transformation. His morning exercises evolved from desperate counting to measured breathing, from shaking muscles to controlled movement. The All Might poster on his wall watched his progress, that eternal smile seeming more encouraging with each passing day.

 

Just ten more... nine... eight...

 

Breakfast became a science: protein shakes, measured portions, and his mother's increasingly creative ways to incorporate eggs into every meal. She'd stopped asking questions after the first two weeks, instead throwing herself into researching athletic nutrition with the same obsessive detail her son usually reserved for hero analysis.

 

School, however, became an unexpected battlefield of a different sort.

 

The click-click-click of Izuku's grip trainer became a constant soundtrack to class, drawing curious glances from classmates who'd previously pretended he didn't exist. Some even started timing their own conversations to his rhythmic squeezing – sixty reps during English, forty during Math, eighty during History.

 

But it was Bakugo's reaction that marked the most dramatic shift in classroom dynamics.

 

Week one: confusion and irritation. Bakugo's explosions scorched his desk whenever Izuku rushed out after class, leaving behind only the lingering scent of caramel-like nitroglycerin and unanswered challenges.

 

"Oi, De-ku! Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

 

Week three: suspicious observation. Izuku caught Bakugo watching his reflection in the classroom window, red eyes narrowing at each grip trainer's squeeze, each protein bar consumed during breaks, and each new callus forming on Izuku's formerly soft hands.

 

Is he... taking notes about me?

 

Week five: attempted confrontation. Bakugo started arriving earlier, positioning himself by the classroom door like a predator waiting to ambush prey. But Izuku's new schedule meant arriving just before the bell, slipping into his seat with barely a moment to spare, his breakfast protein shake still cold in his bag.

 

"Tch." Bakugo's trademark sound of disapproval grew louder with each thwarted attempt.

 

Week seven: outright fury. The desk next to Izuku's bore scorch marks from Bakugo's increasingly volatile quirk. Their classmates had learned to keep a wider berth around both of them, creating an invisible buffer zone that crackled with unspoken tension.

 

"What the fuck are you playing at, nerd? Think you're too good for me now?"

 

Izuku barely registered the threats anymore. His mind was too full of other numbers: pounds lifted, calories consumed, trash cleared, minutes until his next workout. The old fear still lived somewhere in his chest, but it was buried under layers of purpose and determination.

 

Even the teachers noticed the change. During a particularly difficult math exam, Izuku's grip trainer kept its steady rhythm while his other hand solved equations. Their math teacher, who'd always treated Izuku with distant pity, actually smiled when collecting his paper.

 

"Whatever you're doing, Midoriya-kun," she'd said quietly, "keep it up."

 

Bakugo had blown up his pencil case after that.

 

By week eight, the classroom had developed new unspoken rules. No one mentioned Izuku's new muscles, gradually becoming visible under his uniform. No one commented on how he'd started meeting Bakugo's glares with steady green eyes – eyes that occasionally seemed to flash with something else, something unidentifiable, when the confrontations grew too heated. And absolutely no one talked about how the classroom's former punching bag now carried himself with the quiet confidence of someone who had better things to do than play victim.

 

The few times Bakugo managed to corner him, Izuku's responses shifted from stammered apologies to simple statements:

 

"Sorry, Kacchan, I have somewhere to be."
"Can't stay, I'm on a schedule."
"Maybe another time."

 

Each dismissal seemed to physically pain Bakugo, like Izuku's newfound independence was a personal insult. During their final confrontation of the second month, Bakugo's quirk had actually set off the fire alarm.

 

“Fight me, you damn nerd!”

 

"I have training," Izuku had replied simply, already halfway out the door, leaving behind a classroom of stunned faces and one increasingly frustrated childhood friend.

 

Two months brought changes that Izuku hadn't expected. The physical transformations were obvious: callused hands, developing muscles, improved posture. But it was the subtle changes that fascinated him most.

 

Pain had become an old friend, a familiar companion that marked progress rather than punishment. The burning in his muscles after a heavy lifting session felt different from the ache of Bakugo's explosions – it was pain with purpose, discomfort with direction.

 

One evening, sorting through a particularly stubborn pile of scrap metal, Izuku found himself thinking about his mysterious Quirk. The headaches that had accompanied its activation during the Sludge Villain incident had been excruciating like his skull was trying to split apart. But now, after two months of pushing his body to its limits daily, he wondered if that pain would feel different, too.

 

Would it still hurt the same way? Or have I gotten stronger in that way too?

 

He'd tried countless times to activate it during his training sessions. Sometimes, when the weight seemed impossible to lift or the trash pile too daunting to move, he'd concentrate until his head throbbed, trying to summon that same desperate energy that had emerged when Bakugo was in danger. But his eyes remained stubbornly green, reflecting in the scattered broken mirror pieces and chrome bumpers littering the beach.

 

Each evening, as he hauled away another refrigerator or dismantled another rusted car, Izuku would picture that little girl's face. Sometimes, when his muscles screamed, and his lungs burned, he imagined her playing on the clean sand, building sandcastles where trash heaps once stood. It made the impossible task feel more... possible.

 

This is what being a hero means, he thought one evening, watching the sunset paint the diminishing trash piles in golden light. Not just fighting villains, but making the world better, one small piece at a time.

 

His phone buzzed – a reminder to do his history homework. Izuku smiled, reaching for his grip trainer with his free hand. Two months ago, this juggling act would have seemed impossible. Now it felt like... purpose.

 

Maybe this is what All Might meant by balance.

 

The next day would bring more challenges: more weights to lift, more trash to clear, more studies to balance. But for the first time in his life, Izuku felt ready. Not just ready – eager.

 

After all, he thought, starting his evening run home, this is just the beginning.

 

That evening, watching the sunset paint the diminishing trash piles in familiar crimson and gold, Izuku caught his reflection in a partially cleaned refrigerator door. His eyes remained their usual green, but something else had changed in them – a determination, a purpose that hadn't been there before.

 

Maybe mastering his mysterious Quirk wasn't about forcing it to appear, but about becoming someone worthy of its power. After all, hadn't All Might said something similar about One For All?

 

Two powers waiting for me to be ready, he thought, starting his evening run home, muscles pleasantly sore and mind clear. But first, I have a beach to clean.

 

Two months of hit-and-run mentoring wasn't exactly what Toshinori had envisioned when he chose his successor. Their meetings had become a carefully choreographed dance around his hero schedule: twenty minutes between rescues here, forty-five minutes after patrol there. Sometimes they'd share convenience store onigiri on a rooftop, Izuku chattering excitedly about his progress while Toshinori checked the time, always conscious of his dwindling minutes in his muscled form.

 

"Sorry, young Midoriya, duty calls!" had become his most frequent phrase, second only to his real trademark, “I am here!”

 

Today's meeting spot was their usual haunt – Takoba Beach, now notably clearer than two months ago. Toshinori arrived early, his gaunt form perched on a partially cleared section while he watched the sunset paint the remaining trash heaps in familiar golds and crimsons. His hand absently patted the pocket of his oversized suit, feeling the small rectangle within.

 

Is this enough? he wondered, not for the first time. Am I doing enough?

 

The sound of footsteps on sand announced Izuku's arrival. The boy's transformation was already visible – his shoulders straighter, his steps more assured. Even the way he carried his school bag had changed, the weight of books and that ever-present hero journal no longer seeming to drag him down.

 

"All Might!" Izuku's face lit up with its usual mixture of awe and determination. Even after two months, that pure admiration hadn't dimmed.

 

"Young Midoriya!" Toshinori transformed in a burst of steam, his signature smile hiding the taste of copper in his mouth.

 

"Excellent work on this section! The beach is starting to remember what it once was!"

 

They fell into their usual routine – Izuku demonstrating his improved lifting technique, Toshinori offering corrections to his form, both of them pretending not to notice how the hero's eyes kept darting to his watch. But today, something felt different. Maybe it was the way Izuku's progress had exceeded expectations, or maybe it was the growing weight of responsibility Toshinori felt with each passing day.

 

"Young Midoriya," he said finally, reaching into his pocket. "I have something for you."

 

The photo card seemed almost absurdly small in his massive hand – just a simple promotional shot from his golden age, signed with his characteristic flourish. He'd spent an embarrassingly long time choosing which one to give, wondering if it could possibly make up for his perpetual absences.

 

"It's not much, considering how hard you've been working, but–"

 

He didn't get to finish. Izuku's eyes had already welled up with tears, his hands trembling as they reached for the card.

 

"A-All Might... this is..."

 

The boy's voice cracked.

 

"This is amazing! I've never seen this variant before! This was from the limited edition series after the Hokkaido incident, wasn't it? The holographic finish is different from the regular release and–"

 

Watching his successor clutch the photo card like it was made of gold, Toshinori felt something in his chest tighten. Not the usual pain from his injury, but something else.

 

"I'm sorry, young Midoriya," he said softly, his ever-present smile gaining a tinge of melancholy. "A proper mentor should be more present, especially considering the power I'm preparing you to inherit. But as the Symbol of Peace..."

 

"No, no!" Izuku quickly wiped his eyes. "I understand! You have to be there for everyone! That's what being the Symbol of Peace means!"

 

"Exactly."

 

All Might placed a massive hand on the boy's shoulder.

 

"And that's another lesson you must learn. This power, One For All – it's not just about strength. It's about what that strength means to others. The joy you're feeling right now, holding that card? That's what you must learn to give to others. Because someday, when I'm no longer here..."

 

"All Might!" Izuku's protest was immediate. "Don't talk like that!"

 

"No, young Midoriya." His voice grew serious. "We must face reality. Every Symbol must eventually step down. What matters is what we leave behind – not just power, but hope. The ability to make others feel safe, to make them smile even in their darkest moments."

 

Toshinori looked at his successor – this boy who had charged at a villain without a Quirk, who was transforming a beach one piece of trash at a time, who could still cry with joy over a simple photo card – and wondered if he was doing enough to prepare him.

 

Not just for One For All's power, but for its purpose.

 

Am I teaching you everything you need to know, young Midoriya?

 

Are these rushed meetings and brief training sessions enough to show you what it truly means to be the Symbol of Peace?

 

The familiar taste of copper touched his tongue, warning him that his time in this form was running short. Soon he would have to leave, rushing off to another rescue, another crisis, another moment where the world needed its Symbol of Peace.

 

But watching Izuku carefully tuck the photo card into his hero journal, handling it with the reverence usually reserved for sacred artifacts, Toshinori allowed himself to hope.

 

Maybe the most important lessons weren't found in the time they spent together, but in the moments between – in a boy's determination to clean a beach alone, in his willingness to shed tears of joy over a simple gift, in his pure desire to help others despite having been helpless himself for so long.

 

Perhaps, Toshinori thought, feeling his time limit approaching, you're teaching me as much as I'm teaching you.

 

The photo card felt warm in Izuku's hands as he left the beach, his fingers tracing All Might's signature for the hundredth time. The holographic finish caught the last rays of sunset, throwing rainbow patterns across his face. His heart felt so full it might burst.

 

All Might believes in me. He really believes in me.

 

The peaceful moment shattered as a familiar voice cut through the evening air.

 

"Well, well. If it isn't the wannabe hero."

 

Bakugo's silhouette materialized against a street lamp, his shadow stretching long across the pavement. Small explosions crackled in his palms, casting his face in harsh light and deeper shadows. His trademark sneer looked more menacing than usual in the uneven illumination.

 

"K-Kacchan?" Izuku's hand instinctively tightened around the photo card, careful not to bend it. "What are you doing here?"

 

"Waiting for you, obviously." Bakugo dropped from his perch, landing with predatory grace. "Been watching you sneaking off to this dump every day. Think you're some kind of hotshot now, after that stunt with the Sludge Villain?"

 

How long has he been following me?

 

"I'm not..." Izuku started, but Bakugo was already moving. The punch came fast – faster than before – but something had changed. Izuku saw it coming, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. The impact rocked his head back, pain blooming across his jaw, but his feet stayed planted.

 

That... didn't hurt as much as it used to.

 

Surprise flickered across Bakugo's face, quickly replaced by fury.

 

"Still standing, huh? Getting cocky, Deku?"

 

A dull throb started behind Izuku's eyes, different from the ache in his jaw. Something hot and unfamiliar stirred in his chest, like magma trying to surface. Each heartbeat seemed to pump more of that molten feeling through his veins.

 

"I'm not trying to be cocky," Izuku managed, his voice steadier than he felt. "I just want to—"

 

"To what?" Bakugo snarled, stepping closer. "To be a hero? To look down on me?" Another explosion popped in his palm. "You're still nothing but a Quirkless nobody playing pretend!"

 

The throbbing in Izuku's head intensified. That hot feeling in his chest wasn't just anger – it felt older, deeper, like tapping into something that had always been there, waiting. His vision began to sharpen, the world taking on an almost crystalline clarity.

 

This rage... it doesn't feel like mine. Where is it coming from?

 

"You've been hiding something, haven't you?" Bakugo's voice seemed to come from far away, nearly drowned out by the pounding in Izuku's skull. "Ever since that day... those eyes of yours..."

 

For a moment, Izuku caught his reflection in a nearby window. In the dying light, his eyes looked different – not their usual green, but something else, something that made the rage in his chest pulse stronger, hotter, redder.

 

What's happening to me?

Bakugo's eyes narrowed, scanning Izuku's face. The familiar rush of superiority wasn't coming. Usually, Izuku would be stammering, backing away, eyes downcast – but now he just stood there, breathing heavily, meeting his gaze with those strange eyes.

Then Bakugo noticed something clutched in Izuku's hand. A glint of holographic finish caught the streetlight.

"What's that, nerd?" Before Izuku could react, Bakugo snatched the card. His eyes widened as he recognized the signature. "All Might? How the hell did you get—" Understanding dawned on his face, quickly twisted by rage.

"You’ve talked to him, haven't you? That's why you've been coming here!"

No, please, not that—

Bakugo started to scream.

“He was my hero first! You're a Quirkless nobody who doesn’t deserve to even think about him!”

The sound of tearing paper cut through the evening air like a gunshot. Izuku watched, helpless, as the pieces of All Might's card fluttered to the ground.

Something deep inside Izuku stirred. The rage didn't come all at once – it built like a wave, starting from somewhere ancient and dark. Each heartbeat pumped more of that molten feeling through his veins, building pressure behind his eyes. His vision blurred, not with tears, but with something else. Something red.

This feeling... it's not normal anger...

Before he knew what was happening, his fist was flying toward Bakugo's face. The punch connected with a satisfying crack, sending Bakugo stumbling back. For a moment, genuine surprise flashed across his face before being replaced by savage glee.

"Finally got some balls, huh, Deku?" Bakugo wiped blood from his lip, grinning. "Let's see how tough you really are!"

What followed wasn't a fight so much as a brutal exchange. Bakugo fought like someone who picked fights for fun, all raw instinct and street-learned brutality. Each strike came with the confidence of someone who'd won more brawls than he'd lost. Explosions punctuated his attacks, leaving scorch marks on Izuku's uniform and angry red burns on his skin.

Despite his improved physique from months of training, Izuku was clearly outmatched. All Might had taught him to lift, to endure, to persist – but not to fight. He tried to dodge, to weave away from Bakugo's attacks, but each attempted escape was met with a savage follow-up. An explosion to the chest sent him stumbling back, only to meet a knee to the gut.

But Izuku didn't fall. Each hit rocked him, but months of hauling trash and lifting weights had hardened his body. Pain bloomed across his torso, but it was different now – not the sharp, overwhelming agony of past beatings, but something he could push through.

I can take it, Izuku realized, spitting blood. It hurts, but I can take it.

The headache pounding behind his eyes made everything worse, throwing off his balance, clouding his judgment. Blood trickled from his split lip, and his ribs screamed where Bakugo had landed a particularly nasty explosion.

Come on, Izuku thought desperately as another explosion rocked him back. This Quirk has to do something besides change my eye color. Please!

As if responding to his plea, the pain in his head suddenly shifted. The throbbing didn't disappear – instead, it crystallized into sharp clarity, like a lens focusing.

The world took on a reddish tint, but everything seemed clearer, more defined. Time didn't slow down, but somehow Izuku could take in more details, process more information.

Bakugo launched another attack, but this time, something was different. Izuku could see the subtle shift of weight that telegraphed the punch, the slight angle of his hips that predicted an explosion would follow. It wasn't that Bakugo was moving slower – Izuku was just seeing more.

Memories began flooding his mind, but not in the usual chaotic rush.

Each incident of bullying, every confrontation, every fight – they arranged themselves like pages in one of his hero journals, clinical and clear.

He could see patterns now: how Bakugo always led with his right when he was truly angry, how his bigger explosions required a specific finger placement, how his shoulders tensed before a feint.

I've been watching him for years, Izuku realized, sidestepping a blast that would have caught him minutes ago. All those notes I took, all those times I analyzed his Quirk – I wasn't just fanboying. I was learning.

The next punch came exactly as Izuku predicted – right hand, shoulders tense, fingers splayed for an explosion. Instead of blocking or taking the hit, Izuku simply wasn't there anymore. Bakugo's eyes widened as his fist met empty air.

"What the fuck?" Bakugo snarled, frustration evident in his voice. "Stop moving, you damn nerd!"

But Izuku could see everything now. Each attack was a page from his mental notebook, each movement a diagram he'd drawn years ago. The rage still burned hot in his chest, but it felt focused now, controlled. His new vision didn't just show him the present – it showed him patterns, possibilities, predictions.

Is this what true analysis feels like? Izuku wondered, ducking under another explosion. Not just watching and taking notes, but truly understanding?

Bakugo's next explosion came wild and fast, but this time Izuku saw it coming. His body moved before his mind could catch up, deflecting the blast with his forearm. The heat seared his skin, but the impact wasn't as devastating as before.

"The hell?" Bakugo growled, genuine confusion crossing his face. "Since when could you—"

 

Izuku didn't let him finish. He stepped in, blocking another explosion and landing a solid hit to Bakugo's ribs. His technique was raw, unpracticed – nothing like Bakugo's street-hardened style – but there was power behind it. Months of hauling refrigerators and lifting weights had changed more than just his endurance.

I can see it, Izuku realized, his red-tinted vision tracking every movement. Every time he uses his Quirk, there's a pattern.

His parries were still clumsy, and Bakugo's follow-up strikes often caught him. An explosion grazed his shoulder, another caught his hip, but Izuku kept pressing forward. Each successful block, each landed punch, seemed to fuel something inside him – that deep well of red-hot emotion that didn't feel entirely his own.

"Think you're tough now, Deku?" Bakugo spat, blood speckling his teeth. "Finally grew a spine after all these years?"

The taunt hit something deep inside Izuku. Years of mockery, of pain, of being told he was worthless – it all came rushing back, but not as memories of fear. This time, they fed the rage.

All those years...

Something snapped. The red in his vision intensified, and suddenly Izuku wasn't thinking anymore. His body moved on pure instinct and fury. He launched forward, catching Bakugo mid-explosion with a wild haymaker that connected solidly with his jaw. Before Bakugo could recover, Izuku was on him, throwing punch after reckless punch.

They went down hard, Izuku on top, still swinging. His knuckles split against Bakugo's face, but he barely felt it. All those years of analysis, of careful observation – they transformed into pure aggressive force. He wasn't fighting like a hero or even a street brawler. He was fighting like someone who'd finally had enough.

"Deku, you bas—" Bakugo's words cut off as another punch landed. He raised his arms to shield his face, explosions weakening, becoming defensive rather than aggressive. The look on his face was of pure shock. “You have a Qui-”

That sight – Bakugo actually covering up, actually defending – broke through Izuku's rage. He froze, fist raised, suddenly aware of his burning knuckles and the ragged sound of both their breathing. His vision cleared slightly, though the red tint remained.

What am I doing?

A part of Izuku, from that deep dark well, screamed for him to continue. To feed his rage, to relish this gift - this power. Izuku shook his head.

Slowly, deliberately, Izuku lowered his fist and stood up.

Bakugo remained on the ground, arms still raised slightly, watching him with an expression Izuku had never seen before – wariness.

"You're not worth it," Izuku said quietly, his voice raw. "This power... I won't use it like this. If you really want to go to U.A., if you really want to be a hero..."

He took a shaky breath.

"Start acting like one instead of a common thug."

Bakugo's eyes widened, but for once, he didn't immediately snap back with a retort.

Izuku knelt down, carefully gathering the torn pieces of All Might's card. His hands were trembling, but not from fear this time. That deep well of anger was still there, still burning, but somehow more controlled now that he'd acknowledged its existence.

Without another word, he turned and walked - limped - away, leaving Bakugo on the ground. Each step felt heavy with the weight of what had just happened, but his spine remained straight.

The red tint in his vision slowly faded, but something told him it would return – and next time, he'd be more prepared for it.

This power isn't for revenge, he thought firmly. It's for becoming a hero. And that's exactly what I'm going to do.

 

The sound of conflict cut through the evening quiet like a thunderclap. Toshinori paused mid-step, his gaunt frame tensing at the unmistakable sound of Bakugo's explosions. The peaceful neighborhood around Takoba Beach – usually silent save for crickets and distant waves – erupted with voices and the distinctive pop of a combat Quirk.

Young Midoriya...

His body moved before his mind could catch up, years of hero work taking over. He slipped behind a parked car, his skeletal form providing perfect concealment in the growing darkness. The scene before him made his hollow chest ache.

"Think you're better than me now, Deku?" Bakugo's voice carried clearly, dripping with venom. Each word was punctuated by small explosions, like exclamation points made of nitroglycerin. “He was my hero first!”

Something hot and protective flared in Toshinori's chest. He'd seen bullying before – it came with the territory of being a teacher and hero – but watching it happen to his chosen successor struck differently. His fingers tightened on the car's frame, leaving slight indentations in the metal.

I should stop this. Now. Before—

But a deeper instinct held him back. The part of him that had been the Symbol of Peace for decades, that had carried One For All through countless battles, whispered:

Watch. You need to see this.

The sound of tearing paper made him wince. Even from this distance, he could see young Midoriya's face transform. Something shifted in the boy's eyes – literally shifted, the green bleeding into that mysterious red that had first appeared during the Sludge Villain incident.

That Quirk again, Toshinori thought, watching as Izuku took Bakugo's first punch without falling. But what is it really doing to him?

The fight that followed was painful to watch. Every blow that landed on young Midoriya felt like it struck Toshinori himself. His hand kept straying to his pocket, where he could still transform into All Might for a few precious seconds. It would be so easy to step in, to stop this...

But if I do, what then? When he has One For All, will I always be there to step in?

He watched as Izuku struggled, obviously outmatched by Bakugo's aggressive style. But something was happening. Each time those eyes flashed red, Izuku's movements became more precise, more calculated. It wasn't just improved reaction time – the boy was learning, adapting mid-fight.

The Quirk isn't just changing his eye color, Toshinori realized.

It's enhancing his analytical abilities somehow. Like his natural talent for observation is being amplified.

But it wasn't just the physical changes that caught his attention. There was something in young Midoriya's face, a darkness that seemed to surface with each flash of red. That mysterious Quirk seemed to tap into something deep and volatile.

Can I really give One For All to someone carrying such rage?

The thought chilled him.

Even if it's justified rage, even if he's earned the right to it... The power I carry isn't meant for vengeance.

When Izuku finally gained the upper hand, when he straddled young Bakugo and started throwing punches, Toshinori's muscles coiled. Steam began rising from his body, the transformation already beginning.

If Midoriya went too far, if he let that rage consume him...

I'm sorry, young man, but if you cross that line, I'll have to—

But Izuku stopped.

Even with his opponent at his mercy, even with years of trauma and that mysterious power coursing through him, he stopped.

Not just stopped, but stood up, delivered words that could have been punches but chose to be lessons instead.

"Start acting like a hero instead of a common thug."

The steam dissipated from Toshinori's body. Relief flooded through him, followed by something warmer – pride.

You chose to be better, he thought, watching his successor gather the torn pieces of his gift. Even without me stepping in, even without anyone watching, you chose the harder path.

As Izuku walked away, leaving young Bakugo on the ground, Toshinori remained hidden. His mind was already racing with new training plans – clearly, combat instruction needed to be moved up the schedule. But more importantly, he felt a renewed certainty about his choice of successor.

That darkness in you, young Midoriya... it's not a flaw. It's a reminder. A reminder of why you want to be a hero in the first place.

His gaze shifted to Bakugo, still on the ground, watching Izuku's retreating form with an unreadable expression.

Another soul in need of guidance, though perhaps of a different kind.

Two young men carrying such heavy burdens, Toshinori mused.

One drowning in his own rage, the other learning to channel his. Both needing help in their own ways.

The responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders. Not just for passing on One For All, but for guiding these young souls toward becoming true heroes.

Young Midoriya would need training – not just in combat, but in handling that mysterious power that seemed tied to his deepest emotions. And young Bakugo... perhaps there was still hope for him to learn what true strength meant.

The path to becoming the Symbol of Peace isn't just about power, Toshinori thought, finally turning away from the scene.

It's about choosing mercy when vengeance would be easier. You showed me that tonight, young Midoriya. You showed me I chose well.

End.

Now the way All Might reacted… he has to hold Izuku to a higher standard as Izuku is his successor.

But though it seemed like Izuku had got a grip on his temper.

The truth is… that was as far away as being true as possible.

Because with this story, Izuku is going to be displaying some serious Uchiha-like wrathfullness, a consequence of him being a distant Uchiha descendant and unlocking the sharingan.

And we’re going to see just how much Izuku changes as the story progresses.

More Chapters are posted on my patreon Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

https://www.patreon.com/c/Demon_Knight939

 

I hope you all liked the chapter.

And see you all on the next update!

Chapter Text

Chapter 4 right here for you all to enjoy!
NOTES:
More Izuku training!
More Izuku grappling with his anger
We’re going to expand the cast slowly - don’t worry, everyone will have a more pivotal role in the coming chapters!
It won’t be easy preparing Izuku for the One For All with this new “gift” and all it entails.

Start:

The dusk painted shadows across the unfamiliar street as Izuku checked the address on his phone again. His hands still trembled, not from the evening chill but from the encounter with Bakugo just hours before.

I could have done it.

The thought came unbidden, accompanied by a familiar burning sensation behind his eyes.

He'd had Bakugo on the ground, for once looking up at him instead of sneering down. One more hit would have wiped that arrogant look off his face forever. The memory of Bakugo's taunts still rang in his ears, each word stoking something dark and ancient within him.

He deserves worse than what you gave him.

Izuku shook his head violently, trying to silence the voice that had grown louder lately. The only thing that had stayed his hand was imagining All Might's disappointed face.

The Symbol of Peace wouldn't approve of such violence, no matter how justified it felt.

Why should you care what he thinks?

The burning behind his eyes intensified, and Izuku had to stop walking for a moment. This wasn't their usual meeting spot at Takoba Municipal Beach Park. Instead, All Might had texted him an address on the other side of town, nestled between what looked like abandoned shops and offices.

Why would All Might want to meet here?

The thought mercifully distracted him from the lingering rage. Izuku's footsteps echoed against the empty sidewalk as he approached the building. Its weathered facade and dark windows gave him pause. Maybe this was where All Might actually lived? The thought made him nervous - he'd never been invited to his mentor's home before.

The door creaked as he knocked, the sound seeming to bounce off the empty buildings around him. No response came. Izuku shifted his weight from foot to foot, unsure whether to try again or wait. After a moment's hesitation, he tested the handle. It turned easily.

Should I really go in?

The inside was dim, dust particles dancing in what little sunlight filtered through the grimy windows. And there, in the middle of the floor, was a sight that made Izuku's blood run cold, all thoughts of Bakugo instantly forgotten.

Toshinori lay crumpled on the ground, a dark pool spreading beneath his skeletal form. Blood. There was so much blood.

"A-All Might!" The cry tore from Izuku's throat as he rushed forward, his knees hitting the floor hard beside his mentor. His hands hovered uselessly over Toshinori's still form, afraid to touch, afraid to make things worse.

The pain hit suddenly, like someone had driven an ice pick into his temples. Izuku's vision swam as panic clawed at his chest. The Symbol of Peace lay broken before him, and he had no idea what to do. The headache intensified, a familiar burning sensation building behind his eyes.

Think!

What do I do? What do I do?

His breath came in sharp gasps as the pressure in his head built to a crescendo. Through the haze of pain, one thought cut through with crystal clarity:

I can't lose him, too!

The world shifted, edges sharpening as a deep crimson began to seep into his vision. And with it came a clarity that pierced through his panic like a blade.

The blow caught Izuku in the back before he could even register movement, and another hit his side before he could even gasp in pain. He stumbled forward, barely catching himself before hitting the ground next to Toshinori's prone form.

Behind me!

He spun around to face a diminutive figure standing in the shadows. The man's features were obscured in the dim light, but his presence felt like a storm contained in a bottle.

"Did... did you do this?" Izuku's voice trembled, gesturing towards All Might. The figure said nothing, just tilted his head slightly.

Then he vanished.

A rush of wind was all the warning Izuku got before another hit slammed into his side, sending him sprawling. The attacker ricocheted off the walls like a pinball, each bounce punctuated by another strike against Izuku's increasingly battered body. Left shoulder. Right knee. Small of his back.

I can't see him. I can't see anything!

The impacts came faster now, a rhythmic beating that left Izuku gasping for air. He tried to raise his arms in defense, but the attacks seemed to find every opening, every vulnerable spot. His legs buckled as another blow caught him behind the knees.

Someone help. Please, someone...

The familiar pressure began building behind his eyes, but it wasn't enough. Not yet. Another hit sent him stumbling into a wall, and he could taste blood in his mouth. The pain was overwhelming, but worse was the helplessness. Just like with Bakugo, just like every other time in his life.

All Might is dead, and I can't do anything!

"Stop!" he screamed into the darkness, his voice cracking. "Why are you doing this? Why did you hurt All Might?"

The only response was another devastating blow to his ribs. Izuku fell to his knees, tears of frustration mixing with blood from a cut above his eye. The pressure in his head built further, a pounding that matched his racing heart.

I need to see! I need to fight! I need to...

His gaze fell on Toshinori's motionless form, and something inside him snapped. The rage that had been simmering since his fight with Bakugo erupted into an inferno, bringing with it a pain so intense it felt like his eyes were being torn apart.

"I’ll make you pay for this!!!" The scream ripped from his throat, raw and primal. "What did you do to All Might?! Why?! Why?!”

The world suddenly shifted, colors bleeding away as a crimson overlay tinted his vision. Each shadow became crisp, each movement leaving tracers in the air that his mind could suddenly process. The pain in his head transformed into a sharp clarity that cut through his panic like a blade.

His attacker was coming again, but this time Izuku saw it coming. He shifted just enough that the blow only grazed his shoulder instead of catching him full force. His attacker seemed to pause for just a fraction of a second - surprise, perhaps?

But Izuku was already moving, driven by an anger that felt older than himself. His movements became more precise, each dodge bringing him closer to catching his target. His eyes glowed red in the darkness, tracking patterns that were becoming clearer with each pass.

I'll make him suffer.

The thought wasn't entirely his own, but Izuku embraced it anyway. His fingers curled into claws as he anticipated the next attack, ready to grab, to hurt, to make this man pay for what he'd done. The crimson in his vision deepened as his rage grew, and with it came an almost predatory focus. He wasn't just trying to defend anymore - he was hunting.

The pain of his injuries faded beneath the burning need for vengeance. Each movement now had purpose, each dodge calculated. Where before he had been prey, now he felt like something else entirely - something that made the darkness feel like home.

His attacker changed direction mid-air - a maneuver that should have been impossible to track. But Izuku's eyes caught the subtle shift in stance, the minute adjustments that telegraphed the next attack. He twisted away from the incoming blow, his body moving with an instinct he didn't know he possessed.

"Who are you?!" Izuku's voice had changed, deeper and filled with a hatred that surprised even him. "Why did you hurt him?!"

Another attack came, faster this time, but Izuku was beginning to see the pattern. The man wasn't just fast - he used something to propel himself, creating bursts of force that launched him from surface to surface. The realization came with crystal clarity, his enhanced vision picking up details his normal sight would have missed.

There's a pattern. There has to be!

The next exchange was brutal. Though Izuku could see the attacks coming, his body couldn't keep up with every movement. A kick caught him in the chest, sending him stumbling back, but he managed to graze his attacker's costume with his fingertips. The contact sent a thrill through him - he was getting closer.

"You hurt All Might," Izuku snarled, the words tasting like copper in his mouth. The rage that had started as a spark was now a roaring flame, feeding something ancient and terrible inside him. "You'll pay for that. You’ll pay!"

His vision tunneled, the crimson deepening until the world seemed bathed in blood. Each movement of his attacker left afterimages he could track, like a deadly dance written in the air. The pain of his injuries became distant, secondary to the burning need to catch, to hurt, to destroy.

This power... I need more!!!

The thought scared him, but he couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. Not while All Might lay bleeding on the floor. Not while this monster was still standing. His eyes burned brighter in the darkness, twin points of red that reflected a hatred older than himself.

He was no longer the same Izuku who had walked into this building. Something else moved with his body now, something that understood violence in a way that should have terrified him. But in that moment, bleeding and burning with rage, he welcomed it.

The scattered planks creaked beneath Izuku's feet as he circled the room, his crimson eyes tracking every shadow. His breaths came in sharp pants, each one carrying the metallic taste of blood from his split lip. But the pain was distant now, secondary to the burning need to end this.

I can still catch him. I have to catch him!!!

The thought came with perfect clarity as he snatched up a loose board, hurling it towards where his instincts screamed his attacker would appear. The wood splintered against the wall, but Izuku was already moving, grabbing another, then another. Each throw more precise than the last, guided by eyes that could now track the minute disturbances in the dusty air.

There's a pattern. Three bounces, then he strikes.

He scattered debris in a wide arc, creating a makeshift minefield of obstacles. Dust billowed up from his movements, and through his enhanced vision, Izuku could see how it swirled and parted around his invisible opponent's path.

Got you!

The attack came exactly where he predicted, but this time Izuku was ready. His fist shot out, enhanced by the crystalline clarity that came with his transformed vision. The impact sent shockwaves up his arm, but the rage burning behind his eyes demanded more. His other hand was already moving, clawing for his attacker's throat.

Make him pay. Make him suffer.

The voice wasn't entirely his own anymore, rising from a well of crimson that threatened to drown his thoughts. Each movement became more vicious, more precise, guided by an anger that felt ancient and terrible.

"Young Midoriya! Stop!”

The command boomed through the room with the force of a thunderclap. Steam erupted as Toshinori's skeletal form expanded into the towering figure of All Might. But even the Symbol of Peace's voice seemed distant, muffled by the roaring in Izuku's ears.

He hurt All Might. He has to pay. Has to bleed.

"This isn't you!" All Might's massive hand caught Izuku's wrist mid-strike. "Control yourself!"

The touch was gentle but firm, and something in All Might's voice - the worry, the command, the faith that Izuku was better than this - began to pierce through the red haze. Izuku blinked, his enhanced vision flickering as two warring impulses fought for control.

No... this isn't... I'm not...

The clarity that had made every movement so precise began to fade, replaced by a crushing awareness of what he'd almost done. His legs buckled as the rage receded, leaving him gasping on his knees. The burning behind his eyes dulled to a persistent ache, a reminder of the power that had almost consumed him.

Steam hissed as All Might deflated back into Toshinori's form, followed by a wet cough and spatters of blood on the floor. The sight made Izuku's heart clench, but for a different reason now.

"Young Midoriya, are you-"

"Don’t!" Izuku's voice cracked as water formed around his eyes. "Don't ever scare me like that again! I thought... I really thought..."

His hands were shaking, and not just from exertion. The rage might have receded, but he could still feel it there, waiting in that deep well of red behind his eyes. What terrified him most wasn't the power itself, but how natural it had felt to want to hurt, to destroy.

"I'm sorry," Toshinori said softly, wiping blood from his mouth. "But we needed to see-"

"See what?" Izuku's voice was barely a whisper. "See that I can't control it? That I might hurt someone?"

The diminutive figure that had been his opponent stepped forward, and for the first time, Izuku really looked at him. The professional hero costume, those distinctive gauntlets... recognition flickered through his exhausted mind.

"What you just experienced," the old man said, his gruff voice carrying an unexpected weight, "is exactly why you need training."

Izuku stared at his trembling hands, remembering the clarity, the power, the rage that had felt simultaneously foreign and familiar. Like an inheritance he'd never asked for, a legacy written in the crimson of his transformed eyes.

What’s happening to me?

The question hung unspoken in the air, heavy with implications none of them were ready to address.

"Young Midoriya, let me introduce you to Gran Torino," Toshinori said, gesturing to Izuku's opponent.

Izuku blinked as he stared at the diminutive elderly man before him, the crimson bleeding from his vision. Those large gauntlets, the old-fashioned hero costume... something clicked in his memory. His eyes widened as recognition finally dawned.

Gran Torino... THE Gran Torino?

His mind raced through what little information he'd managed to find about the retired Pro Hero in his research. There wasn't much - the man had retired early and kept a low profile - but what Izuku did know made his breath catch. Gran Torino had been the fastest hero of his generation, his speed almost unmatched even by today's standards.

"You... that was the Jet Quirk," Izuku breathed, awe replacing his earlier rage as he realized what he'd been witnessing. The way the old hero had bounced off walls, his incredible speed - it was one thing to read about such a legendary Quirk, but to experience it firsthand…

Then the full weight of what he'd done crashed over him like ice water.

I tried to kill him.

His legs felt weak as the realization sank in. He'd been ready - more than ready - to destroy one of the most respected figures in hero history. No questions asked, no investigation, not even a moment's hesitation.

Just blind, burning rage and a desire to hurt.

What kind of hero acts like that?

The memory of that crimson-tinted clarity made his stomach turn. He could have stopped. Could have checked for vital signs, called for help, looked for evidence. Done anything other than give in to that overwhelming urge for violence.

"I..." Izuku's voice cracked. "I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"Young Midoriya," Toshinori cut in, his voice gentle but firm. The look in his mentor's sunken eyes suggested he knew exactly where Izuku's thoughts were heading. "Perhaps we should hear Gran Torino's assessment of your combat potential?"

"The kid's got fire, I'll give him that," Gran Torino grumbled, adjusting one of his gauntlets where Izuku's last attack had connected. "But his form is atrocious. No discipline, all instinct. What kind of sloppy training have you been giving him, Toshinori?"

All Might seemed to shrink even further into himself, if that was possible. "Ah, well... you see..."

"We haven't actually started combat training yet," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What?!" Gran Torino's voice cracked like a whip. "You're telling me you chose a successor who can't even fight? Have you lost what little sense you had?"

The casual analysis of his fighting style, as if Izuku hadn't just tried to seriously harm him, made the guilt twist even deeper in his chest. But maybe that was the point - to move forward, to learn from this, rather than drowning in self-recrimination.

Still, the memory of that rage lingered, a reminder of what lurked behind his eyes, waiting to be unleashed again. He tried putting the thought at the back of his head, back into the deep well where his rage had come from.

"Um, excuse me?" Izuku's voice came out higher than intended, hysteria creeping in at the edges. "Can we maybe address the fact that you made me think All Might was dead?"

Heat was building behind his eyes again, but this time from embarrassment and lingering fear rather than rage. The memory of that horrible moment - seeing his mentor's body, thinking he'd lost everything - made his stomach clench.

"Ah, yes, about that..." Toshinori had the grace to look ashamed. "I apologize for the deception, young Midoriya. But I needed Gran Torino to see your Quirk in action for himself."

"My... Quirk?" The word felt strange in Izuku's mouth, especially with the lingering memory of that foreign rage still burning in his chest.

"Those eyes of yours," Gran Torino interjected, suddenly serious.

"They're not just for show, are they? Your whole fighting style changed when they activated. Started predicting movements, analyzing patterns. Could've been dangerous if you'd had any actual training to back it up."

Izuku's hand unconsciously rose to touch his face, though his eyes had long since returned to their natural green.

He knew the old hero was right - when his eyes changed, everything became sharper, clearer. But there was something else too, something that felt like it came from a deep well of red inside him. Something that whispered of power and vengeance and-

"Still," he managed, pushing those thoughts aside, "using ketchup to fake your death isn't exactly a normal teaching method!"

Toshinori's cough might have been hiding a laugh. "Perhaps not. But I needed to see how you'd react in a crisis. When faced with..." he paused, something dark passing behind his eyes.

"When faced with loss."

There was more to that statement, Izuku could tell, but before he could press further, Toshinori turned to Gran Torino.

"Well? Will you do it?"

The old hero snorted, looking Izuku up and down one more time.

"Kid's got potential. And that eye Quirk of his could be something special with the right training." He jabbed a finger at Toshinori. "But you've done him no favors letting him run wild like this. Raw talent needs discipline, structure."

"Then you'll teach him?"

"Teach me?" Izuku blinked, looking between the two pros. "Teach me what?"

Gran Torino's grin was all teeth.

"How to fight, kid. Really fight. Because whatever that was just now? That was just scratching the surface."

Izuku swallowed hard, remembering the clarity, the power, the rage that had come with his transformed vision. Part of him wanted to run from it, from what it might mean. But a deeper part, one that pulsed with the color of fresh blood, whispered that this was exactly what he needed.

To protect. To fight. To avenge.

The thought came unbidden, and Izuku wasn't entirely sure it was his own.

 

A WEEK LATER…

The muscles in Izuku's arms burned as he hauled another tire across the sand. Behind him, Gran Torino's voice cut through the morning air.

"Faster! You think villains will wait while you catch your breath?"

I can barely keep up with both.

Two months.

That's all the time he had left to clear this beach, and now Gran Torino's training had been added to the mix. The old hero's apartment - if you could call that decrepit building an apartment - had become Izuku's second home. Between hauling trash and learning how to throw a proper punch, sleep had become a luxury.

"Your stance is still wrong," Gran Torino barked as Izuku dropped the tire onto the growing pile. "Show me your guard position."

Izuku raised his fists, trying to remember the corrections from yesterday. His body ached from their last sparring session, but the pain felt different now. Purposeful.

This is what it takes to become stronger.

"Better," Gran Torino admitted grudgingly. "But you're still thinking too much. Fighting isn't about fancy moves or perfect form. It's about surviving."

The words struck a chord. Survival. Wasn't that what he'd been doing all these years? Surviving Bakugo's torments, surviving a world that told him he was worthless?

"Watch," Gran Torino demonstrated, his movements quick despite his age. "See how I use the wall? Everything around you is a weapon. That garbage you're cleaning? Could save your life in a real fight."

Izuku's eyes tracked the movement, though they remained stubbornly green. The clarity of his enhanced vision only came with strong emotion, something Gran Torino had noted with clear disapproval.

"You can't rely on those eyes of yours, kid. They're a tool, not a crutch."

If only even I knew what they really were.

The thought came with a familiar burn behind his eyes, but Izuku pushed it down. He'd been doing that more often lately - suppressing the rage that seemed to bubble up from somewhere deep inside him.

Something that felt older than himself.

 

THREE WEEKS LATER…

Days turned into weeks.

Each sunrise found Izuku at the beach, moving debris while practicing the footwork Gran Torino had drilled into him the day before. The old hero would appear without warning, testing Izuku's reflexes with surprise attacks that left him sprawled in the sand more often than not.

"Always be ready," Gran Torino would say, helping him up. "The world won't wait for you to activate those fancy eyes of yours."

The bruises became a constant companion, but so did the improvements. Izuku noticed it first in small ways - how he automatically checked sight lines when entering a room, how his body shifted to maintain balance even when tired. Gran Torino's lessons were becoming instinct.

One evening, after a particularly brutal training session, the old hero caught Izuku staring at his reflection in a broken mirror they'd just hauled off the beach.

"Something on your mind, kid?"

Izuku touched the dark circles under his eyes - still green, though the pressure behind them never truly went away anymore.

"Sometimes I wonder..." he started, then stopped.

How could he explain the foreign rage that coursed through him during their spars? The way his vision would sometimes blur with red even when he wasn't using his "Quirk"?

"I... I never properly apologized," Izuku finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper.

"That first day, I was ready to... I didn't even ask questions. Didn't try to understand the situation. I just-"

"You talk too much, kid." Gran Torino's voice cut through Izuku's stumbling apology like a knife. The old hero didn't even look at him, instead staring out at the beach.

"You've got a rage in you that could swallow you whole, kid. I've seen it before - raw power that burns too hot, too fast."

Something that wants to consume everything.

"The way you came at me that day?" Gran Torino continued, his voice hard. "That wasn't fighting. That was pure destruction. No thought, no control, just blind rage looking for a target."

Izuku's hands clenched at his sides, the familiar pressure building behind his eyes.

"You need to learn when to stop," Gran Torino said. "Because one day, you'll cross a line you can't come back from."

Like I almost did with you.

"Raw power like yours?" The old hero finally turned to look at him. "It doesn't care about right or wrong. Doesn't care about heroics or villainy. It just wants to burn. And if you can't learn to pull back from that edge..."

He left the sentence hanging, but Izuku understood. The memory of that crimson-tinted clarity, of the destruction he'd been ready to unleash, made his stomach turn.

"One For All changes everyone it touches," Gran Torino simply said, his words carrying a kind of burden that had seen many trials and, with Izuku here, will likely see more of them again.

"The question is whether you let it change you for better or worse."

But what if the power isn't really mine?

The thought came unbidden as Izuku stared at his reflection in the broken mirror. The eyes that looked back at him held something ancient and terrible, waiting to be unleashed again.

 

A MONTH LATER…

The walk to school then became a series of mental exercises. Every alley became a potential battleground, every piece of trash a possible weapon. He shadow-boxed his way through empty streets, earning strange looks from early-morning commuters.

"What's wrong with Midoriya?" he overheard one classmate whisper. "He's acting weird lately."

Bakugo watched too, his red eyes narrowing whenever Izuku practiced his footwork between classes. The explosive teen had kept his distance since their last encounter, though his glares carried promises of future violence.

Let him try.

During one particularly grueling session, Gran Torino had Izuku practicing escapes from holds. "Villains fight dirty," the old hero explained, demonstrating a particularly nasty grab.

"So should you. Bite, scratch, use their momentum against them. Honor gets you killed in a real fight."

The lesson hit home when Izuku managed to break free using a technique that would have made All Might wince. But Gran Torino just nodded approvingly.

"Good. Now do it again, but faster."

All Might visited occasionally, watching from the sidelines with an expression Izuku couldn't quite read. Pride mixed with concern, perhaps. The Symbol of Peace never stayed long during these sessions, but his presence served as a reminder of why Izuku was pushing himself so hard.

To become a hero. Not a vessel for this rage.

The days blurred together. Morning beach cleanup, afternoon combat training, evening studies. His mother worried about the bruises, but Izuku assured her it was just intense workout routines.

He wasn't entirely lying - Gran Torino's idea of training often involved creative uses for the very trash Izuku was supposed to be clearing.

"Use your head, kid!" Gran Torino would shout as Izuku dodged another lightning-fast attack. "Those eyes of yours see more than you think. Trust your instincts!"

But instinct was exactly what worried Izuku. Sometimes, in the heat of training, he'd feel that familiar burn behind his eyes. The world would start to take on a crimson tinge, and with it came thoughts that didn't feel entirely his own.

Make them hurt. Make them pay.

Those moments scared him more than any of Gran Torino's attacks. The old hero seemed to notice, too, his expression turning grave whenever Izuku's eyes began to shift.

The changes in Izuku became more noticeable as the second month progressed. His movements grew sharper, more deliberate. The timid boy who apologized for existing was being replaced by someone who understood the value of controlled violence.

One afternoon, as Izuku passed Bakugo in the hallway, their eyes met briefly. For a moment, Izuku felt the familiar pressure building behind his eyes, that deep well of red threatening to overflow. Bakugo's step faltered, just slightly, before he looked away.

Is he… scared?

The thought should have bothered him more than it did.

"Your movements are getting sharper," Gran Torino noted during their evening session. "But you're still holding back. Afraid of something?"

Izuku didn't answer. How could he explain the fire that burned inside him? The rage that felt like an inheritance he'd never asked for?

The beach was nearly clear now, but Izuku's reflection in the water showed someone different from the boy who'd started this journey. His arms were stronger, his stance more confident. But sometimes, when he looked too long, he swore his eyes flickered with something ancient and terrible.

Is this really who I want to become?

The question haunted him as he continued his training, caught between the hero he wanted to be and something else - something that whispered of power and vengeance in the depths of his soul.

Training with Gran Torino had taught him more than just how to fight. It had shown him a side of himself he wasn't sure he was ready to face. The old hero pushed him relentlessly, but Izuku sensed a purpose behind the brutal regimen that went beyond mere physical conditioning.

"Combat isn't just about the body," Gran Torino had told him one evening, as they sat catching their breath after a particularly intense session. "It's about knowing yourself. Your limits. Your darker impulses."

Izuku followed with a thought that always crept up to him whenever he looked at himself in the mirror.

My inheritance.

The thought came unbidden, accompanied by that familiar burning sensation. Izuku looked down at his hands, calloused now from months of work. They were stronger hands than before, capable of both building and destroying.

Just like the power that lurked behind his eyes.

As the deadline approached, Izuku found himself spending more time staring at his reflection, searching for signs of the person he used to be in the face that looked back at him. The changes weren't just physical - there was a new intensity in his gaze, a readiness for violence that both thrilled and terrified him.

I'm becoming someone else.

Or perhaps, whispered a voice from that deep well of red, he was becoming who he was always meant to be.

The beach was almost clear now, but Izuku's true transformation was just beginning.

 

A MONTH AND A HALF LATER…

The setting sun painted Takoba Beach in shades of crimson, reminding Toshinori too much of his successor's transformed eyes. He stood with Gran Torino at the edge of the sand, watching the waves lap at the shore. The beach was half-cleared now, evidence of Izuku's relentless work.

"He's making good progress," Toshinori offered into the silence.

Gran Torino didn't respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the red horizon.

“That rage of his," he finally said, "it's not natural."

Toshinori's hands clenched in the pockets of his oversized suit.

“I know."

"No, you don't."

Gran Torino's voice carried an edge Toshinori hadn't heard in years.

"I've trained heroes who've lost everything. Seen vigilantes driven by revenge. But that boy's rage?" He shook his head.

"It's different. Primal. Like something carved into his bones."

Like something inherited, Toshinori thought but didn't say.

"That's what worries me," he admitted instead. "One For All... it amplifies everything. Not just physical attributes, but emotions too. If young Midoriya can barely contain this rage now..."

"You're thinking of not giving it to him."

It wasn't a question. Toshinori's silence was answer enough.

Gran Torino snorted.

"You've gotten soft, Toshinori. Too used to your perfect society where everyone smiles because the Symbol of Peace will save them."

"What-"

"But what about the ones you can't save?" Gran Torino cut him off.

"The kids getting beaten down for being Quirkless? The people discriminated against because their Quirks make them look different? All the injustices happening right under your nose while you're busy punching villains through buildings?"

The words hit harder than any villain's attack. Toshinori thought of young Midoriya, of all the scars that had nothing to do with training.

"Your boy?" Gran Torino continued, "He's living proof. All those years of torment for being Quirkless - where was the Symbol of Peace then?"

For a while, the only sounds at Takoba Beach were the waves crashing on the shore.

"Maybe," Gran Torino's voice grew quieter, "what this world needs isn't another soft hero preaching about peace. Maybe it needs someone who understands rage. Someone who's felt the injustice firsthand."

The sun dipped lower, the crimson light deepening to blood-red. Toshinori watched the waves for a long moment before speaking.

"You think I don't know about the cracks in our society?" His voice was barely above a whisper. "The discrimination, the bullying, the quiet suffering that happens in the shadows of my smile?"

Gran Torino remained silent, waiting.

"I see them. Every day, I see them. But I also see what happens when people lose faith in peace." Toshinori's hand unconsciously moved to the wound in his side. "When they decide that violence is the answer to injustice."

"And what's your answer?" Gran Torino challenged. "Keep smiling while kids like Midoriya get beaten down?"

"My answer is to build something better!" Toshinori's voice rose with sudden passion. "To show people that peace isn't just the absence of violence - it's the presence of justice. Real justice, not just for the ones in the spotlight."

"Pretty words," Gran Torino scoffed. "But how many more Midoriyas will suffer while you're building this perfect world?"

Toshinori deflated slightly.

"That's exactly why I chose him, you know. Not because of his rage, but because despite everything he's endured, he still wants to save people. Still believes in heroes."

"And if that belief breaks? If that rage finally consumes him?"

The question hung in the air like smoke. Toshinori watched another piece of debris wash up on the shore, thinking of the burden he was preparing to pass on.

"I have to believe," he said finally, "that what I've built isn't so fragile that it needs to be rebuilt on the foundation of a young boy's rage. That the peace I've worked for won't end up being another weight for Midoriya to carry."

Gran Torino made a sound that might have been disappointment or understanding.

"And if you're wrong?"

Toshinori looked up at the darkening sky, where the last traces of red were fading to purple.

"Then I pray he forgives me for failing to build a world where his rage wasn't necessary."

The words settled between them like a prophecy neither wanted to see fulfilled.

In the distance, the sound of waves continued their endless cycle, indifferent to the weight of legacy and responsibility being discussed on their shores.

 

A MONTH AND THREE WEEKS LATER…

Days blurred together at Takoba Municipal Beach Park. The morning sun painted the gradually clearing shoreline in gold as Izuku heaved another tire onto the growing pile in his truck. Gran Torino watched from atop a nearby refrigerator, his expression unreadable behind his mask.

The beach was almost clean now. What had once been a dumpsite was slowly revealing pristine sand underneath, like uncovering a forgotten treasure. Izuku paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, his muscles aching in a way that had become familiar over the months of training.

*Almost there. Just a little more.*

"Your form's still sloppy," Gran Torino commented, hopping down with an agility that belied his age. "But at least you're putting your back into it properly now."

Izuku managed a tired smile. The old hero's criticism had become almost comforting in its consistency. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me yet, kid. Let's see how you handle a morning run."

They set off along their usual route, weaving through the quieter streets of Musutafu. Izuku's breathing was steadier now, his endurance built up through countless similar morning exercises. Gran Torino kept pace beside him, occasionally correcting his form with a sharp word or a quick tap from his cane.

The sound reached them first - the dull thud of something hitting flesh, followed by muffled crying. Izuku's steps faltered as they passed an alley, his enhanced hearing picking up the unmistakable sounds of a fight.

No, not a fight. A beating.

Through the shadows, he could make out several larger figures surrounding a smaller one. A middle school student, by the look of his uniform, cowering as the others took turns shoving him around.

Just like back then.

The thought came with a rush of memories - Bakugo's sneering face, the feeling of being helpless, of being alone. Of watching others turn away, pretending not to see.

Before Gran Torino could speak, Izuku was moving. His body acted before his mind could catch up, just like that day with the Sludge Villain. Fear gripped his chest - what was he doing? These weren't training dummies or piles of trash. This was real.

But so was every hit I took when no one helped me.

"Stop!" Izuku's voice carried more authority than he felt as he stepped between the bullies and their victim. "Leave him alone."

The leader of the group, a tall boy with spikes protruding from his knuckles, turned with an amused smirk that made Izuku's blood boil.

"Oh? And who's gonna make us? This little shit owes us his lunch money. Been dodging us all week."

Another punch flew toward the cowering student. Without hesitation, Izuku caught it on his forearm, the impact sending sharp pain through his body. The moment brought him back to that first night with Gran Torino, when he'd thought All Might was dead. How his instincts had taken over, how clarity had come through the fear and rage.

"This is your last chance," Izuku said quietly, his voice dropping lower. "Walk away."

The leader laughed, a harsh sound that echoed off the alley walls. "Get him!"

Well, at least I asked first.

His training kicked in as the first bully charged. Just like that night with Gran Torino, Izuku used the environment to his advantage. A trash can became a barrier, forcing one attacker to stumble. A loose piece of cardboard caught another in the face, disrupting his balance.

Each movement flowed from his training, but this wasn't practice anymore. This was real, messy, and raw. He slipped past wild swings, redirected momentum into walls, just as he'd learned. One bully went down with a sweep to the legs, another backed away after a precise strike to the solar plexus.

The leader watched his cronies fall with growing rage.

"You little shit!" He charged, spikes gleaming.

Something in Izuku snapped. The familiar pressure built behind his eyes, but this time it came with a wave of hatred that felt ancient and terrible. His vision bled crimson as memories flooded back - not just of Bakugo now, but of every bully who'd ever made someone feel small, feel worthless.

Make them pay. Make them all pay.

The counter-strike was devastating. Izuku caught the leader's spiked fist and twisted, using the boy's own momentum to slam him into the ground. Before anyone could react, Izuku was on top of him, fist raised and eyes blazing red. The first punch connected with satisfying force. Then another. And another.

More. They deserve more.

"Young man."

Gran Torino's voice cut through the haze like a blade. "What would All Might do?"

Izuku froze, his raised fist trembling. Behind him, the student he'd saved whimpered, pressing himself further into the corner. The sound broke through something in Izuku's chest, dousing the rage like cold water on hot coals.

The remaining bullies took advantage of his hesitation to grab their fallen leader and flee, but Izuku barely noticed. He was already turning, kneeling before the frightened student, his eyes fading back to their natural green.

"Hey," he said softly, remembering all the times he'd wished someone had been there for him. "It's okay now. They're gone."

The boy looked up, tears streaming down his face.

"W-why did you help me?"

"Because..." Izuku paused, thinking of what All Might would say. But while his mentor's words would be perfect, inspiring, Izuku had his own truth to share. "Because I know what it's like. To be afraid. To feel alone."

He reached out a hand, helping the boy to his feet. "But you don't have to be. Report them - to your teachers, to the police. And..." he thought of his own journey, of the strength he was slowly building.

"Learn to protect yourself. Not to hurt others, but to be strong enough that they can't hurt you anymore."

"Like... like All Might?" the boy asked, hope beginning to replace fear in his eyes.

Izuku smiled, but it was tinged with something older and sadder.

"Like anyone who decides they're done being afraid."

He didn't see Gran Torino's proud smile, or the way the old hero nodded to himself. He was too focused on making sure the boy got home safely, on being the hero he'd needed when he was younger.

I couldn't save myself back then. But I can save others now.

The thought felt right, even as something deep inside him whispered of darker ways to deal with bullies.

For now, at least, he knew he'd made the right choice.

 

TWO MONTHS LATER…

The last refrigerator groaned as Izuku dragged it across the sand. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored them, focused only on this final piece. The rising sun painted the newly revealed beach in shades of gold and pink, reflecting off waves that now lapped at pristine sand instead of rusted metal.

Almost... there...

With one final heave, Izuku lifted the refrigerator onto the pile. For a moment, he just stood there, chest heaving, staring at what he'd accomplished. Then he turned, taking in the full expanse of Takoba Municipal Beach Park.

Clean.

Actually clean.

Every scrap of metal, every tire, every broken appliance - gone. The morning light sparkled off untouched sand, the ocean breeze carrying only the scent of salt water instead of rust and decay. Months of work, of pain, of early mornings and late nights, had transformed this place back to what it was meant to be.

I did this. All of it.

The pride welled up in his chest until he couldn't contain it anymore. Izuku threw his head back and screamed, a sound of pure joy and triumph that echoed across the water. His voice cracked, but he didn't care. This moment was his.

"Well done, kid." Gran Torino's voice carried from behind him. The old hero stood with Toshinori at the edge of the parking lot, both of them watching with unmistakable pride.

Izuku jogged over to them, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the rush of achievement. Gran Torino was pulling something from a small cooler - bottles?

"Is that... beer?" Toshinori asked, his skeletal face creasing with concern.

"The kid just cleaned an entire beach by himself," Gran Torino snorted, pulling out three bottles. "I'd say he's earned it."

He turned to Izuku. "Ever had a drink before?"

Izuku shook his head, suddenly nervous. "N-no, sir."

"Then this'll be your first. A proper celebration." Gran Torino looked at Toshinori. "Give him some slack. He's not going to turn into a delinquent from one beer."

Izuku looked at his mentor hopefully. "I did finish the cleanup..."

Toshinori sighed, but there was a fond smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "One drink. And stop if you feel strange, understood?"

"Yes sir!"

They settled on the clean sand, the bottles clicking together in a toast that made Izuku's heart swell. The beer was bitter and strange on his tongue, but sitting here with his mentors, watching the sunrise over his accomplishment - it felt right.

"You've grown, kid," Gran Torino said after a while, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Not just in strength. I've watched you learn to channel that fire inside you, to use it for good instead of letting it consume you. Those are lessons some never learn."

Something in his tone made Izuku's heart skip. He stared into his bottle, watching the amber liquid swirl as memories washed over him - the burning rage when he thought All Might was dead, the dark satisfaction when he'd finally landed a hit on Gran Torino, the violent urge to keep punching that bully in the alley.

Have I really learned to control it?

The question haunted him.

That ancient force inside him, the one that seemed to pulse with the color of fresh blood, had only grown stronger with his training.

Yes, he'd learned to channel it, to use it in defense of others instead of pure vengeance. But sometimes, in quiet moments like this, he could feel it stirring - a deep well of power and hatred that felt older than himself.

His free hand unconsciously touched the space beneath his eyes, remembering how they changed, how the world sharpened and bled red when that power surfaced. Gran Torino had taught him to use that clarity, that enhanced perception, but the rage that came with it... that was something else entirely.

What happens when I get One For All? Will it make that force stronger? Weaker?

"Indeed," Toshinori added, setting his barely-touched beer aside. "You've proven yourself ready, young Midoriya. In more ways than one."

The atmosphere shifted, the celebration giving way to something more solemn. Gran Torino nodded slowly.

"It's time."

"Time?" Izuku asked, though something deep inside him already knew.

That same something that whispered of power and vengeance now seemed to coil in anticipation, like a predator sensing prey.

Toshinori straightened, and for a moment Izuku could see the shadow of All Might in his gaunt frame.

"Time to pass on One For All."

 

The waves crashed against the shore, marking the moment. Izuku's hand tightened around his bottle, his heart thundering in his chest. This was it. The moment everything had been leading to. But beneath his excitement, a thread of fear wound its way through his thoughts.

He'd learned to temper his rage, yes. To direct it towards protection instead of destruction. But something told him his greatest test was still to come. That ancient force inside him, with its crimson dreams and burning hatred, wouldn't be so easily tamed.

To protect. To fight. To save.

The thought came as it always did, but this time it didn't feel foreign.

This time, it felt like a promise.

"A rite of passage," Toshinori's words echoed in Izuku's mind. All this time, cleaning the beach wasn't just training - it was preparation for this moment.

"What... what do I have to do?" Izuku asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You have to eat this."

Toshinori pulled out a small ziplock bag from his pocket. Inside was a single strand of golden hair.

The tension broke as Izuku blinked, his expression turning incredulous.

"Your... hair?"

"One For All is passed down through DNA," Toshinori explained, his tone serious despite the absurdity. "A willing heir must consume a piece of the previous holder."

Izuku stared at the tiny bag Toshinori held out to him. Such a small thing, to contain so much power. All Might's power. The power to save others, to be a true hero.

Take it. Use it. Make them pay.

The voice from that deep well of crimson stirred, eager in a way that made Izuku's stomach clench. He took the bag with trembling fingers as Toshinori spoke again:

"Whenever you're ready."

Ready.

Am I?

Izuku's mind raced through everything that had led him here. The years of torment at Bakugo's hands. The moments he'd wanted to fight back but couldn't. But also - the student he'd saved in the alley, the pride in becoming stronger, the drive to protect others from suffering as he had.

How much of a hero do I really want to be?

Only one way to find out.

 

(ALL MIGHT’S POV)

The hair went down easily enough.

For a moment, nothing happened. Izuku could feel Gran Torino and Toshinori watching him expectantly, their disappointment almost palpable when nothing grand occurred.

"This is normal," Toshinori assured him. "I had no reaction at first either. The power will come when you need it most, when your desire to protect others is strongest."

No reaction. That was good. That was normal.

Izuku closed his eyes, taking inventory of himself. His body felt the same. His emotions steady. Even that deep well of red that usually churned with ancient rage seemed quiet.

Then he saw them - eight points of light shimmering in the darkness of his mind.

White, blue, red, green, orange, purple, pink, yellow - a rainbow of power that filled him with inexplicable peace. He watched, fascinated, as a piece of himself manifested as green light, reaching out to join this constellation of power.

But as his green light approached, something else stirred in the darkness. From that deep well of crimson came another light, ancient and dark and red like blood, pulsing with the weight of centuries.

It rose beside his green light like a shadow given form, and for a moment, they orbited each other - two aspects of the same soul, light and dark, new power and ancient force.

The crimson light seemed to recoil at first, as if rejecting the very presence of the colors. It twisted away from the other lights, trying to pull Izuku's green light with it. The crimson had paused as soon as it saw the other lights begin shining light that could only make Izuku feel as though he’s swimming in an eternal sea of peace.

And then, all of a sudden, the crimson light turned that sea into a torrent of blood that started to boil in the hot fires of… not rage, but excitement. It’s as though the crimson light recognized the power in that eternal sea and the lights contained within it.

Izuku could sense a hunger awakening in the crimson light. Its desire to consume. To control.

The two lights began to shake violently, locked in a battle for dominance. Izuku’s green light tried to join the others, but the crimson force wrapped around it like chains of blood. The other lights seemed to pulse in warning, trying to repel the ancient presence that sought to corrupt their power.

Pain exploded through Izuku's body, the spiritual battle manifesting in physical agony. Every nerve felt like it was being seared with electricity. His eyes burned as if they were being torn apart from within, the crimson vision forced upon him rather than called. He felt himself hit the sand, his body convulsing as the two powers warred inside him.

Too much. It's too much.

His mind became a battlefield as One For All and the ancient force clashed within him. Each pulse of power sent fresh waves of agony through his body. His bones felt like they were trying to tear themselves apart, his blood burning in his veins.

Someone was screaming - it might have been him.

Through the haze of agony, he saw Gran Torino and Toshinori kneeling beside him, their mouths moving in words he couldn't hear. His gaze locked with his mentor's, seeing his own reflection in Toshinori's horrified blue eyes.

There, in that reflection, Izuku saw his face overlaid with another - something ancient and terrible, with eyes that promised vengeance.

No reaction is good, Toshinori had said just seconds before.

But as darkness claimed him, Izuku knew with terrifying certainty that nothing about this was good at all.

End.

I hate leaving it off here.

But don’t worry, everything is alright.

I do hope you guys liked the chapter though.

Also, for those of you whom are curious, chapter 6 is when Izuku finally partakes in the entrance exam with the chapter after that being when he’s finally in U.A

More Chapters are posted on my patreon Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

https://www.patreon.com/c/Demon_Knight939

See you all on the next update.

Chapter Text

Hey everyone!

Here we are with Chapter 5

Where things will finally begin to progress at the pace we want.

We will see:

UA Entrance Exams! How will Izuku use his new Quirk?
Some character teasers!

I hope you all enjoy!

Start:

FIVE DAYS LATER…

Izuku floated in an endless sea of light, surrounded by swirling colors that danced like aurora borealis. The eight lights he'd seen before - white, blue, red, green, orange, purple, pink, yellow - moved around him like curious fish, sometimes coming close enough to almost touch.

But below him, a deep crimson pit yawned open like a hungry mouth. Within its depths, a silhouette stirred - massive, ancient, radiating power that made the other lights seem to recoil. It reached for him with shadowy tendrils.

More power, it whispered in a voice that felt like burning coals.

I need more.

The figure's form was impossible to make out clearly, but its presence felt familiar, like looking into a dark mirror. It showed him visions - of strength beyond measure, of vengeance against those who'd wronged him, of power that could reshape the world.

Take it. Use it. Make them all pay.

The whispers grew more insistent, pulling him deeper into the crimson depths. But when it realized Izuku wasn’t willing to use the power as it intended, a wave of movement thrust Izuku away - like a giant paper fan cutting through water.

The shadowy figure dispersed, and Izuku felt himself being pushed upward, through layers of consciousness, until...

When Izuku finally opened his eyes - really opened them - the first thing he saw was his mother's worried face.

Inko Midoriya's eyes were red-rimmed from crying, dark circles beneath them suggesting she hadn't left his side. Her face lit up with relief when she saw him stirring.

"Izuku! Oh, thank goodness!"

Her hands fluttered over him like nervous birds, adjusting his blanket, touching his forehead.

He tried to speak, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

"Mom...?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw Gran Torino straighten from where he'd been leaning against the wall. The old hero made a quick motion to Toshinori, who immediately pressed a small button near the door.

"Are you okay? How do you feel?"

The questions tumbled out of Inko.

"You've been... we've been so worried."

"I'm... okay." His voice was raspy, but growing stronger. He tried to sit up, and his mother quickly adjusted the bed to help him. "How long...?"

"Your new friends told me..." Inko's voice wavered, and fresh tears welled in her eyes. "They said you awakened a Quirk. Is it true? After all this time?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with years of hope and disappointment.

Izuku's mind flashed to that moment in the alley, protecting that student. To facing down Kacchan's bullying. To all the times that deep well of power had risen up in response to injustice.

Not just rage.

Purpose.

He remembered being four years old, standing in a doctor's office as his dreams were crushed. Remembered his mother's tears then, how she'd apologized instead of telling him he could still be a hero. Years of being Quirkless, of being less-than in everyone's eyes.

But now...

He felt the familiar burn behind his eyes, knew without seeing that crimson was bleeding into his vision. His mother gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as she watched her son's eyes transform from gentle green to burning red.

"Oh, Izuku..."

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, but these were different from the tears of apology she'd shed all those years ago.

"Your eyes... they're so beautiful."

Something broke inside Izuku's chest. All those years of holding back tears, of trying to be strong, came rushing out. He reached for his mother, and she pulled him into a careful hug, both of them shaking with emotion.

"It's true," he whispered into her shoulder. "My dream... it came true after all."

From the corner of his eye, Izuku caught Toshinori and Gran Torino exchanging small smiles at the scene. For a moment, everything felt perfect.

The moment was interrupted by the click of a door. A diminutive woman in a doctor's coat entered, her expression professionally neutral as she took in the scene.

"Ah, you're finally properly awake. I'm Recovery Girl, and you're currently in my private clinic."

She moved to check the various monitors beside his bed, her movements efficient and practiced.

"Your vital signs are stabilizing nicely. Temperature's back to normal, brain activity patterns are evening out. How's the pain level? Any headaches? Visual disturbances besides the obvious?"

"I... no, I feel okay. Just tired."

"To be expected. You've been drifting in and out for about a week now. The sudden Quirk manifestation, combined with your physical condition, created quite the perfect storm in your system."

"A week?" Izuku bolted upright, then immediately regretted it as his head spun.

"But what about school? My assignments-"

A small laugh escaped Inko despite her worry.

"I've already filed your absence, sweetie. You were injured awakening your Quirk."

"But the makeup work-"

"Young Midoriya," Toshinori's voice carried fond exasperation. "Perhaps focus on recovery before academics?"

Recovery Girl nodded, making notes on her tablet.

"As I explained to your mother, late Quirk awakening at your age can be extremely taxing on the body. Especially combined with the intensive physical training you've been doing."

"Training?" Inko's voice sharpened slightly. "Izuku, I knew you were working out but... why would you suddenly start training?"

Izuku swallowed hard. "I... I want to apply to UA."

"UA?"

His mother's face paled.

"But... but you just awakened your Quirk! Sweetie, think about this carefully. You've been unconscious for a week, and your Quirk... changing eye color..." Inko swallowed hard. "It might not even be Pro Hero material-"

The words stung Izuku, but before he could even react…

"I apologize for interrupting," Recovery Girl stepped forward, her professional demeanor masking the awkwardness of cutting into such a tense moment. "But Mrs. Midoriya, I have a few questions about your family history, if you don't mind."

Inko blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift.

"Of course..."

"Are you aware of any relatives who experienced difficulty awakening their Quirks? Or perhaps had Quirks related to eye color changes?"

Recovery Girl pulled out a tablet, her fingers hovering over the screen.

"Any family members with enhanced analytical abilities or heightened perception?"

"No, I..." Inko's brow furrowed in concentration.

"Not that I know of. My Quirk is simple attraction of small objects, and my husband's family all had fire-breathing Quirks. Why do you ask?"

Somehow, Izuku recalling his father can breathe fire as a Quirk had stirred something inside of him. Like something in the pit of crimson in his chest discovering a puzzle piece before retreating to observe it.

Recovery Girl's expression grew more serious.

"Because what we're seeing here is highly unusual. Even for late bloomers, Quirk activation at eighteen is virtually unprecedented."

She turned to glance at Izuku's monitors. "More importantly, the data we've gathered suggests this isn't just a cosmetic change. Your son's neural activity patterns during his episodes show remarkable spikes in areas associated with information processing and spatial awareness."

"What do you mean?" Inko leaned forward, concern etching deeper lines in her face.

"The eye color change appears to be a physical manifestation of something much more complex." Recovery Girl pulled up several charts on her tablet. "When active, your son's Quirk seems to grant him heightened awareness and advanced analytical capabilities. The speed at which he processes visual information alone is remarkable."

"But... but that's nothing like anyone in our family," Inko said, her voice small. "Could this be why he reacted so strongly? Why he's been unconscious?"

"That's what I'd like to determine." Recovery Girl's voice was gentle but firm.

"I'd like to run a full series of Quirk assessment tests once he's stronger. You, too, to figure out the origins of his condition. Something this unprecedented needs to be properly understood. We need to know exactly what we're dealing with, especially given the unusual circumstances of its awakening."

Inko nodded slowly, then turned back to Izuku. Her face had taken on that worried expression he knew too well.

"Then... then this is all the more reason you shouldn't rush into UA! If your Quirk is this unusual, if it affected you this strongly..." Her voice cracked slightly. "We need to understand it first, to make sure it's safe-"

"Mom, no!" The words burst from Izuku with unexpected force. He felt that familiar heat building behind his eyes, but this time, it came with years of frustrated dreams and buried hurt.

"You don't understand-"

"Izuku?"

"Everyone dismissed me. Everyone said I couldn't be a hero. I can't... I won't let you dismiss me too. Not now. Not when I finally have a chance!"

The crimson in his vision deepened, and he could feel that ancient power stirring in response to his emotions.

But underneath it, something else flickered - a glimpse of green light trying to shine through.

"Young man," Gran Torino started, his voice carrying a warning edge. The old hero had straightened from his usual slouch, recognizing the dangerous gleam in Izuku's eyes.

Toshinori stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Gran Torino's shoulder.

"Let me handle this." His voice was quiet but carried the weight of years of experience. The tension in the room was palpable, mother and son locked in a moment that could change everything.

"Mrs. Midoriya." Toshinori's voice took on that familiar resonance, the one that had inspired hope in millions. "There's something you should know."

Smoke billowed suddenly, filling the small room with dramatic flair. When it cleared, All Might stood there in all his heroic glory, his signature smile somehow gentler than usual, more paternal than the beaming grin that adorned posters and trading cards.

Inko's jaw dropped. She looked between All Might and her son several times, then let out a nervous laugh.

"Is this... did your friends arrange this? Some kind of get-well surprise with a lookalike?"

Her voice wavered between disbelief and hope, as if afraid to accept this reality.

All Might reached into his costume and produced his Pro Hero ID card with a flourish.

"I assure you, Mrs. Midoriya, this is quite real."

Gran Torino and Izuku simultaneously brought their hands to their faces in perfect synchronization.

Of all the ways to prove it...

Inko examined the ID with trembling fingers, taking in every detail. Her eyes widened at the official stamps, the holographic security features, the unmistakable signs of authenticity. She handed it back carefully, as if afraid it might disappear.

"But... why are you here? With my Izuku?"

"Your son has shown remarkable potential, Mrs. Midoriya. Did you follow the news about the Sludge Villain incident a few months ago?"

"Yes, of course." Inko nodded, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "It was all over the news - though it's hardly unusual for you to save someone. You're always saving people."

She gave a small, nervous laugh. "The news focused mostly on your capture of the villain. Something about an incident in the shopping district?"

"A villain had taken control of a middle school student," All Might clarified, watching Inko's face carefully. "Young Bakugo Katsuki."

"Katsuki?" Inko brightened slightly, turning to her son. "That's your friend, isn't he, Izuku?"

Izuku's face tightened almost imperceptibly, a shadow passing behind his crimson eyes. His hands clenched in the hospital sheets, and for a moment, that ancient presence stirred within him at the mere mention of Bakugo's name.

But before he could respond, All Might pressed on, his voice carrying just enough volume to smoothly redirect the conversation.

"The media often focuses on the end result, but sometimes the most important moments happen before the cameras start rolling. Did you hear about what happened before I arrived?"

"I... well, there was mention of a teenager who tried to help," Inko said slowly, brow furrowing as she tried to recall the details. "The news touched on it briefly, praising the boy's bravery while also warning about civilian intervention. But they never named him..."

"They didn't need to name him," Gran Torino cut in, his gruff voice carrying an unusual note of pride. "The internet did that for them."

Inko's eyes widened slightly. "What do you mean?"

Gran Torino pulled out his phone, his weathered fingers navigating to a saved video.

"While the news channels were focused on All Might's victory, ordinary people were sharing this. Watch."

He held out the phone. The video was shaky, clearly taken by a bystander in the heat of the moment. Smoke and debris filled the frame as several Pro Heroes stood at the perimeter, clearly struggling with how to handle the situation. Death Arms was calling for evacuation, while Kamui Woods worked to contain the fire damage.

Then, through the chaos, a small figure burst into frame, charging straight toward the villain without hesitation. In the midst of his rush, the figure swung off his backpack and hurled it with surprising accuracy, the contents scattering to create a momentary distraction.

"That's..." Inko leaned closer, squinting at the screen. Her hands began to tremble as she recognized the determined set of those shoulders, the familiar green hair.

"Izuku?"

They watched in silence as the scene continued to unfold. The video caught everything - Izuku's desperate scramble through the sludge, trying to dig out his trapped classmate while trained professionals looked on in shock.

The determination in his face, even as tears streamed down his cheeks.

His green eyes turning into a deep shade of crimson.

"This video has thousands of views," Gran Torino said quietly. "People were moved by what they saw that day. A kid with no power, no training, running in when even Pro Heroes were holding back."

"The comments section was flooded," All Might added. "People asking who this brave young man was, praising his selfless act. Some even criticized the Pro Heroes for their hesitation while a civilian - a child - took action."

"But why?" Inko's voice cracked as she turned to her son.

"Izuku, why would you do something so dangerous? You could have been killed! Without a Quirk, against a villain like that..."

"Because someone needed help." Izuku's voice was soft but firm. His eyes, still that burning red, met his mother's. "I couldn't just stand there. My legs... they moved on their own."

"That's exactly it," All Might said, his massive frame straightening with pride.

"What I witnessed that day wasn't just reckless bravery, Mrs. Midoriya. I saw something far rarer - true heroic instinct."

He gestured to the phone, where the video had paused on a frame of Izuku reaching out toward the trapped Bakugo.

"Look at the timing. Your son moved before anyone else - before the other civilians, before the Pro Heroes. Before even I could react. There was no hesitation, no calculation of odds or abilities. Just pure, instinctive desire to help someone in need."

"But without a Quirk..." Inko's voice quavered. "He was completely defenseless..."

"And yet he went anyway," All Might interjected gently. "That's what caught my attention, Mrs. Midoriya. In my years as the Symbol of Peace, I've met countless heroes with powerful Quirks. I've seen spectacular abilities, incredible feats of strength and skill. But true heroism?"

He placed a hand on Izuku's shoulder.

"True heroism is about what drives someone to act when others won't."

There was a moment of silence.

"Mrs. Midoriya," All Might's voice carried a gentle authority that made both mother and son pause.

"Perhaps we owe young Midoriya the chance to try. UA has the finest medical facilities in the country, and I give you my word that I will personally monitor his condition." His signature smile softened. "If he succeeds, he'll have the best support possible to help him grow. And if he doesn't..."

"Then I'll know I actually tried," Izuku finished quietly. "That I gave it everything I had."

Inko turned to look at her son, really look at him. In his crimson eyes, she saw a determination she'd never witnessed before - not in all his years of hero analysis, not in all his moments of dreaming. This was something different. Something stronger.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, but when she lifted her chin, Izuku saw something new in her expression too - a steel he'd never noticed before.

"Promise me something," she said, her voice firm despite its tremor.

"If you fail, you stop. Completely." Her hands twisted in her lap. "I... I can't lose someone again."

The words hit Izuku like a physical blow. That ancient presence stirred within him, but for once it didn't feel like rage. It felt like understanding. Like recognition of a different kind of pain.

"I promise," he said, and meant it.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of medical terminology and scheduling. Recovery Girl practically bounced around the room, muttering about research papers and unprecedented cases while arranging a battery of tests for after his recovery. Her enthusiasm about documenting his "fascinating condition" made Izuku sink further into his pillows, wondering if he'd somehow transformed from a patient into a research subject.

As night fell and his visitors finally left, Izuku lay back in his hospital bed, staring at the ceiling.

In a few days, he'd have his chance - his one shot to prove he had what it takes to become a hero.

One For All pulsed gently within him, while that older power watched and waited.

No more running, he thought as sleep began to claim him. No more hiding.

This time, when he dreamed of those eight lights, his own green light seemed to shine just a little brighter against the crimson.

 

MINUTES LATER…

The door to Recovery Girl's office clicked shut behind All Might with a soft finality.

In the sudden quiet, the transformation was almost beautiful - golden smoke wisping away as All Might's massive frame collapsed back into Toshinori's gaunt form. The moment was immediately ruined by a wet, hacking cough that bent him double.

Recovery Girl was already holding out a tissue, the motion so practiced it seemed reflexive. "One of these days," she sighed, "you're going to transform back in front of the wrong person."

"Speaking of which," Gran Torino settled into one of the office chairs, his short legs barely touching the floor, "getting awful casual with that identity of yours, aren't you? First the boy, now his mother..."

"The kid's growing on him," Recovery Girl remarked, watching Toshinori dab blood from his chin. "Making our Symbol of Peace soft in his old age."

Gran Torino barked out a laugh that seemed too big for his diminutive frame.

"Never thought I'd see the day. Though I have to admit, the boy's got something."

Recovery Girl settled behind her desk, her fingers dancing across holographic displays that sprang to life around her. Medical data scrolled past, charts and readings that painted Izuku's condition in cold, clinical terms.

"I must say, I'm surprised. I thought young Togata from UA was your chosen successor. The boy's practically All Might incarnate already - strong Quirk, heroic spirit, perfect candidate."

"Mirio is an exceptional student," Toshinori agreed quietly, lowering himself into another chair. "But there's something different about young Midoriya. Something that..." he paused, searching for words.

"Something that compelled me to choose him."

"Well, be that as it may..." Recovery Girl's expression turned serious as she manipulated the displays, bringing up several overlapping charts. "I feel guilty lying to a patient and his mother. What hospitalized him wasn't his Quirk manifesting - it was One For All's reaction to it. In all my years of medicine, I've never seen anything like this."

She pulled up another screen, this one filled with medical records.

"I've gone through every file I could access about previous holders. There's not a single indication of this kind of instability during the power transfer. No hospitalizations, no adverse reactions, nothing."

"But his own Quirk..." Toshinori started, leaning forward to study the displays.

"That's the truly fascinating part." Recovery Girl enlarged one of the displays, showing a complex network of energy patterns that pulsed and shifted like a living thing.

"The advanced neural capabilities we're seeing aren't coming from his normal bodily systems. There's a secondary energy network, completely separate from his primary nervous system, connected directly to his optic nerves."

Her finger traced a pattern that looked almost like roots or branches.

"And look here - it all connects to an organ I've never seen before. It's not in any medical text, has no relation to standard Quirk physiology. It's as if..." she hesitated, enlarging another section of the scan. "As if it's not entirely human."

"What do you mean?" Toshinori leaned closer, squinting at the display.

"Well, he's not a heteromorph - his basic physical structure is completely normal human anatomy. But this..." she highlighted a cluster of unusual tissue formations behind his eyes. "This is something else entirely. The cellular structure, the energy pathways - they don't match any known Quirk manifestation. It's either an entirely new classification of Quirk we've never encountered, or..."

"Or?" Gran Torino prompted.

Recovery Girl's voice dropped slightly.

"Or it's some kind of genetic anomaly. A marker of special ancestry we're not familiar with. The energy readings are unlike anything in our database, and believe me, I've studied every unusual Quirk case that's come through UA."

She suppressed a small shiver. "Whatever this is, it's old. Older than Quirks themselves, maybe."

"Is it dangerous?" Toshinori's voice carried an edge of concern that made Gran Torino look up sharply.

Recovery Girl's lips pressed into a thin line as she studied the readings.

"That's what troubles me. I have no idea. In all my years at UA, all my medical experience... this is unprecedented. The way it's interacting with One For All..." She shook her head. "I hope he makes it into UA - he'll make one fascinating specimen to study."

"Recovery Girl..." Toshinori's tone held a warning.

She laughed, but there was an edge to it.

"I'm not the only one who'd be interested. Even the renowned Doctor Garaki would be fascinated by a case like this. A previously Quirkless boy suddenly manifesting such unique abilities, combined with..." she gestured at the displays.

"This needs to stay confidential." Toshinori's voice was firm. "The records-"

"Will be sealed, of course," she nodded, already closing down the displays. "Anyone with sufficient medical knowledge who saw these readings might figure out he has One For All. We can't have that. Besides," she added with a small smile, "doctor-patient confidentiality still applies, even with fascinating mutations."

"The kid will be fine," Gran Torino cut in, his gruff voice oddly reassuring. "I've watched him train. Whatever this power is, he's learning to control it. Trust him."

Toshinori stared at the last dancing patterns of energy before they faded away, remembering the crimson that had bled into Izuku's eyes, the ancient presence he'd sensed within his chosen successor.

"I hope you're right."

In the silence that followed, none of them voiced the question that hung in the air: what exactly had they awakened within Young Midoriya?

Will U.A. University be enough to help him control it?

 

THREE DAYS LATER…

Days later, Izuku's feet pounded against the pavement as he sprinted toward U.A, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

His backpack bounced uncomfortably against his spine, filled with entrance exam documents and a half-dozen hero analysis notebooks he'd stayed up reviewing. Of all days to oversleep - the biggest moment of his life, and he'd dozed off watching old footage of All Might's early rescues, trying to calm his nerves after hours of studying.

I can't be late. Not today. Not after everything.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the empty streets as he ran, each step bringing him closer to his dream - or its end, if he failed. His mother's words echoed in his mind: one chance.

That's all he had.

One shot to prove he could be a hero.

He checked his watch mid-stride, heart hammering. Just a few minutes until the bell, and he was still several blocks away. The conversation with All Might from the previous night played through his thoughts, clear as if it were happening again:

"Remember, young Midoriya," All Might's voice had been grave, lacking its usual energy. "Under no circumstances should you attempt to use One For All unless absolutely necessary. We still don't know how it might affect you."

"But what if I need it during the exam?" Izuku had asked, thinking of the power that now resided within him, still foreign and untamed.

"Trust your training with Gran Torino. Use the environment, think strategically. You've learned to fight without powers - rely on that. The old man taught you well."

"And if things get desperate?" Izuku's hand had unconsciously touched the space beneath his eyes, remembering the burning sensation that came with that other power.

There had been a long pause, heavy with meaning. When All Might spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Then pray that crimson doesn't take over again. We can't afford another incident like at the clinic."

The memory of pain and that ancient presence surging through him made Izuku shudder even as he ran. Two powers warred within him now - one a gift freely given, the other a legacy he was only beginning to understand.

Both terrified him in their own way.

Izuku shook off the memory as U.A.'s massive gates came into view. The prestigious hero academy loomed before him, its H-shaped building reaching toward the sky like something out of a dream. Security robots patrolled the perimeter, their red sensors scanning each approaching student.

This was it - the school that had produced All Might himself.

He put on an extra burst of speed, racing through the entrance. His feet had barely crossed the threshold when he slammed into what felt like a brick wall. The impact sent his notebooks scattering across the ground as he bounced backward, landing hard on his backside.

"Oof!"

Izuku blinked stars from his vision, looking up to realize the "wall" was actually a tall, muscular student with neatly parted dark hair and rectangular glasses. The boy's uniform was perfectly pressed, every button fastened with military precision.

"Are you alright?" The other boy adjusted his glasses with a precise motion, already reaching down to help Izuku up. His movements were almost robotically efficient.

"You seemed rather rushed. Excited for the examination? While enthusiasm is commendable, running on school grounds could be dangerous to yourself and others."

"I'm so sorry!" Izuku scrambled to gather his scattered notebooks, face burning with embarrassment. "But we're going to be late, the exam-"

The tall student's brow furrowed, his hand making a chopping motion through the air as he spoke.

"Late? The practical examination doesn't begin for another hour. As aspiring heroes, we should strive to be precise with our timing."

"What?"

Izuku pulled out his phone, then groaned as realization dawned. He'd set all his clocks an hour ahead as a precaution against exactly this kind of panic. "I can't believe this..."

A small chuckle escaped him at the absurdity of the situation. The other boy's serious expression cracked slightly, and soon both were smiling - Izuku's nervous and embarrassed, the tall boy's slight but genuine.

"I'm Izuku Midoriya," he offered, clutching his rescued notebooks to his chest.

"Tenya Iida." The boy bowed slightly, the motion as precise as everything else about him. "A pleasure to meet a fellow examinee."

Izuku's eyes widened with recognition. "Iida? Like Ingenium? The Turbo Hero?"

"Yes, he's my brother." Tenya's posture straightened even further with pride, chest puffing out slightly. "I hope to follow in his footsteps as a Pro Hero-"

"De-ku!"

The familiar roar made Izuku's blood run cold, cutting through the pleasant moment like a knife. He turned slowly, already knowing what he'd see. Bakugo was stalking toward them across the courtyard, hands crackling with barely contained explosions. His crimson eyes burned with a fury that Izuku knew all too well.

Not now. Please, not now. Not here.

He felt the familiar pressure building behind his eyes, that ancient presence stirring at the sound of Bakugo's voice. The notebooks in his arms suddenly felt very far away, as if someone else were holding them. That deep well of red began to pulse in time with his racing heart.

"Do you know him?" Iida asked, watching Bakugo's approach with mild concern. His hands moved in precise angles as he spoke. "His demeanor seems rather... aggressive."

Bakugo strutted toward them, hands in his pockets, radiating an arrogance that seemed to fill the courtyard. His school uniform was deliberately disheveled - top button undone, tie loose - a stark contrast to the other students' careful presentation. A few nearby applicants stepped aside, instinctively making way.

His laugh was sharp and mocking, cutting through the morning air.

"Look who decided to show up after playing sick! Did mommy have to write you a special note, Deku? Or did that sketchy doctor friend of yours fake another one?"

The familiar pressure built behind Izuku's eyes, that ancient presence stirring at Bakugo's voice - but something was different.

The rage that usually accompanied these taunts felt... distant, like thunder from a storm that had already passed.

Gran Torino's training had changed something in him, built a foundation of confidence that even Bakugo's presence couldn't completely shake.

I'm not that helpless kid anymore.

"Want to be slammed on the ground again, Kacchan?" The words left Izuku's mouth before he could stop them, surprising even himself.

But they felt right - a reminder of their last encounter, when Bakugo had learned that his former victim wasn't so easily pushed around anymore.

Bakugo's smug expression twisted into fury. Red eyes widened in rage as small explosions began crackling in his palms.

"You little-" He stepped forward, smoke curling from his hands -

Only to have someone crash right into him from behind with enough force to make him stumble.

"Oh no!"

A girl with short brown hair tumbled to the ground in almost exactly the same way Izuku had moments before, her entrance exam papers scattering around her like autumn leaves.

"Are you alright?" Iida was already moving to help, his earlier lecture about running apparently forgotten. His hand movements became even more pronounced with concern.

"That was quite a fall. We should be more mindful of proper walkway etiquette, especially on such an important day."

"Thank you!" The girl accepted his hand with a bright smile that seemed to light up her entire face.

She bounced back to her feet with surprising energy, only to immediately start patting her clothes in panic, checking her pockets and bag.

"Oh no, oh no! Am I late? The exam- I can't be late on my first day! My parents worked so hard to get me here-"

Izuku and Iida exchanged knowing glances before leaning forward in perfect synchronization, suddenly feeling like veterans of this particular crisis.

"Did you also set your alarm ahead?" they asked in unison.

The girl froze mid-panic, her round face blank with surprise. Then she burst out laughing, the sound warm and genuine.

"How did you know? Don't tell me you both-" She caught herself mid-sentence, brown eyes widening. "Oh! Where are my manners? I'm Ochaco Uraraka! Sorry for crashing into everyone!"

Izuku couldn't help noticing how her warm brown eyes crinkled when she smiled, the way her uniform complemented her curvy figure- he quickly looked away, face burning. What was wrong with him? This was an entrance exam, not a-

"How dare you ignore me-" Bakugo's voice crackled with the same fury as his palms, but Ochaco turned to him with innocent curiosity.

"Oh! You're the boy who was taken by the Sludge Villain!"

Recognition lit up her face as she turned to Izuku, practically bouncing with excitement.

"And you're the one who ran in to save him! I saw the video! My friend kept sharing it in our study group - 'Look at this crazy brave kid!'"

"I- uh-"

Izuku stammered, unused to anyone speaking about that incident with anything but criticism. His face felt like it might burst into flames.

"Of course, as future Pro Heroes we need to know what civilians shouldn't do in dangerous situations," she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin. Then she broke into another warm smile that made Izuku's heart skip. "But it was really brave! The way you just ran in there..."

She turned to Bakugo, her expression shifting to an adorable pout. "You should be thanking him, you know. Not everyone would risk their life like that!"

Bakugo’s eyebrows met as his red eyes flared with anger. He opened his palms to reveal crackling energy popping from his Quirk. He was going to raised it, had it not been for yet another interruption.

"Excuse me."

The voice cut through their conversation like a blade of pure composure. They turned to see a tall girl with a perfectly maintained black ponytail approaching them, every step radiating elegant confidence.

Izuku's eyes inadvertently caught the way her impressive figure filled out her uniform, the way she carried herself with almost aristocratic grace, and he quickly looked at his feet, face burning even hotter.

Are all UA applicants who are girls like this? he wondered desperately, trying to focus on anything else.

Between Ochaco's and this new girl's beauty, his brain was having trouble remembering this was an entrance exam, not a dating service.

"If you're here for the entrance exam," she said, holding up some papers with perfectly manicured fingers, "you might want to get these forms first. They'll tell you where to go later."

Her dark eyes swept over their group like a general assessing troops, lingering briefly on Bakugo's smoking palms.

"Assuming we're all here to become heroes?"

The four of them awkwardly followed her to the staging area in the gymnasium, where dozens of other applicants were already filling out paperwork. The smell of fresh paper and nervous sweat filled the air as futures hung in the balance of properly checked boxes and filled lines.

An hour later, Izuku's hand cramped as he worked through yet another comprehensive section. The written exam covered everything from basic grammar to complex arithmetic, current events to detailed Quirk analysis scenarios.

The latter made his eyes light up - metaphorically, this time - as he poured his years of hero study into each answer. For once, his obsessive note-taking might actually help him.

But all of that was just the prelude to what really mattered.

 

TWO HOURS LATER…

"WELCOME TO THE UA PRACTICAL EXAMS!"

Present Mic's voice boomed through speakers mounted on towering poles, making several students jump. A massive hologram materialized above them, showing the Pro Hero's larger-than-life figure grinning down at the assembled applicants.

"ARE YOU READY TO SHOW US WHAT YOU'RE MADE OF?"

Izuku stood before massive steel doors alongside his fellow applicants, his heart thundering in his chest.

Looking around, he could see similar groups positioned at different entrances across the sprawling facility. They'd been carefully divided and led down separate corridors, ensuring no one could coordinate or plan together. Through gaps in the walls, he caught glimpses of other testing grounds - each one a distinct cityscape waiting to challenge its participants.

Present Mic's hologram shifted, displaying a 3D map of their testing area. Different sections lit up as he spoke, highlighting various urban environments: commercial districts, residential areas, industrial zones.

"The goals are simple, listeners! Use your Quirks to take down as many villain-bots as possible in our mock city!"

The hologram changed again, showing three different robot designs. A small, agile unit skittered across the display. "One-pointers for the easy targets!" A medium-sized bipedal robot stomped into view. "Two-pointers for medium difficulty!" Finally, a massive mechanical beast crawled across the projection. "And three big points for the tough ones!"

Present Mic's grin turned predatory.

"But remember - there's only so many robots to go around, so you're competing against each other for those precious points! Score too low, and it's sayonara to your hero dreams!"

Surveillance drones buzzed overhead as Izuku's stomach churned.

This was exactly what All Might had warned him about. His eyes - his supposed Quirk - might help him analyze the robots, but what good was analysis if he couldn't actually defeat them? His body was still human, still breakable.

Around him, other applicants were already flexing their Quirks, preparing for battle.

Use the environment, All Might's words echoed in his mind. Think strategically.

Before he could finish the thought, Present Mic's hologram thrust both arms skyward:

"BEGIN!"

The doors groaned open with hydraulic power, revealing a concrete jungle waiting to test their worth as heroes. In the distance, mechanical whirs and metallic screeches announced their targets were already active, hunting for challengers.

 

TEN MINUTES LATER…

Minutes ticked by like hours as Izuku struggled against the mechanical menace. His fists ached from failed attempts to damage the robots' armor, each strike barely leaving a dent.

Izuku grunted in frustration, and on reflex dodged one of the robot’s attacks. It took a few more dodges from different robots using different methods - a sidestep here, a fierce jump there, and at some point even pushing a trash bin to create a distraction - for Izuku to realize how far he’d come. Had this been him a few months back, he would likely just squeal at the sight of the robots at him.

Now, all he remembered was Gran Torino’s voice in his head. That he was much stronger now, that the training with his body wasn’t just to improve his well-being, but to give him control over his body. Izuku felt his body respond to each mental command - where to push and exactly how, where to jump and exactly how far. He was no All Might, but he was certainly leaps and bounds much better than the Izuku before. If he could hazard a guess, he was probably dodging things better than the other competitors he’d seen whenever they weren’t using their Quirks.

Perhaps this was one advantage Izuku had from the others - all these years believing he didn’t have a Quirk, and all these months relying on his body for his survival, had made him more aware of his physical capabilities. This wasn’t something Quirk users had, and something he could use in a fight. He dodged another robot’s punch and used their momentum to bring them down. It didn’t destroy the bot, so it didn’t give him a point. But Izuku was damn well proud of what he’d been able to accomplish.

Gran Torino's training kept him alive - he dodged lasers and mechanical arms with newfound agility - but avoiding death wasn't the same as scoring points. Each failed attack reminded him of his powerlessness.

Everyone else weren’t slouches, either. Around him, other candidates were decimating the competition, their Quirks transforming the mock city into a mechanical graveyard.

Iida's performance particularly caught his eye. The engines in his calves roared to life with precise timing, blue flames erupting as he executed perfect roundhouse kicks. The exhaust provided not just propulsion but calculated torque, maximizing the impact of each strike.

Izuku watched in fascination as Iida methodically worked through a group of robots - first disabling their mobility with precise kicks to their joints, then following up with devastating blows to their power cores. Each movement was measured, efficient, like a well-oiled machine itself.

"Recipro Burst!" Iida called out, his engines suddenly flaring brighter. He became a blur of motion, destroying five one-pointers in rapid succession before his engines sputtered and needed to cool down.

Not far away, Uraraka was demonstrating her own strategic approach. She touched her fingertips to a fallen lamppost, and Izuku's analytical mind kicked in as he watched the metal suddenly become weightless in her grip.

A gravity manipulation Quirk, he realized. But there must be limits...

His theory proved correct as he watched her next moves. With visible strain, she swung the weightless post like a baseball bat, using its length to crush three robots at once. But the effort clearly took its toll - she'd pause between uses, one hand pressed to her mouth as she fought back nausea. Each time she released her Quirk, she needed longer to recover.

"Release!" she called out, dropping a particularly large piece of debris onto a two-pointer. She immediately doubled over, sweat beading on her forehead.

Some kind of physical limit, Izuku noted automatically. Maybe related to mass or duration...

Through the chaos, he caught glimpses of other impressive displays - a boy with rock-hard skin plowing through enemies, a girl using sound waves as weapons, someone controlling tape with remarkable precision. But he couldn't focus on their techniques, too busy searching desperately for any robot he might actually have a chance against.

His analytical mind wouldn't stop working, even in his growing desperation. Every robot he saw, he instinctively broke down its weaknesses, its attack patterns, its vulnerabilities - knowledge that was utterly useless without the power to exploit it. What good was seeing a joint weakness if he couldn't generate enough force to damage it?

Ten minutes gone, he thought, ducking behind a ruined wall. Not a single point.

 

50 MINUTES LATER…

A deafening explosion ripped through the air as Present Mic's voice echoed:

“TEN MINUTES REMAINING!”

Izuku's blood ran cold. Had time really passed so quickly? He'd been so focused on trying to find a way - any way - to take down even a single robot that he'd lost track of time completely.

Another explosion lit up the sky like artificial daylight, casting harsh shadows across the mock city. Bakugo soared above the battlefield, silhouetted against the sun like some vengeful deity. His savage grin was visible even from this distance as he reduced a three-pointer to molten scrap.

"Die!" he roared, palms crackling with deadly power.

The sound of his laughter echoed throughout the arena, a soundtrack to the destruction he wreaked. Each explosion seemed bigger than the last, as if he was reveling in this freedom to unleash his full power.

Bakugo's path of destruction painted a stark contrast to Izuku's situation. His childhood tormentor wasn't just passing the exam - he was dominating it.

And his laughter carried a familiar mocking edge, as if he knew exactly where Izuku was and how badly he was failing.

A laser blast from a nearby one-pointer forced Izuku to dive behind a concrete barrier. His breath came in sharp gasps as the reality of his situation crashed down on him.

Fifty minutes into the exam, and he hadn't scored a single point. His notebook-filled brain could recognize every pattern in the robots' movements, identify each weakness in their design - but what good was knowledge without the power to act on it?

Should I just give up? The thought tasted like acid in his throat.

Maybe mom was right. Maybe this was all pointless. Maybe I should just accept that some people aren't meant to be heroes.

The ancient presence stirred within him like a beast scenting prey, urging him to surrender to its power. At the same time, One For All pulsed beneath his skin with the promise of strength.

Both powers called to him, offered him the means to change his fate.

But All Might's warning echoed in his mind, crystal clear despite the chaos around him: using either power could destroy him before he even had a chance to become a hero.

Was he willing to risk everything? To gamble his future on powers he barely understood?

Another explosion lit up the sky, followed by Bakugo's triumphant laughter.

But a shriek cut from it just as fast.

Izuku spun toward the sound, his heart nearly stopping at what he saw. Uraraka was backing away from something emerging between the buildings, something that made even the three-pointers look like toys.

Metal groaned against concrete as a behemoth pulled itself up, easily five stories tall. Its crimson sensors focused on them with predatory intensity, scanning for targets. Each step it took shook the ground, sending tremors through the mock city's foundations. Armor plates thick as cars covered its frame, and its arms ended in weapons that looked designed for demolishing buildings rather than testing students.

The robot's shadow fell over them like an eclipse, and Izuku felt that familiar paralysis creeping in - the same fear that had gripped him so many times before.

This is worth three points? His mind raced, panic rising in his throat.

How are we supposed to- this can't be- there's no way-

Another scream from Uraraka snapped him back to reality. Debris had pinned her leg, trapping her as the mechanical monster advanced. Their eyes met across the rubble-strewn street, and suddenly he was seeing double - Uraraka's frightened face overlapping with two other memories.

First, the Sludge Villain incident, watching Kacchan struggling while everyone else stood frozen. But beneath that, more recent, was the face of that middle school student in the alley, cornered by bullies. The same fear in different eyes, the same need for someone - anyone - to help.

I haven't scored any points, his practical mind screamed.

I should run. I should find smaller robots. I should try to pass. Mom was right, this was crazy, I should-

But his legs were already moving, just like they had in the alley, just like with the Sludge Villain. The same instinct that had made him rush to save a stranger from bullies, that had driven him toward certain death to save even Kacchan - it burned through his hesitation like fire through paper.

The ancient presence stirred within him as his vision bled crimson, that familiar burn behind his eyes now feeling less like a curse and more like a gift.

For once, he didn't fight it.

Instead, he remembered the pride he'd felt helping that student stand up again, teaching him to be strong. He had power now - two kinds of power - and he refused to let them go to waste when someone needed a hero.

All Might's warning be damned, he thought as he ran.

The ground trembled beneath his feet as the robot took another thunderous step toward Uraraka.

Some things are worth the risk.

Behind his crimson eyes, that deep well of power surged up to meet One For All's light. For once, they didn't feel like opposing forces - they felt like tools waiting to be used by someone willing to pay the price of heroism.

As he ran, his enhanced perception kicked in with startling clarity. The world seemed to slow down as his crimson vision processed everything at once. This time, it felt like the crimson pit of rage inside Izuku didn’t overflow with pure anger.

It felt like an anger associated with helplessness, and how it would make sure Izuku would never feel that again.

Every detail about Uraraka's previous fights with the bots flashed through his mind like pages of a familiar notebook: her weight manipulation that could affect anything she touched with all five fingers, its limitations shown by her increasing nausea with larger objects, the precise timing between when she activated her Quirk and when she had to release it.

Alongside these observations, years of hero analysis flooded his consciousness. But this was different from his usual recall - it wasn't just remembering, it was like accessing a living database. Details he'd thought were just random trivia suddenly became tactical options, each memory a potential strategy waiting to be adapted.

Mt. Lady's techniques against large opponents - using their size against them by targeting joints and pressure points. Kamui Woods' momentum-based takedowns, especially that time when-

Izuku's eyes widened. The memory crystallized with perfect clarity: All Might and Kamui Woods taking down a giant villain. Woods using his branches to launch All Might at precisely the right angle, the Symbol of Peace's timing perfect as he struck the villain's weak point.

That's it!

The information clicked together like puzzle pieces forming a perfect picture. Uraraka's zero gravity combined with a launch trajectory... it was crazy, probably impossible, but it was the only plan he had. If his enhanced analysis was right, if his understanding of Uraraka's Quirk was correct, if One For All would actually respond to his call...

Too many 'ifs,' he thought. But no time for a better plan.

"Uraraka!" he shouted, praying his voice wouldn't betray his uncertainty. "When I say now, use your Quirk on me!"

She looked startled but something in her eyes showed understanding - or at least trust. She nodded, pushing herself up despite her trapped leg.

The robot's massive arm swept down toward them, its shadow blocking out the sun. Izuku felt One For All surge through him, responding to his desperation in a way completely different from the ancient rage he was used to. Where that power felt like drowning in blood, this felt like sunshine breaking through clouds, like hope made tangible.

"Now!"

The moment Uraraka's fingers touched him, he pushed off with everything he had. Just like in that fight he'd analyzed so many times - Kamui Woods launching All Might at the perfect angle - Izuku's weightless body soared toward the robot's core.

One For All surged through him like a dam breaking, raw power flooding every muscle fiber, every cell. His bones creaked under the pressure as lightning seemed to dance across his skin.

Time slowed as he rocketed upward. The power was too much, too fast - like trying to channel a tsunami through a garden hose. He could feel his muscles straining, tearing, as One For All sought release. But there was no turning back now.

His fist connected with the robot's crucial point. The impact reverberated through his entire body, starting from his fingertips and shooting up his arm like fracturing glass. Something snapped - multiple somethings - and white-hot agony exploded through his limb. But in that same instant, the robot's armor gave way.

The shockwave rippled through the mock city, windows shattering in its wake. The mechanical behemoth's chest cavity crumpled inward around his mangled fist before exploding outward in a shower of twisted metal and sparks.

The sound was like thunder, but Izuku barely heard it over the roaring in his ears and the screaming of his overtaxed body.

Pain unlike anything he'd ever felt consumed Izuku's world. His right arm hung like a broken puppet's limb, every slight movement sending waves of agony through his body. The ground rushed up to meet him as he plummeted, his mind too overwhelmed by pain to even feel afraid.

Beneath the agony, deep in that well of crimson, the ancient presence stirred. It had felt One For All's raw power surge through Izuku's body - felt it tear through muscle and shatter bone.

But instead of recoiling, the presence seemed... curious. Interested. Like a predator discovering a new kind of prey.

Then suddenly, the fall stopped. He was floating, caught in Uraraka's Quirk despite her own exhaustion. Their eyes met - his still blazing crimson, hers bright with a mix of amazement and concern - and they shared exhausted smiles. She looked as drained as he felt, her face pale from overusing her Quirk, but there was something else in her expression. Recognition, maybe. Understanding.

"TIME'S UP!"

Present Mic's voice boomed across the battlefield, ending whatever moment they might have shared.

Izuku's smile crumbled as reality crashed back in. The numbers flashed through his mind with cruel clarity: three points. He'd scored only three points in the entire exam. Not even enough to be considered a serious candidate.

I failed, he thought as his vision faded back to normal, the crimson bleeding away like hope down a drain.

I failed mom. Failed All Might. Failed everyone who believed in me.

The ancient presence stirred again in that deep well of red, as if sensing his despair. It whispered of other paths to power, darker roads to achieving his dreams. Ways that didn't require permission or approval from others.

He pushed the thoughts aside, but they lingered like shadows at sunset, promising strength without the constraints of heroic ideals.

His mangled arm throbbed in time with his heartbeat, a constant reminder of how unprepared his body had been for real power. But somewhere deep inside, past the pain and disappointment, another thought took root:

If this was what One For All could do unprepared, what might it accomplish with proper training?

The ancient presence stirred again at that thought, and this time, Izuku wasn't sure if he wanted to silence it.

What use will that training be if I’m not in UA to do it?

End.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.

It’s a bit different than the events that happened in the manga.

And I know it can be frustrating that Izuku is still weak, even though he has the sharingan.

But I’m structuring the story like this because the sharingan, powerful as it may make him, is a tool, and like any tool, it takes times until someone gets accumulated to it.

So don’t worry, he may be weak now, but soon, many chapters later, and he’ll be a powerhouse.

More Chapters are posted on my patreon Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

https://www.patreon.com/c/Demon_Knight939

 

We just don’t want to do it instantly.

Chapter Text

Here it is!

Chapter 6

I hope you all like this!

We finally get a glimpse of UA!

It's the Ball Exam, how will Izuku perform?

Start:

A WEEK LATER…

A week had passed since the entrance exam, and Izuku could no longer avoid what the envelope in his hands might contain. This was probably the end of the life he imagined in his dreams, and a rude awakening to the real life - that of a regular joe - he should live.

He remembered coming home after the exams, his mother's face pale with shock at his injuries. Even now, he couldn't help but smile slightly at the memory - how she'd alternated between scolding him and fussing over his arm, how she'd cried when she saw the extent of the damage. The doctors had been baffled by the injury pattern, as if his entire arm had tried to tear itself apart from the inside.

The bandage around his right arm felt tight as he walked toward Gran Torino's apartment. His promise to All Might echoed in his mind: they would face the results together, whatever they might be.

The UA logo gleamed on the envelope's surface, catching the late afternoon sun. Izuku's thumb still fiddled with the embossed logo, baffled at the strangeness of where he'd been now compared to where he was months before.

He almost brought a smile to his face. Strange truly was the term to use.

Strange, how much his life had changed in just a few months. Meeting All Might had seemed impossible enough, but discovering the truth behind the Symbol of Peace - that he was actually Toshinori, a man fighting his own private battle against time.

Then came the awakening of Izuku's own Quirk, that crimson power that sharpened his mind to a deadly point. And finally, One For All itself, passed down through generations to end up in his unworthy hands.

Maybe I could give it back, he thought, the envelope crinkling slightly in his grip.

There must be someone else at UA better suited to be All Might's successor.

The thought stirred something in that deep well of crimson inside him. The ancient presence rippled with possessive intent, like a dragon guarding its hoard.

The power was his now, it seemed to say.

All of it.

Izuku pushed the feeling aside, trying to focus on what he'd gained, regardless of the outcome. Meeting All Might, training with Gran Torino, learning to stand up for himself and others - maybe that was enough. Maybe-

The thought died unfinished as Gran Torino's apartment came into view. Behind that door waited All Might, ready to face whatever future the envelope contained.

When the door opened, Izuku found his rehearsed speech dying in his throat. Toshinori sat at Gran Torino's small table, somehow looking both frail and imposing in his skeletal form. The sight made Izuku's chest tighten - this man had believed in him, given him a chance, passed down his power.

And Izuku had managed only three points.

"I'm sorry," he started, the words tasting like ash. "I know you chose me to be your successor, but I-"

"Let's open it together first, young Midoriya." Toshinori's smile was gentle, lacking its usual bombastic energy. There was something in his eyes though - a glimmer that Izuku couldn't quite read.

"If you two are done with the dramatics," Gran Torino grumbled from his seat by the window, "some of us would like to know the results too."

The old hero's foot tapped impatiently against the floor, betraying his own tension.

"Been waiting all morning for this. Even missed my taiyaki break."

Izuku's hands trembled as he examined the envelope.

The paper felt expensive, heavy with possibility. But when he finally worked up the courage to open it, what slid out wasn't paper at all, but a sleek holographic plate.

"Is this...?"

"Ah, yes." Toshinori's skeletal face flushed slightly, color rising in his hollow cheeks.

"I had to record different messages for acceptance and rejection. Rather embarrassing, actually. The studio made me do several takes for each. Apparently, I kept slipping into my public voice even for the rejections."

A small laugh escaped Izuku despite his nerves. The mental image of All Might, Symbol of Peace, having to repeat his lines over and over, probably getting feedback from a director... it was almost surreal enough to make him forget what was at stake.

"Well?" Gran Torino's voice cut through his amusement like a knife. "Are you going to stare at it all day? Some of us aren't getting any younger here. And I'd like to know if all that training was worth missing my afternoon naps."

Taking a deep breath, Izuku placed the plate on the table. His bandaged arm ached as he pressed the activation button, a reminder of everything that had led to this moment. Light burst forth, coalescing into the massive figure of All Might in his hero form, his signature smile blazing.

"YOUNG MIDORIYA!" The hologram boomed, making everyone in the small apartment lean back slightly.

"I AM HERE TO TELL YOU…"

Izuku braced for the moment. He almost flinched.

Here it comes.

"YOU HAVE PASSED!"

Time seemed to stop. Izuku's mind refused to process the words, as if they were in a foreign language.

The plate slipped from his suddenly numb fingers, rescued only by Toshinori's quick catch.

Passed?

The word echoed in his head, bouncing off memories of the exam - his desperate dodging, his inability to defeat even the smallest robots, the final gamble that had left his arm in bandages. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense.

"But... how?" Izuku managed, still trying to process the news. "I was actually coming here to ask how to return One For All to you. So you could find a better successor…"

The room went suddenly, awkwardly quiet.

"Ah, about that..." Toshinori coughed into his hand.

"One For All... it's permanent, young Midoriya. Once transferred, it can't be given back to its previous user."

Izuku stared at him. Even the ancient presence in that crimson well seemed to stir with dark amusement, as if laughing at the cosmic joke.

All that worry about being unworthy, about returning the power, and it wasn't even possible?

"Wait."

Izuku's brain caught up with the implications.

"Then wouldn't it have been more practical to wait for someone to pass the UA entrance exam first? Before giving them an irreversible power?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Gran Torino slowly turned to look at Toshinori, who seemed to be trying to sink into his chair.

"I... that is..." The Symbol of Peace, defeater of All For One, actually squirmed under their combined stares.

"In retrospect..."

Gran Torino's palm met his forehead with an audible smack.

"Perhaps we should focus on the results?" Toshinori quickly pulled out another holographic plate, his movements almost desperate. "There's something you need to see."

The second recording flickered to life, casting the apartment in a gentle blue glow. A familiar round face appeared - Uraraka, still dusty from the exam. The hologram showed Uraraka in simple jogging pants and a sweatshirt, her hair slightly disheveled as if she'd rushed to record this. She sat on the edge of an infirmary bed, determination written across her features despite her obvious discomfort..

"Excuse me," hologram-Uraraka said, bowing slightly. "About that boy with the green hair..."

Izuku quickly recognized the description. She was going to talk about him.

"During the exam," she began, her voice steady but earnest, "I was pinned by debris. The three-pointer was approaching, and I couldn't free myself." She gestured to her bandaged foot, wincing slightly at the movement. "Everyone else ran. It was the logical thing to do - we were all competing for points, after all."

She leaned forward, her eyes intense. "But Midoriya-kun... he didn't even hesitate. He could have used that time to score points, to ensure his own success. Instead, he chose to help someone he barely knew. Someone he'd just met that morning."

Izuku stared at the recording, stunned. He hadn't even realized she'd noticed all that - he'd been so focused on the moment, on the need to help.

The memory of their first meeting flashed through his mind, both of them laughing about setting their alarms too early. Had that really been the same day?

"He risked everything," Uraraka continued, her eyes bright with conviction. "His own chance at UA, his safety... He ended up injured protecting me. If that's not what being a hero means, then I don't understand what we're all doing here. Points shouldn't matter more than saving lives."

"If heroism is measured only in points," she concluded, bowing deeply, "then maybe we need to reconsider what it means to be a hero."

The recording ended, leaving the room in thoughtful silence.

"She sent this appeal to the entire faculty," All Might said softly. "Not just to me. When they called me in to weigh in on your case, I remembered my promise not to interfere with the results."

A smile broke across his gaunt face.

"But how could I not be moved? This, young Midoriya, is exactly what I hoped for when I chose you."

Izuku glanced at his idol.

"What do you mean?"

"A hero isn't just someone who saves others. A true Symbol of Peace inspires people to be better, to help each other, to stand up for what's right. Young Uraraka could have stayed silent, accepted the results. Instead, she chose to speak up for someone else." Toshinori's eyes gleamed with pride. "That's the kind of influence I want my successor to have."

"So I really..." Izuku's voice cracked. "I really passed?"

"Welcome to UA, young Midoriya."

Izuku barely remembered the journey home, the holographic plates clutched protectively against his chest. He found his mother in the kitchen and practically dragged her to the living room, words spilling out in an excited jumble as he set up the recordings.

They watched together, mother and son, as All Might's massive form filled their small living room. Inko's tears started before the first recording finished, and by the time Uraraka's earnest plea ended, both Midoriyas were openly crying. "My baby," was all Inko could manage between sobs, pulling her son into a careful embrace that avoided his injured arm.

That night, their small apartment filled with the aroma of celebration. Inko prepared dish after dish, as if trying to make up for every moment she'd ever doubted her son's dreams with food. Izuku couldn't begin to remember the food he'd eaten, he just knew they weren't part of Toshinori's meal plan. At some point he thought he'd be scolded if Toshinori learned of this, but he laughed at the idea. All Might would probably want Izuku to celebrate. The feast was excessive, unnecessary, and perfect - much like the joy that threatened to burst from Izuku's chest.

His phone buzzed periodically throughout the evening - All Might's enthusiasm transmitted through exclamation points, Gran Torino's gruff pride conveyed in minimal text.

But the best messages needed no words at all - they were written in his mother's smile, in her eyes that wouldn't stop glistening with happy tears, in the way she kept reaching out to touch his shoulder as if making sure this wasn't all a dream.

As he lay in bed that night, staring at his All Might posters, Izuku felt something he hadn't experienced in years: pure, unrestrained hope.

Today, he'd walked to Gran Torino's apartment expecting his dreams to die. Instead, they were just beginning.

His life - his real life - was finally starting.

TWO WEEKS LATER…

Spring sunlight painted UA's gates in morning gold as Izuku approached, each step measured and purposeful. His breath came in steady rhythms - in through the nose, out through the mouth - a technique Gran Torino had taught him to manage pre-battle nerves. Though this wasn't a battle, his heart thundered as if it were.

He passed through the gate almost in a daze, the reality still not quite settling in. The weight of UA's uniform felt foreign yet right on his shoulders, and his hand unconsciously brushed the backpack where his gym uniform waited - that iconic blue-red-white combination he'd seen in so many sports festival broadcasts.

Soon, I'd be wearing it myself.

The bandage on his right arm was more precaution than a necessity now, though phantom pain still echoed when he thought too hard about One For All. Izuku closed his eyes, reaching for that familiar well of power inside him. The ancient presence stirred, and his vision shifted to crimson before clearing again. The Quirk responded to his will now, no longer requiring rage as fuel.

He caught his reflection in a window and almost didn't recognize himself. Gone was the timid slouch, replaced by straight shoulders and lifted chin.

Months of training had reshaped more than his mindset - his arms showed definition where once they'd been soft, his stance solid where it had been uncertain. Even his voice, when he spoke, carried weight it never had before.

Everything's different now, he thought, watching other students stream through the gates. Everything he'd worked for, every sacrifice and struggle, had led to this moment. The pain, the doubt, the countless hours of training - it was all paying off.

Izuku Midoriya wasn't just the Quirkless kid anymore. He was a UA student, successor to All Might, carrier of two incredible powers.

And this was just the beginning.

"Midoriya-kun!"

The call broke through his reverie. Izuku turned to see a familiar tall figure striding toward him, glasses gleaming in the morning sun. Iida's movements were as precise as ever, each step measured as if he were still in the entrance exam.

"I'm glad to see you made it," Iida said, adjusting his glasses with that characteristic chopping motion of his hand. "After witnessing your performance against the three-pointer, I had hopes we'd be seeing each other again. Though I must admit, your strategy was quite reckless."

A few months ago, such criticism would have made Izuku shrink into himself. Now, he found himself smiling. "Sometimes the right choice isn't the safe one."

"Indeed!" Iida's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "That's precisely what I realized watching you. It made me question my own approach to the exam. Which class were you assigned?"

"1-A," Izuku replied, still adjusting to how steady his own voice sounded these days.

"Excellent! We'll be classmates then. I was hoping-"

A blur of movement caught Izuku's peripheral vision. Before his conscious mind could process it, his body was already moving. The crimson flickered in his vision for just a split second, time seeming to slow as his enhanced perception kicked in.

He saw everything at once - Uraraka's stumbling form, the angle of her fall, the precise point where gravity would take over. For a split-second, his mind remembered this exact instance when they first met just a few weeks ago. Uraraka tripping on her right foot, the backpack falling at a particular angle because of the way she walks, her body tilting as she fell on the ground. These memories turned into puzzle pieces that rearranged into place, and all that's left was for Izuku's limbs to put them in the right position.

Izuku's body moved with a fluidity that surprised even him. One hand caught Uraraka's arm while his other hand snatched the girl's falling backpack from the air. He twisted, using the momentum to help Uraraka regain her balance rather than just catching her weight. The movement felt natural, as if he'd practiced it a hundred times, though he knew it was his enhanced perception guiding his muscles.

The whole sequence took less than two seconds.

"That was impressive!" Iida's eyebrows rose above his glasses. "Your reflexes have improved significantly since the entrance exam. Have you been training?"

Izuku blinked, the crimson fading from his vision. He hadn't even meant to use his Quirk - it had activated on its own, as if recognizing a need before he did.

"Yeah, I've been working with... a mentor."

"Thank you, Izuku-kun!" Uraraka beamed at him, a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

She knew his name?

The young adult in question nearly blushed in realization.

Ochako's eyes widened as she recognized him fully. "Oh! And I'm so glad you passed! Though after what you did in the exam-" She caught herself, suddenly looking embarrassed. "I mean..."

"I should be thanking you," Izuku started, remembering the hologram recording. "What you said to the faculty-"

"No, no!" Her blush deepened, hands waving frantically in front of her. "You earned it all on your own. What you did... saving me instead of getting points..." She looked down, fidgeting with her uniform's sleeve. "That was real heroism. I just... I just made sure they understood what actually happened out there."

"Still," Izuku said softly, "not everyone would have spoken up."

"Not everyone would have saved a stranger either," she countered, meeting his eyes with unexpected intensity.

The moment between them lingered, charged with something Izuku couldn't quite name. But then he felt it - that familiar presence, that spike of hostility that made the ancient force within him stir. Even before he heard the distinctive tch, he knew who was approaching. His body tensed instinctively, muscle memory from years of being prey.

Bakugo walked with the same arrogant swagger he'd always had, one hand casually draped over his shoulder holding his backpack. His free hand opened and closed rhythmically, small sparks dancing between his fingers like angry fireflies.

Each tiny explosion seemed to punctuate his steps, a reminder of the power he'd used to dominate their childhood.

Bakugo's expression was impossible to read - somewhere between a sneer and a snarl, as if he couldn't decide whether to be amused or enraged at finding Izuku here.

The sight triggered a memory with painful clarity: standing before their class at Aldera Junior High, trembling but determined as he announced his intention to apply to UA. The laughter that had followed. Bakugo's face that day had been pure fury, molecules of sweat already igniting around his hands. "If I see you anywhere near UA," he'd growled, "I'll kill you."

But Izuku wasn't that powerless kid anymore. The presence in his crimson well stirred, reminding him of the strength that now coursed through his veins. Before Bakugo could spit out his usual insult, Izuku straightened his spine and met those crimson eyes directly.

"Good morning, Kacchan."

Bakugo's steps faltered for just a fraction of a second, caught off guard by the direct greeting. His face twisted into something uglier, more primal. Izuku knew Bakugo was just annoyed that he called him Kacchan as much as he hated being called Deku.

"Well, well. Look who actually showed up." His voice dripped with venom, each word calculated to wound. "Did mommy have to write another special note for you?" His eyes flicked to Izuku's bandaged arm. "One lucky shot with your fancy new Quirk and suddenly you think you belong here? Where was that power all those years I was putting you in your place, huh?"

Beside him, Izuku heard Iida's sharp intake of breath, and felt Uraraka stiffen in shock. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees as they processed the implications of Bakugo's words.

"Midoriya-kun," Iida started, his voice tight with barely contained outrage, "did he just say-"

His hands curled into fists at his sides, and that ancient presence surged up like a tide of blood, whispering of vengeance long overdue.

It would be so easy to show Bakugo exactly what he could do now, to make him understand what it felt like to be powerless. His vision started to tint red at the edges, that familiar burn building behind his eyes.

But Izuku forced his fingers to relax. He was better than that now. Had to be better than that. All Might hadn't chosen him to seek revenge - he'd chosen him to become a hero.

Then again, All Might didn't say I couldn't fight back with words.

The thought came suddenly, and before Izuku could second-guess himself, the words were already leaving his mouth.

"Pretty bold talk from someone who couldn't even free himself from the Sludge Villain."

His voice was steady, almost casual. "I wonder if everyone in the entrance exam saw that footage? You know, the one where you needed saving?"

The silence that followed was deafening. Iida and Uraraka stood frozen, as if afraid any movement might trigger an explosion.

Bakugo's face went through several shades of red, his hands completely still for the first time since he'd approached.

"I-I'm kidding!" Izuku forced a nervous laugh, but inside, he purred with satisfaction at finally saying what he'd held back for years. At watching Bakugo taste even a fraction of the humiliation he'd dealt out so freely.

Bakugo's whole body tensed, sparks crackling around his palms as he started forward - but the sharp ring of the morning bell cut through the tension like a knife.

As they headed toward their classroom, Izuku committed this moment to memory. The look on Bakugo's face, the feeling of finally standing his ground. This was his dream school, his chance at becoming a hero. He wasn't about to let anyone - not even Bakugo - bully him into submission here.

AN HOUR LATER…

Classroom 1-A buzzed with first-day energy, and Izuku found himself falling into his old habit of mental note-taking. Each classmate was a study in unique abilities and personalities, future heroes in the making.

"Get your feet off that desk this instant!" Iida's voice cut through the chatter. "Such behavior is disrespectful to our upperclassmen who used this desk before us!"

"Hah?" Bakugo's sneer was audible. "What crawled up your ass, four-eyes? Did the stick get stuck?"

A red-haired boy nearby burst out laughing. "Come on, guys, let's all be friends here! I'm Kirishima, by the way!"

Uraraka had already found her social circle, settling easily into conversation. "The robots were really scary, weren't they?"

"Kero, they weren't so bad once you figured out their weak points," the frog-girl responded. "I'm Tsuyu Asui, but please call me Tsu."

"Jirou Kyouka," the earphone jack girl introduced herself, twirling one of her jacks absently. "Those things were pretty loud though. Made them easy to track with my Quirk."

Near the window, the ponytailed girl maintained her elegant distance, though Izuku caught her watching the class interactions with careful attention. The boy with dual-colored hair beside her seemed content in their shared silence.

"Hey! You're the guy who took down the three-pointer, right?"

Izuku turned to find two boys at his desk. The shorter one bounced excitedly.

"I'm Mineta! Man, that was incredible! How did you even-"

"I'm Sero," tape-boy interrupted with an easy grin. "Don't mind him, he gets excited. But seriously, that was some move you pulled in the exam."

"Oh, uh, thank you," Izuku managed. "I'm Midoriya Izuku."

"No need to be so formal!" Mineta insisted. "We're all going to be heroes together, right?"

The bell rang for first period, but no teacher appeared. Minutes ticked by in growing uncertainty.

"Where's our homeroom teacher?" the boy with multiple arms wondered aloud, each hand fidgeting nervously.

"Perhaps they're running late?" suggested the bird-headed student, though he didn't sound convinced.

"A teacher being late on the first day?" Iida looked scandalized, glasses glinting as he checked his watch for the third time. "Surely not at UA-"

A sharp yelp cut through the classroom as someone near the front stepped on what appeared to be a yellow sleeping bag. The bundle moved.

"Did... did that just move?" Uraraka whispered, gripping her desk.

"A caterpillar?" Tsuyu tilted her head, tongue slightly protruding in confusion.

"Oh no," Mineta's voice trembled as he leaned closer to Izuku's desk.

"I've heard about this. It's him - Erasure. My buddy in general studies said he failed his entire class last year. Just expelled them all on the first day!"

Izuku felt his stomach drop. What kind of teacher would-

The thought died as the figure emerged from the sleeping bag with fluid, predatory grace. Dark hair hung in unkempt strands over eyes that suddenly blazed crimson, the capture weapon around his neck rising like awakened serpents. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet as his irritated gaze swept over them.

The class collectively held its breath. Someone's pencil dropped, the sound deafening in the silence.

"If you're all done with the meaningless chatter," Erasure drawled, his voice carrying a deadly sort of boredom, "maybe we can begin. Though I'm already unimpressed with your awareness levels. A Pro Hero was in the room for ten minutes and none of you noticed."

The silence deepened. Even Bakugo's feet found their way to the floor, his usual bravado momentarily dampened by those glowing red eyes. Izuku felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck. What had he gotten himself into?

"Now then," Erasure continued, stepping fully out of his sleeping bag with calculated indifference, "let's not waste any more time. My name is Aizawa Shouta. I'll be your homeroom teacher." His eyes narrowed, scanning each face as if already deciding their fates. "Assuming any of you make it past today."

Make it past today? Izuku's mind raced. The ancient presence stirred within him, sensing danger, but even it seemed wary of the man before them.

"Let's begin our lesson."

MINUTES LATER…

The spring air felt cool against their faces as Class 1-A gathered at the sports field, now dressed in their PE uniforms. Izuku's fingers tightened around his worn notebook as Erasure explained the assessment.

"You'll be taking eight physical fitness tests," their teacher drawled, dark eyes scanning the group. "The difference is, you're free to use your Quirks however you see fit." A pause. "Though some of you might want to keep your abilities... private. For now."

Something in his tone made Izuku's spine tingle.

As the tests began, Izuku's pencil flew across the page. Bakugo's explosions propelled him to a stunning fifty-meter dash time. Uraraka made the softball throw look trivial by eliminating gravity entirely. Iida's engines carried him through every speed-based challenge with mechanical precision.

"What's with that ratty notebook, Deku?" Bakugo's voice carried its usual edge. "Still playing hero analyst?"

Before Izuku could respond, Kirishima had already bounded over, sharp teeth gleaming in curiosity. "Hey, what's that? You're writing pretty intensely!"

"Oh, um..." Izuku clutched his Hero Journal closer, years of having it mocked or destroyed making him instinctively protective. But the faces around him showed genuine interest, not the derision he was used to. "It's my Hero Journal. I've been analyzing Quirks and hero techniques since I was little..."

"Can we see?" Ashido bounced over, her black and gold eyes wide with excitement.

Izuku hesitantly opened the worn notebook, revealing pages dense with observations, diagrams, and detailed analysis. His latest entries were already filling with notes about his classmates - Yaoyorozu's creation process, the precise angle of Iida's engine exhausts, the chemical composition theories behind Bakugo's explosions.

"Whoa," Kaminari leaned in, whistling. "This is like pro-level analysis!"

"You've documented all of our Quirks already?" Yaoyorozu asked, genuine impression in her voice. "The technical detail is remarkable."

Even Erasure seemed to pause in his note-taking, his eyes flickering briefly to the gathering around Izuku's notebook. The corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been amusement.

"Make sure you write down all our good points!" Ashido called out, performing a particularly acrobatic side-step during the agility test. "When we're famous Pro Heroes, historians will want to know about our humble beginnings!"

"Yeah!" Sero added, using his tape to swing through the obstacle course. "Document my journey to becoming the best mobility hero!"

"Tch." Bakugo turned away, but Izuku caught the way his next explosion was slightly bigger.

Throughout the tests, Izuku watched his classmates shine. Todoroki created ice paths to glide through challenges effortlessly. Tsuyu's frog-like abilities made the flexibility tests look trivial. Tokoyami's Dark Shadow carried him through strength challenges, while Uraraka's zero gravity gave her an edge in anything involving weight or distance.

Izuku's own performance remained stubbornly average. His grip strength, while improved from training, couldn't compare to Shoji's multiple arms. His running speed, though better than before, was nothing next to Iida's Engine. Even the side-step test, where he tried to apply Gran Torino's movement techniques, only earned him a middle-range score.

The electronic scoreboard updated mercilessly after each event. Bakugo and Todoroki traded the top position, while Yaoyorozu's versatile Quirk kept her consistently high. Izuku watched his own name slide steadily downward, each test pushing him further from safety.

"Don't worry, Midoriya-kun." Iida's hand landed on his shoulder as they waited for the next test. "Many Quirks take time to manifest properly in new environments. I'm sure yours is just... adjusting to UA's prestigious atmosphere!"

Ojiro nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and your physical form is solid. You've clearly trained hard."

Izuku managed a weak smile, wondering what they'd think if they knew the truth - that one of his powers could shatter his bones, while the other... He felt the ancient presence stir restlessly, like a caged beast watching prey from behind bars.

From across the field, Erasure's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He asked the students to line up where he stood.

AN HOUR LATER…

"For the final test," Erasure held up a softball, his expression unreadable, "you'll demonstrate your throwing capacity." His eyes swept across the gathered students before landing on Izuku.

"Oh, and one more thing. The student who scores lowest in total points will be expelled. Immediately."

"For the final test," Erasure held up a softball, his expression unreadable, "you'll demonstrate your throwing capacity." His eyes swept across the gathered students before landing on Izuku. "Oh, and one more thing. The student who scores lowest in total points will be expelled. Immediately."

The announcement hit like a bucket of ice water. Izuku felt his stomach drop as he glanced at the scoreboard where his name hovered dangerously close to the bottom.

"That's not fair!" Uraraka protested. "It's only the first day!"

"Fair?" Erasure's capture weapon writhed slightly.

"Natural disasters aren't fair. Villain attacks aren't fair. If you're looking for fair, the door's right there."

The atmosphere shifted dramatically after Erasure's announcement. What had been friendly competition transformed into a battle for survival.

Bakugo's throw was like watching contained warfare, his explosion creating a sonic boom that made several students cover their ears. "Die!" he roared as the ball vanished into the distance. 705.2 meters.

Todoroki's approach was coldly efficient - a path of ice launching the ball skyward. 711.6 meters. Yaoyorozu's custom-designed cannon sent her ball flying in a perfect arc. 698.3 meters. Uraraka's infinity score - evidently gravity-powered - still dominated the board, but everyone was giving everything they had.

When Izuku stepped up to throw, the field fell oddly quiet. He could feel their eyes on him - some curious, some pitying, all waiting. They'd seen glimpses of his analytical skills, heard about his feat with the three-pointer. Surely there was more to him than these mediocre scores?

The ball felt like lead in his hand. Izuku closed his eyes, reaching for that familiar burn. His vision tinted crimson as he analyzed every angle, every possible technique. He thought of the rage that had driven him for so long - rage at being helpless, at being dismissed. The ancient presence stirred, eager to show its power.

No. Not that way.

Instead, he remembered his training. All those months at Takoba Beach, learning to lift and throw with proper form. The way different objects required different approaches, how leverage could maximize force. Gran Torino's lessons about using his whole body, not just his arms.

Izuku took his stance, implementing everything he'd learned. His form was perfect - the twist of his torso, the follow-through of his arm, the timing of his release. Without enhancement from either Quirk, it was technically flawless.

The ball sailed through the air in a clean arc.

46.5 meters.

Someone exhaled sharply. He heard Uraraka's small "oh" of disappointment. Even Bakugo laughed.

"Line up," Erasure called, his tone giving nothing away.

As they formed their line, Izuku felt numb. All that training, all that analysis, and in the end... was this where his dream died?

Not with a bang, but with a perfectly executed throw that simply wasn't enough?

Izuku's mind raced with possibilities. Would he have to leave UA? What would he tell his mother? The ancient presence churned restlessly within him, angry at being held back, at being made to look weak-

"Now then," Erasure's voice cut through his spiral of thoughts. Iida's hand landed on Izuku's shoulder, meant to be reassuring, but Izuku could feel the tension in his grip.

The whole class held its breath.

"About that expulsion rule..." Erasure's face stayed perfectly neutral.

"It was a logical ruse."

The silence that followed was deafening.

"What?" The class erupted in a mixture of relief and disbelief.

"A rational deception to draw out your best performances," Erasure added, looking almost bored.

Nervous laughter broke out among the students. "Man, I was really worried!" Kaminari clutched his chest dramatically.

"See? I told you it had to be a test!" Yaoyorozu nodded sagely, though color was returning to her cheeks.

"Midoriya!" Uraraka bounced over, beaming. "Isn't it great? We were all so worried-"

But Erasure's voice cut through the celebrations like a blade. "Consider this Lesson One at UA," he commanded their attention. The chatter ceased almost immediately. Erasure spoke without so much as a pause.

"Every day here could be your last. Pro Heroes risk everything every time they step into action. They put their lives, their futures, their everything on the line each time they face a villain."

The statement echoed in Izuku's mind. It was exactly the same speech Toshinori had given him in the rooftop where they first met. When Toshinori revealed he was All Might, and everything that entailed.

He saw Erasure's eyes swept across the group. "The world isn't fair, so don't expect UA to be fair either. We're here to prepare you for that reality."

As the class dispersed, still chattering with relief, Erasure's voice stopped Izuku. "A moment, Midoriya."

The others filtered away, leaving Izuku alone with their teacher. Erasure's eyes seemed to pierce right through him, calculating and cold.

"I saw the entrance exam footage," he said without preamble. "That three-pointer incident. One impressive display and a classmate's plea got you through the door. But what I saw today..." His capture weapon shifted slightly, like restless snakes. "Your physical form is decent. You've clearly trained. But you're holding back, and not out of strategy."

He stepped closer, and Izuku felt the weight of those analytical eyes.

"You can't control your Quirk. It's written all over your performance. The way you hesitate, the way you compensate with physical ability alone."

His voice carried no judgment, just cold fact.

"Even if I don't expel you, something at UA will. The training here is intense, designed to push you past your limits. Students who can't control their powers?"

He gestured to the sports field. He pointed at the vastness of the field, but his eyes seem to focus on the scoreboard that have yet to clear their scores. Izuku glanced and saw his name at the very bottom. Aizawa continued.

"They break."

Erasure's capture weapon settled.

"This isn't a place for people who can't use their power properly. Your analytical skills are impressive, your determination is clear, but that won't be enough. Not here." His eyes narrowed. "Start working on that Quirk, Midoriya. The next test won't be a logical ruse."

The warning hung in the air between them, equal parts threat and challenge. Something in Erasure's tone suggested he knew more than he was saying about Izuku's situation.

"Yes, sir," Izuku managed, his throat dry.

Erasure turned away.

"Welcome to UA. Try to survive it."

MINUTES LATER…

When Izuku returned to the classroom, his classmates' animated chatter about Erasure died down. Their eyes turned to him, a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"What, did he actually decide to kick you out after all?" Bakugo's mocking tone cut through the silence. "Finally came to his senses?"

"N-no," Izuku replied weakly, bracing for the usual ridicule. But it never came.

"Of course not!" Mineta bounded over, purple balls bouncing. "Hey, show us more of those notes you took! The way you broke down everyone's Quirks was amazing!"

"Indeed!" Iida's hand chopped through the air enthusiastically. "Your analytical capabilities could be invaluable for our collective growth as heroes!"

The rest of the day passed in a blur of new experiences, each hour bringing something Izuku had only seen in UA promotional materials or dreamed about in his room.

This was the first day, so each hour with the teachers should've been just about an introduction to their courses. Instead, each introduction with their teachers included a glimpse into the lessons they were going to experience. With each rundown of the things they will learn throughout the year came with the encouragement to ask them anything they could think of at the moment, so the teachers would also know what the students would be expecting of them.

What an innovative way of teaching, thought Izuku, his own Quirk seemingly stirring with excitement. His mind already started racing across things he wanted to ask.

Present Mic burst into their English class with his signature "YEAH!", the volume making several students jump. His introductory lesson on hero communication wasn't just about grammar - it was about quick, clear instructions during crisis situations, about understanding international rescue protocols.

Midnight's summary of Modern Hero Art History turned out to be far more intense than anyone expected. She traced the evolution of hero costume design through the ages, explaining how each era's fashion reflected its approach to heroism. "Your costume isn't just for looks," she'd said, cracking her whip for emphasis. "It's a statement about what kind of hero you want to be."

Cementoss's Mathematics overview wasn't about simple equations either. He presented them with structural integrity problems, teaching them to calculate force distribution and impact angles. "Heroes need to know exactly how much force they can apply," he explained, demonstrating with his own Quirk. "One miscalculation could bring down an entire building."

Between classes, Izuku found himself surrounded by curious classmates - all impressed with ideas Izuku had come up with in his notes after just seeing them use their abilities in the physical exams that morning. Kaminari wanted to know more about his analysis of electrical Quirks. Jirou was impressed by his understanding of power output calculations.

Even Yaoyorozu stopped by his desk between classes, her usually composed demeanor showing genuine interest as she leaned over to study his notes.

"Your ideas about what other things I could create in mid-combat..." she mused, dark eyes scanning his diagrams. "I hadn't considered approaching it from that angle." A slight smile crossed her face. "Perhaps we could compare notes sometime?"

Izuku felt his face heat up at her proximity, very aware of her leaning over his desk. From the corner of his eye, he caught Uraraka watching them, her usual bright expression dimming slightly before Tsuyu drew her attention away with a quiet "Kero."

But none of these interactions carried the weight of that morning's assessment. The memory of Erasure's warning lingered beneath every moment, every new lesson. Izuku caught himself taking extra notes about control techniques, about precision and restraint. His Hero Journal gained new sections focused on Quirk regulation and safety protocols.

When the final bell rang, Izuku packed his bag in a daze. For the first time in years, he wasn't rushing to leave before Bakugo could catch him at the gate.

Izuku's phone buzzed just as students began filtering out of the classroom. Recognizing the caller ID, he quickly excused himself from his classmates as he talked to his mentor on his way down the main academy doors.

Izuku passed fellow students rushing to their evening classes or also about to go home. The young man relished the walk outside the building, as this was the very halls his idol walked during his younger years.

"Young Midoriya," Toshinori's voice carried its usual warmth. "How was your first day?"

"All Might!" Izuku lowered his voice, checking that no one was nearby. "It was... intense. Especially Aizawa-sensei. He threatened to expel the lowest scorer in our Quirk assessment test."

A wheezing laugh came through the phone. "Ah yes, his famous 'logical ruse.' He got me with that one too, back when I first started teaching here."

"You too?" Izuku couldn't help but smile, imagining even the Symbol of Peace falling for Erasure's trick.

"Don't let his demeanor fool you," Toshinori's voice grew more serious. "Aizawa may seem harsh, but he's one of the best teachers you could have for learning Quirk control. You're in good hands."

Izuku fidgeted with his bandaged arm. "When... when do we get to have you as a teacher?"

"Soon enough," Toshinori chuckled. "But for now, focus on surviving Aizawa's class. And Young Midoriya?"

"Yes?"

"I'm proud of you."

The warmth in those words stayed with Izuku long after he'd hung up.

"Midoriya-kun," Iida called as Midoriya headed toward the exit. "I noticed we take the same train line. Perhaps we could walk to the station together? It would be more efficient to establish a routine early in the semester."

"Oh! Yes, that would be nice," Izuku found himself saying, the words feeling foreign but right.

Bakugo passed them without a word, his usual aggressive stride carrying him ahead. Something in Izuku wanted to call out, to try one more time to bridge that childhood gap. But the ancient presence stirred, reminding him of years of torment, of pushed-down rage and helplessness.

No, Izuku realized. He's just a classmate now. Nothing more.

The setting sun painted the sky in shades of crimson, reflecting in the windows of UA's massive building. As Izuku watched, that familiar presence stirred within him, but differently this time.

Instead of the usual rage that burned like fire, he felt something wave through him - like a great paper fan pushing him up from his pit of despair.

This feeling... Izuku closed his eyes, letting the sensation wash over him. Like that fan - uchiwa... no, Uchiha...

The word echoed in his mind, and something ancient stirred in recognition, like a sleeping tiger shifting in its cave.

Uchiha.

"Midoriya-kun?" Iida's voice cut through his thoughts. "About the station?"

"Oh! Yes, sorry," Izuku shook off the strange moment, though the warmth lingered.

As they walked away from UA, Izuku felt that deep well of power pulse in response to the crimson sky, hungry and eager. But for once, he understood the feeling. Not a desire for vengeance or raw power, but something else - a burning need to prove himself, to grow stronger, to finally live the life he'd only dreamed of.

He was walking home as a UA student, as a future hero.

Not as Deku, but as Izuku. As himself.

End.

Hope you all liked the chapter.

More Chapters are posted on my Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

https://www.patreon.com/c/Demon_Knight939

See you all on the next update.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7 right here!

I Hope you all enjoy this, because it's going to be a blast.

Before you all start though, just a heads up, since we're slightly diverging away from canon, in the sense that izuku met gran torino early, that this is a university, etc… I'm making it so that the time and events are more spaced out.

So for example, the USJ arc hasn't occurred yet when you read this chapter. (sounds obvious but if you look down below the "Start", you'll notice the time-skip, and it's because we want to make the story more gradual.

And this also allows Izuku to be stronger and more attuned to the sharingan and One for All, yes everyone's growing stronger, but Izuku's rate of growth is much higher than everyone else.

Anyway, I've said enough, enjoy lads.

Start:

THREE MONTHS AFTER CLASSES STARTED…

The chattering was endless.

Tomura Shigaraki stood among the small crowd gathered near the UA High gates, his hoodie pulled low over his face. The summer heat made the fabric stick uncomfortably to his skin, but it was better than drawing attention.

Tomura's daily walks had become a ritual of sorts - staying just close enough to UA University to observe, but far enough to avoid their security measures. Kurogiri had spent weeks mapping out the camera locations, grumbling the entire time about unnecessary risks.

"This is an itch I need to scratch," Tomura had told him, and Kurogiri knew better than to argue further. There was something satisfying about walking these streets, watching the institution that churned out his enemies.

Here, in these hallowed halls, they shaped their precious heroes - and here, he would tear it all down.

His fingers twitched in his pockets as he listened to their mindless prattle.

"Did you see Present Mic on his morning show? My daughter loves him - says she wants to be just like him when she grows up!"

"Pfft, Midnight's the real star. Have you seen her latest rescue footage? Pure class!"

"Yeah, but nobody beats Eraserhead when it comes to practical hero work. Did you hear he's teaching at UA University now too?"

The urge to silence them crawled up Tomura's neck like insects. His fingers found their way to his skin, scratching, scratching.

Five points of contact.

That's all it would take.

Just five fingers, and their meaningless chatter would crumble to dust.

CONTROL YOURSELF. YOU ARE BETTER THAN THIS BASE INSTINCT.

The command rang through his memories, his Master's voice cutting through the fog of violence. Tomura's hand trembled as fragments of his past surfaced - small hands covered in dust, a dog's collar with no dog, a woman's face crumbling away. His Master had taught him to harness that pain, to transform it into something greater than mere destruction.

"Remember what happened to them. To her," he had said. "Channel that rage where it belongs."

In his mind's eye, he saw it clearly - UA University crumbling beneath his touch, walls cascading down like dominoes. Heroes scrambling to save their precious students, only to disintegrate at his fingertips. Civilians fleeing in terror, their screams a symphony of chaos.

Tomura could almost feel it, the concrete turning to ash beneath his feet as he climbed higher, reaching the top of the rubble mountain he'd created. A monument to destruction. His masterpiece.

The fantasy was intoxicating. His fingers twitched with anticipation, the itch growing stronger, more demanding -

His phone buzzed. A message from Kurogiri:

"Drop made. Behind Kiyashi Market, usual spot."

The interruption soured his mood, but it grounded him. There were steps to follow. A plan. The itch would have to wait.

As he walked through the backstreets, Tomura's thoughts drifted to their mysterious informant. He'd never met the mole - his Master's careful planning at work - but for their sake, the intelligence better be worth the investment. Failure wasn't an option. He'd take particular pleasure in watching another fraud crumble between his fingers.

The market's service alley was deserted this time of day, the dumpsters creating convenient shadows.

Behind a loose brick in the wall, he found what he was looking for - the latest issue of "Rising Stars," UA University's student paper.

The irony wasn't lost on him: their pride made them predictable. Every issue was a roadmap to their training methods, their schedules, their weaknesses - all wrapped up in glossy pages and self-congratulatory prose.

Tomura thumbed through the pages, jaw clenching at the headlines.

"Class 1-A's Rising Talents!"

"Future Pro Heroes: A Look Inside UA University's Elite Program!"

"Student Spotlight: Innovation in Quirk Development!"

Tomura's eyes scanned frantically for any mention of All Might, but found nothing. Again. Every few weeks, this same ritual. Every few weeks, this same disappointment.

A photo spread about UA's new training facilities caught his eye - or rather, something in it did. Among the pristine equipment and staged poses, there was an oddly candid shot: a green-haired kid with an awkward laugh, surrounded by classmates, facing off against a scowling blonde with violent red eyes.

Tomura's gaze lingered on the image longer than he intended before he turned the page with a click of his tongue.

The paper crinkled in his grip. These children, playing at being heroes in their pristine campus, celebrated before they'd even earned their licenses.

How many of them would wash out? How many would end up as sidekicks, their dreams of glory crushed by reality?

Page after page of researcher interviews, student achievements, innovations in Quirk studies - all meaningless without information about All Might.

Kurogiri's words echoed in his head:

"Master would want you to be observant. The smallest detail could reveal our enemies' weaknesses."

Tomura clicked his tongue in irritation. What was there to observe? Every page just screamed to be destroyed. Every smiling face begged to be turned to dust. He didn't want to study them - he wanted to end them.

But Master's methods had gotten them this far. The mole. The intelligence. The waiting. Soon enough, they'd show their weaknesses. And when they did, he'd make sure the symbol of peace wasn't around to save them.

THAT DAY, HOURS LATER…

The classroom door slid open with enough force to make several students jump, the sound cutting through their usual morning chatter. Aizawa shuffled in, looking more disheveled than usual as he pushed a cart loaded with metallic briefcases.

But it wasn't their homeroom teacher's entrance that caused the sudden hush falling over Class 1-A.

"Good morning, future heroes!"

Midnight sauntered in behind him, her hero costume hugging every curve as she strutted to the front of the room. The R-Rated Hero lived up to her reputation, her presence commanding attention in ways that had nothing to do with heroics.

Several students suddenly found their textbooks fascinating, while others couldn't seem to remember how to blink.

"Sweet merciful - " Sero's eyes went wide before a massive hand clamped over his mouth.

"Keep it together, man," Satou whispered, though his own cheeks had reddened noticeably. He cast a worried glance at Mineta, who seemed to be having trouble breathing. "Hey, you okay? Need some sugar to calm down?"

"I think I've died and gone to heaven," Mineta managed between wheezes, eyes nearly popping out of his head. "Did you see the way she - "

Satou's other hand gently but firmly turned Mineta's head toward the front of the room.

"Focus on the briefcases," he muttered, though he couldn't quite hide his own flustered expression. "Just... look at the briefcases."

"Is it getting hot in here?" Kaminari tugged at his collar, electricity crackling slightly in his hair.

"Dude, you're literally sparking," Jirou jabbed him with one of her jacks, though her own face was slightly pink.

From his seat, Izuku noticed even Todoroki seemed affected, a thin layer of frost forming on his right side while steam rose from his left. The usually composed Yaoyorozu cleared her throat and adjusted her already perfect posture, while Iida's hands chopped the air with even more vigor than usual, as if trying to dispel certain thoughts through sheer motion.

"If you're all done," Aizawa's voice carried its usual exhausted irritation. His capture weapon writhed slightly as he spoke, making several students sit up straighter.

"During enrollment, you submitted hero costume designs with your applications." He gestured to the cart with a resigned sigh. "They're ready."

The energy in the room transformed instantly.

Even Todoroki, who typically regarded everything with cold indifference, lifted his head with interest. Yaoyorozu began reviewing what looked like technical specifications, while Kaminari practically vibrated with excitement.

"Finally!" Ashido bounced in her seat, her black and gold eyes sparkling. "I've been dying to see how mine turned out!"

"This is gonna be so manly!" Kirishima pumped his fist, his sharp teeth gleaming.

Satou reached into his pocket, pulling out what looked like a small candy bar. "Been saving this for a special occasion," he grinned, breaking it in half and offering a piece to Sero. "Sugar rush to celebrate?"

In his seat, Izuku's hands tightened on his desk.

The costume design he'd submitted – it had gone through countless iterations in his notebooks over the years. Each detail carefully considered, inspired by heroes he'd studied. Even after discovering his Quirk, he'd kept most of the original elements, though he'd made subtle modifications to accommodate both his Sharingan and One For All. Now it wasn't just sketches anymore. It was real.

"Form a line," Aizawa droned, already looking like he regretted this entire process. "When I call your name - "

"FUCK YEAH!" Bakugo exploded out of his seat, small detonations crackling in his palms. "Time to show these extras what a real hero looks like!"

"Sit. Down."

Aizawa's eyes flashed crimson, his hair rising ominously. Bakugo dropped back into his chair with a scowl, though the hungry grin never left his face.

"As I was saying," Aizawa continued once order was restored, "collect your case when called. Then - " his tired expression gained an edge that made several students swallow nervously, " - we'll be testing them. Live combat scenarios."

The excited murmurs turned anxious. Izuku felt his stomach twist.

Combat scenarios?

His eyes darted around the room - Uraraka biting her lip but looking determined, Iida already taking rapid notes about proper costume maintenance, Satou cracking his knuckles with a nervous smile.

"Oh, this is going to be fun!" Midnight's laugh echoed through the suddenly tense room. "Nothing reveals a hero's true character like their first real fight!"

"Plus," she added with a wink that made Mineta collapse back in his chair, "it's always exciting seeing how students interpret their hero personas through costume design."

Aizawa picked up the first briefcase, checking its label with exaggerated weariness.

"Aoyama..."

As his classmates began collecting their cases one by one, Izuku's mind raced with possibilities. His Quirk was still new, its abilities not fully mapped. In a real fight, against his classmates' diverse Quirks... His hand unconsciously touched his face, just below his eye.

The ancient presence stirred within him, eager for combat, but Izuku pushed it down. He'd have to be careful.

Very careful.

"Midoriya."

Izuku started at Aizawa's call, nearly tripping as he hurried forward. As he took his case, its weight felt significant - not just physically, but symbolically.

This wasn't just a costume. It was the first step toward becoming the kind of hero he'd always dreamed of being.

"Hurry up," Aizawa grumbled. "Satou, you're next."

Satou stepped forward, his usual friendly demeanor showing through despite his obvious excitement.

"Man, I can't wait to see how they handled the reinforced elements for my Sugar Rush," he grinned, accepting his case. "The support department must've had fun with all our weird requirements, huh?"

Izuku couldn't help but smile at his classmate's enthusiasm. They were all taking their first real steps toward becoming heroes, each in their own way. Even Bakugo's aggressive impatience seemed more anticipatory than angry.

But as Izuku returned to his seat, briefcase clutched carefully to his chest, he couldn't shake a feeling of unease. Combat scenarios meant his classmates would see his abilities - both of them - in action.

And something told him that once they did, nothing would be quite the same.

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

The bell above the bar's hidden entrance chimed softly as Tomura slipped inside, having doubled back twice to ensure no one had followed him. The newspaper was crumpled in his fist, pages wrinkled beyond repair. Stale air and dim lighting greeted him - a welcome change from the oppressive summer heat outside.

"Welcome back," Kurogiri's misty form solidified behind the counter, already reaching for a glass. "I trust the retrieval went smoothly?"

Tomura scratched at his neck, dropping onto a barstool. His other hand slammed the crumpled newspaper onto the counter.

"Why are we waiting?" The words came out in a hiss.

"I could tear down half their precious university before they even knew what was happening. Start with the dorms, maybe. Watch them scramble like ants when their sanctuary crumbles - "

The itch intensified, spreading from his neck to his chest. With trembling fingers, Tomura reached for one of the severed hands he kept close, pressing it against his face.

The familiar sensation washed over him - a twisted comfort, each discolored finger a reminder of his purpose.

This hand, preserved in its decay, brought an odd sense of calm. He know who this belonged to at the back of his head, locked in the deepest recesses of his mind. Only the itched remained, now abated by the fingers' sensation.

The scratching slowed, but the anger remained, simmering beneath his skin.

Kurogiri's yellow eyes dimmed slightly, his misty form exhaling what might have been a sigh.

"We've been through this, Tomura," he said, his tone carrying the weight of countless similar conversations. He set a drink in front of his charge, the glass frosted with condensation.

"Even Master, with all his power, was forced to retreat into the shadows. The Pro Heroes don't just control the streets - they control how people think, what they believe is right and wrong."

His mist swirled slowly, deliberately.

"Master could have razed cities, turned their precious moral order into ashes. But he understood that to truly destroy something, you must first understand how it works. We have to rot their institution from within before we can tear it down completely."

The glass in his hands caught the dim light as he polished it.

"Only then can we return the world to what it should be - a place where power isn't masked by false righteousness. Where destruction and hatred flow freely, as nature intended. But first, we must be patient."

Tomura's eyes rolled behind the hand clasped to his face. The same sermon, always the same. He could practically mouth the words along with Kurogiri at this point - every time the itch became unbearable, every time for the past few months he suggested simply reducing UA to rubble.

But Master had assigned Kurogiri to him for a reason. The misty bastard was meant to help build his empire of fear, so Tomura would endure these tedious lectures.

For now.

"Savoring," he spat the word like poison, though his grip on the hand against his face loosened slightly.

"I'm tired of watching. Observing. Reading their pathetic little school paper." His fingers drummed against the glass, not quite making contact. "Every day they parade around, playing at being heroes - "

"And every day," Kurogiri cut in, his tone measured but firm, "we gather more intelligence. Learn their patterns. Their weaknesses." He gestured to the crumpled newspaper. "Their pride makes them predictable. When the time comes, you won't just damage UA - you'll obliterate it. And everyone will watch, powerless to stop you."

Tomura's scratching slowed.

"You sound like Master."

"Because I was there," Kurogiri's form seemed to darken, memories shifting through his misty substance. "I watched him build and destroy, build and destroy. Each failure taught him something new. Each setback made him stronger."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Do you know why he chose you, Tomura Shigaraki?"

The hand on Tomura's face twitched. Something cold crept into his voice. "To destroy everything."

"No."

Tomura's eyes snapped to meet Kurogiri's. He hasn't expected this kind of retort. Kurogiri's response was unusually sharp.

"Any villain can destroy. But you…" Tomura felt Kurogiri intentionally slow down, to pace himself, "You understand the fundamental rot beneath their heroic smiles. You've felt it since you were a child. Master saw that in you. The potential to not just destroy their world, but to make them question everything they believe in."

Tomura's red eyes fixed on Kurogiri, his fingers unconsciously moving to his neck again.

"And these stupid papers? These reconnaissance missions?"

"Are teaching you to see beyond mere destruction. Notice how they structure their classes, how they pair their students, how they train their next generation."

Kurogiri's mist condensed slightly, becoming more focused. In the yellow eyes beneath the void of the smoke surrounding his head, Tomura sensed… nostalgia.

"Every detail is a weapon, Tomura. Master didn't just teach you how to destroy - he taught you to understand what you're destroying. That's what makes you different from common thugs who just want to watch things burn."

The silence that followed was heavy. Tomura's hand finally left his neck, reaching for the glass.

"And what if - " he paused, considering his words carefully, "what if I find something interesting in all this... observation?"

Kurogiri's yellow eyes gleamed. "Then Master's lessons are finally taking root."

"Because Master understands the value of patience." Kurogiri began wiping down glasses, a habit that seemed more human than necessary for his form. "This isn't punishment, Tomura. This is preparation. The greater the anticipation, the sweeter the victory."

The promise in those words was almost enough to quiet the constant itch beneath his skin.

Almost.

Tomura lifted the glass with practiced care - four fingers only, never five.

"And our little spy? Any sign they might crack under pressure?"

"They know the consequences of failure." Kurogiri's form darkened slightly. "As do we all."

Tomura took a sip, letting the cool liquid ease his throat. The itch remained, but it was duller now. Manageable. He could wait. He would wait.

After all, what was destruction without an audience to appreciate it?

AN HOUR LATER…

The boys' locker room buzzed with excitement as cases clicked open and costumes emerged. Izuku held his breath as he lifted the lid of his own case, the support department's meticulous packaging crinkling under his fingers.

"Man, they really went all out with the reinforced material!" Satou grinned, flexing his arms in his new costume's sleeves. The yellow jumpsuit looked simple at first glance, but closer inspection revealed sophisticated reinforcement across stress points where his Sugar Rush Quirk would affect his muscles most. "Should hold up even when I bulk up now."

"Looks solid," Ojiro nodded approvingly, his own martial arts uniform designed with a special opening for his tail. "We should spar sometime - test how they handle combat stress."

"You're on! Though maybe after I've had a sugar boost," Satou laughed, securing his distinctive yellow mask. "These support department folks think of everything, huh?"

On the other side of the room, less wholesome conversations were developing.

"Dude," Mineta whispered to Sero, though not quite quietly enough, "do you think Yaoyorozu's costume will really be like her design submission? You know, with the..." He made a gesture that earned him a light smack from Sero's tape.

"Keep it down, man!" Sero hissed, though his own cheeks reddened. "But yeah, I mean, her Quirk needs exposed skin to work, right? So technically it's practical..." He trailed off, earning knowing snickers from those nearby.

"And did you see Midnight earlier? If that's what Pro Heroes wear, then maybe - " Mineta's next comment was cut off by another of Sero's tape strips.

Izuku felt his face burning, trying to focus on his own costume instead of their implications about their female classmates. But when he finally pulled out his hero costume, all other thoughts faded away.

Green.

That was his first impression - a deep, forest green that seemed to absorb and reflect light in equal measure. The material felt both sturdy and flexible as he lifted it, understanding flowing through him as he recognized elements he'd sketched so many times in his notebooks.

The mask caught his eye first - white and rigid, designed to protect while incorporating the signature smile that had inspired him for so long. Not an exact copy of All Might's, but an homage - his own interpretation of that symbol of hope. His fingers traced the reinforced material, remembering all those sketches in his Hero Journal, all those dreams of standing tall like his idol.

The rest of the costume balanced practicality with symbolism. The green jumpsuit featured white lines that would glow faintly in darkness, creating a pattern reminiscent of lightning or flowing energy - perfect for One For All. Reinforced pads at knees and elbows would help with his new fighting style, while the red boots offered both protection and stability for his improved mobility.

But it was the gloves that made his breath catch. Carefully designed to withstand the force of his punches while providing the precise control he'd need for both his powers. At least, this was the theory - there's no way to know if they can withstand One For All's powers unless he actually uses them. And on each palm, subtle but unmistakable - the same smile pattern, miniature versions of the one on his mask. A reminder that every action, every punch thrown, should be in service of bringing hope to others.

"Yo, Midoriya!" Kirishima's voice broke through his reverie. "You gonna put it on or just stare at it all day?"

Izuku quickly began changing, but his mind kept drifting to what this costume represented. This wasn't just clothing - it was his first step toward becoming the kind of hero he'd dreamed of being.

Each piece felt like putting on a new identity, transforming him from Izuku Midoriya into something more.

As they filed out toward the simulation zone, Izuku couldn't help but marvel at his classmates' costumes. Each one told a story about its wearer's aspirations and personality.

Todoroki's outfit was elegant in its simplicity - a white jumpsuit with a beige combat vest. Iida's armor gleamed with mechanical precision, every plate and joint designed to complement his Engine Quirk. Bakugo's gauntlets promised explosive power, while his mask's sharp grin seemed to dare anyone to challenge him.

Fumikage's dark cloak rippled dramatically as they walked, while Aoyama's sparkled with what had to be actual crystals. Shoji's outfit adapted seamlessly to his multiple arms, and Kaminari's design incorporated conductive materials that sparked slightly as he moved.

"Looking good, everyone!" Satou called out encouragingly, his mask unable to hide his infectious enthusiasm. "We actually look like real heroes!"

"That's the idea," Ojiro replied with a knowing smile, his tail swishing behind him. "Though looking the part is just the beginning."

They emerged into the sunlight of the training ground, where the girls were already waiting. Izuku felt his face heat up again as he realized Mineta and Sero's earlier comments hadn't been entirely exaggerated - some of the costumes were more... revealing than others.

He quickly focused his gaze forward, though he couldn't help noticing how each female classmate's costume reflected their individual approach to heroics.

Uraraka's sleek design emphasized mobility, while Asui's frog-themed outfit perfectly complemented her Quirk. Yaoyorozu's costume, while revealing, was clearly designed for maximum efficiency with her Creation ability. Ashido's acid-resistant material sparkled in the sun, and Jirou's outfit incorporated her audio equipment seamlessly.

Standing there in formation, costumes gleaming in the morning light, they looked like a real hero team. Not students playing dress-up, but future defenders of peace. Each costume represented not just its wearer's powers, but their dreams, their ideals, their vision of what a hero should be.

Izuku touched his mask, feeling the smile beneath his fingers. All Might's smile had given hope to millions. Maybe someday, this smile - his smile - would do the same.

"Alright, heroes-in-training," Aizawa's voice cut through their moment of collective awe. "Time to see if those costumes are more than just fancy fashion statements. Training Ground Beta. Now."

As they marched toward their first real combat training, Izuku felt that familiar presence stir within him, his eyes threatening to shift to crimson. But for once, it didn't feel like rage or power-hunger. It felt like anticipation. Like readiness.

Like hope.

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

The TV in the corner crackled to life, static cutting through the bar's silence.

Through the hazy footage, a silhouette emerged - features obscured but presence unmistakable, like a dark star bending reality around itself.

"I trust our little bird delivered today's intelligence?" Master's voice filled the room, smooth yet carrying an edge that made Tomura's grip tighten on his glass.

"Tell me, Tomura... what caught your eye in today's reading?"

Tomura's gaze flickered to the crumpled newspaper.

That photo of the green-haired student and his angry classmate flashed in his mind, stirring something uncomfortable in his memory.

"Nothing about All Might," he started, but something in Master's silence made him pause. The hand against his face felt heavier suddenly, each finger a reminder of his purpose.

Master never asked idle questions.

Every word was calculated, every silence pregnant with expectation. One wrong answer could mean disappointment - though Master never showed it openly. He'd just smile that unchanging smile, and the punishment would come later, subtle and sharp, like decay spreading through healthy tissue.

The itch returned, crawling up his neck with vengeful intensity.

"Just more propaganda," he spat, fingers finding their familiar scratching rhythm. "Hero wannabes prancing around their fancy campus, learning how to fight pickpockets and rescue cats from trees."

"Is that all you see?" Master's voice carried a hint of amusement. "Look deeper, Tomura. What else?"

But Tomura was already standing, the barstool scraping against the floor like nails on glass.

"All this training - for what? To become better at hiding? To master the art of avoiding security cameras?"

The scratching intensified, skin beginning to flake beneath his nails.

"Weeks of doubling back, checking my tail, reading their worthless paper. Some Symbol of Fear I am, skulking in shadows like a common thug."

His laugh was harsh, bitter, echoing off the bar's empty bottles.

"The only ones feeling fear are us, aren't we? Always watching our backs, always waiting for the 'right moment.' Always..." his voice cracked slightly, "...following rules."

"Rules exist to be broken," Master interjected softly, "at precisely the right moment."

"And when is that moment?"

Tomura's voice rose, charged with years of festering hatred.

"What's the point of this little group if we never act? While we hide, they worship their false gods in broad daylight."

The hand on his face trembled with barely contained rage.

"You promised me glory in destruction after everything I've suffered. Everything I lost."

His next words came out as a whisper, dangerous and sharp.

"Was I just some street rat you pitied? Or am I really your instrument of chaos? Because right now - " he gestured at the crumpled newspaper, " - it seems like you never intended for me to incite any real fear at all."

Kurogiri remained perfectly still, his misty form barely rippling. The bartender's silence spoke volumes - he was already anticipating Master's orders for later punishment. Tomura knew it too, but he was beyond caring.

"Tomura."

Master's voice cut through the tension like a surgeon's blade, still carrying that unchanging pleasantness that made it all the more terrifying.

"You disappoint me. Not with your question - but with your lack of vision."

The shadow on the screen shifted slightly, leaning forward as if to share a secret.

"Your Decay is magnificent precisely because it destroys in an instant. But tell me, which is more satisfying: watching a single wall crumble, or seeing an entire structure collapse because you've methodically destroyed its foundation?"

Tomura's scratching slowed, his attention caught despite himself.

"All Might revels in the moment of saving," Master continued, his tone almost contemplative. "He swoops in, smiles for the cameras, basks in instant gratification. And that, my child, is his weakness. But you..."

There was pride in his voice now, twisted and dark.

"You must learn to savor the inevitable. The slow rot. The creeping decay that spreads unseen until everything is primed to fall."

The static on the screen intensified briefly, like reality itself disturbed by Master's presence. "Don't let impatience rob you of your perfect moment. When you strike - and you will strike - it won't just be destruction. It will be their complete undoing."

Tomura's hand lowered slightly from his face, revealing a rare glimpse of the scarred skin beneath.

"And this waiting, this watching... it's all part of that?"

"Every great work requires proper preparation," Master's smile was audible in his words. "Timing is everything. Kurogiri?"

"The preparations proceed as planned," Kurogiri answered smoothly, professional as ever. His misty form seemed to darken with satisfaction. "Our network is in position. We await only your signal."

"Excellent."

Master's presence filled the screen completely now, though his features remained shadowed.

"You see, Tomura? Everything has its season. Your moment will come—and when it does, no amount of heroic intervention will stop what we've set in motion."

"And what exactly have we set in motion?" Tomura asked, a new edge in his voice. Not defiance now, but curiosity.

"The end of their age of peace," Master replied simply. "And the beginning of yours."

In the silence that followed, Tomura's fingers traced the edges of the newspaper photo again. Those students, so proud in their new costumes, had no idea what was coming. The thought brought a smile to his face, hidden beneath the hand of his father.

Maybe Master was right.

Maybe there was something satisfying about watching prey fatten itself for slaughter.

The TV screen erupted into static, Master's presence vanishing as abruptly as it had appeared. The harsh electronic noise filled the bar for several uncomfortable seconds before Kurogiri calmly reached over and switched it off.

"You should consider yourself fortunate," Kurogiri's misty form rippled slightly as he resumed polishing glasses. "Master was in a generous mood today. Your... outburst could have warranted correction."

Tomura slumped back onto his barstool, scratching intensifying.

"This waiting is punishment enough." His red eyes fixed on Kurogiri through the gaps between the fingers pressed against his face. "When exactly are we going to strike? What's this grand plan everyone keeps hinting at but won't explain?"

His voice took on a dangerous edge.

"Or am I just a puppet being strung along?"

"Now, now," Kurogiri's tone carried a warning beneath its professional smoothness.

"As Master said, patience is key. The Symbol of Fear shouldn't concern himself with trivial details." He set down the glass he'd been polishing, yellow eyes gleaming. "Let me handle the logistics while you focus on what's truly important – savoring the moment when it all comes together."

"And what exactly is coming together?" Tomura's fingers drummed against the bar, not quite making contact. "More reconnaissance? More waiting? More - "

"A performance," Kurogiri cut in, his misty form expanding slightly. "One that will make history remember your name. Trust me when I say this, young Tomura – what we're planning will shake their society to its very foundation."

Something in Kurogiri's tone made Tomura pause his scratching.

"You sound... excited. You never sound excited."

"Because I've seen the full scope of what's coming." Kurogiri's usually professional demeanor cracked slightly, revealing a glimpse of genuine anticipation. "The pieces we're moving into place, the dominoes we're setting up... When they fall, it won't just be UA that crumbles. It will be their entire system of false heroics."

Tomura leaned forward slightly. "Is there anything specific Master wants me to do? Besides..." his lip curled beneath the hand on his face, "...waiting?"

"Actually, yes." Kurogiri's form seemed to darken with pleasure. "You might want to prepare a speech for when All Might dies at your hands. Something suitable for the history books."

The scratching stopped entirely. Tomura's eyes widened behind the hand, then narrowed with malicious glee.

"A speech?" A raw laugh escaped him. "I like that. I like that a lot."

His free hand spread across the bar's surface, fingers splayed. "Something to say while I watch him crumble to dust?"

"Think bigger," Kurogiri advised, his mist swirling with unusual animation.

"This won't just be an assassination. It will be the moment that marks the end of their era and the beginning of yours. The death of the Symbol of Peace and the rise of the Symbol of Fear – all captured for the world to witness."

"To witness..." Tomura's voice took on a dreamy quality.

"Yes... yes, that's perfect. Let them watch their precious hero turn to dust. Let them see their symbol crumble while I - "

He stopped suddenly, head tilting.

"Wait. You said 'captured.' Are we planning something public?"

"All in good time," Kurogiri's professional mask slipped back into place. "For now, focus on your role. The Symbol of Fear should project... appropriate menace. Consider how you'll present yourself. What message you want to send. After all..." his yellow eyes gleamed, "if we're making history, we should make it memorable."

"Oh, it'll be memorable."

Tomura's fingers curled against the bar's surface.

"I've got years of messages saved up for our dear Symbol of Peace. Years of watching him prance around, spreading his lies about justice and hope." His laugh turned harsh. "I'll make sure his last moments are filled with despair. Make him understand exactly what he's leaving behind."

"Good," Kurogiri nodded approvingly. "Channel that anger. Refine it. But remember - this isn't just about All Might. It's about everything he represents. Their entire corrupt system needs to be exposed before it's destroyed."

"Exposed?" Tomura's scratching resumed, but slower now, more thoughtful. "You mean we're not just going to kill him?"

"Death would make him a martyr," Kurogiri explained, his voice dropping lower. "But if we destroy not just his body, but everything he stands for? If we reveal the lies behind their heroic façade?" His mist darkened with satisfaction. "That's the kind of decay that can't be reversed."

"Break him before destroying him," Tomura mused, warming to the concept. "Make him watch his precious peace crumble before he does." A grin spread beneath the hand. "Make sure everyone watches it crumble."

"Now you're thinking like a true Symbol of Fear."

Kurogiri began preparing another drink, his movements precise and measured.

"The plan may seem complex, but your role is beautifully simple: be the face of their nightmares. The villain who brought down All Might. The one who showed the world that their peace was always an illusion."

Tomura accepted the fresh drink, lifting it carefully with four fingers.

"To making history then," he said, his voice carrying an edge of genuine anticipation. "And to speeches worth remembering."

"Indeed." Kurogiri's form rippled with dark amusement. "Though perhaps we should work on your public speaking first. Your last villain monologue was a bit... raw."

"Everyone's a critic," Tomura muttered, but there was no real anger in it. His mind was already composing speeches, imagining the moment when All Might would kneel before him, when the world would watch their symbol turn to dust between his fingers.

Yes, he thought, taking a careful sip. I can wait a little longer for that.

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

Training Ground Beta loomed before them, its towering urban structures casting long shadows across the gathering students. The morning sun glinted off their new costumes as they waited, an air of anticipation hanging thick in the air.

"For this Battle Trial," Aizawa drawled, looking even more exhausted than usual, "I won't be providing the briefing." His capture weapon shifted slightly as he stepped aside. "Your instructor will be - "

"I AM HERE!"

All Might's voice boomed across Training Ground Beta as he landed in a three-point stance, concrete cracking beneath his feet. Rising to his full height, he flashed his signature smile, somehow even more brilliant in person than on TV. "Coming through like a - "

He glanced around, cape billowing.

"Ah, the door was supposed to be here! Well, the dramatic entrance still counts!"

"It's really him!" Kaminari whispered, electricity crackling in his hair from excitement.

"The Symbol of Peace himself," Yaoyorozu added, maintaining her composure despite the clear admiration in her voice.

"Man, look at those muscles!" Satou grinned beneath his mask, flexing his own considerable arms. "That's what I'm aiming for when my Sugar Rush is at full power!" He turned to the students around him, enthusiasm infectious. "Can you believe we're actually going to learn combat from All Might himself?"

Even Bakugo's usual scowl softened slightly, though he quickly covered it with a derisive "tch" when he caught Izuku looking.

"Before we begin," All Might announced, producing a small notebook that looked comically tiny in his massive hands, "let me explain today's exercise! Heroes spend most of their time fighting villains indoors - in homes, offices, secret bases! So today, we'll simulate those conditions with our INDOOR BATTLE TRIAL!"

He produced a script from somewhere, squinting at it briefly before continuing with renewed enthusiasm.

"Most villain encounters happen indoors! While flashy TV shows love showing heroes fighting in the streets, the real pros spend most of their time in buildings! Offices! Homes! Secret underground lairs!"

Pulling out a small box, he explained the setup.

"You'll be divided into hero teams and villain teams! Two-on-two battles!" His eternal smile somehow widened. "The scenario is simple: villains have hidden a nuclear weapon in the building. Heroes must either retrieve it or capture the villains. Villains win by protecting it until time runs out or capturing the heroes!"

"A nuclear weapon?" Yaoyorozu raised her hand. "Isn't that a bit..."

"FEAR NOT! It's just a prop! Though a very expensive one, so try not to destroy it completely!" All Might laughed heartily. "Remember, you're indoors! Think carefully about how and when to use your Quirks!"

He produced another box, this one marked with "LOTS" in bold letters. "Now then! Let's draw lots to determine teams!"

The random selection process began, each student drawing their assignment with varying degrees of excitement or apprehension. Izuku's heart thundered in his chest as he reached into the box, pulling out his lot.

"Oh!" Uraraka's face lit up as she bounced over to Izuku. "We're partners!"

Izuku managed a nervous smile, his mask hiding his slight blush. After their encounter at the entrance exam, being paired with Uraraka felt like fate giving him another chance to prove himself.

"And they'll be facing..." All Might dug through the lots dramatically, "Team D! Young Iida and Young Bakugo!"

The temperature seemed to drop several degrees as Bakugo's eyes locked onto Izuku.

Small explosions crackled in his palms, his grin turning feral. Beside him, Iida adjusted his glasses with mechanical precision, already looking contemplative about their upcoming battle.

"You'll be our second match of the day!" All Might announced, either missing or choosing to ignore the crackling tension. "Everyone to the observation room! Let's watch Young Todoroki's team show us how it's done!"

As they filed toward the monitors, Izuku's mind raced with possibilities. Bakugo would be coming for him specifically - that much was certain. But Iida's presence added a whole new dimension to the challenge.

Speed and power, a dangerous combination.

"We can handle them," Uraraka said quietly beside him, her determined expression visible through her helmet's visor. "Your analytical skills, my zero gravity... we'll find a way."

Izuku nodded, grateful for her confidence. The ancient presence stirred within him, eager for the coming confrontation, but he pushed it down. They had time to plan while watching the other matches. Time to think. Time to prepare.

"Right," he replied, reaching for his backpack. "Let's learn everything we can from these first two battles."

His hand found his Hero Journal as they entered the observation deck. Whatever was coming, he'd face it with every tool at his disposal - his notes, his training, and now, a partner who believed in him.

Behind them, Bakugo's voice carried its usual edge: "Enjoy taking notes, De-ku. Won't help you when I'm done with you."

The crimson threatened to rise in Izuku's vision, but he focused instead on opening his notebook to a fresh page. He had two matches to analyze before their turn.

Two matches to figure out how to win.

MINUTES LATER…

Izuku already had his Hero Journal out before they reached the monitors, fresh page ready. Satou peered over his shoulder curiously.

"You really analyze everything, huh?" he asked, not unkindly. "Mind if I watch too? Might learn something useful for my own match."

"O-of course!" Izuku nodded, surprised but pleased by the interest. "Actually, I've been curious about how your Sugar Rush works with different types of - "

"FIRST MATCH!" All Might's voice cut through their conversation. "Hero Team: Young Todoroki and Young Shoji! Versus Villain Team: Young Ojiro and Young Hagakure!"

The monitors showed multiple angles of the battle building. Izuku's pencil flew across the page as the teams took their positions.

"This'll be interesting," Satou commented, leaning closer to watch. "Ojiro's martial arts against Todoroki's raw power. Plus Hagakure's stealth..."

"But Shoji's sensory abilities could counter that," Izuku muttered, already sketching quick diagrams. "And if Todoroki's power is anything like his father's..."

The six monitors in the observation room gave multiple angles of the mock building. Izuku's pencil moved rapidly as he watched both teams take their positions.

"Villain team gets five minutes to set up!" All Might announced. "Heroes, use this time to strategize!"

On screen, Ojiro and Hagakure moved the nuclear weapon to the top floor.

"Smart," Satou commented. "High ground advantage. Plus all those stairs and corridors give them more chances to ambush."

"Look at Ojiro's positioning," Izuku pointed. "He's using his tail to test the floor's structural strength. They might be planning to - "

"TIME'S UP!" All Might's voice boomed. "HERO TEAM MAY NOW ENTER THE BUILDING!"

Instead of entering, Todoroki turned to his partner.

"Shoji-san, please wait outside."

"What's he planning?" Satou wondered aloud.

Izuku's eyes widened as understanding hit. "The temperature - "

Before he could finish, a massive wave of ice erupted from Todoroki's right side. It wasn't just a simple freeze - the ice climbed the building's exterior like a living thing, crystalline structures blooming across windows and walls. Inside, the temperature plummeted.

"He's not just trapping them," Izuku muttered, sketching frantically. "The ice is spreading through the building's infrastructure. Look at how it follows the support beams!"

Through the internal cameras, they watched Ojiro react instantly. His tail slammed into the approaching ice wall, shattering it temporarily. "Don't let it reach you!" he called out. "Hagakure, get to higher ground!"

"Too late!" someone in the observation room gasped.

The ice had already encased the floor beneath them. Ojiro managed one more powerful tail swing, but the frost crept up his legs mid-motion, trapping him. The floating gloves that indicated Hagakure's position suddenly stopped moving, frost coating them.

"But wait," Satou frowned, "if they're stuck, isn't Todoroki also - "

The ice beneath Todoroki's feet suddenly melted as he activated his left side, creating a clear path while the rest of the floor remained treacherously frozen. He walked calmly toward the building's entrance, each step precise and controlled.

"He's using his hot side like a guidance system," Izuku realized, his pencil practically smoking. "Keeping the ice solid enough to trap enemies but melted just enough for mobility. The precision required..."

"That's kind of terrifying," Satou said, though he was grinning. "Remind me not to get on his bad side."

Inside, Ojiro hadn't given up. Despite being partially frozen, he was using his martial arts training to maintain balance, his tail striking strategically at ice formations. "This much ice has to have a weakness!" he called out. "Hagakure, if you can move at all - "

"I-I'm a bit stuck!" her disembodied voice called back. "And it's really cold!"

Todoroki entered the building, moving with calculated efficiency. When Ojiro managed to break free one leg, another wave of ice immediately re-trapped it. The temperature dropped further as Todoroki layered his ice, making sure his opponents stayed immobilized.

"Wait a minute..."

Izuku's brow furrowed as he reviewed his notes.

"If he has both ice and fire Quirks, why only use the fire for movement? He could melt a direct path to the weapon, maybe even create a steam distraction like his father does."

Satou nodded thoughtfully, unwrapping a small candy bar. "Yeah, like Endeavor in that Hosu incident - total inferno, but perfectly controlled." He broke the candy in half, offering part to Izuku. "Want some? Helps me think better."

"Thanks," Izuku accepted absently, still studying the monitors. "It's almost like... like he's deliberately avoiding using his fire Quirk. But why limit yourself in a combat trial?"

On-screen, Todoroki reached the top floor. The weapon sat unguarded - Ojiro still trapped two floors below, Hagakure immobilized somewhere nearby. The temperature had dropped so low that frost coated the camera lenses.

"Maybe he's saving it?" Satou suggested, though he sounded unconvinced. "Like a secret weapon for tougher matches?"

"No..." Izuku's eyes narrowed as he watched Todoroki's careful movements. "Look at his left side - he's using the absolute minimum heat necessary. Just enough to move, nothing more. It's too deliberate to be strategic." His pencil tapped against the page. "There's something else..."

Todoroki approached the weapon with the same methodical calm he'd shown throughout the battle. The ice beneath his feet melted and refroze with each step, leaving a crystalline trail behind him. His expression remained unchanging, almost cold as the ice he commanded.

"HERO TEAM WINS!" All Might announced as Todoroki's hand touched the weapon.

The entire match had taken less than two minutes.

"That's..." Satou shook his head in amazement, "that's some serious power. But you're right - why not use everything you've got? Especially in our first real combat trial? But then again, we have to think about collateral damage."

Izuku added a final note to his analysis: 'Todoroki Shoto - deliberately restraining fire side? Personal reason?' He circled it twice, then drew a small question mark.

Izuku paused his writing, looking up at the monitors where Todoroki was now carefully thawing his opponents.

"You're right. Raw power is impressive, but a hero also needs to consider collateral damage." He quickly added this observation to his notes. "Thanks, Satou-kun! I almost missed that aspect."

"Hey, that's what teammates are for, right?" Satou gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder that nearly sent him stumbling. "Oh, sorry! Sometimes I forget my own strength. Speaking of which..." He glanced at the team assignments. "Think you could help me analyze my upcoming match? I've been working on controlling my power output after using sugar, but..."

As they discussed strategy, Izuku couldn't help but smile behind his mask. It felt good, having someone actually interested in his analysis rather than mocking it. Someone who saw his observation skills as useful rather than creepy.

Maybe, he thought, watching All Might praise Todoroki's performance while simultaneously pointing out areas for improvement, this is what being a real hero student feels like.

Izuku barely had time to finish his notes on Todoroki's overwhelming victory when All Might's voice boomed through the observation room.

"SECOND MATCH!" The Symbol of Peace's eternal smile somehow grew wider. "Team A versus Team D! Heroes and Villains, to your positions!"

The familiar weight of dread settled in Izuku's stomach as he closed his Hero Journal. Beside him, Uraraka stood straighter, her helmet visor catching the light from the monitors.

Across the room, Bakugo's predatory grin widened, small explosions already dancing in his palms.

That crushing anxiety Izuku knew so well began to rise - the same feeling he'd had all those years being Bakugo's target.

But something was different now. The ancient presence stirred within him, not with rage but with...

Anticipation.

Remember your training, a voice whispered in his mind. It sounded like his own, but carried echoes of something older, something that had faced battles since time immemorial.

Remember what brought you here.

Images flashed through his mind: Gran Torino's brutal but effective lessons. The weight of refrigerators on Takoba Beach. All Might's guidance. His mother's tears of joy when he got into U.A.

Each memory felt like another piece of armor settling into place.

As they filed out of the observation room, Bakugo shouldered past him roughly. "Ready to die, De-ku?" he snarled, voice dripping with familiar venom.

But Izuku didn't flinch. For the first time in their long history, he met Bakugo's crimson glare steadily. The old fear was still there, but now it had company: determination, training, and two different kinds of power thrumming through his veins.

"Ready to begin," he replied quietly, and meant it.

The real test was about to start.

End.

I hope you all liked the chapter.

Now I don't want to spoil the story, so I'll just that the fact that we see Satou's or Ojiro's perspectives, basically characters who are not important, is temporary, there's a reason why we see it.

But it won't be a constant thing, just for this chapter only.

And in future chapters, I'll explain why.

Also, since we just went through a three month time-skip, it should just be noted that Izuku had a good university experience so far with no bullying besides comments and the like from Bakugo.

Just wanted to get that out there.

More Chapters are posted on my patreon Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

https://www.patreon.com/c/Demon_Knight939

Now take care everyone.

Chapter Text

Hey everyone.

Chapter 8 is right here for your viewing pleasure.

I hope you all like it.

Start:

"Five minutes until the match starts!" All Might's voice echoed through their earpieces as Izuku and Ochaco stood outside the mock building, its concrete façade looming above them.

Izuku's hands trembled slightly as he flipped through his Hero Journal, forcing himself to take measured breaths just as Gran Torino had taught him.

The familiar pages helped ground him, but his heart still thundered in his chest. This wasn't just training anymore - this was his first real combat test at UA.

"Okay," he started, proud that his voice remained steady despite his nerves, "so we're facing two extremely mobile opponents. Iida-kun's Engine gives him incredible burst speed, while Kacchan's explosions let him maneuver in three dimensions."

"Like in the entrance exam," Ochaco nodded, remembering how Bakugo had dominated the competition. "Those gauntlets look pretty intense too. Think they amplify his explosions?"

"Definitely. See these notes?" Izuku pointed to a detailed diagram, grateful for the technical discussion to keep his mind focused. "His sweat contains nitroglycerin-like properties. Those gauntlets probably store it for bigger blasts. But there's a weakness - he has to build up the sweat first, which means..."

"The first big explosion will be his strongest," Ochaco finished, eyes widening. "After that, he'll need time to accumulate more."

Izuku blinked in surprise. "That's... exactly right. You picked up on that really quickly!"

"And Iida-kun..." Izuku flipped to another page covered in engine schematics, trying to channel his nervous energy into analysis. "His engines need proper ventilation. In an enclosed space, he has to be careful about overheating. Plus, those sharp turns will be harder indoors."

Ochaco leaned closer, genuinely impressed. "You've really analyzed everyone's Quirks this thoroughly? That's amazing, Deku-kun!"

"Ah, about that..." Izuku shifted uncomfortably. "Would you mind not calling me that? It's... well, it hasn't exactly been a friendly nickname."

"Oh!" Ochaco's hands flew to her mouth. "I'm so sorry! I heard Bakugo use it, and I thought... I mean, I didn't realize..."

"No, no, it's okay!" Izuku waved his hands reassuringly, surprised by how much her genuine concern touched him. "You couldn't have known. Just Midoriya is fine."

"Right! Well, Midoriya-kun, with my Zero Gravity and your analysis, we've got this!" She punched the air enthusiastically. "We don't need raw power if we outthink them!"

The praise made Izuku's face heat up behind his mask, but a familiar dread quickly cooled it. His hand unconsciously touched his right arm, remembering how One For All had nearly shattered it during the entrance exam. "The analysis helps, but..."

"But?"

"If it comes down to actual combat..." Izuku's voice dropped, the tremor returning despite his best efforts to stay calm. "I'm still not sure I can control my power without..." Breaking myself, he didn't say.

Ochaco's expression turned determined.

"Then we'll just have to be smarter than them. My Zero Gravity and your incredible mind - that's our strength! Sometimes the best strategy isn't the most powerful one."

Izuku nodded, but the ancient presence stirred within him, reminding him of another option. His eyes could give them the edge they needed, help predict and counter their opponents' moves. The power had activated instinctively during the entrance exam, giving him clarity when he needed it most. But using it now, deliberately...

That deep well of crimson pulsed at the thought, eager to be unleashed. The memory of that night with Gran Torino flashed through his mind - how close he'd come to seriously hurting someone when that rage took over. Even now, he could feel it waiting, like a predator watching from the shadows of his consciousness.

"One minute remaining!" All Might announced.

"Whatever happens," Ochaco said firmly, touching his shoulder, "we're in this together. You're not facing him alone this time." Her eyes shone with a determination that made something warm bloom in his chest, pushing back against that cold crimson presence.

Izuku looked at his partner, remembering how she'd spoken up for him after the entrance exam. How she'd defended him to the faculty when everyone else had focused only on points and rankings. She'd seen past his awkwardness, his nervousness, straight to the heart of what he was trying to be - a hero who helped others, no matter the cost.

"Right," he managed, closing his Hero Journal and tucking it safely away. "Together."

The building loomed before them, a concrete maze holding both their opponents and their test. Somewhere inside, Bakugo was waiting - probably already planning how to prove once and for all that De-ku didn't belong here. Whatever happened next would prove whether Izuku's analysis and newfound powers could finally match his childhood tormentor's raw combat instinct.

Through their earpiece came the command they'd been waiting for.

"BEGIN!" All Might's voice boomed.

Izuku took a deep breath, feeling both One For All and that ancient presence stirring within him like two storms about to collide. The power that could shatter his bones, and the power that could shatter his control - he'd have to risk using at least one of them. Maybe both.

But this time, he wasn't that helpless kid anymore. This time, he had training. Strategy. A partner who believed in him.

"Let's go be heroes," he said, and meant it with every fiber of his being.

Behind his mask, his eyes flickered between green and crimson as they entered the building, ready to face whatever came next.

 

MEANWHILE…

"We should consider optimal positioning for the nuclear device," Iida's hands chopped through the air as he paced. "Perhaps near the support columns? The structural integrity of - "

"Shut up," Bakugo growled, small explosions popping in his palms. His eyes remained fixed on the door, waiting. "None of that matters."

"But Bakugo-kun! As villains, our primary objective is to protect - "

"I said shut up!" The explosion that accompanied his words left scorch marks on the floor. "Just guard the stupid thing if you care so much. I've got better things to do."

Like finally dealing with that lying bastard Deku.

The thought made his blood boil. All those years playing weak, pretending to be Quirkless, probably laughing behind his back. And now everyone was falling for his act - the extras in class hanging on his every word, crowding around that stupid notebook like it meant something.

Even that round-faced girl who'd crashed into him that first day - she'd looked at him like he was the villain when she found out about Deku's "heroic" rescue. As if she understood anything.

"At least formulate a basic defensive strategy!" Iida persisted, voice rising with frustration. "All Might-sensei expects us to take this exercise seriously!"

Bakugo's teeth ground together. The mention of All Might just made it worse. The Number One Hero wouldn't waste time with extras who couldn't keep up. He didn't need their approval or their friendship. Power was all that mattered - real power, not whatever trick Deku had been hiding.

"You want a strategy?" Bakugo's gauntlets gleamed as he adjusted them, a savage grin spreading across his face. "I'll give you one. Guard this fancy prop all you want. Deku's mine."

"This isn't about personal vendettas! We're supposed to be learning proper hero - "

"Hero?" Bakugo barked out a harsh laugh. "We're playing villains, remember? So I'll act like one." His palm crackled with barely contained power. "Time to remind that nerd where he really belongs."

But somewhere deep inside, past the rage and wounded pride, a small voice whispered: How long has he been lying? What else is he hiding?

Bakugo silenced it with another explosion. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. Let the extras fawn over Deku's analysis. Let them think he was special.

After today, they'd all see the truth.

"Three minutes remaining!" All Might's voice echoed through their earpieces.

"Bakugo-kun, please! If we don't coordinate our - "

"Just stay out of my way," Bakugo cut him off, already moving toward the door. "And if anyone asks..." his grin turned feral, "...I'm just playing my role as a villain."

But this wasn't about the exercise anymore. This was about years of deception finally coming to light. About putting Deku back in his place.

The fact that their classmates seemed to prefer that lying nerd's company? That they gathered around him like he was something special? That meant nothing. All Might didn't need friends to be the strongest. Neither did he.

"One minute!"

Bakugo's explosions grew larger, more erratic. Behind him, Iida had finally fallen silent, probably realizing it was pointless to argue.

Let them come. Let Deku try his new trick. It wouldn't matter in the end.

After all, extras would always be extras, no matter what powers they pretended to have.

The beginning signal would come any second now. And then...

Then he'd show everyone exactly why you don't lie to Katsuki Bakugo.

 

AT THE SAME TIME…

"Man, I can't believe we get to see them fight for real!" Kirishima's sharp teeth gleamed as he grinned at the monitors. "Bakugo's got those killer moves from the entrance exam, but Midoriya..." He punched his palm excitedly. "That zero-pointer takedown was super manly!"

"Yeah, but look what it did to his arm," Sato pointed out, unwrapping a small candy bar thoughtfully. "That kind of recoil in an indoor space could be dangerous. Remember what All Might said about collateral damage?"

Toshinori kept his eternal smile fixed in place, though internally he winced. Young Midoriya still hadn't learned to control One For All, and that other power - those crimson eyes - remained an unknown factor.

"Midoriya-kun's got something else though," Ojiro added, his tail swishing as he analyzed the screens. "Did you see how he moved during Aizawa-sensei's assessment? Even without using his Quirk, his form was solid. Like he's had actual combat training."

"Plus he's got Uraraka!" Mineta bounced excitedly. "Zero Gravity indoors? Total game-changer!"

"If they can coordinate properly," Yaoyorozu mused, her sharp eyes studying the monitors. "Todoroki-san, you've been quiet. Any thoughts on the matchup?"

Todoroki's response was measured, calculating. "Bakugo's powerful, but volatile. In an enclosed space, that's as much a weakness as a strength." His heterochromatic eyes narrowed slightly. "But Midoriya... there's something he's holding back. You can see it in how he moves."

You have no idea, Toshinori thought, watching his successor and Uraraka enter the building.

"Still betting on Bakugo though," Kirishima declared, though his expression remained friendly. "His battle instincts are insane! No offense to Midoriya, but - "

"Did you see how Bakugo treated him that first day?" Sero cut in, frowning. "That wasn't just rivalry. There's history there."

"YOUNG HEROES!" Toshinori boomed, perhaps a bit louder than necessary. "Let's focus on the technical aspects of the match!"

But privately, he shared their concerns. The tension between his successor and young Bakugo went deeper than simple competition. He'd seen it in Bakugo's eyes during the assessment - rage, yes, but also something else. Wounded pride, perhaps. Or fear disguised as anger.

"Look at their approaches," Yaoyorozu pointed out, redirecting the conversation. "Midoriya and Uraraka are moving cautiously, checking corners. While Bakugo..."

"Has completely abandoned the objective," Sato finished, shaking his head. "Iida's trying to guard the weapon alone. That's not very villain-like teamwork."

"But it's very Bakugo-like," Kirishima grinned, though there was a hint of concern in his voice. "Hey, you think he's okay? He seemed extra intense today."

After so many weeks where they all had spent time together, they were already well familiar at this point with everyone’s personality. It was a given really.

"Probably mad that Midoriya's getting attention," Mineta muttered. "Did you see how many people were checking out his notebook? Bakugo looked ready to explode! Literally!"

"There's more to it than that," Todoroki said quietly, drawing everyone's attention. "Watch how Bakugo moves. He's not just looking for a fight - he's hunting. This is personal."

The observation room fell silent as they absorbed this. On screen, Bakugo stalked through the corridors like a predator, small explosions crackling in his palms.

"Should..." Yaoyorozu hesitated, glancing at All Might. "Should we be concerned?"

"FEAR NOT!" Toshinori declared, though his heart clenched watching the monitors. "This is a supervised exercise! Nothing too extreme will be permitted!"

But he knew young Midoriya's powers - both of them - responded to emotional stress. And if young Bakugo pushed him too far...

"Oh man," Sato muttered, returning his focus to the screens. "They're about to meet up. This is gonna be intense."

"Come on, Midoriya!" Sero called out, as if his classmate could hear him. "Show him what you've got!"

"Nah, Bakugo's got this!" Kirishima countered, though he was gripping the console tightly. "But uh, maybe not too rough, yeah?"

Toshinori watched the inevitable confrontation approach, his smile never wavering despite his growing concern. Two powerful Quirks, a history of bad blood, and his successor's still-unstable control...

"Remember," he announced, as much to himself as to the class, "the objective isn't just victory - it's learning to be better heroes!"

Or in this case, he thought grimly, learning not to let old wounds dictate their futures.

On screen, the first explosion lit up the corridor.

The real test was about to begin.

 

AT THE SAME TIME…

Each footstep echoed through the empty corridor as Bakugo stalked forward, palm crackling with barely contained power. His senses were hyper-alert, scanning every shadow, every corner. Hunting.

Deku was here somewhere. He could practically smell the nerd's fear.

Years of memories flashed through his mind - Deku always cowering, always shrinking away, that pathetic notebook clutched to his chest like some kind of shield. Always taking it, never fighting back. Always with that stupid, nervous smile, like he was just waiting for the storm to pass.

Fucking pushover.

That's what made this so infuriating. For years - years - Deku had played the helpless victim. The Quirkless nobody. And now suddenly he was dodging Aizawa's tests with trained movements? Getting extras like Round Face and Tape Arms to huddle around him like he was something special?

It was all bullshit.

A faint sound - a shifted foot, a caught breath - made Bakugo freeze. There. Around the corner. His lips curled into a feral grin as he lunged forward, right hand already glowing with explosive potential.

"FOUND YOU, DE - "

But his blast hit empty air as Deku ducked beneath the explosion, rolling to the side with a precision that made Bakugo's blood boil. Like he'd seen it coming. Like he'd been expecting it.

"Kacchan - " Deku started, already in a defensive stance, that ridiculous costume making him look like some All Might wannabe.

"Don't call me that!" Bakugo snarled, launching himself forward. "You lying piece of - "

Another dodge. Not panicked or desperate like before, but calculated. Trained.

"Where'd you learn to move like that, huh?" Bakugo's next explosion was bigger, sending debris flying. "Been hiding that too, along with your Quirk? What else you been lying about, Deku?"

The green-haired bastard didn't even have the decency to look scared anymore. Instead, his jaw was set with determination, his movements focused as he weaved through the assault.

"I never lied - " he tried to explain, those big green eyes steady in a way that made Bakugo want to scorch them out of his head.

"Shut up!" Another explosion, another near-miss. "All those years playing weak! All those tears! Was it fun, De-ku? Getting me to think you were nothing while you trained behind my back?"

Each blast grew more intense than the last, scorching walls and filling the corridor with smoke. The combat capture tape around his wrist remained untouched - this wasn't about completing the exercise anymore. This was about forcing the truth into the open.

"Where's that power from the entrance exam?" Bakugo demanded, feinting left before unleashing an explosion from his right. "Too scared to use it? Or was that a fluke too?"

Still Deku dodged, his movements less fluid now but still frustratingly effective.

Still not using whatever Quirk he'd been hiding all these years.

"Fight back, damn it!" The words escaped before Bakugo could stop them, raw and furious. "Stop running and fight me for real!"

The heat of his explosions had started to fill the hallway, sweat beading more heavily on his palms, feeding his Quirk.

Each blast was becoming deadlier, no longer just intimidation but genuine attempts to force Deku's hand.

"I'm not here to fight you," Deku replied, his voice steadier than it had any right to be. "I'm here to win."

Something in Bakugo snapped.

The implication - that winning didn't require beating him - made his next explosion powerful enough to crack the concrete wall and send chunks of debris flying.

"You think you're better than me now?" he growled, closing the distance. "Think your analysis and your notes and your little friends make you special? They don't mean shit in a real fight!"

And still, still that determined look remained. No fear. No cowering. Just focus and something else - something that looked disturbingly like pity.

His rage reached fever pitch, control slipping as he felt his gauntlets beginning to store his excess sweat. Let All Might intervene if he wanted - this wasn't about the stupid exercise anymore.

"This is your last chance, Deku," he snarled, voice dropping to something lethal and quiet. "Show me what you've been hiding all these years, or I'll beat it out of you."

When only silence met his challenge, Bakugo felt a cold calm settle over him.

"Fine. Have it your way."

He raised his right arm, fingers wrapping around the gauntlet's pin. The support department's warning echoed in his mind: "These store your nitroglycerin sweat. One pull releases everything at once. Use with extreme caution."

Bakugo's grin turned savage. Caution was for extras.

"If you won't fight me for real, then I'll just have to make you."

He didn't care how powerful the blast would be, didn't care about the exercise or the rules or even victory anymore. All that mattered was forcing Deku to stop hiding, to finally be honest about what he was. He'd survived years of Bakugo's explosions just fine - if he had a Quirk strong enough to destroy a zero-pointer, he could handle this.

"This is what happens when you lie to me."

With a sharp tug, he pulled the pin.

 

MEANWHILE, AT THE SAME TIME…

From Toshinori's perspective in the viewing deck:

"What is he - " Toshinori's eternal smile faltered as he watched young Bakugo pull the pin on his gauntlet. "YOUNG BAKUGO, STOP!"

But it was too late.

The explosion that followed was devastating - nothing like the controlled blasts they'd witnessed during Aizawa's assessment.

This was raw, unbridled destruction, ripping through the corridor with enough force to shake the monitoring equipment.

The camera feed momentarily whited out, static cutting across multiple screens as the system struggled to compensate for the sudden burst of light and heat.

"Whoa!" Kirishima stumbled back from the screens, his hardened skin activating instinctively. "That's way too much power for an indoor exercise! That's not even manly anymore - that's just dangerous!"

"Is Midoriya okay?" Sero leaned forward anxiously, tape dispensers on his elbows extending slightly with tension. "I can't see through all that smoke! All Might-sensei, can you switch to thermal imaging or something?"

Toshinori's finger hovered over the emergency halt button, heart hammering against what remained of his ribcage. Had young Midoriya been caught in that blast? Would it trigger One For All's defensive response? Or worse, that other power? His successor's control was tenuous at best - a direct attack of this magnitude could shatter both his bones and his restraint.

Recovery Girl would never let him hear the end of this.

Then movement caught his eye - a shadow through the smoke, moving with tactical precision.

"There!" Sato pointed, his muscular frame tensing as he analyzed the movement patterns. "Bakugo's on the move! He's not just attacking randomly - he's executing some kind of plan!"

Todoroki's heterochromatic eyes narrowed, his usual dispassionate expression intensifying with focus.

"He used the explosion as a smokescreen. Look at his trajectory - he's propelling himself around to attack from behind. The initial blast wasn't aimed at Midoriya at all - it was tactical positioning."

"That's..." Yaoyorozu blinked, her sharp intellect clearly impressed by Todoroki's observation. She studied the screens with renewed interest, a finger thoughtfully pressed to her chin.

"That's exactly what he's doing. You have an incredible eye for combat strategy, Todoroki-san. I didn't even notice the pattern until you pointed it out."

Todoroki merely nodded, his attention never leaving the monitors. The brief interaction didn't escape Toshinori's notice, despite his concern for the situation unfolding. Both students possessed analytical minds far beyond their years - perhaps a future study partnership worth encouraging.

On screen, a second explosion lit up the corridor, more focused than the first. Young Midoriya, who had been scanning the smoke-filled hallway, was caught completely off-guard by Bakugo's aerial maneuver. The blast caught him square in the back, sending him tumbling forward into the wall.

"A flanking attack using his own blast as cover," Ojiro noted, his tail swishing with professional appreciation. "That's actually brilliant combat instinct. I've seen similar techniques in advanced martial arts tournaments, but executing it with explosions requires split-second timing. His control is impressive."

"But crazy dangerous!" Sato countered, crushing a candy wrapper in his fist with enough force that sugar crystals sprinkled onto the floor. "Look at the structural damage! Those support beams weren't designed to handle that kind of force! And that second attack was direct contact - that could cause serious injuries in a training exercise!"

"Exactly what I was thinking," Sato added, quickly unwrapping another energy bar. "If I used my Sugar Rush at full strength indoors like that, I'd risk bringing the whole building down. There's a reason we train with restraint."

Toshinori grabbed his microphone, voice dropping to its most authoritative register - the tone he used for particularly dangerous villains.

"YOUNG BAKUGO! That level of force is prohibited in an indoor combat exercise! This is your only warning! Regulate your output immediately!"

But on screen, Bakugo seemed to ignore the reprimand completely, already charging forward for another attack.

The feral grin on his face had transformed into something darker, more focused - a hunter closing in for the kill. Midoriya had used the smoke from the second blast to scramble for cover, but Bakugo was moving with predatory focus, tracking every movement with uncanny precision.

Midoriya had his comms on his ears, clearly saying something to Uraraka that Toshinori couldn’t hear - their comms were private lines.

Whenever Bakugo managed to track him down, Midoriya stops, braces for the attack, and uses the smoke to find the next cover. The debris caused by Bakugo’s attacks were more than enough for Izuku to talk to Uraraka in between.

Toshinori noticed this. Was it a cry for help?

Or was this Izuku coming up with a plan?

"He's completely ignoring All Might's warning," Yaoyorozu said, her expression growing concerned as she clutched her costume's utility belt. "This doesn't seem like an exercise anymore. His behavior violates at least three safety protocols we reviewed this morning."

"Look at his face," Todoroki's voice was cold, carrying an edge that made several students glance at him in surprise. "He's not thinking about winning the trial. He's targeting Midoriya specifically. This is personal."

The observation room fell momentarily quiet as everyone absorbed the implications. Toshinori felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. He'd seen that look before - on villains who'd abandoned reason for vendetta. On heroes who'd crossed lines they couldn't uncross.

"Yeah, but why?" Ashido finally broke the silence, her normally cheerful voice subdued. "What did Midoriya ever do to him? He seems so nice!"

"Something's driving him," Tokoyami murmured from the shadows of the back row. "A darkness not unlike my own, but without restraint.”

"Wait, what about Uraraka?" Mineta suddenly piped up, bouncing on his toes to see the secondary monitor. "The split-screen shows she's having trouble with Iida!"

Toshinori quickly checked the second monitor, grateful for the momentary distraction from the brewing catastrophe. Young Uraraka was indeed struggling against Iida's superior speed. The Engine Quirk user was guarding the nuclear weapon with surprising theatrical villainy, complete with maniacal laughter and exaggerated arm movements that somehow still managed to look proper and disciplined.

"DIE HERO SCUM!" Iida's overly dramatic voice echoed through the speakers, causing several students to stifle laughs despite the tension. "YOUR JUSTICE ENDS HERE! MWAHAHA!"

"Iida's really getting into character," Ojiro commented with a small smile, his tail curling with amusement. "But his form is excellent. Look how he's using the furniture to create obstacles that maximize his speed advantage. He's transformed the entire room into a gauntlet that plays to his strengths."

"That's actually brilliant defensive strategy," Sato agreed, analyzing the screen while unwrapping another small candy. "He's arranged everything to create running lanes for himself while limiting her approach options. He understands his Quirk's advantages perfectly."

"Uraraka needs to touch him to use her Zero Gravity," he continued, popping the candy into his mouth. "But she can't get close enough. Every time she approaches, he uses those burst speeds to reposition. Smart defense."

"I'm impressed by his commitment to the villain role," Yaoyorozu noted with a hint of amusement. "He's simultaneously executing tactical maneuvers while maintaining character. Most people would focus on just one aspect."

"That's our class rep for you," Kaminari laughed. "One hundred percent effort, even when playing make-believe."

"Focus on the main problem!" Sero pointed urgently at the first screen, tape dispensers extending anxiously. "Bakugo's going for another big attack!"

The levity evaporated instantly as everyone's attention snapped back to the primary monitor. Indeed, Bakugo was adjusting his second gauntlet, expression locked in murderous determination. The monitoring equipment picked up his words with chilling clarity:

"Stop hiding and fight me for real, Deku!"

That was enough. Toshinori seized the microphone again, his voice dropping to a register that had made villains freeze in their tracks.

"YOUNG BAKUGO! If you deploy that gauntlet's stored power again, I WILL end this match immediately! This is a training exercise, not a grudge match! Stand down!"

For a moment, it seemed like Bakugo might ignore the warning completely. His hand remained on the pin, trembling with barely contained rage. The camera zoomed in on his face - sweat beading on his forehead, teeth bared in a snarl, eyes wild with a fury that went beyond competitive spirit.

"This isn't about heroics anymore," Todoroki observed quietly, the temperature around him dropping several degrees. "Something personal is driving him. Something deeper than rivalry."

"Should we even continue?" Yaoyorozu looked at All Might with concern, her usual composure slipping. "If he's refusing to follow safety protocols, there's risk of serious injury. The support beams in that section have already been compromised."

"Yeah, I'm with Yaoyorozu on this," Sato added, his expression unusually serious. "Fighting spirit is one thing, but that's a weapon, not a Quirk application. There are lines you don't cross in training."

"Wait," Kirishima interrupted, pointing at the screen with excitement. "Midoriya's saying something!"

The monitoring system caught young Midoriya's voice, surprisingly steady despite the situation.

"If you want me to fight seriously, Kacchan... then I will."

A collective hush fell over the observation room.

The confidence in Midoriya's tone - so different from his usual hesitant manner - caught everyone off guard. On screen, something changed in his stance - a shift from defensive evasion to something more purposeful. More focused. His feet settled into what Toshinori recognized as one of Gran Torino's signature stances.

"Whoa, look at that," Ojiro leaned forward, professional interest overtaking concern. "That's a high-level combat stance. Where did he learn that? It's perfect for quick movement in tight spaces."

And for a fleeting moment, as the camera caught young Midoriya's face through a gap in the smoke, Toshinori saw it - that crimson gleam beginning to bleed into his eyes. The same transformation he'd witnessed during young Midoriya's training, when that ancient presence had surfaced.

"Oh no," he whispered, too quietly for anyone else to hear. This was exactly what he'd feared. If that power took control here, with so many witnesses...

"What's happening to his eyes?" Ojiro leaned forward, squinting at the monitor. "Is that part of his Quirk? They look... red?"

"Some kind of enhancement maybe?" Sato suggested, analyzing with surprising insight. "Like how my eyes change slightly when I use Sugar Rush? Visual Quirks often manifest that way."

Before anyone could answer, the feed flickered as another explosion rocked the training building. Not as massive as the first - Bakugo had evidently decided against using his stored attack - but powerful enough to send debris flying across the corridor.

"That's it," Toshinori declared, reaching for the emergency halt switch. "I'm stopping this before someone gets seriously injured. This has gone beyond - "

But his hand froze mid-motion as the smoke cleared enough to reveal the two students. Young Midoriya hadn't been hit. Instead, he stood in a combat stance, eyes now blazing crimson, tracking Bakugo's every movement with unnerving precision.

"He dodged it," Ashido gasped. "But how? The camera angle showed Bakugo had him dead to rights!"

"Look at his eyes," Tokoyami said, stepping forward from the shadows. "They're different. Seeing something we cannot."

"It's like time is moving differently for him," Todoroki observed, his analytical mind cutting straight to the heart of the matter. "Watch his movements - he's not just reacting to Bakugo anymore. He's anticipating."

The observation room fell silent as they watched Midoriya weave through Bakugo's next assault with uncanny precision, those crimson eyes seeming to track movements before they even began. Something had fundamentally changed in the dynamic of the battle.

Toshinori's hand remained hovering over the emergency switch, torn between intervention and allowing his successor this crucial test of control. If young Midoriya could master this power in combat...

"All Might-sensei?" Yaoyorozu's concerned voice cut through his thoughts. "Shouldn't we stop them?"

Before Toshinori could answer, a collective gasp drew everyone's attention back to the screens. The battle had just taken another unexpected turn.

Toshinori's hand tightened around the microphone. If Bakugo continued escalating, he'd have no choice but to intervene directly. The exercise was meant to test their abilities, not endanger their futures.

Or their lives.

 

AT THE SAME TIME…

All Might's voice boomed through his earpiece, but Bakugo barely registered the warning. The words washed over him like white noise, meaningless compared to the fire in his veins, the sweat beading on his palms, the target standing before him.

"STOP hiding behind warnings, Deku!" he snarled, ignoring the voice of authority completely. "You think some teacher's gonna save you out there in the real world? Against real villains?"

This wasn't about the exercise anymore. This wasn't even about winning. This was about truth - forcing it into the open, where it couldn't hide behind weak smiles and mumbled excuses.

He fired another explosion, more controlled than the first but no less vicious. Smoke and debris filled the corridor as he propelled himself forward, using the concussion to launch his body in a tactical arc.

He'd perfected this maneuver over years of practice - the exact force needed to lift his weight, the precise timing to maximize rotation, the calculated impact point.

His mind worked at lightning speed, cataloging every detail even as rage consumed him. Tracking trajectories, calculating blast radius, reading airflow patterns - each attack refined by years of obsessive training. This wasn't just blind aggression; this was weaponized excellence.

"You've been analyzing me for years, right?" he called out, firing another blast to change direction mid-air. "All those little notes in your precious journals. Let's see if they help you now!"

Bakugo expected the fear he'd always seen - the cowering, the excuses. Maybe even a glimpse of that ridiculous power from the entrance exam followed by more broken bones.

What he didn't expect was the change that came over Deku's face.

"If you want me to fight seriously, Kacchan... then I will."

Something shifted. Those green eyes - those pathetic, watery eyes that had witnessed Bakugo's rise for years - suddenly blazed crimson. Not metaphorically - literally transformed, like blood filling water.

And then Deku moved.

Bakugo's next blast should have caught him square in the chest. It always had before. But Deku wasn't there anymore, had somehow read the trajectory and moved precisely out of its path with a fluidity that didn't match the clumsy nerd Bakugo knew.

"What the - "

He fired again, faster this time, changing angles to catch Deku's new position. Another miss. Another. Another.

Every explosion creating new smoke, new debris, new tactical options - and somehow Deku was navigating it all, those crimson eyes tracking Bakugo's movements with unnerving precision.

"So your eyes turn red," Bakugo spat, frustration mounting with each failed attack. "Big fucking deal! You think a color change makes you special? Makes you a hero?"

But each word masked a growing realization: Deku was reading him. Not just reacting - anticipating. Those eyes weren't just for show. They were seeing something - patterns, angles, openings that should have been invisible at combat speed.

"You've been studying me," Bakugo realized aloud, his voice dropping to something dangerous and quiet. "All those years taking notes. Watching. Waiting."

The thought only stoked his rage higher. Had Deku been laughing at him this whole time? Pretending weakness while secretly mapping every aspect of Bakugo's Quirk, his fighting style, his techniques?

"It doesn't matter!" he roared, changing tactics completely. If Deku could read his movements, then he'd just have to be too overwhelming to counter. "I'll still crush you!"

He launched a barrage of explosions, not targeting Deku directly but filling the entire corridor with concussive force. No precision now - just raw power, turning the narrow space into a killing field where prediction meant nothing.

Debris rained down, support beams creaking under the strain. All Might's voice came through the earpiece again, something about endangering the structure, about ending the exercise.

Bakugo didn't care. Let them end it. Let them disqualify him. None of that mattered compared to this - finally forcing Deku to stop hiding, to show what he really was.

Through the chaos, he caught glimpses of those crimson eyes, still tracking, still analyzing. Each movement more fluid than the last, adapting to Bakugo's new strategy with infuriating efficiency.

"Stop dancing around!" Bakugo demanded, his voice raw with frustration. "Fight me, damn it! Show me what you've been hiding all these years!"

The smoke began to clear, revealing them facing each other across the ruined corridor. Bakugo's chest heaved with exertion, sweat streaming down his face and arms, palms crackling with pent-up energy. Deku stood in perfect stance, those blood-red eyes fixed on Bakugo with an intensity that felt almost predatory.

"Fine," Bakugo snarled, gathering his remaining strength for one final assault. "Have it your way."

He lunged forward, both hands primed for a devastating blast. No more tactics, no more probing attacks. Just raw, overwhelming force concentrated into a single point.

To his surprise, Deku didn't dodge this time. Instead, he shifted his weight forward, arm drawing back for what looked like a counter-punch. Power seemed to crackle around his clenched fist - not explosions like Bakugo's, but something else. Something that made the air itself distort with potential energy.

Those crimson eyes locked onto his, and for a split second, Bakugo felt something he rarely experienced: doubt.

What if he'd been wrong? What if Deku really had been hiding something all these years? What if this wasn't about lying, but about -

No.

He crushed the thought before it could form. This was Deku - useless, Quirkless Deku who'd spent years trailing after him like a shadow. Whatever power he'd suddenly manifested, whatever tricks he'd learned, Bakugo would prove once and for all who was superior.

His palms ignited as they closed the final distance, the world narrowing to this single moment of truth.

 

AT THE SAME TIME…

The explosion caught him in the back with enough force to send him sprawling, but Izuku managed to roll with the impact, coming up in a defensive stance as Gran Torino had taught him. The pain bloomed across his shoulder blades - sharp, immediate, but somehow secondary to the strange clarity overtaking his mind.

His vision had changed. Everything was sharper, more defined, tinged with crimson that somehow enhanced rather than obscured. It was like seeing the world through a high-definition filter where every detail carried significance.

Bakugo charged again, palms crackling with explosive potential. Izuku should have been terrified - this was Kacchan at his most dangerous. Instead, he felt something else. Something ancient stirring in his chest, resonating with each attack, each explosion, each snarl of rage.

The more threatening Bakugo became, the clearer Izuku's vision grew.

He sidestepped an explosion that would have caught him square in the chest, body moving almost before his mind fully registered the danger. His eyes were picking up subtle cues - the flex of Bakugo's wrist muscles indicating direction, the slight shift in his center of gravity signaling a follow-up attack, the microtension in his jaw revealing frustration.

"You've been studying me," Bakugo accused, voice dropping dangerously. "All those years taking notes. Watching. Waiting."

Izuku didn't respond.

Words would only feed Bakugo's rage.

Instead, he concentrated on the flow of information streaming through his enhanced vision. It wasn't just seeing - it was understanding on a fundamental level.

When Bakugo feinted left, Izuku's eyes tracked the true attack coming from the right. When explosions filled the corridor with smoke and debris, those crimson orbs cut through the chaos, mapping trajectories and safe zones with impossible precision.

Memories from his Hero Journal flashed through his mind - notes on Bakugo's fighting style, the range of his explosions, his tendency to lead with his right - but these were immediately supplemented with new insights, as if his eyes were analyzing and updating his mental database in real-time.

This was different from simply remembering information. This was seeing patterns within patterns, reading intentions from the smallest muscle twitch.

The ancient presence in his chest hummed with something like satisfaction.

This power felt... right.

Natural.

As if it had always been waiting for a moment like this - combat, danger, the flood of adrenaline sharpening every sense.

Bakugo's frustration mounted with each missed attack, his explosions growing wilder, less controlled.

"Fight me, damn it! Show me what you've been hiding all these years!"

The pain in Izuku's body was growing - bruises forming from near-misses, exhaustion setting in as he maintained the constant vigilance required to avoid Bakugo's onslaught. But the burning in his eyes balanced it somehow, the predatory clarity making even pain seem like useful information.

I can't keep this up forever, he thought, cataloging the damage to the corridor, the weakened support beams, the pattern of debris creating both obstacles and opportunities. I need to end this.

His mind raced through possibilities, discarding options that relied too heavily on his still-untested control of One For All. Direct confrontation was suicide - even with his enhanced perception, Bakugo's raw combat experience gave him an edge in close quarters.

Then an idea sparked. Not from his eyes this time, but from the battle plan he'd discussed with Uraraka before they separated.

"If we can't win by direct combat, we create an opportunity," he had told her, sketching a rough blueprint of the building. "Bakugo will focus on me - he always does. That's predictable, and we can use it."

The memory clicked into perfect alignment with his current situation. Bakugo was so focused on their personal confrontation that he'd forgotten the actual objective of the exercise. Forgotten about Uraraka entirely.

As the smoke began to clear, Izuku found himself facing Bakugo across the ruined corridor. His opponent's rage had reached fever pitch, sweat streaming down his face and arms, palms crackling with pent-up energy.

"Fine," Bakugo snarled, gathering his remaining strength. "Have it your way."

Izuku saw the attack coming - not just the physical movement, but the intention behind it. Bakugo was done with probing attacks. This would be all-out, overwhelming force.

Instead of dodging, Izuku planted his feet, drawing his right arm back. One For All surged through him, electricity-like energy crackling around his fist. The power threatened to tear his muscles apart from within, but he held it, controlled it, focused it.

Time seemed to slow as Bakugo lunged forward. Izuku's crimson eyes caught every detail - the precise angle of attack, the tension in Bakugo's shoulders, the explosive sweat gathered in his palms. There was a fraction of doubt in those fierce red eyes, a momentary uncertainty that Izuku had never seen before.

The ancient presence stirred, urging him to meet force with force, to prove dominance once and for all. But Izuku resisted. This wasn't about defeating Bakugo - it was about winning the exercise. About being a hero.

As they closed the final distance, Izuku's enhanced perception seemed to stretch time itself. Each millisecond became a critical data point, each muscle twitch a telegraph of intent. Bakugo's trajectory, the angle of his palms, the precise concentration of sweat beading along his skin - Izuku's crimson eyes absorbed it all, processing information at impossible speeds.

This was the culmination of years spent watching from the shadows, documenting every nuance of Bakugo's fighting style. Not out of obsession, but out of genuine admiration mixed with the necessity of survival. Knowing exactly how Bakugo would attack had once been Izuku's only defense.

Now it was his greatest weapon.

They met in the center of the corridor, Bakugo's palms erupting with concentrated force just as Izuku twisted his body. The explosion caught him partially along his left side - a searing, white-hot pain that would have incapacitated him months ago. But Izuku had endured Gran Torino's brutal training, had learned to compartmentalize pain, to use it rather than surrender to it.

The impact sent him spinning, but instead of fighting the momentum, he channeled it upward, converting Bakugo's horizontal force into vertical potential. One For All surged through his right arm like lightning seeking ground, crackling visibly beneath his skin as he chambered his fist.

"What the - " Bakugo's confusion was audible as smoke engulfed them both. He'd expected resistance, counter-force, not this strange redirection.

For a split second, their eyes met through the clearing haze - Bakugo's widening in stunned realization just as Izuku's crimson gaze narrowed with focused intent. There was a moment of perfect understanding between them, a wordless acknowledgment that the battle had suddenly transformed into something neither had anticipated.

"SMASH!"

The word tore from Izuku's throat - not as a battle cry, but as a trigger, a mental catalyst focusing One For All's raging energy. His fist connected with the already-damaged ceiling, the power transferring from his body into the structure with devastating efficiency.

The sound was deafening - concrete splintering, steel reinforcements warping, entire support beams disintegrating under the concentrated force. Dust and debris rained down as a perfect circle opened above them, revealing glimpses of the floor above, and then the next, and the next.

Pain exploded through Izuku's arm as bones fractured under the strain, microfractures propagating through his radius, ulna, and metacarpals like lightning through storm clouds. The skin along his knuckles split, blood mingling with concrete dust. His costume sleeve tore from the elbow down, revealing the purple-red damage beneath.

But through the agony came clarity. Through his crimson vision, Izuku tracked the structural collapse, confirming it had followed exactly the path he'd calculated - a direct route upward through the building's weaker support points, straight to where the nuclear weapon was being guarded.

Bakugo stood frozen, eyes tracking upward along the path of destruction, the implications hitting him just as the debris began settling around them. His expression transformed from rage to disbelief, then to a dawning, furious comprehension.

"You weren't fighting me," he whispered, voice hoarse with shock. "You were never fighting me."

"URARAKA, NOW!" Izuku screamed through the debris and pain, ignoring Bakugo completely. This had never been about their rivalry. Never about proving who was stronger.

It had always been about winning.

Through the gaping hole above, he caught a glimpse of Uraraka, positioned exactly where they'd planned during their hushed strategy session. Her determined face appeared at the edge of the newly created opening, brown eyes widening at the perfect path Izuku had created for her.

Even from this distance, he could see her mouth form a silent "Midoriya-kun..." before her expression hardened with resolve, fingers already splayed in preparation.

Bakugo lunged forward, finally understanding, palms igniting with desperate fury.

"NO!" he roared, but it was too late - much too late.

The distance to the hole was too great, his remaining explosive power insufficient after the barrage he'd unleashed.

His eyes met Izuku's again, and for once, there was something beyond rage there - something that might have been respect, or fear, or both.

"Zero Gravity!"

Uraraka's voice rang out as she activated her Quirk, launching herself toward the nuclear weapon. With nothing to impede her trajectory, she soared like a gymnast through the vertical tunnel Izuku had created, her body weightless and perfectly aimed.

 

Izuku collapsed to one knee, cradling his shattered arm against his chest. Blood dripped between his fingers, and each heartbeat sent fresh waves of agony through the damaged limb. But through it all, a smile broke through the pain - not triumphant or mocking, but genuinely relieved.

His crimson eyes, beginning to fade back to their natural green, met Bakugo's stunned expression across the ruined hallway. In that moment of silence between them, years of history seemed to crystallize into a single truth: brute force wasn't everything. Sometimes, victory came through strategy, through teamwork, through seeing beyond the obvious path.

All those years of analysis. All those careful notes. All that observation.

It had finally paid off.

And as All Might's voice boomed through the building announcing "HERO TEAM WINS!" Izuku realized something fundamental had shifted between them.

The battle was over, but a new kind of contest had just begun.

 

TWO HOURS LATER…

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across UA's campus as Toshinori lingered near the main entrance, his gaunt form partially hidden by one of the decorative trees. He'd been meaning to catch young Midoriya before he left - Recovery Girl had been particularly vocal about the state of his arm after the battle trial - but something made him pause when he spotted his successor.

Young Midoriya wasn't heading home as expected. Instead, he seemed to be following young Bakugo, who stormed ahead with that perpetual scowl etched into his features. The tension in Midoriya's shoulders was visible even from this distance, his bandaged arm held carefully against his side.

"This isn't good," Toshinori muttered to himself, conflicted about whether to intervene. The battle trial had revealed something concerning about both boys - a recklessness that went beyond youthful enthusiasm. Both had disregarded safety protocols, structural integrity, and potentially their own wellbeing in pursuit of victory.

He'd made that clear in his evaluation afterward, though the rest of the class had been too excited about the dramatic conclusion to fully absorb the lesson. Young Yaoyorozu and Todoroki had understood, at least, exchanging knowing glances as Toshinori emphasized the importance of minimizing collateral damage.

But now, watching Midoriya purposefully following his childhood tormentor, Toshinori worried another confrontation was brewing. After the rage he'd witnessed in Bakugo, after seeing that crimson power activate in his successor...

He started to move forward, then hesitated as Midoriya called out.

"Bakugo!"

The use of his surname rather than the childhood nickname made Bakugo stop dead in his tracks. His shoulders tensed visibly before he turned, expression already twisted with fury.

"What the hell do you want?" he snarled, palms crackling with suppressed explosions.

Midoriya stood his ground, bandaged arm hanging at his side, the other clenched into a tight fist. Something in his posture had changed - a hardness that hadn't been there before. When he spoke, his voice was cold, deliberate.

"I want to make something perfectly clear," he said, each word edged with steel. "Whatever we were before - childhood friends, classmates - that's over."

Toshinori's breath caught in his throat. This wasn't the stammering, apologetic boy he'd chosen as his successor. This was someone else entirely.

Bakugo's laugh was sharp and venomous.

"You think I ever considered you a friend? You were nothing but a pebble beneath my shoe."

"And yet this pebble just crushed your ego," Midoriya replied, not a hint of satisfaction in his voice - just cold fact.

"I'm done being your punching bag. I'm done making excuses for you. I'm done pretending there's anything redeemable about what you've become."

The raw hostility in those words - from Midoriya of all people - sent a chill down Toshinori's spine. This wasn't rivalry: this was pure enmity.

"You think one lucky shot makes you my equal?" Bakugo stepped closer, small explosions popping from his palms like warning shots. "You're still the same worthless De-ku underneath whatever power you've been hiding."

"That's where you're wrong," Midoriya didn't back down an inch, his green eyes flashing with something dangerous.

"I'm not the same. And I'm not hiding anymore. You want to see what I'm capable of? Keep pushing me."

There was an implicit threat in those words that made Toshinori's blood run cold. This wasn't the kind of heroic spirit he'd hoped to nurture.

"Is that a threat?" Bakugo's teeth bared in a vicious smile. "Finally showing your true colors, De-ku? After years of playing the innocent victim?"

"It's a promise," Midoriya's voice dropped to something barely above a whisper, yet somehow more menacing for its quietness. "You come after me again like you did today, and I will put you down. This is the starting line - but I'm not running the same race as you anymore."

Bakugo's eyes widened momentarily before narrowing to dangerous slits. "Big words from someone who spent his whole life kissing the ground I walk on."

"That person is gone," Midoriya said, something dark flickering across his features. "And if you're smart, you'll stay out of my way going forward."

For a moment, Toshinori thought Bakugo might attack - his hands were trembling with barely contained rage, sparks dancing between his fingers. But then a different expression crossed his face: a cold, calculating fury replacing the hot anger.

"I guess we're enemies now," Bakugo finally said, his voice dropping to match Midoriya's quiet intensity. "Fine by me. I was getting tired of carrying your pathetic admiration anyway."

"Enemies," Midoriya repeated, as if testing the word. He nodded once, sharply. "At least we finally agree on something."

The two stood locked in silent confrontation, neither willing to break eye contact first. The hostility between them was almost palpable, a physical force distorting the air.

"I'm going to destroy you," Bakugo finally said, each word precise and measured. "Not just beat you - destroy everything you think you've become. That's my promise to you."

Midoriya's response was equally measured: "You can try."

With that, Bakugo turned away, but there was nothing dismissive in the movement now - it was the calculated retreat of someone planning their next attack.

Toshinori remained frozen in his hiding spot, deeply disturbed by what he'd witnessed. This wasn't the passionate but ultimately healthy rivalry he'd hoped might develop between the boys.

This was something toxic, destructive - the kind of enmity that consumed heroes and villains alike.

And what troubled him most was how natural that cold anger had seemed coming from young Midoriya - as if something long dormant had finally awakened. Something that resonated with those crimson eyes.

As young Iida appeared, calling for Midoriya, Toshinori watched his successor's transformation with growing concern. The cold, threatening presence melted away instantly, replaced by the smiling, apologetic boy he recognized.

The greatest hero’s gaze softened, why was he doubting Izuku over and over? It was about time he stopped.

Yes it was a bit concerning how cold or how fiery Izuku could be at times, but what was the young adult supposed to do? supposed to feel? Against the one that had tormented him for more than half his life.

Did he, All-Might himself, have the right to doubt his successor when he himself had in the past, and countless times, exhibited a lot of anger and wrath against villains?

No he most certainly did not.

Izuku was a hero, he knew that from the day he had met that young adult and watched that kid sprint to save his childhood bully, all the while believing that he was quirkless.

But one thing he had failed to acknowledge was that Izuku, like himself, was human and was also capable of feeling angry and furious.

So with that in mind, it was about time he started to properly have faith in the man he chose to succeed him.

End.

I hope you all liked the chapter. I know it was a bit annoying seeing the perspectives of some of the…forgettable characters.

But as I mentioned in the last chapter, it’s only temporary and something I plan to end now.

And you’ll all understand why in the coming chapters.

More Chapters are posted on my patreon Feel free to check it out lads, here's the link

https://www.patreon.com/c/Demon_Knight939

Now I don’t have anything more to say, so I’ll simply give my regards.

See you all on next chapter!

Chapter Text

Hi

Chapter 9 right here.

Please enjoy.

Start:

Izuku sat at his desk, watching the rest of Class 1-A erupt into excited chatter the moment Aizawa slipped out of the classroom. Their homeroom teacher had dropped a bombshell before leaving - something about electing a class representative and deputy because All Might needed someone to speak to the press.

Class representative? Me? The thought made Izuku's stomach flutter with equal parts anxiety and excitement.

It had been three weeks since the Battle Trial, and Izuku still found himself replaying that confrontation with Bakugo in his mind during quiet moments. The way his vision had sharpened with crimson clarity. The way he'd finally stood his ground. The way they'd parted as declared enemies rather than childhood acquaintances.

I meant every word I said that day, Izuku thought, his gaze unconsciously drifting toward Bakugo's desk. I'm done being his victim.

Their classes since then had been a whirlwind - Present Mic's English lessons focused on international hero communication protocols, Midnight's Modern Hero Art History diving into the evolution of costumes and public imagery, and Cementoss teaching applied mathematics for structural analysis during rescues. Each day brought new challenges, new techniques to master, new ways to test both of his powers.

The crimson eyes had become easier to control, responding to his will rather than just his rage. Gran Torino's training continued on weekends, pushing him to integrate his enhanced perception with One For All's raw power. His control was improving, even if it remained far from perfect.

"Quiet down, everyone!" Iida's voice cut through the classroom chaos, his arm chopping through the air with mechanical precision. "This is a serious responsibility! The class representative will be our voice to the faculty and the public! We must approach this with the utmost care and consideration!"

"Yeah, yeah," Kaminari grinned, electricity dancing between his fingers. "But think about it - class rep means you get to talk to the media! Instant fame!"

"I wanna do it!" Ashido bounced in her seat, black and gold eyes sparkling. "Pick me, pick me!"

"Leadership requires a steady hand," Yaoyorozu noted calmly from her seat, though Izuku noticed how she sat just a little straighter. "The representative must balance the needs of the class with the expectations of UA."

Izuku's fingers tightened around his pencil. A month ago, he would have shrunk into his seat, certain he had no place in such a competition. Now though...

I could actually do this, he realized, the thought sending a spark of determination through him. I could be someone who leads rather than follows.

"We should put it to a vote," Tsuyu suggested, her direct manner cutting through the competing voices. "Kero."

"A democratic approach!" Iida's glasses gleamed as he straightened even further. "Excellent suggestion, Asui-san! A vote will reveal who among us commands the most confidence from their peers!"

"Tch," Bakugo clicked his tongue, eyes narrowed into slits. "What's the point? We've barely known each other a month. People will just vote for whoever stands out the most."

Like you'd ever vote for anyone but yourself, Izuku thought, surprised by the edge in his own internal voice.

"That's precisely why it works," Yaoyorozu countered thoughtfully. "Those who've made a positive impression have demonstrated qualities valuable in a leader."

"I agree with Yaoyorozu!" Uraraka's bright voice made Izuku turn toward her. She gave him an encouraging smile that warmed something in his chest. "Natural leadership shows itself early!"

The class quickly organized the voting process, with Iida distributing small slips of paper for their ballots. Izuku stared at his blank slip, pencil hovering uncertainly.

Who would actually make a good representative?

His mind cycled through his classmates - Iida's rigid dedication to rules and protocols, Yaoyorozu's encyclopedic knowledge and strategic mind, Todoroki's calm under pressure, Kirishima's ability to inspire others, Uraraka's positive energy and determination.

Each had qualities that would make them effective in different ways. As for himself...

Do I even have what it takes? Izuku wondered, pencil finally making contact with paper. My analytical skills might help, and I've studied hero protocols for years, but...

He wrote a name, folded the paper quickly, and passed it forward before he could second-guess himself.

As the votes were tallied on the board, a hush fell over the classroom. Numbers appeared next to names, and Izuku's heart nearly stopped when he saw his own name rising to the top of the list.

Four votes.

Four people voted for me? His eyes widened, heat rushing to his cheeks. How - Why would - Who would think I'd be good at this?

"What the actual fuck?!" Bakugo exploded from his seat, small detonations popping from his palms. "Who the hell voted for De-ku?!"

"That's the beauty of a secret ballot, Bakugo," Tsuyu replied calmly, completely unfazed by his outburst. "We don't have to tell you. Kero."

"Four votes for Midoriya, three for Yaoyorozu," Iida announced, voice tight with what might have been disappointment. Izuku noticed he kept glancing at his own name, which had received two votes. "The democratic process has spoken! Midoriya will be our class representative, with Yaoyorozu as deputy!"

The classroom erupted again - congratulations from some, quiet acceptance from others, and smoldering rage from one particular corner. Izuku felt frozen to his seat, unable to process what had just happened.

Me? Class representative?

"Congratulations, Izuku-kun!" Uraraka beamed at him, giving him a thumbs-up. "You'll be amazing!"

"Good choice," Ojiro added with a thoughtful nod. "Your analytical skills will be valuable in representing our needs to the faculty."

"Plus after that Battle Trial strategy," Sato grinned, "we know you can think outside the box!"

"BULLSHIT!" Bakugo's second explosion was louder, actually scorching his desk this time. "This nerd doesn't deserve to lead anything! He can barely control his own Quirk!"

Something hot and dangerous flickered in Izuku's chest at those words. The ancient presence stirred, responding to the threat in Bakugo's voice. For a moment, he felt that familiar burn behind his eyes, crimson threatening to bleed into his vision.

No. Not here. Not now.

With effort, Izuku pushed the feeling down, took a deep breath, and stood from his desk. The movement immediately silenced the room, all eyes turning toward him.

They're waiting for me to speak, he realized with a jolt. They're actually looking to me for leadership.

"Thank you for your confidence," he said, proud that his voice remained steady despite the storm of emotions inside him. "I - I'll do my best to represent our class well."

"Of course you will," Yaoyorozu stood as well, her posture perfect as always. "And as your deputy, I'll ensure we approach our responsibilities with the proper structure and protocol."

The bell rang, signaling the beginning of their next period. As the class began gathering their materials, Izuku felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Iida standing beside his desk, expression serious but not unkind.

"I voted for you," Iida admitted quietly. "Your actions in the Battle Trial revealed a strategic mind and selfless spirit - qualities befitting a true leader. I look forward to seeing how you grow into this role, Midoriya-kun."

The words struck Izuku deeply, warming something that had been cold for too long.

Someone believes in me - not just All Might or my mom, but a classmate. A peer.

"Thank you, Iida-kun," he managed, swallowing past the sudden tightness in his throat. "That means a lot."

As they filed out of the classroom for their next lesson, Izuku caught Bakugo's murderous glare from across the room. Those crimson eyes promised retribution, a fury that hadn't diminished since their confrontation weeks ago.

Izuku met his gaze steadily, refusing to look away first. They weren't children anymore. They weren't even rivals.

Enemies, he remembered, the word settling into his bones with surprising comfort. At least we finally agree on something.

The ancient presence stirred again, but this time it felt less like rage and more like determination. A quiet, burning resolve that whispered: You're finally becoming who you were meant to be.

As Class 1-A's new representative, Izuku straightened his shoulders and walked out of the room, ready to face whatever challenges came next. Both All Might and the press were waiting, and for once, he wasn't afraid to be seen.

 

AN HOUR LATER…

 

Shigaraki lingered near the edge of the growing crowd, hood pulled low over his face. His cracked lips stretched into a grimace beneath the hand that concealed his features. The press vultures were gathering exactly as predicted, microphones and cameras at the ready, practically salivating at the prospect of catching a glimpse of their precious Symbol of Peace.

Pathetic.

The murmurs swept through the crowd like a disease, infecting everyone with their shared delusion.

"All Might's teaching at UA now!"

"Do you think we'll see him today?"

"My daughter would just die for his autograph!"

Shigaraki's fingers twitched inside his pocket, the familiar itch crawling up his neck. Five points of contact. That's all it would take to silence the nearest sycophant, to watch their admiration crumble to dust along with their flesh.

So easy. So tempting.

He observed the security measures instead, cataloging each camera, each sensor, mapping the pattern of the robots that patrolled the perimeter. UA's defenses were impressive - but ultimately meaningless. Their barrier was already compromised, they just didn't know it yet.

A television crew was setting up nearby, a chipper reporter adjusting her hair while her cameraman checked light levels. Their excitement was palpable, like children awaiting a holiday treat.

"This could be our big break," the reporter gushed. "An exclusive with All Might or his students would put us on the map!"

Shigaraki's nails dug deeper into the skin of his neck, scratching, scratching. The urge to decay was becoming harder to resist with each passing moment.

Their worship is sickening.

These people had surrendered everything to a society that determined human value by the power of one's Quirk. They prostrated themselves before false idols like All Might, never questioning the fundamental rot beneath the system. Never wondering why some were elevated while others were discarded.

It's about time it all comes crashing down.

The remote control felt heavy in his pocket - a small device with a single purpose. One press and their carefully cultivated "pets" would be released, their mindless bodies serving as perfect pawns. Cannon fodder to test UA's response times, to create beautiful, beautiful chaos.

Shigaraki paced slowly along the edge of the crowd, every muscle in his body tight with anticipation. He could end it all right now. Turn this entire gathering into blood and dust, leave nothing but ash where their hopes once stood.

No. Not yet. The plan.

Master's voice echoed in his memory, calm and assured: "Patience, Tomura. The greatest decay happens slowly, invisibly, until the structure is too compromised to stand."

Kurogiri had been explicit in his instructions. Phase One was simple reconnaissance and initial sabotage. No confrontation, no premature reveal. The time would come for Shigaraki to take center stage, but first, they needed to set the scene.

As he walked past the crowd along the sidewalk of UA's imposing wall, Shigaraki felt a surge of dark satisfaction. All it would take was one touch - just a brush of his fingers against the barrier that protected their precious students. His Quirk would do the rest, faster than a stroke of a brush.

He glanced around casually, confirming no eyes were on him. The crowd's attention remained fixed on the main gate, desperate for a glimpse of their idol. With deliberate slowness, Shigaraki removed his right hand from his pocket. Four fingers extended, the pinky carefully held back.

Not complete decay. Just enough.

The skin beneath his fingernails was raw and bleeding from his earlier scratching, but the pain only sharpened his focus. As he passed a section of wall partially obscured by decorative shrubbery, his hand brushed against the concrete - a casual, innocent-seeming gesture.

The effect was immediate but subtle. No dramatic crumbling, no attention-grabbing collapse. Just the beginning of decay, molecules breaking down at an accelerated rate, a cancer introduced to UA's perfect defenses.

Shigaraki continued walking, expression hidden but satisfaction bubbling in his chest. He passed three more sections of wall, each touch precisely calculated, each point of contact strategically chosen for maximum structural impact.

They think they're so secure inside their fortress.

By the time he reached the corner, his work was done. The decay would spread slowly, weakening the barrier from within until the final push would bring it all down. The irony wasn't lost on him - using their own defensive wall as the instrument of their vulnerability.

Shigaraki allowed himself one backward glance as he walked away. The crowd remained oblivious, cameras still pointed expectantly at the main gate. No one had noticed the pale, hooded figure with the hand on his face. No one had seen him touch their precious barrier.

They never see the decay until it's too late.

A few minutes after he left, he heard the first gasps of surprise rippling through the crowd. Someone had finally noticed the strange discoloration spreading across sections of the wall, the unusual flaking of its surface. Questions would follow. Then concern. Then fear.

With unhurried movements, Shigaraki retrieved his smartphone and typed a message to Kurogiri: "Phase One complete."

The response came moments later: "Proceed to Phase Two. Rendezvous at designated location."

In the distance, UA's warning alarm began to wail, its urgent tone cutting through the confused murmurs of the crowd. Security protocols activating, students being secured, heroes responding to the potential threat.

All exactly as planned.

Shigaraki's lips stretched into a genuine smile beneath Father's hand. The first seeds of chaos had been planted. Soon, they would watch this entire carefully maintained illusion of peace crumble into nothing.

Just like everything else I touch.

He walked unhurriedly toward the rendezvous point, savoring the distant sounds of panic growing behind him. The real game was just beginning.

 

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

 

Izuku settled into his seat in UA's bustling cafeteria, still processing the morning's unexpected turn of events. The plastic tray before him contained Lunch Rush's perfectly balanced meal, but his appetite seemed to have vanished beneath the weight of his new responsibility.

Class representative. How did that even happen?

"You've barely touched your food, Izuku-kun," Uraraka observed, concern evident in her warm brown eyes. "Is everything okay?"

She sat across from him, cheeks slightly puffed as she enjoyed her rice. Beside her, Iida methodically worked through his own meal, each movement precise and efficient.

"I'm just..." Izuku poked at his katsudon with his chopsticks, "...thinking about the class rep position. I'm not sure I'm the right person for it."

Iida set down his chopsticks with mathematical precision, straightening his glasses with his characteristic chopping motion. "Nonsense, Midoriya-kun! Your selection was democratically sound and entirely merited."

Easy for him to say. He actually seems built for leadership.

"But you would have been perfect for it, Iida-kun," Izuku countered, finally taking a small bite. "You're so organized and you know all the protocols."

"While I appreciate your confidence," Iida replied, his formal tone unwavering, "I voted for you specifically because of what I witnessed during the entrance exam."

Izuku nearly choked on his rice. "You... you what?"

"Your intuitive response to danger, prioritizing others' safety despite personal risk - these are qualities befitting a leader," Iida continued, as if delivering a prepared speech. "True leadership isn't just about knowing rules and protocols, but about inspiring others through action."

Uraraka tilted her head, studying Iida with newfound curiosity. "You know, I never asked - why do you talk so formally, Iida-kun? Were you raised in some kind of super-rich family or something?"

A flicker of discomfort passed across Iida's usually composed features. He cleared his throat, shoulders tensing slightly.

"I..." he hesitated, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. "My family has been in the hero business for generations. I was raised with certain expectations regarding conduct and propriety."

Uraraka's eyes widened. "Wait, are you saying you're from a hero family? Like, a famous one?"

Iida sighed, resignation written across his features. "Yes. My brother is the Turbo Hero: Ingenium. I had hoped to establish myself at UA before this became common knowledge."

Ingenium? The pro hero with sixty-five sidekicks running one of Japan's most successful agencies? Izuku felt excitement bubbling up, his hero analysis instincts kicking in immediately.

"Your brother is amazing!" Izuku blurted, previous anxiety momentarily forgotten. "His agency's emergency response protocols revolutionized urban rescue operations, and his team-based approach to heroics has influenced agency structures across - "

He stopped abruptly, noticing Iida's surprised expression. Heat rushed to Izuku's face. "Sorry. I get carried away sometimes."

"No apologies necessary," Iida replied, a genuine smile replacing his usual stern expression. "It's refreshing to hear appreciation for my brother's organizational innovations rather than just his combat abilities."

"Is that why you were hesitant to tell us?" Uraraka asked gently. "Were you worried we'd treat you differently?"

Iida nodded stiffly. "I wished to earn respect through my own merits, not my family name. My brother cast a long shadow, and I - "

A piercing alarm suddenly cut through the cafeteria, its urgent wail silencing all conversation. Red emergency lights began flashing along the walls, casting an eerie glow across the previously cheerful space.

"What's happening?" Uraraka's voice pitched higher with alarm.

A tall student with indigo hair - a third-year, judging by his uniform - spoke up from the next table. "Level Three security breach. Someone's infiltrated the campus."

Infiltrated? Izuku felt his heart rate spike. But UA's security barrier is supposed to be impenetrable.

The cafeteria erupted into panicked motion, students abandoning meals and rushing toward the exits. Izuku found himself swept into the surge of bodies, separated from Uraraka and Iida as the crowd bottlenecked at the doorway.

"Stay calm!" he heard a staff member call out, but their voice was lost in the growing chaos.

Bodies pressed against him from all sides, the crush becoming dangerous as more students pushed forward. Elbows jabbed into ribs, feet were trampled, and anxious voices rose to a deafening cacophony. Somewhere in the crowd, Izuku heard a younger student cry out in fear.

This isn't right. We're supposed to be heroes-in-training, not adding to the panic.

Through a brief gap in the crowd, Izuku caught sight of Iida, who had somehow worked his way to a window overlooking the main entrance. He saw Iida's expression shift from concern to bewilderment.

"Midoriya!" Iida called out, voice barely audible above the commotion. "It's just the press! They've somehow gotten past the gate!"

Just the media? Relief flooded through Izuku, quickly replaced by determination. They needed to stop this dangerous stampede before someone got hurt.

An image flashed in his mind - Ingenium addressing a crowd after the Hosu subway incident, his commanding presence instantly calming panicked civilians. That's what they needed now: a voice of authority.

Izuku spotted Uraraka nearby, struggling to maintain her footing in the crush. "Uraraka-san!" he called out, stretching his arm toward her. "I need your help!"

She fought her way to him, confusion written across her features. "What are you planning, Izuku-kun?"

"Make Iida float!" Izuku explained rapidly, formulating the plan as he spoke. "He needs to get above the crowd!"

Understanding dawned in her eyes. She nodded, determination replacing confusion. With effort, they maneuvered through the press of bodies toward Iida.

"Iida-kun!" Izuku grabbed his arm. "We need your help! The emergency exit sign - do you see it?"

Iida followed his gaze to the illuminated sign above the doorway. "Yes, but I don't - "

"Uraraka-san is going to make you weightless," Izuku explained quickly. "I'll boost you up there. You need to tell everyone it's just the media!"

Before Iida could object, Uraraka pressed her fingertips to his shoulders. "Release!" she declared, her Quirk activating instantly.

Izuku planted his feet, summoning a fraction of One For All's power - just enough for explosive strength without damaging his limbs. The energy coursed through him like electricity seeking ground.

Control it. Just enough.

With a powerful heave, he launched the weightless Iida upward. Iida sailed over the crowd, his trajectory bringing him perfectly to the emergency exit sign. He grabbed the metal frame, stabilizing himself above the chaotic mass of students.

Meanwhile, Izuku forced his way to the wall, using his improved physical condition to climb partway up using the window ledges. The ancient presence inside him stirred, that familiar heat building behind his eyes. Not from rage this time, but from fierce determination.

No. I don't need that power for this.

Izuku pushed the crimson down, focusing instead on projecting his voice as he'd practiced with Gran Torino. "Everyone, listen to Iida-kun!"

Positioned above the crowd, Iida drew a deep breath. His voice boomed across the hallway with unexpected authority, his arms chopping through the air in his characteristic manner.

"EVERYONE, PLEASE REMAIN CALM! IT IS ONLY THE MEDIA WHO HAVE BREACHED THE PERIMETER! THERE IS NO VILLAIN ATTACK! PLEASE PROCEED ORDERLY TO YOUR CLASSROOMS!"

The effect was immediate. The panicked energy dissipated as understanding rippled through the crowd. Pushing ceased, students began to separate, and nervous laughter replaced fearful murmurs.

"Just reporters?"

"All that panic for nothing..."

"How embarrassing..."

Izuku slid back down to the floor, relief washing through him as the dangerous situation defused. Uraraka released her Quirk, and Iida descended to join them, his expression caught between exhilaration and embarrassment.

"That was excellent thinking, Midoriya-kun," Iida said, adjusting his glasses which had gone slightly askew during his impromptu flight.

Izuku shook his head. "I just remembered how your brother handles crowd control. You were perfect up there, Iida-kun." He hesitated, then added, "Would you lead the evacuation? Your voice carries better than mine, and people respond to your authority."

Iida blinked in surprise. "But you're our class representative."

"And part of leadership is knowing when to delegate," Izuku replied with more confidence than he felt. "Please, Iida-kun. You'd be better at this than me."

After a moment's consideration, Iida nodded, a smile breaking through his serious demeanor. "I would be honored, Midoriya-kun. Thank you for your trust."

As Iida moved ahead to organize their classmates, Yaoyorozu approached, her expression thoughtful. "That was well handled, Midoriya-kun," she said. "Though I'm curious - why did you let Iida-kun take the lead when it was your plan?"

Why did I? Izuku considered the question seriously.

"I think..." he started slowly, "part of me has become braver these past weeks, and with that comes self-awareness of my current limitations. I don't have Iida-kun's commanding presence or experience with public speaking. In an emergency situation, I can't risk failure if someone else can do it better."

He smiled, a hint of his old shyness returning. "There's always time to train and improve."

"That's so thoughtful, Izuku-kun," Uraraka said, her eyes warm with something like admiration. "I never would have considered it that way."

Yaoyorozu nodded, her analytical mind clearly processing his words. "I agree with your assessment," she said finally. "Though I would encourage you to expand your horizons, Midoriya-kun. Leadership takes many forms, and you've already demonstrated strategic thinking and the ability to inspire trust."

Expand my horizons? The suggestion caught Izuku off guard.

"She's right, you know," Uraraka added. "You're always analyzing everyone else's strengths, but you should recognize your own too!"

Yaoyorozu's words struck something deep within Izuku, resonating with thoughts he hadn't fully articulated even to himself. As their classmates began moving in an orderly fashion toward their evacuation points, Izuku found himself considering new possibilities.

Expand my horizons...

Could he really become more than he'd imagined? Between his training with All Might and Gran Torino, his studies, and now these class representative duties, would he have time to develop leadership skills too?

Bakugo's voice echoed in his memory, harsh and dismissive: "You're a nobody, De-ku. Always have been, always will be."

But that wasn't true anymore. Four of his classmates had voted for him. Iida had acknowledged his leadership potential. All Might had chosen him as a successor.

Maybe this is my first real step, Izuku thought, a sense of purpose settling over him like a mantle. Not just becoming a hero, but becoming somebody people can believe in.

As he followed his classmates toward safety, Izuku felt something shift inside him - not the ancient crimson presence this time, but something newer, greener, filled with possibility and hope.

For the first time, he wasn't just dreaming of catching up to others. He was beginning to forge his own path forward.

 

AROUND THE SAME TIME…

 

The blaring alarms echoed through UA's corridors, but Satou had stopped hearing them minutes ago, the warning sounds fading into background noise as adrenaline narrowed his focus. His attention locked onto the steady, confident rhythm of Ojiro's footsteps ahead of him as they navigated away from the panicking crowd.

The martial artist moved with practiced precision, his muscular tail swishing behind him like a counterbalance, its movements as deliberate as his footfalls.

"This way," Ojiro whispered, his tail flicking with purpose as he led them toward an inconspicuous service door at the back of the cafeteria, partially hidden behind a row of vending machines.

"Maintenance access. It'll get us around the bottleneck. Most students don't even know these passages exist."

Satou nodded, genuinely impressed by his classmate's quick thinking. While hundreds of their fellow students had rushed like stampeding cattle toward the main exits, creating a dangerous crush of bodies, Ojiro had immediately assessed alternatives with a tactical mind that belied his first-year status.

The martial artist's situational awareness was something Satou had noticed during their joint training sessions, but seeing it in action during a real emergency only heightened his respect.

"Smart move," Satou said as they slipped through the door into a quieter service corridor, the fluorescent lighting buzzing overhead and casting everything in harsh, unforgiving illumination. The passage smelled of industrial cleaners and machine oil, a stark contrast to the cafeteria's lingering food aromas.

"If we can figure out what triggered the alarm, maybe even catch whoever's responsible..."

"Exactly," Ojiro replied, his normally friendly face set with determination, jaw clenched and eyes focused ahead. Every few steps, he would pause to listen, his tail rising slightly as if to better sense vibrations through the air. "Could mean extra credit, but more importantly - "

"We could be actual heroes today," Satou finished, excitement bubbling in his chest, muscles already tensing in anticipation. His fingers brushed against the small pouch of sugar cubes in his pocket - emergency rations that could activate his Quirk in seconds.

"Not just students playing at it. This could be the real thing."

Ojiro gave him a quick grin over his shoulder, the expression transforming his serious face momentarily.

"Heroes need to be on top of danger to actually remedy it. Being reactionary isn't enough. My master always said anticipation separates true heroes from mere responders."

"You're really something, you know that?" Satou couldn't help but admire his classmate's focus. He'd always respected Ojiro's discipline during training, the way he approached every exercise with monastic dedication, but this confident initiative was something else entirely.

"Most first-years would be running with the crowd, but here you are, heading toward potential danger without hesitation."

"Shh!"

Ojiro suddenly froze, his entire body going rigid, tail straight and stiff behind him like an antenna detecting signals. His nostrils flared slightly, and his eyes narrowed, focusing on something distant.

"I hear something down this way. Metal on metal. Someone's trying to access the security systems."

They proceeded more cautiously now, each footstep placed with deliberate care to minimize sound.

Ojiro led them through the labyrinthine service corridors that smelled increasingly of electronics and machinery. The institutional lighting cast harsh shadows across pipes and electrical conduits running along the ceiling, creating disorienting patterns of light and dark that made depth perception challenging.

Occasional hissing from steam pipes and the low hum of electrical equipment masked their movements while simultaneously making it harder to detect any threats.

There was no one around them. Probably outside assessing the situation, Satou thought. Or they may have panicked, he surmised, seeing as they had just passed the occasional single boot or shoe, as though someone had been running and left them behind.

"These must be the maintenance tunnels that run beneath the entire campus," Satou whispered, barely audible even to himself as he ran his thick fingers along a panel marked with security codes and warning labels. His fingers traced through dirt before revealing the interface behind it. The monitor flickered with life, even though it seemed untouched with the amount of dust and dirt around them. The schematic displayed showed a complex network of interconnected passages, color-coded for different systems.

"Look at these schematics - they connect to all the school's defensive systems. Primary power, backup generators, security protocols... everything vital is accessible from here."

Ojiro nodded grimly, his eyes scanning the diagram before pointing toward a junction ahead where several corridors converged.

"The alarm originated from the west perimeter according to this emergency display. If we follow this corridor, we should reach a monitoring station that can show us exactly what triggered the security response."

The passage narrowed as they proceeded, forcing them to walk single file. Satou, with his broader frame, occasionally had to turn sideways to squeeze past larger pipe junctions. The air grew noticeably warmer, carrying the scent of ozone and heated metal - signs of active electrical systems working overtime.

The alarm's volume increased momentarily as they passed beneath what must have been a main hallway, then dulled again as layers of concrete separated them from the school above.

They turned a corner and found what they were looking for - a security monitoring station with multiple screens displaying different sections of the school's perimeter. One screen flashed red in urgent warning, zoomed in on a section of the western wall that appeared to be... dissolving? The high-definition feed showed concrete crumbling away in uneven patches, the structural integrity collapsing inward from several distinct points of contact.

"What on earth?"

Satou leaned closer, muscles tensing involuntarily as he processed what he was seeing. The display showed a timestamp - the deterioration had begun just minutes ago and was spreading at an alarming rate. "The wall's literally disintegrating. That's not normal structural damage. It's not even consistent with explosive force."

"Quirk-based," Ojiro agreed, his voice dropping even lower as his trained eyes analyzed the destruction pattern. His tail coiled tightly, a sign of heightened alertness that Satou had learned to recognize during their combat training. "Someone with a disintegration ability must have - "

"Quite perceptive for first-year students," a deep, resonant voice interrupted from behind them, the tone somehow both polite and threatening at once.

The sound froze the blood in Satou's veins before he'd even processed its meaning.

Both boys whirled around in perfect synchronization, dropping instinctively into defensive stances - Ojiro's a perfect martial arts guard position, balanced and centered, while Satou's broader form adopted the boxer's stance he'd trained in since childhood.

Blocking the corridor they'd just traversed was a towering mass of swirling dark purple mist, its edges undulating like smoke but with purpose, vaguely shaped like a person but distinctly inhuman. Yellow slits that might have been eyes gleamed from within the foggy mass, focusing on them with unmistakable intelligence. A metal collar or brace of some kind hovered within the central mass, the only solid part of the apparition.

But it was the figure behind the mist that sent ice down Satou's spine - a lanky young man with light blue hair falling in unkempt strands around his face, dressed in black clothing that hung loosely on his frame. His most disturbing feature was the disembodied human hand covering his face, fingers splayed across his features like a macabre mask. Four more severed hands clutched at his arms, neck, and shoulders, each positioned with deliberate care.

"What do we have here?" the mist-man's voice echoed strangely, as though coming from everywhere at once, each syllable resonating off the metal-lined corridors. "Unexpected variables in our equation. Students wandering where they shouldn't be."

The hand-faced man stepped forward, his movements jerky and agitated. His exposed skin looked dry, almost flaky, and his fingers scratched furiously at his neck, leaving red marks that stood out against his pale complexion.

"Can I do it?" he asked, voice eerily childlike with excitement that contrasted horribly with the situation. "They've seen us. They're just extras anyway. NPCs in a tutorial level."

"We're here to send a message," the mist replied calmly, yellow eyes narrowing slightly. "Consider it a field test. Our plans are larger than these two, but practical application is always illuminating."

Something about their casual tone made Satou's blood run cold, fear crystallizing into a hard lump in his stomach.

These weren't ordinary intruders or even common criminals - they moved with too much confidence, spoke with too much purpose. Their very presence in UA's most secure areas demonstrated capabilities far beyond typical villains.

They're not just villains, he realized with growing horror, the sugar cubes in his pocket suddenly feeling woefully inadequate. They're organized. Prepared. Here with a specific purpose.

"Satou," Ojiro muttered, his tail swishing with controlled tension as he shifted slightly to put himself between his classmate and the intruders. His voice remained steady, though Satou could detect the slightest tremor indicating that Ojiro too recognized the deadly threat before them. "When I move, run for the alarm panel by the door. I'll hold them off. We need to alert the pros immediately."

"What? No way!" Satou hissed back, tensing his muscles in preparation to fight alongside his friend. The very suggestion that he would leave Ojiro behind was unthinkable. "We stick together - we're stronger as a team!"

"UA needs to know what we're dealing with," Ojiro insisted, his eyes never leaving the villains, tracking their smallest movements with laser focus. His voice dropped even lower. "Someone has to get word back. This isn't about heroics - it's about making sure help comes."

Before Satou could argue further, the hand-faced man lunged forward with unexpected speed, movements fluid and precise despite his earlier twitchy demeanor. His fingers splayed toward Ojiro's face, aiming for direct contact.

"Too slow," he taunted, voice lilting with disturbing glee. "First-year response times are so disappointing."

Ojiro's martial arts training showed in his immediate response - pivoting gracefully, his powerful tail whipping around to create distance while his arm deflected the reaching hand with a precision born from thousands of practice hours. The movement was flawless, a textbook example of redirecting an opponent's momentum.

"Not bad," the villain chuckled, dancing back with surprising agility. His head tilted slightly, studying Ojiro with newfound interest from behind that grotesque hand-mask. "A martial artist. Tail Quirk with enhanced physical training. But you're still just an NPC in my game. Background character fodder."

What happened next would burn itself into Satou's memory forever, etched in vivid detail that no amount of time could fade.

The hand-faced man feinted left, his body telegraphing one direction while his true intention remained hidden. Ojiro responded perfectly to the feint, tail sweeping through the space where the villain appeared to be moving.

But it was a trap. As the martial artist adjusted his stance to counter the expected attack, the villain dropped low, pivoting beneath the tail's arc with serpentine flexibility.

Before either student could react, the villain's right hand shot out with precision born of practice, all five fingers connecting with Ojiro's exposed forearm just below where his uniform sleeve had ridden up during the defensive movement.

At first, nothing seemed to happen. For one heartbeat - two - Ojiro maintained his stance, confusion flickering across his features. Then his eyes widened in shock, pupils dilating with sudden, horrific understanding.

The disintegration began at the point of contact - skin blistering and peeling away first, like sand caught in a breeze. Then deeper layers followed: muscle fibers separating, tendons unraveling strand by strand, veins and arteries collapsing as their structural integrity failed. The decay spread rapidly up Ojiro's arm, crawling in uneven patches that left islands of intact flesh surrounded by crumbling tissue, creating a mottled pattern of destruction that somehow looked worse than complete disintegration would have.

"Interesting," the villain commented casually, as if observing a mildly engaging television show. He stepped back to watch the progress of his handiwork, head tilted analytically. "Your body's quite dense with muscle. Takes a bit longer than average. Most people are completely dust by now."

Blood sprayed across the white corridor walls in arterial patterns as major vessels dissolved, creating a fine red mist that caught the harsh fluorescent lighting like ruby glass. The metallic smell of blood mixed with something else - a dusty, almost chalky scent that must have been the byproduct of cellular breakdown itself.

Ojiro fell to one knee, his face contorted in agony but his eyes remaining focused, determined despite the horror consuming his body. His training showed even now - controlling his breathing, managing the pain, refusing to surrender to panic. Blood bubbled from his lips as he fought to speak, internal bleeding already beginning as the decay reached his torso.

"RUN!" he screamed at Satou, his voice raw with pain but commanding, using his last strength to give an order rather than beg for help. His tail lashed out one final time with perfect aim, striking the villain with enough force to momentarily stagger him, creating the opening he'd promised.

In that split second of opportunity, Ojiro's eyes met Satou's - a look that contained both an order and a goodbye, professional resolve mixed with human fear. Blood vessels in his eyes were beginning to burst, creating crimson webs across the whites.

"GO! WARN THEM!"

The words came gurgling through blood-filled lungs, each syllable a victory of will over failing physiology.

The martial artist's body was still collapsing inward, the decay crawling across his chest now in geometric patterns like frost spreading across glass. Somehow, impossibly, he maintained his fighting stance, his remaining arm raised defensively even as fingers began to crumble at the tips. His tail, still intact, curled protectively around his dissolving form, a last defiant gesture of controlled movement.

Satou's body moved before his mind could fully process the horror unfolding before him. Some primal part of his brain recognized that staying meant both their deaths - that Ojiro's sacrifice would be meaningless unless someone survived to raise the alarm. Fueled by adrenaline and grief, he spun and sprinted down the corridor, fumbling in his pocket for the sugar cubes he always carried.

Behind him, he heard Ojiro's final defiant shout - "For UA!" - cut sickeningly short, transitioning into a wet, gurgling sound that no human throat should make. Then silence, more terrible than any scream could have been.

Satou ran like he’d never before. He passed the occasional boot, shoe, and even glove, and for a second wondered if this was the same feeling they had when the alarms first blared through the speakers. And then Satou’s eyes widened - the dirt around him, the pieces of clothing…

…were these dead people?

Three sugar cubes hit Satou's tongue at once, the sweetness almost obscene against the bitter reality he was fleeing. The sugar dissolved instantly, chemical reactions cascading through his body as his Quirk activated. His muscles bulged beneath his uniform, fibers thickening and multiplying, strength surging through his limbs as he tore through the maintenance corridors at speeds he'd never before attempted or thought possible.

"After him," he heard the mist villain command, his voice somehow carrying through the winding passages despite its conversational volume. "He can't be allowed to alert the pros. This demonstration requires control of information."

Satou's enhanced muscles propelled him forward with each desperate stride, taking corners so sharply that he sometimes collided with walls, leaving dents in the metal plating shaped like his shoulder or fist.

Pipes burst where he grabbed them for stability, sending steam or water spraying across his path. His lungs burned with exertion, tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision, but Ojiro's final command kept his legs pumping mechanically onward.

Warn them. Warn them. Warn them.

The mantra repeated with each footfall, drowning out the memory of dissolving flesh and shattering bone. He had to reach the heroes. Had to tell them what they were facing. Had to make sure Ojiro didn't die in vain. Every corridor looked the same in his panic - white walls, metal pipes, emergency lighting that cast everything in distorted shadows.

Three more sugar cubes, fumbled from his pocket and crammed into his mouth with trembling fingers. The sudden rush hit his system like a thunderbolt, intensifying both his strength and the side effects of his Quirk. His heart hammered dangerously in his chest, muscles expanding beyond their normal limits and far beyond his uniform's capacity. Seams split along his back and arms with audible tearing sounds, fabric giving way to hypertrophied muscle. The sugar rush intensified his emotions too, grief and terror merging into wild determination that bordered on mania.

A purple mist began seeping through a ventilation grate ahead, blocking his path. Satou charged directly at it, roaring with sugar-enhanced fury, smashing through the adjacent wall instead. Drywall exploded around him, metal supports bending as his massive frame created a new doorway through sheer force. His skin scraped raw against jagged edges, but the pain barely registered through the chemical haze of sugar and adrenaline.

The corridors seemed endless, twisting back on themselves like a nightmare maze designed specifically to trap him. Each turn brought new hope - was that an exit sign in the distance? - only to reveal more identical passages. His enhanced muscles were beginning to ache, sugar metabolism reaching its limits as lactic acid built up in overworked tissues.

Finally, after what felt like hours but must have been mere minutes, Satou spotted a sliver of light beneath a door at the end of the corridor. An exit sign glowed faintly above it, its red illumination cutting through the institutional lighting like a beacon of salvation. With renewed determination, he surged forward, one hand reaching for the final sugar cube in his pocket.

Almost there. Just a few more steps.

"We've wasted enough time on this one," the mist villain's voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, filling the corridor with resonant disapproval. "We need to begin the main event."

"Fine," came the petulant reply from the hand-faced man, closer than Satou expected. "But I get to have fun with the others. Time to kill the next generation of heroes while they're still in the nest."

The words sent a fresh surge of terror through Satou's body. Not just him and Ojiro - these villains were targeting the entire school. His classmates. His friends. Everyone was in danger.

With one final, desperate lunge, Satou reached for the door, fingers extended toward the handle that would lead to safety, to warning, to salvation. The last sugar cube tumbled from his trembling hand, rolling across the floor in slow motion, white against the dark concrete.

Just a little further...

His vision was already blurring around the edges, darkness encroaching from the periphery as exhaustion and sugar crash combined with overwhelming fear. His fingertips brushed against the cold metal of the door handle - so close, just a fraction more -

And then he felt it. The touch of five fingers against the back of his neck, light as a lover's caress and final as a guillotine's fall.

Satou's last thought wasn't of his own fate, but of his classmates above, unaware of the horror about to be unleashed upon them. Of Ojiro's sacrifice. Of the warning that would never come.

His hand, reaching for salvation, crumbled to dust against the door, particles drifting gently to join the lone sugar cube on the ground.

Then there was nothing.

End.

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Peace.