Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku has always had an obsession with Present Mic’s radio show. Maybe it was because of the enthusiasm the Voice Hero brought to his broadcasts, the entertaining content, and even the way his voice sounded over the radio—distorted, yet strangely enchanting. There was something about those crackling radio frequencies that made Izuku feel alive. No matter what kind of day he was having, listening to Present Mic felt like an escape, a way to drown out the noise of the world and dive into a realm of sound that only he seemed to truly understand.

As he got older, the obsession deepened. Izuku began to notice he wasn’t just drawn to the show for the excitement—it was something more. The distortion in Present Mic’s voice didn’t sound strange to him; it felt familiar. At first, Izuku thought it was just his imagination, until one day, while fiddling with an old radio, he realized his own voice could shift and blend with the static. His Quirk had finally awakened, and it was unlike anything he had expected.

It wasn’t a typical power, but a dark, mysterious ability tied to sound waves and radio frequencies. He could broadcast his voice into any radio within range, manipulate sound to control the airwaves, and even hypnotize or disorient those who listened too long. His voice became something eerie, almost demonic as if it came from another realm. The more he used it, the more powerful and unsettling it became. 

That wasn’t all though. 

Just like a computer malfunctioning, he had the power to glitch. To turn his body into something that flickered in and out of existence, like a corrupted signal. One second, Izuku was standing solid and whole; the next, he’d dissolve into a mass of static, his form distorting as though reality couldn’t quite keep up with him. It was disorienting to watch, but for Izuku, it felt natural, like he had become one with the very frequencies that flowed through the airwaves.

His movements were unpredictable when he glitched—one moment, he’d be a blur, a phantom of crackling noise; the next, he’d reappear several feet away, fully formed, as though he had never vanished at all. It gave him a certain advantage, a way to evade danger or strike without warning. But it was more than just physical displacement—it was as if the world itself was bending around him, as though his very presence disrupted the fabric of reality.

This power—this glitching—was both exhilarating and terrifying. Izuku felt like he had become a living transmission, his body a vessel for the frequencies that only he could fully understand. But with that power came a constant hum, an undercurrent of static that never seemed to leave him alone.

“Izuku! Can you come help me with dinner?” 

The fourteen-year-old snapped his head towards the closed door he never used anymore. His vision shook as he glitched into the kitchen, right behind his mother. 

“Of course, mother!” 

Inko Midoriya jumped, causing the plates and bowls to fly out of her hands in every direction. Izuku acted fast, shifting through reality and catching the plates before they hit the floor. Izuku laughed as he spun to his mother, who was glaring up at him with her hands on her hips. Izuku’s unsettling grin actually faltered. 

“Izuku Midoriya! How many times must I tell you to not startle your mother like that?”

Her son laughed again, his voice sounding like he was speaking through a microphone. “I apologize, sometimes it’s just hard to resist!”

Inko scoffed, snatching the plates from Izukus's hands. “You’re going to give this woman a heart attack one day.” She murmured as went to set the table. Another laugh escaped his mouth and he glitched in front of her, taking the plates from her hands to set the table himself. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it! It’ll take more than a jumpscare for a woman such as you to have such a dramatic exit, hmm?” His grin sharpened with mischief. Inko stared at him with a raised eyebrow before breaking, a chuckle escaping her lips. “Oh Izuku,” she shook her head and pushed him towards the stove. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Izuku hummed, his grin never leaving his face as he started dinner. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll soon be turning my attention to the ones called Villains and giving them the heart attacks you speak of.” 

Inko didn’t speak for a long moment, causing Izuku to look over his shoulder at her. She was staring at the table with an expression he often saw when he spoke of being a Hero. His sharp grin softened the slightest bit as he turned away from the burning stove. He lay his hands on her shoulders. 

“You know I hate it when you have that look on your face.” He tilted his head until it lay on his shoulder, his voice turning just the slightest bit normal. “I know you worry about me, but this really is nothing worth your concern. I will be just fine among the saviors in the world.”

Inko sighed again, her hands wringing nervously in her lap as she stared at her son. The worry in her eyes was unmistakable, her heart heavy with the fear that never left her, no matter how much he reassured her.

“Izuku... I just—” Her voice cracked, her gaze dropping again. “I know you’re strong now, and you’ve got your Quirk, but... it’s still dangerous. I’m your mother. I can’t help but worry.”

Izuku watched her, the remnants of his wide, unsettling grin twitching slightly. He knew that smile unsettled her, but it wasn’t something he could control anymore. The power that came with his Quirk often felt like it bled into every part of him—even his expression. The least he could do was drop the static from his voice, softening his tone for her sake.

“Mom...” Izuku knelt in front of her, gently tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. His grin remained, but his voice was his own, free of the radio’s distortion. “Kacchan’s strong, you know that. He’ll be by my side, and we’ll protect each other like always. We’ve been through worse than this.”

Inko’s lip quivered, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She looked at him, seeing not just her son but the boy who had grown into something so different, so powerful. There was still love in her gaze, but the fear never left.

“I know,” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears. “But you’re my only boy, Izuku. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

Izuku’s smile faltered for a brief second as the weight of her words sank in. He wanted so badly to give her comfort, to tell her that he’d be fine, that nothing would happen to him. But he couldn’t promise that. The life he was leading now—the power he wielded—wasn’t without risk. But he would do everything in his power to come back to her, every time.

“I’ll be okay, Mom,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I’ve got this under control. Trust in my ability to handle myself. It’s going to be fine.” He gave her a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, wishing he could offer more than just words.

Inko’s tears spilled over, but she nodded, wiping them away quickly. “I just worry because I love you so much, Izuku. That’s all.”

“I know,” Izuku replied, his voice now barely above a whisper. His grin remained, a Quirk he couldn’t shake, but he leaned forward and hugged her tightly, trying to give her the comfort his smile couldn’t provide. "And I love you too."

Inko held onto him for a long moment, her arms wrapped around him, as if holding him close could protect him from whatever dangers lay ahead.

“So…as third-year students, it’s time to start thinking about what you're gonna do with your lives.” Their teacher said from the front of the room. “I could pass out some career aptitude test but…” He tossed a stack of papers behind him. “I know you want to go into the Hero track!” 

Izuku’s eyes lingered on his reflection, the grin that stretched across his face a constant reminder of the power that coursed through him. Despite the unsettling nature of his Quirk, despite the way his smile seemed to always be on the edge of something menacing, he knew one thing with absolute certainty: he wanted to be a Hero.

The desire burned in him just as brightly as it had when he was a child, back when he’d watch All Might’s old videos with wide eyes and a heart full of admiration. That dream had never faded, even after his Quirk had manifested in ways no one had expected—least of all him. It was a strange, unpredictable power, and sometimes even he felt like he was riding the edge of something dangerous, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still want to save people.

He could almost hear his younger self whispering in the back of his mind, a reminder of why he started down this path in the first place. You can still be a Hero, that voice said, with all the innocence and hope that hadn’t yet been tainted by the complexities of his Quirk. And Izuku believed that. He had to.

“Hey, teach!” A voice called out. Izuku’s head snapped back to the person in front of him, his grin stretching impossibly wider.  A boy in front of Izuku sat with his legs crossed on the desk, arms thrown over the back of the seat and his head tilted back. “Don’t lump me in with this bunch of losers. I'm the real deal but these guys will be lucky to end up as sidekicks to some busted D-lister. Ha!” He lifted his head with a laugh. 

Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku’s childhood best friend. He’s been by his side all of these years and the only one who was never phased by the insane attitude Izuku has always shown. 

“You think you're better than us, Katsuki?!” The class roared.

“Let's go, I'll take you all on!”

“Huh, you've got impressive test results. Maybe you will get into UA High.” The teacher said, with a proud look. 

“He's gonna try for the national school?” A girl whispered. 

“That school has a 0.2% acceptance rate!”

“It's impossible to get into!”

“And that's exactly why it's the only place worthy of us.” He jumped up onto his desk. “We aced all of the mock tests. Deku and I are the only ones at this school who stand a chance of getting in. We’ll end up more popular than All Might himself! And be the richest Heroes of all time! People all across the world will know who we are, and it all starts with UA High!”

Katsuki's bold declaration echoed through the classroom, but all eyes were focused on Izuku. The room grew unnervingly quiet, a heavy tension settling in the air as Katsuki boasted about their inevitable rise to the top. Izuku, sitting just behind him, let his eyelids lower lazily as he rested his chin on his hand. His lips curled into that familiar grin—sharp, unnerving, and just shy of sinister.

With a slow, mocking wave toward the rest of the class, he acknowledged the attention they were giving him. His fingers wiggled slightly, a gesture that should have been harmless but instead sent a ripple of unease through the room. The whispering started almost immediately, soft and frantic as students leaned toward one another, trying not to make direct eye contact with him.

They had learned, over time, that it was best not to provoke him. Nothing drastic had ever happened—no one had ended up seriously hurt or sent to the hospital. But Izuku had a way of unsettling everyone around him. His Quirk, combined with his increasingly eerie mannerisms, made him an intimidating presence. He didn’t need to raise his voice or cause a scene; just his way of speaking, the slight static that occasionally threaded through his words, was enough to make anyone think twice before getting on his bad side.

Despite his unsettling demeanor, there was one person who never seemed fazed: Katsuki Bakugo. While the rest of the class gave Izuku a wide berth, Katsuki stayed by his side, just as he always had. There was something almost comical about it—Katsuki, with his explosive personality and endless ambition, paired with Izuku, whose grin seemed to promise something darker beneath the surface.

But for all of Izuku’s psychotic tendencies, Katsuki never wavered. He didn’t shy away from Izuku’s sadistic nature and didn’t flinch at the unsettling grin that kept everyone else at a distance. Maybe it was because Katsuki understood him better than anyone else. Maybe it was because, for all of his bravado, Katsuki knew that Izuku wasn’t the monster people whispered about. Or maybe it was simply that Katsuki had never been afraid of anything—and Izuku was no exception.

As the rest of the class nervously avoided his gaze, Izuku let out a soft chuckle, his voice carrying a slight distortion as it echoed in the silence.

“UA, huh?” he said, almost to himself. His grin widened, eyes glinting with something between amusement and challenge. “Sounds like fun.”

Izuku hummed a tune to himself as he made his way home, his hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t mind the walk—it gave him time to think, to enjoy the eerie solitude that came after a long unproductive day at school. His ever-present grin remained plastered on his face, but it softened in the quiet moments like these. There was a certain peace to being alone, away from the wary glances of his classmates and the unspoken tension that seemed to follow him.

As he neared an overpass, the sound of traffic above him rumbled faintly in the distance, but otherwise, the world felt muted. Izuku shoved his hands into his pockets, his mind wandering back to the day’s events. Katsuki’s bold speech in class had been amusing, and the reaction from their classmates had been predictable. No one wanted to upset him—not anymore.

He chuckled to himself, the sound crackling with the faint distortion that had become his signature, but as he passed under the overpass, something caught his attention. The air around him suddenly felt... off. Heavy. It was as if the atmosphere had thickened, becoming stifling.

Izuku stopped, his head tilting to the side when a shadow fell over his body. He slowly glanced over his shoulder. A mass of sludge, dark and reeking, rose from the sewage beneath them.  As the Villain's face formed in the mess of sludge, Izuku unclasped his hands and stared as a twisted, grotesque mouth appeared, grinning down at him with malevolent glee, much like his own.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” the Villain sneered, his voice bubbling with cruelty. “You’ve got a nice little body, kid. I think I’ll take it for myself!” Thick, gooey tendrils of slime shot toward Izuku with terrifying speed, aiming to ensnare him in an instant. But before they could make contact, Izuku heard it—that familiar crackle of static in his ears. His body glitched without warning, a burst of distortion tearing through the air.

And suddenly, he wasn’t where the Villain thought he was.

In an instant, Izuku appeared behind the Sludge Villain, casually examining his nails as if he hadn’t just evaded an attack that would have ended most people’s day. His body still flickered in and out, like a signal struggling to stay in tune. The faint buzz of static hummed in the air around him.

The Villain whipped around, confusion etched into his grotesque face, his tendrils recoiling slightly in surprise. “W-What the—? How did you—?”

Izuku didn’t answer at first. His attention was on his nails, wiping a nonexistent smudge from his thumb with casual indifference. Then he let out a small chuckle, distorted and filled with static, like a radio tuning into the wrong station.

“You really thought you could just take my body, huh?” Izuku asked, his voice light, almost teasing. He glanced up from his nails, his eyes gleaming with that familiar, unsettling glint. The smile tugging at his lips was wider than ever, sharp and mocking.

The Villain snarled, the sludge swirling angrily around him. “You little brat! I don’t know what you just did, but you won’t get away again!”

Izuku let out another laugh, this time a bit louder, his voice vibrating with a chaotic energy. He tilted his head, looking the Sludge Villain up and down like he was some kind of amusing insect.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” Izuku said, his grin growing impossibly wider. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his body still flickering with that strange, glitching effect. “You’re not in control here. I am.”

The Villain growled, tendrils of slime shooting out toward Izuku once more. But each time, Izuku’s form flickered, slipping through the Villain’s grasp like smoke through fingers. He was never where the Villain expected him to be, his body appearing and disappearing with unpredictable speed.

“You’ve got to keep up,” Izuku taunted, reappearing a few feet away with a playful wave. His voice crackled as he leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous gleam. “Otherwise, this is going to be very boring for me.”

The Sludge Villain was panting now, growing increasingly frustrated with each failed attempt to capture the glitching boy. His mass of sludge heaved, his rage bubbling to the surface. “I’ll crush you, you freak!”

Izuku laughed again, the sound echoing unnervingly through the underpass. He was enjoying this far more than he should have.

Izuku’s laughter died down, the static in the air fading as his body stopped glitching. He straightened up, the playful glint in his eyes vanishing, replaced by something far colder, more calculated.

"Alright," Izuku said, his voice now steady and devoid of the earlier amusement. "I think I’m done playing with you. My dear mother will get worried if I don’t return soon."

The Sludge Villain recoiled, his tendrils of goo freezing mid-swing. There was something in Izuku’s tone that sent a shiver of dread through him. This wasn’t the boy who had been toying with him just moments ago. This was someone far more dangerous.

Izuku tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he fixed the Villain with a stare that was both detached and unnervingly calm. The smile on his face was still there, but it had lost all of its lightheartedness—it was now sharp, predatory.

"You thought you had the upper hand just because you're big and slimy," Izuku said, his voice low and steady. "But you didn’t even realize you were outmatched from the start."

The Villain hesitated, his mass of sludge rippling uneasily. He couldn’t figure out why, but something about the kid in front of him felt... wrong. Like he was more than just a Quirked-up teenager.

Izuku stepped forward, and the Villain reflexively shot out another tendril of sludge, hoping to catch him off guard. But this time, Izuku didn’t glitch or dodge. Instead, he raised one hand, and the tendril stopped mid-air, suspended as if frozen in time. The air crackled with faint static, and the Villain could feel his Quirk weakening.

Izuku’s grin widened, but it wasn’t playful anymore. It was sharp and dangerous.

"You see," Izuku said, his voice still calm, "I’ve been listening to the world’s broadcasts for years. I can hear all kinds of things—frequencies, signals, even people like you." He flicked his wrist, and the tendril disintegrated into nothing, the sludge splattering to the ground harmlessly. "And I’ve learned how to jam them."

The Sludge Villain growled, lashing out again with more tendrils, but Izuku merely sighed, stepping forward again without flinching. His body was solid now, no longer glitching, no longer playing games.

"Enough," Izuku said, his tone final.

The Villain tried one last desperate attack, lunging at Izuku with his full mass, but before he could even get close, Izuku raised both hands, and a wave of static energy erupted from him. The Villain’s entire form flickered and distorted, as though he were being torn apart by invisible frequencies.

In the blink of an eye, the Sludge Villain was reduced to a heap of quivering goo on the ground, powerless and completely disarmed.

Izuku crouched down next to the pile of sludge, his grin fading into a more neutral expression. "You really should’ve picked someone else," he said quietly, the menace in his voice gone and back to that playful obnoxious tone. "But thanks for the practice."

With that, he stood up, brushing off his pants just as the sound of heavy footsteps approached. He turned his head, catching sight of All Might as he rounded the corner, the Hero’s eyes wide with shock.

All Might’s booming voice echoed through the underpass. "Young man, are you alright?"

Izuku glanced over his shoulder at the defeated Villain, then turned to face him fully, his static-filled grin still in place, though it seemed to soften just a bit. “All Might!” he chirped, his voice distorted like a radio picking up multiple signals. “I’m more than fine, thanks for asking.”

All Might’s eyes flicked between the sludge Villain and Izuku, clearly trying to piece together what had just happened. The Villain was incapacitated, spread out in a helpless puddle, while Izuku stood there, calm and collected, with that unnerving grin.

"You... you took him down on your own?" All Might asked, incredulous. "How?"

Izuku waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, it wasn’t anything too difficult.” He tilted his head, his green eyes shimmering with a mischievous gleam. “You could say I just... tuned him out.”

All Might blinked, the wordplay flying over his head. His smile returned, though it was strained with confusion. "Impressive! You must have a strong Quirk to handle something like this! What’s your name, young man?"

Izuku’s grin widened, that signature static buzzing faintly in the air around him. “Midoriya. Izuku Midoriya.” He gave a theatrical bow, one hand placed over his heart as he straightened up, eyes gleaming with the same manic energy as always. “And my Quirk? Well, let’s just say it allows me to control frequencies. Kind of like a living radio station.”

All Might studied him carefully, his Heroic instincts on high alert. There was something about this kid—something off-kilter as if he didn’t quite fit the mold of a typical aspiring Hero. The smile was too wide, the tone too casual for someone who had just been attacked. And yet, there was undeniable skill in how he had handled the situation.

“Well, young Midoriya,” All Might said, his voice booming with approval, though his brow remained furrowed. “You did an amazing job! You kept your cool and neutralized the Villain before he could harm anyone else. That’s the mark of a true Hero!”

Izuku chuckled lightly, a distorted sound that seemed to hang in the air. “A true Hero, huh?” He took a step closer to All Might, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared up at the towering figure. “Is that what you see when you look at me?”

All Might’s smile faltered for a split second. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that question—there was something in Izuku’s voice that made it feel like there was more to it, as if Izuku was testing him.

“Of course!” All Might said after a pause, his smile returning full force. “I see great potential in you, young man! If you keep this up, you could definitely make it as a pro Hero!”

All Might walked past him, opened two empty soda bottles, and shoved the defeated Villain inside of them. 

“Well, I must be off then! Need to get this one to the station! It was a pleasure to meet you young Midoriya.” He jumped from the ground and was miles away from him in an instant. Izuku stood there, waving after his retreating form. 

“No, no, All Might. The pleasure was mine.”

He turned to continue his path home only to glance down at himself and see all of the grime and filth that clung to his clothes. His eyes narrowed in disgust. “Ugh. Mother would not be impressed if I walked in like this.” He let out an annoyed sigh through his grin and spun in the other direction. 

"Can't have her fretting over this," he added, shaking off some of the muck from his sleeve. He knew all too well how his mom would react the moment she saw him. Her worried eyes, the trembling hands—he couldn’t do that to her, not tonight.  

Izuku wandered aimlessly for a bit, trying to decide on his next move. He didn’t have a change of clothes with him, and he was far from his usual calm demeanor after the Villain attack. His body flickered with static now and then, a subtle reminder of how wound up he still was. Maybe he could glitch into his room, get cleaned up, and go back in through the front door. 

He’d just started to feel more at ease when a sudden explosion rocked the alley ahead of him.

His head snapped towards the noise, eyes widening. The explosion had sent debris flying, scattering people and creating a haze of smoke. 

An audience of nosey individuals quickly formed, Izuku being one of them. He stood in the back with his hands weaved together behind his back as he peered into the dark alley that was illuminated by small fires. 

In the center of the fray, was the Villain that he had dealt with not thirty minutes ago. And he had a hostage. Unlike Izuku, this one was unfortunate enough to get caught. And the Heroes weren’t doing anything to stop it. 

He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to suffocate while in a panic like the hostage would be. Except…he wasn’t just any hostage. 

The boy ripped himself from the slime with a yell. "You picked the wrong guy to mess with! I’m gonna send you back to the sewer you crawled out of…LET ME GO!" Explosions erupted from his hands. Izuku’s eyes widened. It was Katsuki. It was his best and only friend, and the Heroes were doing nothing to save him.

Izuku glitched and before he knew it. He was in front of the crowd and facing the slime Villain. The sludge blinked and then narrowed its yellow eyes. 

“You!”

Izuku's grin only widened, his voice distorted and playful. “I’m sorry, who’re you?” he taunted, tilting his head slightly as if genuinely confused.

The Villain blinked. “Are you kidding me? We literally fought like, a half hour ago. Is your memory that dense?”

Izuku chuckled, the sound crackling with static. “Hmm, not at all! I guess you didn’t leave an impression on me. You must be very bad at it.” He took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and challenge.

The Sludge Villain growled a low, rumbling sound that echoed through the alley. The sludge around him writhed as if responding to his anger. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? I’m not here to play games!”

Izuku’s grin remained intact, though his eyes sharpened with focus. “Games? No, no. This is far from a game. But if you think you’re making a strong impression, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

The Villain’s tendrils twitched restlessly, and he tightened his grip on Katsuki for a moment, causing the blond to grimace. “You’re playing with fire, kid. I’m going to make sure you regret that.”

Izuku’s grin didn’t falter. He raised his hand, sending a pulse of static energy crackling through the air, causing the Villain’s slime to shudder and recoil. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “You see, I’ve had my fair share of encounters. And I don’t take kindly to Villains who think they can get away with hurting someone I care about.” His voice took a darker tune and his sclera turned black, like a demon. 

The Sludge Villain snarled, struggling to maintain control over the situation as Izuku’s static disrupted his slime’s consistency. Katsuki, gasping for air, took the chance to launch a powerful explosion, pushing the Villain back. Izuku activated his Quirk and warped through the space between them, grabbing Katsuki’s collar and pulling him out of the Villain's hold. The boy coughed and gagged on the ground as he struggled to get more air. Izuku grinned with half-lidded eyes at the Villain. “Maybe next time, try not to be so...forgettable.”

As the Sludge Villain roared in anger, Izuku stood his ground, his taunting grin unwavering. His hair began to stand on end, crackling with the static energy that was building around him. The air around him seemed to shimmer with the intensity of his Quirk, making the scene feel electric and charged.

His form started to shift and distort. The Villain’s once cohesive, gooey body began to glitch and flicker erratically, like a corrupted video feed. Parts of his slime flickered in and out of existence, causing the Villain to look like a malfunctioning hologram. The gooey tendrils wobbled and twitched unpredictably, sometimes stretching out in jagged, distorted ways and then snapping back to their original shape.

The Villain’s voice, once smooth and menacing, became fragmented and stuttering, like a broken radio signal. “W-What is this?!”

Izuku watched the chaotic display. “Looks like you’re having a bit of trouble holding yourself together,” he taunted, his voice warbling slightly with the distortion. “Is this what happens when you try to mess with me? I’ve got to say, it’s quite the show.”

The glitching effect spread through the Villain’s body, making the slime bubble and warp uncontrollably. The Villain’s outline became jagged and inconsistent, with sections of his form flickering in and out of visibility. It was as if the Villain’s very existence was being scrambled by Izuku’s Quirk.

The Villain, struggling to maintain any form of coherence, thrashed wildly, his frustration palpable. The erratic movements and distorted roars added to the surreal and unnerving spectacle. Each glitchy flicker was met with a burst of static energy from Izuku, amplifying the disruption and making the Villain’s struggle even more pronounced.

Izuku’s eyes remained fixed on the Villain, his grin a mask of amusement and control. “Having a bit of trouble with your consistency, are we? Maybe you should take a moment to... recalibrate.” Izuku chuckled under his breath. 

Izuku Midoriya. His Quirk, Static Distortion.
He can generate static energy, causing visual, auditory, and physical disruptions in his surroundings. He can create glitch-like effects that make objects, people, or even his own body flicker, distort, and phase in and out, making it hard for opponents to maintain control or focus. This static energy can also interfere with electronic devices, scramble signals, and short-circuit technology. But…

The Sludge Villain’s attempts to retaliate were fruitless as the glitching effect continued to wreak havoc. His form was unstable, shifting uncontrollably, and the once-formidable threat was now reduced to a flailing, distorted mess.

With one last lagging yell, his coagulated body split apart, exploding in all directions. Izuku dusted his hands off and turned back to Katsuki, who was staring at him from the ground. 

Izuku casually brushed off his hands as if he had just finished a simple chore. He turned his attention to Katsuki, who sat on the ground, wide-eyed and breathing heavily.

"You okay, Kacchan?" Izuku asked, his voice dripping with playful mockery but with a hint of concern as well, the distortion still clinging to his words.

Katsuki stared at him in stunned silence, his usual explosive energy tempered by the shock of what he'd just witnessed. "What the hell...was that?" He finally managed to say, his voice hoarse from the sludge Villain’s attack.

Izuku tilted his head, grinning down at him. "Just a little static interference," he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You know how it is, things get... glitchy when I’m around."

Chapter Text

Izuku leaned against the counter, stirring the pot on the stove while his hair dripped onto the floor from his recent shower. His grin hadn't faded, even after the long lecture his mother had just given him.

"Grounded for two weeks, huh?" He muttered to himself with a chuckle, knowing full well that he’d earned it this time. Facing off against a Villain wasn’t exactly what he’d planned for the day, but at least he was alive, and his mother’s scolding was proof of that. He looked over to the couch, where Inko sat with her arms crossed, her worried expression softened now that she knew he was safe.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll make it up to you,” he called over his shoulder, his voice free of the mocking tone he usually carried. He could tell she was still upset, but he also knew she adored him too much to stay mad for long.

Inko sighed deeply, finally uncrossing her arms. “Izuku, just... be careful, okay? You may have a strong Quirk, but you’re still my son. I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

Izuku glanced at her, the ever-present grin still etched on his face. “I will be, Mom. Don’t worry. Facing that Villain today was nothing compared to what I’ll face in the future. But I’ll be ready.”

His mother shook her head, but a small smile tugged at her lips. "Just remember to take care of yourself, okay? Being a Hero isn't everything."

Izuku nodded, his mind already wandering to the challenges ahead. "I know. But I'll make you proud."

Inko walked up next to him, reaching up and putting her hand on his cheek with a soft smile. “You already have, Izuku. You already have.”

“You look tense, Kacchan! Could it be… you’re actually losing your cool?” Izuku’s voice rang out with playful distortion as they approached the gates of UA.

Katsuki didn’t even flinch when Izuku warped in front of him, glitching into place with that unnerving grin plastered across his face. He kept walking, hands shoved deep in his pockets, but the faint flicker of irritation was undeniable. His lip curled at the taunt.

“Tch. As if. Who do you think you’re talking to, Deku?” Katsuki spat, his voice heated as he strode past without looking back.

Izuku stood still, watching Katsuki’s back with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hmmm.”

Izuku’s grin widened as he watched Katsuki storm off toward the entrance of UA High, clearly irritated by his taunting. He knew exactly how to push his friend’s buttons, and it was always entertaining to see Katsuki’s reactions.

Just then, a girl stumbling near the entrance caught his eye. Her foot caught on the edge of the pavement, and she was about to fall face-first onto the ground. Without hesitation, Izuku’s form flickered and warped through space, appearing beside her in a blur.

He reached out and grabbed the strap of her backpack just before she hit the ground, his touch steady and reassuring. As he steadied her, he noticed her wide-eyed expression of surprise and relief.

“Careful there!” Izuku said cheerfully, his voice crackling with static. He flashed a grin that was as bright as ever, though his usual taunting edge was softened by the genuine concern in his actions. “You almost took a tumble. Need a hand?”

The girl blinked at him, surprised that his voice sounded so distorted. But she shook her head, shaking off the shock of the fall. “Heh, thank you!” She gave Izuku a bright smile that could have rivaled his own. “I’m Ochako Uraraka, it’s nice to meet you .” 

Izuku let his head drop to the side, giving her one of his radio chuckles. “Izuku Midoriya. The pleasure is all mine, Uraraka.”

Izuku noticed her smile waver and he turned, walking away. He knew that his face was unsettling for people, and he didn’t want it to somehow interfere with her performance today. 

“I wish you the best of luck today!” He said, waving a hand over his shoulder before placing it behind his back as he walked through the doors of UA High.

Izuku rested his chin on his crossed hands as the lights overhead dimmed and a Pro Hero walked onto the stage. Izuku felt his body glitch with excitement at the sight of Present Mic. 

“What's up, UA candidates? Thanks for tunin' in to me, your school DJ. C'mon. And lemme hear ya!” 

Silence. 

“Keeping it mellow, huh? That's fine, I'll skip straight to the main show. Let's talk about how this practical exam is gonna go down, okay? Are you ready? Yeah!” 

“Yeah!” Izuku couldn’t help blurting out, causing every head in the auditorium to face him. He only waved. Present Mic laughed. 

“I love the enthusiasm, listener! Like your application said, today you rockin' boys and girls will be out there conducting ten‐minute mock battles in super‐hip urban settings. Gird your loins, my friends. After I drop the mic here, you'll head to your specified battle center, sound good?” He said as the screen behind him lightened and showed the battle centers. 

Izuku and Katsuki looked at their cards. “I see. They're splitting us up so we can't work with any of our friends.”

Izuku hummed as he and Katsuki examined the cards they were given. “Our examinee numbers are one after the other, but we're assigned to different battle centers.” He sighed in disappointment, although his expression showed only amusement. 

“Okay, okay, let's check out your targets. There are three types of faux Villains in every battle center. You'll earn points based on their level of difficulty, so you better choose wisely. Your goal in this trial is to use your Quirk to raise your score by shredding these faux Villains like a mid‐song guitar solo. But, check it! Make sure you're keeping things Heroic. Attacking other examinees is a UA no‐no, ya dig?” Present Mic wiggled his finger at the audience. 

A boy stood a couple of rows down from them, hand raised. “Excuse me, sir, but I have a question.

Present Mic pointed at him. “Hit me!” A spotlight surrounded the boy who had short dark blue hair and square glasses that sat over his blue eyes. 

He held up a sheet of paper. “On the printout, you've listed four types of Villains. Not three. With all due respect, if this is an error on official UA materials, it is shameful. We are exemplary students. We expect the best from Japan's most notable school. A mistake such as this won't do.” He suddenly spun around and glared at Izuku. 

“Additionally, you with the unkempt hair.”

Izuku tilted his head to the side with a curious “hmm?”

“You've been muttering this entire time. Stop that. If you can't bother to take this seriously, leave. You're distracting the rest of us.” He said and glared at him. 

Izuku waved his hand dismissively with a mock-serious expression. “Oh, of course!” he said, his voice crackling with a touch of static. “I wouldn’t want to distract you from your intense focus. We wouldn’t want to risk anyone missing the chance to correct a minor printing error, now would we?”

That drew a few quiet snickers from the teenagers in the room. The boy stiffened even more if that was possible and stuttered over what to say next. 

“All right, all right. Examinee number 7‐1‐1‐1. Thanks for calling in with your request. The fourth Villain type is worth zero points. That guy's just an obstacle we'll be throwing in your way. There's one in every battle center. Think of it as a hurdle you should try to avoid. It's not that it can't be beaten, but there's...kinda no point. I recommend my listeners try to ignore it and focus on the ones toppin' the charts.”

The boy bowed. “Thank you very much. Please, continue.” He sat back down with the fluidity of a robot. 

“That's all I got for you today. I'll sign off with a little present. A sample of our school motto! As General Napoleon Bonaparte once laid down. "A true Hero is one who overcomes life's misfortunes. Now that's a tasty soundbite. Are you ready to go beyond? Let's hear a Plus Ultra! Good luck! Hope you practiced hitting more than just books!”

Izuku stared at the huge gates that led to the training grounds. He didn’t pay any attention to the other candidates while he waited for the doors to open.  It would have been so easy to glitch himself just beyond them, but that would be cheating. Or would it? Isn’t it a Hero’s job to jump into action right away? 

Izuku sighed. He wouldn’t risk it. He’ll impatiently wait out here until the gates open. 

Movement caught his eye and he snapped his head to the side to see the girl he caught approaching him. He tried to smother the widening of his smile, but she was a welcome cure of boredom. And she was the one approaching him! Only his mother and Katsuki did that. 

She swallowed nervously, but held her ground, forcing a smile on her face. 

“Hello. I just wanted to say thank you again for catching me. You left so quickly that I wondered if I did something to upset you.” 

Izuku laughed. “Oh, not at all! I know that my smile can be unnerving for some people to see. The fault was mine. I didn’t want to be responsible for making you uncomfortable.”

Her eyes widened. “No, no! I wasn’t uncomfortable! Well…I was…” She scratched her neck. “But it was only because your face startled me.” Her hands flew up to her mouth. “Oh my god! That came out so wrong! I’m—”

Izuku let out a loud laugh of amusement. “I understand.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

She slouched in relief. “If it’s okay, why are you smiling so much? Every time I saw you, it was always there.”

He hummed, looking up at the blue sky. “You could say that! My Quirk actually allows me to interfere with the frequencies and objects around me!” He flickered and glitched behind her, leaning in close to her ear. “Including myself.” She spun around in shock as he put his hands behind his back. “That’s why my voice sounds the way it does. I could talk like any other person,” he laughed. “But I prefer the sound of a radio! The smile though, it just never drops. It’s not something I can help.”

Instead of being frightened, Uraraka smiled at him again. “That’s an impressive power. You’ll be a great Hero.” 

Izuku’s sharp grin softened at the edges. “What about you, my dear? What is your Quirk?” 

She flushed. “Oh, it's nothing special…”

“Nonsense! Every Quirk is unique in its own way! It’s how you use it that defines your character.” 

Uraraka straightened a little, finding a new kind of confidence. “Well, I call it Zero Gravity. When I touch something with my fingers, I can make them float.”

“Hmmm. Such an interesting power! That can be very resourceful out in the field.” 

Her cheeks turned red again at the praise. She opened her mouth and flinched when a buzzer went off from above. Izuku looked to the side to see the gates start to open. 

“Well, that’s our cue!” He bowed at the waist. “I hope to see you in class Uraraka.” His body glitched and he was gone, reappearing inside the mock city. 

“Hey hey! What are you waiting for?!” Present Mic yelled from a watch tower. “There are no countdowns in real life! That listener’s got the right idea!” 

Soon enough, Izuku could hear the others swarming through the gates, but he had already defeated four of the robots in his way.

Principle Nezu’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as he leaned closer to the monitor, his small paws resting on the desk. “What an interesting boy! It’s only been three minutes, and he already has 36 points!” His voice was filled with a mix of amusement and intrigue, drawing the attention of the other judges in the room.

Across the screens, Izuku Midoriya moved like a blur, warping through the exam field. His Quirk allowed him to glitch from one place to another with almost supernatural ease, dismantling the mock Villains with a grin that never seemed to fade. Every time he appeared in one spot, he’d vanish just as quickly, leaving nothing but the dismembered remains of robots behind.

“I’ve never seen anyone quite like him,” Midnight remarked, a sly smile tugging at her lips as she adjusted her seat. “Every move looks like it’s part of some twisted performance.”

Snipe, watching from under his hat, nodded. “That Quirk of his—it’s like he’s slipping through reality itself. He’s taking down these robots like it’s a game and that smile... you can’t tell if he’s enjoying himself or just toying with them.”

Aizawa, arms folded, narrowed his eyes at the screen but remained quiet. He wasn’t one to easily praise a student, especially before the real test arrived. But even he had to admit that Midoriya was operating on a different level than most of the other candidates.

“That kid’s...different,” Present Mic said, leaning closer to the monitor with wide eyes. “It’s like he’s playing a game out there, but those robots aren’t exactly easy to take down.”

“He’s not just fast,” Snipe chimed in, lowering his cowboy hat slightly as he observed. “It’s his precision. Every move is calculated. He’s not wasting any energy or effort. And he’s definitely enjoying himself.”

Midnight, lounging back in her chair, smirked at the screen. “Oh, no doubt about that. Look at that grin. It’s unsettling, but I have to admit, he’s got charisma. The kind that draws attention whether you want it or not. I wonder how the other students are reacting to him.”

Aizawa remained leaned against the wall, arms folded, his expression unreadable. The boy was fast, yes, but it wasn’t just the speed that impressed him—it was how methodical he was. Every attack was deliberate, and every maneuver was calculated to maximize his score while conserving energy. He wasn’t just showing off raw power; he was thinking like a strategist. “Charisma or not, being a Hero isn’t about looking good. He’s efficient, sure, but this is only the start. Let’s see how he handles the real test. The unexpected.”

Nezu chuckled softly, his small hands clasped together as he leaned in even closer. “You mean the Zero Pointer?”

“Exactly,” Aizawa replied, glancing at Nezu. “Let’s see if that confidence holds when he’s faced with something overwhelming. Confidence is good—overconfidence, not so much.”

The principal’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Oh, I’m quite sure he’ll manage. There’s something about him, something... electric.” Nezu’s gaze flickered back to the monitor, where Izuku, with that ever-present grin plastered on his face, glitched through another set of robots, racking up more points effortlessly. “He’s a natural disruptor—he knows how to control the flow of battle, almost like he’s playing a symphony no one else can hear.”

“He’s got a lot of potential,” Cementoss agreed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But that grin...he’s not like your typical Hero candidate. He looks like he’s enjoying the chaos.”

“Maybe he is,” Midnight mused, her eyes narrowing with intrigue. “And maybe that’s what makes him so dangerous. You know what they say about people who smile through the storm.”

The room fell silent as they watched Izuku glitch forward once more, a final robot bursting apart behind him with a single swipe of his hand. He stood still for a moment, looking down at the carnage with his head tilted slightly to the side.

Then, he casually began to walk forward again, eyes scanning the area for more targets as if this were nothing more than another walk in the park.

“That boy,” Nezu murmured, leaning back in his chair, “is going to shake things up around here.” He flicked open the plastic seal in front of him and pressed the big red button.

Izuku sat perched on the edge of a tall building, legs dangling lazily over the side as he watched the chaos unfold below him. The city simulation buzzed with the frantic movements of his fellow candidates, each of them scrambling to rack up as many points as they could before time ran out. Their desperation was palpable, explosions and metallic clanging echoing through the air as robots were dismantled left and right.

But none of it concerned him. He already had more than enough points.

A distant rumbling suddenly shook the area, causing  Izuku to look down at the road farther ahead and see it: the Zero Pointer. A massive robot, towering over the simulated cityscape like an unstoppable force of destruction. It stomped through the streets, scattering candidates in every direction.

Most of the other students were already running for safety, their earlier determination gone in the face of the enormous machine. Izuku had half a mind to ignore it, too. It wasn’t worth any points, and he was bored of waiting for their time to be up. He hummed a tune and stretched as he stood. 

But then he spotted her—Uraraka, trapped beneath a pile of rubble in the path of the Zero Pointer. Her eyes were wide with panic as she struggled to free herself, but the debris was too heavy. And the robot was getting closer with each second.

Izuku’s grin faltered, replaced by a sudden focus.

“Guess I can’t just leave her, can I?” He muttered to himself, and before he knew it, his body was already in motion.

In the blink of an eye, Izuku glitched down from the rooftop, his body flickering in and out of sight as he warped through the air, reappearing directly in front of Uraraka with his hands casually folded behind his back.

From the viewing room, Nezu and the other instructors leaned closer to their monitors, eyes fixed on the unfolding scene. Izuku had glitched from the rooftop to the ground near Uraraka in an instant, standing before the enormous Zero Pointer with his hands casually folded behind his back. That unnerving grin still stretched across his face as if the robot’s looming presence was nothing more than a minor annoyance.

“Interesting boy,” Nezu murmured, eyes gleaming with fascination. “Not even the slightest hint of panic.”

Aizawa, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, narrowed his eyes. “He hasn’t even moved to dodge.”

“Is he really just gonna stand there?” Midnight asked, intrigued. “He’s either extremely brave or completely reckless.”

Before anyone could voice another thought, the Zero Pointer reached out its massive hand. The audience tensed, but Izuku remained perfectly still. Then, as if in response to the boy’s mere presence, the robot’s arm jerked and froze mid-air. The sound of sputtering circuits crackled through the speakers as its entire system malfunctioned, sparks flying from its joints.

"Wait, what’s happening?" Present Mic exclaimed, eyes wide. "Is he doing that?”

On the screen, the Zero Pointer twitched violently. Izuku’s Quirk was clearly at work, distorting the space around him and wreaking havoc on the robot’s internal systems. The judges watched in awe as the machine’s movements became increasingly erratic before it finally collapsed, lights flickering out as it fell in a heap of metal.

“Did he just—?” Cementoss leaned forward in disbelief. “He didn’t even lift a finger.”

Midnight blinked, stunned. "That’s incredible. He took down a Zero Pointer without even touching it."

Nezu's smile broadened. "He knew exactly what to do to neutralize the threat without expending any unnecessary effort. That level of control is... impressive."

As the dust cleared, Izuku calmly moved the rubble off Uraraka, helping her to her feet with an almost casual air. His movements were smooth and unhurried as if he hadn’t just taken down the largest obstacle in the exam with ease.

“He could’ve grabbed all the attention for himself, but he’s helping her instead,” Nezu remarked with approval. “That boy definitely has the instincts of a Hero.”

The room fell silent for a moment as the instructors exchanged looks.

“Well,” Present Mic finally broke the silence, grinning. “That kid certainly made one hell of an impression.

The results were still not announced two weeks later. Izuku sat with his mother at the table while they ate dinner. Inko was staring at him and his closed-eyed smile as he happily ate his food. 

When he reached for the knife beside his plate, he asked, “Is there something on your mind, Mom? You’ve been staring at me for a while.” He glanced up at her while taking a piece of salmon from his fork. His head tilted to the side as he waited for her answer. 

She wasn’t concerned. But she was curious. “It’s just that it's been two weeks since the exam and you don’t look to have any worry about the results taking so long. If I were you, I’d be a nervous wreck. This is your future after all.” 

Izuku laughed around the fork in his mouth. “Worrying is pointless. It won’t help the results come faster and they had hundreds of candidates this year so it makes sense that it would take so long.” He stood with his empty plate and grabbed hers to wash in the kitchen sink. 

“Besides. Why would I be concerned when I already know that I passed? The requirement was to get at least 70% on the written exam and 45 points for the practical exam. I know I did much better than the requirements.”

Inko couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “You really are something else, Izuku. Always so relaxed, even when there’s something as big as this hanging over you.”

Izuku shrugged nonchalantly. “Hey, I figure if I stress out, I might as well turn into a mess of static and glitch out of existence. Better to just enjoy the ride, right?”

Inko chuckled, her worry easing a little in the face of his unflappable demeanor. “You know, I’ve always admired your ability to stay so calm and collected. It must be a Hero thing.”

“Or maybe it’s just me being me,” Izuku said with a wink. “Besides, I’ve got more important things to focus on. Like making sure you’re not spending all your time worrying about me.”

Izuku’s form started flickering around the room. His mischievous grin remained constant as he popped in and out of view, each glitch bringing him to a new spot with a playful quip.

“Mom, you really don’t need to worry so much!” he said, reappearing in front of the refrigerator, holding up a jar of pickles. “I’ve got this whole Hero thing covered! And even if I don’t, well, let’s just say I’m pretty good at dodging trouble.”

He blinked out of sight again, reappearing on the other side of the room, now perched on the edge of the sofa. “Besides, worrying is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. It just slips right through. And you don’t want to be chasing smoke all day, do you?”

Inko shook her head in amusement, following his rapid movements with her eyes. “You’re impossible, Izuku. Just... please try not to be so reckless.”

Izuku glitched next to her, sitting down on the arm of her chair with a dramatic sigh. “Reckless? Me? Never! I prefer to think of it as ‘adventurously spontaneous.’ Besides, if I didn’t take a few risks, how would I ever make it to the top of the Hero charts?”

He then winked at her and vanished, reappearing in the kitchen, where he grabbed a pair of oven mitts and held them up as if they were a prize. “And look at this! Even if I did mess up, at least I’d be armed with these bad boys. You can’t get into too much trouble with oven mitts on, right?”

Inko’s laughter was warm and genuine, her earlier worry giving way to a more relaxed state. She watched him with a fond smile as he continued his playful antics around the room.

“Alright, alright,” she said, trying to catch her breath from laughing. “I guess I’ll try to take a page from your book and not worry so much. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

Izuku popped up in front of her, grasping her hands. “I promise.” He said gently, then proceeded to clean the dishes and the kitchen so she could relax. 

He hummed as he wiped the last of the spills from the table when Inko burst through the doorway, eyes wide with apprehension. 

“It’s here! Izuku, your letter is here! Your test results from UA!” She held out an envelope. 

Izuku let out a thoughtful hum, taking the letter and sitting at the table. He opened the envelope with his mother's supportive hands squeezing his shoulders. Izuku carefully pulled out the contents of the envelope, revealing a sleek, holographic disk alongside the letter. His eyes widened in curiosity as he placed the disk on the table, and with a soft click, it activated, projecting a holographic image of All Might’s smiling face.

“Hello, Midoriya Izuku!” All Might’s voice boomed with his usual enthusiasm. “Congratulations! This is your official acceptance video from UA High School. I, All Might, the Symbol of Peace, and I am thrilled to be the one to tell you this incredible news!”

The hologram shimmered with All Might’s exuberant energy, his eyes sparkling with pride. “You’ve shown exceptional skill and a unique Quirk that has truly impressed our panel. Your performance during the entrance exam was outstanding. You not only demonstrated bravery but also creativity in handling the challenges we set before you.”

All Might’s grin widened as he continued, “Specifically, your control over your Quirk and your quick thinking during the Zero Pointer attack showed that you have the heart and the talent to become a great Hero. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into UA High School, starting as a first-year student in our Hero Course!”

Inko sniffled behind him and he knew she was crying. 

“You scored 91% on the written exam, which was the highest score of all participants, and 97 Villain points during the practical! But that wasn’t all we were looking for. Rescue points were awarded to you at 45 points! Leaving you with an impressive score of 142! Welcome, Izuku Midroiya, to your Hero Academia!” 

The hologram flickered off, leaving silence for a few seconds before Inko’s tears flowed freely as she hugged Izuku tightly, her voice trembling with overwhelming pride and joy. “I’m so proud of you, Izuku! I knew you had it in you!”

Izuku’s arms encircled her in return, his own laughter bubbling up despite the slightly awkward angle of the embrace. “I told you! You had nothing to worry about!” he said, his tone a mix of playful and soothing as he used his distinctive radio voice.

Inko pulled back slightly, her eyes still glistening as she gazed at her son with a mixture of awe and love. “You really did it, Izuku. I always knew you’d be amazing, but this... this is beyond anything I could have imagined.”

Izuku’s mischievous grin returned as he glanced at the unopened letter and the small, holographic disk on the table. With a flourish, he unfolded the letter and began reading aloud, his eyes darting across the neatly printed text.

“Let’s see... It says here that classes will start on August 15th. And it looks like they’ll be delivering my uniform soon. Oh, and here’s the list of supplies I’ll need. But wait—what’s this?” He furrowed his brow as he read further. “I need to submit a diagram of my Hero costume before the end of next week.” He hummed. “Well, what a fun challenge.” He laughed.

Izuku sat at the kitchen table, twirling a pen between his fingers. Now that his costume design had been mailed, the adrenaline that had kept him so busy for the past two days was gone, leaving an empty lull. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, and the day stretched before him with nothing to do.

He let out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair. "Well, I guess this is what it feels like to have too much free time. Should’ve added 'patience' to my Hero training."

Just as he was contemplating heading out for a walk, his mother, Inko, appeared in the doorway, smiling brightly. "Izuku, sweetie. I have a little surprise for you!"

Izuku raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued as he straightened up in his chair. "A surprise? What kind of surprise?"

Inko walked into the room, her hands hidden behind her back. She swayed slightly as if trying to contain her excitement, making Izuku lean forward in anticipation. After a dramatic pause, she beamed at him and revealed what she had been hiding—a metal staff, exactly like the one he had designed for his Hero costume. It was sleek and sturdy, with a microphone affixed to one end, just as he'd imagined.

Izuku’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait... No way! You didn’t... Is that—?"

"A replica of the staff you wanted for your Hero costume!" Inko finished for him, her smile filled with pride as she handed it over. "I asked around and found someone who could make it. It’s not exactly the same as what you’ll get from UA, but I thought you might want to practice with it beforehand."

Izuku took the staff with wide eyes, feeling the cool metal under his fingertips. It was perfect. Exactly as he had envisioned—sturdy yet lightweight, the microphone a subtle touch of flair that made it feel uniquely his.

He gave it a few experimental swings, the balance perfect in his grip. "Mom, this is incredible!" His grin stretched wide, his usual mischievous spark in his eyes as he spun the staff around, mock-saluting with it like a microphone stand. "I can’t believe you did this!"

Inko chuckled warmly, watching her son’s excitement. "I know how important this dream is to you, Izuku. I just wanted to give you something to help you feel like you're already on your way to being a Hero." 

He gave her the most grateful smile he could around his sharp demonic one. “Thank you, mom. This truly means a lot to me.” He wrapped her in his arms in the next second. She reciprocated the hug tightly. 

“When you fight with this, think about your promise. Always come home to me, will you?”

Izuku and Katsuki strolled down the bustling city street, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. Izuku, with his newly acquired staff in hand, couldn’t resist showing it off, spinning it effortlessly and occasionally tapping it on the ground with a rhythmic clink. Katsuki walked beside him, arms crossed and a scowl firmly in place, though his irritation was tinged with a hint of amusement.

“Hey, Kacchan,” Izuku called out, his voice light and teasing as he adjusted the staff with a flourish. “You ever think about what it’d be like if I had this in one of our training sessions? Think it would make a difference?”

Katsuki shot him a sidelong glare. “Stop flaunting that thing around like it’s some kind of magic wand. It’s just a stick with a microphone on it.”

Izuku’s grin widened. “Oh, come now. It’s not just any stick. It’s my stick. And it’s going to help me make the big leagues. Besides, wouldn’t it be fun to have a microphone to call out your every move in battle?”

Katsuki grumbled under his breath but couldn’t suppress the small smirk that tugged at his lips. “Yeah, right. You’re already annoying enough without a microphone to amplify it.”

Izuku twirled the staff dramatically, causing a few passersby to glance curiously. “I’ll have you know, I could use this to broadcast your most epic failures to the entire city! ‘And here we have Bakugo, the great Hero, completely missing his target! What a sight!’”

Katsuki’s face flushed with annoyance. “Shut up, Deku. You’re gonna attract more attention if you keep acting like a clown.”

Izuku chuckled and pretended to hold the staff like a broadcaster’s mic. “And now, live from the streets of Musutafu, it’s Katsuki Bakugo with his daily dose of explosive attitude! Tune in for the latest updates on his grumpy face and failed Hero tactics!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t get too used to that thing. It might make you even more of a pain in the ass.”

Izuku winked at him, spinning the staff with a practiced hand. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m just getting started. Wait until you see what I can do with this in action.”

As they continued down the street, Katsuki’s annoyance melted into a reluctant smile. Despite his best efforts to look grumpy, he couldn’t hide his amusement at Izuku’s antics. Moments like these, with Izuku’s playful banter and unwavering enthusiasm, that reminded him why he put up with his friend’s antics in the first place.

He couldn’t wait to see what he was like as a Hero.

Chapter Text

Izuku stood in front of the massive door marked "1-A," easily towering over him at what had to be twenty feet or more. He hummed quietly, hands casually tucked into his pockets, eyes tracing the door's edges. For a moment, he considered glitching past it, but there was something about opening it normally that felt more... ceremonial.

"This is it," he muttered to himself, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. "The start of the real fun."

The weight of what lay beyond that door—UA’s most prestigious class, the future Heroes of Japan—should have been daunting. But for Izuku, it was more like another exciting challenge. He'd faced worse odds and much tougher crowds.

With a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, he took a step forward, raising a hand toward the door handle. "Aha, showtime."

He swung the door open, stepping into the room with his usual confidence, his grin already firmly in place.

“Take your feet off of that desk now!” A boy demanded. Izuku remembered him from the auditorium. The one obsessed with the printing error.

“Huh?” Katsuki stared at him with an evil smirk that looked a little too similar to Izuku’s.  

“It's the first day and you're already disrespecting this academy by scuffing school property, you cretin!”

“You're kidding me, right? Your old school put a stick up your ass? Or were you born with it?”

The boy stuttered. “Uh—Let's start over. I'm Tenya Iida from the Somei Private Academy.”

“Somei, huh? So you must think you're better than me. I'm gonna have fun tearin' you a new one.”

Iida gasps. “You would threaten me? Your own classmate? Are you sure you're in the right place?”

“Ha!” 

Iida was suddenly aware of his presence at the door and straightened. “It’s you.” 

Nineteen heads turned his way, some recoiling slightly at the sight of Izuku's mischievous smirk. Unfazed by their reactions, he lowered his head in a bow, one hand sweeping to the side dramatically.

“Greetings!” he said, voice dripping with mock formality. "It’s a pleasure to meet you! Quite a pleasure!"

A few students blinked when they heard his radio voice, unsure of what to make of him. He straightened up, grin still plastered on his face, and scanned the room, eyes gleaming with mischief. His demeanor was so relaxed, so different from the tense atmosphere they all expected on the first day at UA.

“Hey! I recognize that messed up hair!” A chirpy voice said behind him. Izuku spun around to see Uraraka. Looks like she was in the same class as him after all. 

Izukus's eyes brightened. “Uraraka! I’m so happy you made it!”

Uraraka beamed, clearly relieved to see a familiar face. "Looks like we’re in the same class after all! How lucky is that?”

“If you’re here to make friends, you can pack up your stuff now.” 

Izuku’s head bent so far it lay on his shoulder, looking over Uraraka’s shoulder where a yellow caterpillar man lay behind them. Izuku’s eyes scrunched as his smile widened with intrigue. Uraraka whimpered when she saw him. Either out of fear or confusion, Izuku wasn’t sure. 

The man sighed. “Welcome to UA’s Hero course.” His arm wiggled out of the sleeping bag and he put what Izuku thought was one of those jelly pouches he saw when he would go grocery shopping for his mother. 

The man stood up and unzipped the bag, stepping out of it. “It took eight seconds before you all shut up. That’s not going to work. Time is precious. Rational students would understand that.” 

Izuku tilted his head, his mischievous grin not dropping as he observed the man more closely. ‘ Hmmm’ , he thought, taking in the teacher’s appearance—those heavy eye bags, the unkempt shoulder-length hair, and the scruffy beard that gave the impression of someone who had long been tired of the world. He must've been a Hero considering that he was here at UA. As well as the obnoxiously long scarf and black jumpsuit. 

The man looked at the students already sitting at their desks. “Hello, I’m Shouta Aizawa. Your teacher.” 

The room erupted in surprised murmurs, but Izuku remained focused, his mischievous grin barely wavering. He watched Aizawa reach into his sleeping bag and pull out a set of gym uniforms. The gym uniforms were simple: a dark blue tracksuit with a UA emblem on the chest, designed for practicality and comfort.

“Right, let’s get started,” Aizawa continued, tossing the gym uniforms onto a nearby desk. “Put these on and head outside.”

Izuku was the first to grab a uniform and walk past his new teacher, aware of the fact that he was watching him the entire time. 

Izuku couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer size of the field behind UA High. The acres of land stretched as far as the eye could see, leaving him amazed at how expansive the campus truly was. He thought the school was large when he saw it from the front, but this? This was on an entirely different level.

The class of 1-A gathered on the open field, whispering among themselves as they stood in anticipation. Aizawa stood in front of them, his disheveled appearance contrasting with the sharpness of his gaze as he scanned the group to ensure all twenty students were present. His expression was as unreadable as ever.

“Alright,” Aizawa finally spoke, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority, “as your first activity at UA, we’ll be doing a Quirk Assessment Test.”

Izuku's eyebrows raised in curiosity, folding his hands casually behind his back as the other students exchanged confused glances and hushed whispers.

“But orientation!” Uraraka exclaimed from beside him, worry evident in her voice. “We’re going to miss it!”

Aizawa’s black eyes rolled, clearly unimpressed by the concern. “If you really want to make the big leagues, you can’t waste time on pointless ceremonies. Here at UA, we’re not bound by tradition or superficial formalities. That means I get to run my class however I see fit.”

The students fell silent, taking in his words, and Izuku felt a thrill of excitement run through him. This teacher wasn’t one to coddle them—he was here to push them.

“You’ve been taking standardized tests most of your lives,” Aizawa continued. “But you’ve never had the opportunity to use your Quirks during those exams. The country is still operating under the illusion that we’re all created equal by not letting those with the most powerful Quirks stand out. It’s not rational. One day, the Ministry of Education will realize that.”

Izuku listened intently, a mischievous glint in his eye. This was exactly the kind of no-nonsense approach he had hoped for. Aizawa’s gaze then locked onto him, and Izuku tilted his head slightly, curious about what was coming next.

“Midoriya,” Aizawa said, “you scored the most points in the Entrance Exam, didn’t you?”

Izuku nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Aizawa crossed his arms, his gaze still fixed on Izuku. “What was your farthest throw in junior high? Without your Quirk.”

Izuku hummed in thought before answering, “I believe it was 79 meters.”

With a grunt, Aizawa pulled a ball from his pocket and tossed it to Izuku. “Try throwing this. Use your Quirk. Just make sure you stay inside the circle.”

Izuku caught the ball with ease, his grin widening at the challenge. He stepped confidently into the spray-painted circle on the ground, squeezing the ball in his hand. It flickered with static as it glitched in his grip, distorting slightly as his Quirk took hold.

The class watched in silence, some nervous, others curious, while Izuku casually wound his arm back. Then, with a burst of energy, he hurled the ball forward with everything he had. It disappeared in a blur, glitching and distorting through the air before vanishing completely from sight.

A second later, a loud beep came from Aizawa’s handheld device. He glanced down at the screen, and without much change in his expression, held it up for the class to see.

3482 meters

There was a collective gasp from the students. Izuku’s grin didn’t falter, though his eyes shone with pride. The rest of the class stared in shock, realizing just how powerful the boy who never stopped smiling actually was.

“Holy crap,” one whispered, wide-eyed.

Aizawa gave a brief nod. “That’s the kind of effort I expect from all of you.”

Izuku stretched his arms above his head as if throwing the ball that far had been nothing but a light warm-up. He glanced back at the rest of the class, still grinning.

Aizawa’s sharp voice cut through the chatter again. “You’ve all got one chance to show me what you can do with your Quirks. If you fail to meet my standards, you’ll be expelled.”

The air shifted, tension rippling through the class at Aizawa’s words. Expelled? Already?

Izuku hummed. Let the games begin.

As the students murmured nervously about Aizawa's threat of expulsion, the teacher’s gaze lingered on Izuku longer than it did on the others. It wasn’t his skill that caught Aizawa's attention—plenty of students at UA had strong Quirks. No, what unsettled Aizawa was that ever-present grin on Izuku’s face, the way he seemed so relaxed, so casual, even in a situation that should’ve been daunting.

Aizawa narrowed his eyes, folding his arms as he continued to watch Izuku from the corner of his vision. The boy didn’t appear anxious or concerned like the others. In fact, he almost seemed to enjoy the challenge. That grin, combined with the ease with which he threw the ball, made Aizawa suspect that Midoriya might be arrogant.

'Cocky, overconfident,' Aizawa thought to himself. 'This kind of attitude always backfires.'

Izuku was different from the students Aizawa usually trained. Most of them were eager but humble, showing the appropriate nervousness that came with the weight of becoming a pro Hero. But Midoriya? He practically radiated a playful confidence, like this was all just a game to him.

Aizawa couldn’t shake the feeling that Izuku was holding back, hiding something behind that cheerful facade. It was that carefree attitude that concerned him the most. He had seen talented students fall apart under pressure, and arrogance often led to disaster. He wasn’t about to let this kid coast on skill alone—not in his class.

Aizawa kept his gaze on him, his mind already racing through how he’d test Midoriya further. He wanted to see if that smile would last when things got harder when the pressure truly hit.

Katsuki smirked at Izuku from where they lined up for the 50-meter dash, his eyes glinting with competitive fire. “You ready to eat my dust, Deku? Or are you just here to make me look good?”

Izuku let out a loud radio laugh. “Aha! Well, then this’ll be just as fun when I beat you!” 

As the robot finished counting down and shouted, “Go!” Katsuki burst forward with a powerful explosion, propelling himself with an impressive display of fiery force. Izuku, however, activated his Quirk in sync with the signal, his body glitching and distorting as he warped through the space between them and the finish line in a split second.

The robot’s display flickered and then settled on Izuku’s time: 

0.4 seconds. 

The classroom erupted into gasps and whispers, their eyes wide with disbelief at the sheer speed of Izuku’s performance. Katsuki, landing behind him with a frustrated growl, saw his time flash up next: 

4.13 seconds.

Izuku, with his fingers laced behind his back, turned to Katsuki with a smug but playful grin. His smile was wide and unchanging, clearly enjoying the thrill of their competition.

Aizawa, observing the scene, narrowed his eyes. While Izuku's grin might have seemed cocky to some, it was evident to Aizawa that the smile was more about the rivalry and the thrill of outpacing Katsuki, rather than genuine arrogance. Katsuki’s reaction—more irritation than surprise—also indicated a familiarity with Izuku’s skills and their ongoing rivalry.

Despite the apparent triumph in their exchange, Aizawa’s attention was drawn to the dynamic between the two. It was clear that their rivalry was more complex than mere competition; it was built on mutual respect and a shared drive to surpass one another.

Next was the grip strength test. Izuku grasped the handle of a device that measured the force of their grip in kilograms. He squeezed the handle as tightly as he could. While his statue looked small, his physique was completely different when his score turned out to be 347 kg. 

The next test was the standing long jump. A large sandbox was set up for the students to clear with the help of their Quirks. Each student would have to demonstrate how far they could jump using their abilities, with the distance recorded.

When it was Izuku’s turn, he approached the edge of the sandbox, his usual smirk firmly in place. As he crouched, readying himself. At the signal, Izuku got a little momentum and jumped, activating his Quirk in midair. His body began to glitch and distort, and in an instant, he warped forward. He flickered out of existence and reappeared on the other side, completely clearing it just as Katsuki had with his explosions. 

The tests continued for another half hour before they were all called back to gather around Aizawa. 

“Alright, time to give you your results. I’ve ranked you all from best to worst. You should probably  have a good idea of your standing already.” He held up a remote. “ I’ll just pull up the list. No reason to go over it individually.” With a press of a button, a holographic screen lit up with all twenty names. Izuku hummed when he saw his name in the first place. His eyes curiously jumped down to last place, where the name, Minoru Mineta, was ranked. He looked to the side when a small noise of protest came from a small boy who was shaking. And he was small. Izuku had never seen a teenager as short as he was. 

“What?! How could I be in last place?!” He suddenly pointed at Izuku, who tilted his head. “What about him? He hasn’t even been taking these tests seriously with that creepy smile!” 

Katsuki narrowed his eyes at him, hands popping. “Why you little—”

“And I was lying, no is going home.” Aizawa interrupted, turning the hologram off. Everyone stared at their teacher. He smiled. “That was just a logical deception to make sure that everyone gave it their all during the tests” The class, especially Mineta, let out a sigh of relief. 

Once he had excused the class for the day, Aizawa held Izuku back. “Midroiya, I’ve been watching you the entire time and you never stopped smiling. Do you think this is a joke?”

Izuku’s smile didn’t waver and that was when Aizawa started to think that there was more to it than a cocky attitude. 

“Hmm. I suppose I should clear it up if it will cause misunderstandings in the future.” He rubbed his neck like he was anxious, but despite that action, his grin remained unphased. “I haven’t stopped smiling like this in ten years.” He admitted, and Aizawa’s eyes widened. Izuku nodded. “Sometimes I despise it, especially when my mother gets worried about me. This face causes people to be uncomfortable around me. Kacchan is the only friend I’ve ever had because he refused to be scared of me like the others have been.” 

His hands laced behind his back. “That’s not all though.” His eyes shuttered and glazed. “It was when I was a child. Kacchan was being teased by middle schoolers and they were willing to go as far as hurt him. I…I lost control. Something happened to me that day. I can’t quite remember what it was, but I do remember the look Kacchan gave me. Like he was scared. Terrified of me.” Izuku sighed. “Ever since then, when I started to smile, I felt something in me calm down. So I didn’t stop. Soon enough, it just stuck to my face like it was stitched there. No matter if I try to relax my face, the best it’ll do is drop a little, but not completely. If I don’t keep smiling, I don’t know if I can stop it.”

“Stop what?” Aizawa asked, his voice calm but concerned.

“The Quirk,” Izuku answered.

The next day, the students of Class 1-A sat in their seats, buzzing with quiet anticipation. Conversations flowed about the previous day's Quirk Assessment Test, and though the excitement of their rankings had died down a bit, the energy in the room was palpable. Izuku sat near the middle of the classroom, his fingers lazily tapping on the desk, his ever-present grin still firmly in place as he glanced around, picking up bits of conversation from his classmates.

Katsuki, as usual, leaned back in his seat, arms crossed with a smirk on his face, clearly looking forward to whatever challenge awaited them next. Ochako and Iida were chatting animatedly, with Iida's arms making exaggerated motions as he tried to explain something.

Suddenly, the door slid open with a loud, definitive whoosh, and the room fell silent. A towering figure stepped in, and all eyes turned toward him. Standing at the front of the classroom, in all his Heroic glory, was All Might.

"I am here!" All Might boomed, his voice full of enthusiasm and strength. "Coming through the door like a Hero!"

The class erupted into excited murmurs, with students sitting up straighter, their eyes wide with anticipation.

All Might grinned, flashing his signature smile. "We’ll be pairing off for combat exercises to practice your fighting skills using your Quirks. It’s important to know not just how powerful your abilities are, but how to use them effectively in battle. Your opponents won’t wait for you to figure that out—so neither will I!"

All Might held up a remote, clicking it to reveal a large screen at the front of the class. "You’ll all be in Hero-vs-Villain scenarios. Heroes will have to stop the Villains, and Villains will have to defend a bomb. And for this, you’ll need your Hero costumes!"

The students gasped in excitement as the wall behind All Might opened, revealing storage compartments for each of them.

"Now," All Might continued, "Suit up, and let’s see what you’ve got!"

Ground Beta was like the mock city in the entrance exam. A demolished city that resembled a Villain attack. Fitting for their activity today, he supposed. 

“They say that clothes make the pros, young ladies and gentlemen, and behold, you are the proof! Take this to heart. From now on you are all...Heroes in training! This is getting me all revved up. You look so cool! Now. Shall we get started, you buncha newbies?”

Izuku’s costume was just how he imagined it to be. Maybe it was from how detailed he made his submission form, or UA’s Support Course had the minds to do their job well. His Hero costume made from a dark, shimmering material, hugged his body for flexibility, with reinforced sections for protection like his shoulders, knees, and elbows. Faintly glowing green lines resembling circuitry ran across the vest as he reached back, pulling up the thick hood that was attached to his vest. An extra piece of cloth around his neck to pull up and cover his smile so it would just be his green eyes that others saw and not his unsettling permanent grin. He squeezed his leather-gloved hands around his metal microphone staff and twirled it through his fingers as All Might explained the rules. 

“Sir!” Iida said, voice muffled by his armor’s helmet.  “This is the fake city from our entrance exam. Does that mean that we'll be conducting urban battles again?”

“Not quite. I'm going to move you two steps ahead. Most of the Villain fights you see on the news take place outside. However, statistically speaking, run‐ins with the most dastardly evildoers take place indoors. Think about it. Backroom deals, home invasions, secret underground lairs. Truly intelligent criminals stay hidden in the shadows. For this training exercise, you'll be split into teams of good guys and bad guys and fight two‐on‐two indoor battles.”

“Isn't this a little advanced?”

“The best training is what you get on the battlefield! But remember, you can't just punch a robot this time.  You're dealing with actual people now.” All Might said and everyone exploded into questions.

Izuku watched his classmates bombard All Might before he finally raised his voice above the others. 

“Listen up.” He reaches behind him and pulls out a sheet of paper. “The situation is this. The Villains have hidden a nuclear missile somewhere in their hideout. The Heroes must try to foil their plans. To do that, the good guys either have to catch the evildoers or recover the weapon. Likewise, the bad guys succeed if they protect their payload or capture the Heroes. Time's limited, and we'll choose teams by drawing lots!” He swung a black and white box in front of them. One labeled “Villain” and the other “Hero”

All Might reached through the holes on top and pulled out A and D. Izuku and Uraraka vs. Katsuki and Iida. “Team A will be the Heroes, Team D will be the Villains.”

Izuku and Katsuki looked at each other, grinning. 

Bring it on.

Uraraka's eyes were wide as she looked around the vast building. "Ya think they expect us to memorize this building's floor plan? It's so big!" She shook her head in disbelief, hands on her hips. "You know, All Might's just as cool in person as he is on television! I'm glad he's not threatening us with some kind of punishment like Mr. Aizawa."

She glanced at her partner, Izuku, suppressing a shiver when she saw his unnerving grin still plastered across his face. He hadn't pulled him his mask yet. It wasn’t that she was scared of him—she knew Izuku was a good guy, but that smile had an eerie effect. It didn’t help that he looked calm, almost too calm, while everyone else was buzzing with nervous energy.

He nodded at her comment, eyes flicking over the building. "Yeah, All Might’s different. He pushes us in his own way. Aizawa’s more... blunt, but both of them are making sure we’ll be ready for whatever comes next." His grin didn’t falter, but the seriousness in his voice made it clear that he was focused.

“Uraraka. Kacchan will most likely come after me. So when that happens, I need you to run and find the bomb. I can handle him on my own. But in order to win, we need to separate.”

The girl frowned. “Are you sure? Bakugo is…well…ruthless. And with the control he has on his Quirk—” Izuku’s hand on her shoulder stopped her from rambling. 

“I grew up with him. We’ve trained and sparred together. No one knows him better than I do. So don’t worry.” Izuku flooded his hands behind his back. “I’m going to be just fine.”

Uraraka hesitated but nodded. “Okay. I trust you.”

“All right!” All Might boomed through the speakers. “Let's begin indoor combat training! Team A and Team D, your time starts now!”

With that confirmation, Izuku pinched the cloth at his neck and pulled it over his face, finally hiding the smile as they made their way into the building through a second-floor window. They began navigating the building’s maze-like interior, careful not to make too much noise. It wouldn’t be long before Katsuki would find them—Izuku could already feel the tension building, like the crackling before an explosion. He knew Kacchan’s strategies inside and out. Now, it was a matter of waiting for the inevitable.

“We need to be quick,” Izuku whispered, his voice calm but steady. His eyes scanned their surroundings, already formulating a plan. “The bomb’s probably hidden deeper in the building, maybe on one of the lower floors. If we can find it before Kacchan shows up, we’ll have the advantage.”

Uraraka nodded, biting her lip. “Right. But what if Bakugo shows up first?”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed with a knowing edge. “He will. Kacchan always comes after me. It’s like clockwork. But remember—when that happens, don’t hesitate. You have to go straight for the bomb. I’ll handle him.”

They moved silently deeper into the building, their footsteps muffled against the cold floor. The air was thick with tension, and every shadow seemed to hold the promise of an ambush. Izuku led the way, his senses heightened, ready for any sign of Katsuki.

Suddenly, a sharp ringing pierced through the silence, cutting through Izuku’s ears like a blade. He froze mid-step, his breath catching in his throat as the sound echoed through the empty hall. His head snapped to the side, eyes narrowing as he focused on the dark hallway to their left.

“What is it?” Uraraka whispered, following his gaze. She could see his entire body tense as if anticipating something dangerous.

Izuku didn’t answer immediately. He could feel a strange pressure building around him, something heavy and electric. It wasn’t a physical presence, but it was unmistakable—Katsuki was near. His explosions often created a hum in the air before the blast, and Izuku recognized that sensation all too well.

“He’s coming,” Izuku said quietly, his voice barely audible. He stepped back, positioning himself between Uraraka and the dark hallway. His smile, as unsettling as ever, remained firmly in place, though his eyes gleamed with anticipation.

“Bakugo?” Uraraka breathed, her heart racing.

Izuku nodded. “It’s his style. He’s not going to hold back, not after everything.” He spun his staff through his fingers before the bottom of his clicked gently on the metal floor. Izuku rested his hands over the microphone on top and waited. 

“Now’s your chance. Go, before he gets here.” 

Uraraka could feel the tension radiating from him, not of fear, but of barely contained excitement. His smile remained steady, but his eyes were sharp—hungry for the challenge ahead. She didn’t question him. So, giving him a sharp nod, Uraraka ran down the hallway beside him. 

Not long after, heavy footsteps came from ahead of him and his smile widened when Katsuki stormed around the corner, his face a mix of determination and frustration, he skidded to a halt when he saw Izuku standing in front of him. The space between them crackled with tension, the air almost sizzling with the energy of their impending clash.

Izuku’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. He tilted his head slightly, a look of exaggerated surprise crossing his features. “Oh, Kacchan! Fancy meeting you here. I was starting to think you might actually be too scared to show up.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed into slits, but he couldn’t stop the small smile creeping onto his face. “You think you’re funny, Deku? I’m gonna enjoy wiping that smug smile off your face.”

Izuku’s smile didn’t falter. “Let’s see if you can. After all, it’s not like you’ve ever been able to do it before.”

His hands crackling was Izuku’s only warning before Katsuki blasted towards him, a torrent of fiery explosions lighting up the corridor. The force of the explosion sent debris skittering across the floor, but Izuku was ready. With a quick, fluid motion, he activated his Quirk, glitching momentarily to evade the initial blast.

Katsuki's eyes burned with determination as he closed the distance, his explosions creating a near-constant barrage of fire and shrapnel. He didn’t hesitate, launching more attacks with ruthless precision, each explosion adding to the intensity of the fight.

Izuku twisted through the onslaught, his body flickering and distorting as he used his Quirk to warp and dodge. His staff moved with him, deflecting and blocking the errant blasts that came too close for comfort. The corridor became a chaotic dance of light and shadow, with Katsuki’s explosions punctuating the air and Izuku’s glitches weaving through them like a living ghost.

With a burst of energy, Izuku warped farther down the hallway, his laughter echoing off the metal walls. “You’re getting predictable, Kacchan!” he called out, his voice carrying a teasing edge. “I was expecting more from you! Did you forget who you’re dealing with?”

Katsuki’s frustrated growl was lost in the roar of another explosion, his anger palpable as he chased after Izuku with relentless determination. “Shut up, Deku! I’m just getting started!”

Izuku darted around corners, his form flickering in and out of existence with each warp. He dodged Katsuki’s explosive blasts with an agility that made it seem like he was dancing through the chaos. Every time Katsuki closed in, Izuku would vanish and reappear just out of reach, landing a few well-placed strikes that made Katsuki snarl in frustration.

With a fierce glare, Katsuki unleashed a powerful explosion, the force of it slamming into Izuku and sending him crashing into the wall. Izuku grunted but quickly pushed himself back up, his eyes glinting with determination as he straightened, brushing debris from his shoulders. His body shimmered slightly as he adjusted to the impact, his smile never faltering despite the toll of the fight. Katsuki’s explosion had clearly rattled him, but he was far from finished.

“You’re really pushing me today, Kacchan!” Izuku shouted, his voice echoing through the hallway. He took a deep breath, his body glitching and vanishing from sight for a split second before reappearing right in front of Katsuki. His sudden reappearance was met with Katsuki’s surprise, and he was barely able to react in time.

Izuku’s fist connected with Katsuki’s midsection, sending him staggering back. Katsuki gritted his teeth, struggling to regain his balance as he shot a defiant glare at Izuku. Without missing a beat, he retaliated with a sharp burst of explosions, each blast aimed with precision to force Izuku into a defensive position.

Izuku nimbly dodged the attacks, his body glitching around the explosions with a fluidity that was almost mesmerizing. He ducked under a particularly fierce blast, his hand shooting out to grab Katsuki’s arm and yank him off balance. Katsuki growled, pulling free with a burst of energy that sent Izuku skidding backward.

The hallway was now filled with the acrid scent of smoke and the sound of their continued battle. Katsuki charged forward, his fists crackling with explosive energy. He aimed a powerful punch at Izuku, who countered with a swift sidestep and an elbow jab to Katsuki’s ribs.

The impact echoed through the corridor, and Katsuki grunted, momentarily winded. Izuku reappeared behind Katsuki, taking advantage of the momentary distraction. He landed a series of quick, precise blows, each hit landing with a satisfying thud. Katsuki gritted his teeth, forced to use his arms to shield himself from Izuku’s relentless assault. The clash between them was intense, each strike and explosion a testament to their fierce rivalry.

As the fight raged on, both were visibly worn out, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Katsuki’s explosions grew more erratic, his control slipping slightly as his exhaustion began to take its toll. Izuku, though equally tired, maintained his composure, his eyes never leaving Katsuki’s.

Finally, Katsuki made one last, desperate attempt to overwhelm Izuku with a massive explosion. The blast surged through the hallway, filling it with blinding light and deafening sound. Izuku, anticipating the move, warped out of the immediate blast radius and reappeared just behind Katsuki.

With a final, decisive move, Izuku aimed a powerful kick at Katsuki’s back, sending him crashing into the wall with a resounding thud. The impact left Katsuki slumped against the metal surface, his breathing heavy and labored.

“The Hero team wins!” All Might announced through the speakers. 

Izuku, though equally exhausted, stood tall, his grin a mix of triumph and exhaustion. “You’re still the best opponent I could ask for, Kacchan,” he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine respect. Izuku held out his hand

Katsuki looked up, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and grudging admiration. “Yeah, yeah. You’re not too bad yourself, Deku,” he huffed, his voice strained but respectful as he took the offering and let Izuku help him up.

Chapter Text

Izuku hummed a cheerful tune as he walked to school, his hands stuffed comfortably in his pockets. The crisp morning air was refreshing, and the quiet streets offered a peaceful start to his day. The early sunlight bathed everything in a soft, golden glow, casting long shadows that danced along the pavement with each step he took.

As he turned onto the street leading to U.A., he came to an abrupt halt. A sea of reporters had completely blocked the school’s gates, their cameras and microphones at the ready. Izuku’s eye twitched in irritation. So much for a quiet morning, he thought with a sigh.

Determined not to let them ruin his mood, Izuku started humming again, hoping to slip through unnoticed. Unfortunately, the reporters weren’t easily deterred. One of them spotted him immediately and shouted, “Hey, you! You’re a student here, right? What do you think of All Might—”

The sudden attention was enough to make Izuku's unsettling smile come in handy. The crowd momentarily recoiled, giving him a brief respite. Izuku’s green eyes narrowed with mild annoyance. “Hmmm,” he murmured, turning his gaze toward the gates, only to be met with a reporter shoving a microphone into his face.

“Hold on! We just want to know about All—” The reporter began, but before they could finish, Izuku’s body flickered and glitched through the crowd, reappearing inside the school grounds with a burst of static.

“Apologies! But I must get to class!” He called out as he reappeared, making his way swiftly towards the entrance.

He navigated the maze of hallways with ease until he arrived at his classroom. He shoved the huge door open, nodding to his classmates who had already arrived, and took his seat, hanging his yellow backpack on the desk hook. Izuku stared out the window, watching Aizawa walk down the steps to save any other students who were being harassed by the reporters. 

Izuku chuckled a bit when he saw them back up at Aizawa’s emotionless and tired face. His mouth moved saying what Izuku could imagine was a nice way of telling them to piss off. Aizawa turned his back on them and walked back to the doors. Izuku's eyes widened with satisfaction when one reporter stepped up to the gates, only for the school's defense barrier shoot up from the ground, stopping any of them from entering.  

He cackled under his breath, turning to face the front seconds before Aizawa entered the room. 

Everyone stopped talking immediately as the Hero walked up to the podium in front of the class. He scanned over a few papers that sat on top of it before addressing the class. 

“Good work on yesterday's combat training you guys. I went over the video feeds and each of your team's results.” He turned to the class's hot head. "Bakugo," he began, his voice calm but stern, "you showed impressive power and control with your Quirk, but your emotions got the better of you. That tunnel vision and rage left you wide open to counterattacks.” Aizawa's eyes narrowed slightly. "You have the skill, but strategy matters just as much. Keep that in mind next time."

Katsuki ‘tched’, looking out the window. Aizawa turned his gaze to Izuku next. "Midoriya," he said, his tone measured. "Your performance in yesterday's combat training was efficient. You used your Quirk strategically, and your ability to anticipate Bakugo's moves gave you an edge."

He paused, his expression unreadable. "But you need to remember that combat isn’t just about dodging and outmaneuvering. There were moments when you could’ve secured a faster victory by engaging more directly with your objective. You were too focused on Bakugo."

Aizawa folded his arms. "Overall, you showed good tactical thinking, but don’t get too comfortable relying on your Quirk to evade everything. There will be opponents who will force you to take risks and confront them head-on. Keep working on that balance between offense and defense."

Izuku closed his eyes with a wide smile. “Of course, sir!” He bowed his head. 

Aizawa nodded in satisfaction when he saw that his feedback had been taken seriously. "Now, let's get down to business," he said, his voice laced with suspense. "Our first task will decide your future."

The class froze, tension building in the air. Then, as his words sank in, panic swept through the students, a chorus of gasps and nervous muttering filling the room. Aizawa let the suspense linger for a moment before finishing, "You all need to pick a class representative."

The room fell silent as the students processed the unexpected announcement. Then, almost simultaneously, they sagged in relief, the weight of anxiety slipping off their shoulders. The quiet only lasted a second before chaos erupted. Everyone started talking over each other, voices rising as they made their cases for why they should be chosen. Shouts of "I should be class rep!" and "Pick me!" filled the air, each student vying for the position.

Aizawa sighed, pulling his yellow sleeping bag from the floor and zipping himself inside. "This is going to take a while..."

“Ah ha!” Izuku laughed, his radio voice echoing through the room. “How did I get three votes?” 

His face lit up with confusion and excitement as he glanced around the room, genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected anyone to vote for him, let alone three people.

Students started to murmur and some even agreed about Izuku being representative, giving him encouraging smiles and nods. Aizawa stirred from his sleeping bag at the front of the class, his tired eyes slowly opening. He stood up lazily, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, settle down."

With that single, calm command, the noise in the room died down, though everyone was still buzzing with excitement and curiosity.

Aizawa looked over the tally displayed on the board, then shifted his gaze to Izuku. "Midoriya," he called, his voice monotone as always, "and Yaoyorozu, come to the front."

Izuku blinked in surprise, his wide grin still glued to his face as he hesitated for a moment before walking up. Momo, who had also received several votes, followed beside him, her expression calm and composed as always.

"Midoriya is your class representative," Aizawa announced bluntly, giving Izuku a brief look that might have been something close to approval—or maybe just mild interest. "Yaoyorozu will be the deputy representative."

Izuku, Iida, and Uraraka settled at their usual spot in the bustling cafeteria, trays of food in front of them. The atmosphere was lively, filled with the chatter and clinking of utensils from students catching up on the day’s events.

Izuku was quiet as they ate. While he was confident about his ability and his strategic mind, he did not want to be class representative. 

He poked at his food absentmindedly, his gaze focused on the plate in front of him rather than joining in the conversation around him.

Uraraka glanced at him, noting his distraction. “Izuku, you’ve been quiet. Everything okay?”

He sighed, laying his fork on his lunch tray. “Of course! I usually take this time to relax and gather my thoughts for the rest of the day.”

His friends seemed unsure, but his grin had made it hard for them to read him. Izuku was glad that Katsuki wasn’t with them, because he could read him like an open book after knowing each other for so long. He wasn’t worried —he never got worried— but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t get uncomfortable. 

Izuku shook his head, standing. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” He made his way out of the cafeteria. 

The usual hustle and bustle of lunch hour had faded, leaving the school corridors quieter and more serene. The polished floors gleamed under the bright fluorescent lights, and the walls were adorned with posters of past Hero achievements and motivational quotes.

He wandered aimlessly, taking deep breaths and letting the rhythmic sound of his footsteps serve as a calming backdrop. His mind raced with thoughts about the class representative position. He had always been more comfortable working behind the scenes or supporting others rather than stepping into a leadership role. The weight of responsibility seemed daunting, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of unease.

He found himself in front of a small window overlooking the school grounds. The sunlight streaming through the glass created a warm glow, and Izuku paused to take in the view. The sprawling campus below, with its mix of green spaces and well-maintained buildings, offered a momentary distraction from his swirling thoughts.

Izuku leaned against the window frame, letting his gaze wander over the scene outside. Students were scattered across the grounds, engaged in various activities, and their laughter and conversations were a faint echo. It was a peaceful sight, and he took a moment to appreciate the calm before the inevitable storm of responsibilities that lay ahead.

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to push away the unease and focus on the present. The tranquility of the moment was abruptly shattered as the shrill sound of alarms pierced the silence. The sudden blare made him startle, his heart racing as the familiar calm of the school turned into chaos.

Izuku's eyes snapped open, and he quickly pushed away from the window, the serenity of his earlier thoughts replaced by a surge of urgency. 

“WARNING. LEVEL THREE SECURITY BREACH. ALL STUDENTS PLEASE EVACUATE IN AN ORDERLY FASHION.”

‘Security breach? Someone got past the school gates?’

Izuku followed the automated instructions, his hands behind his back as he made his way toward the school's exit. The alarms continued to blare, creating a cacophony of urgency that filled the hallways. His footsteps echoed as he walked, his mind alert to the chaos unfolding around him.

Izuku hummed again. ‘I have a feeling things are about to get a lot more exciting around here.'

“Man, Izuku! You should have been there!” Uraraka jumped next to him as she explained what happened in the cafeteria. “Iida was amazing! He managed to get everyone's attention and calm them down after he realized it was just the reporters outside! He was so cool!”

Izuku raised an brow. He could imagine Iida taking charge and calm everyone down. He had the kind of voice that everyone respected and listened to. The kind of voice that belonged to a class representative. 

With his mind made up, they entered the classroom and Uraraka left his side to go to her seat. Izuku took his place in front and was the class rep he had been chosen for. 

As soon as everyone came in and took their seats, Izuku began the class with Yaoyorozu by his side. "Good morning, everyone," Izuku began, his voice clear despite the echo in his voice. "First off, I want to thank you for trusting me with the position of class representative. I know it’s an important role, and I appreciate the confidence you've shown in me."

His green eyes scanned the room, meeting the gazes of his classmates, some of whom smiled back at him. But there was something else on his mind, something he had to say.

"However," he continued, his tone becoming more serious. "After thinking it over, I believe that there's someone here who’s more suited for this role—someone who’s already demonstrated the qualities of a leader."

The class began to murmur in confusion. Momo raised an eyebrow in curiosity, waiting to see where this was going.

Izuku turned toward Iida, who looked up, surprised. "During the panic in the cafeteria, Iida took charge and managed to calm everyone down. He acted quickly, decisively, and with a level head. That's exactly the kind of leadership this class needs."

The room fell silent, and all eyes were now on Iida, who blinked in disbelief.

"Iida has always been someone we can rely on." Izuku added. "He’s got the focus, the discipline, and the voice that commands attention and respect. I truly believe he’d make a better class representative than me."

A few shocked whispers from the other students lasted for a few seconds before Kirishima sat up. “Yeah, you know what? If Midoriya vouches for him, I'm good. Plus he was a big help. He totally manned up and took charge, right?” Kirishima said. Kaminari nodded. “Yup! Oh! Did you notice he looked like the dude on the emergency exit signs when he was on the wall earlier?”

Iida took a deep breath and stood. 

“If Midoriya is nominating me for this job...then I humbly accept. I pledge to carry out the duties of class rep to the best of my abilities!”

“Sounds good, Emergency Exit!” 

“Emergency Exit Iida! Don't let us down, man!”

Izuku nodded, satisfied now that he didn’t have the responsibility of the class representative on his shoulders. He went to his seat as Iida replaced his spot in the front, immediately taking on the role of a leader, just like he knew he would.

“Today’s training is going to be a little different,” Aizawa said, his tired eyes scanning the room. “You’ll have three instructors—me, All Might, and another faculty member. We’ll be keeping tabs on you. Today’s session will be focused on rescue training at a different location,” Aizawa explained. “It’s one thing to fight Villains, but saving civilians is another crucial part of being a Hero. You’ll need to work in teams, adapt to chaotic situations, and prioritize those who need help.”

At the mention of rescue training, the room erupted in excited shrieks and chatter. Everyone was buzzing with anticipation. However, Aizawa wasn’t amused. His scowl deepened.

“Guys, I'm not finished yet,” Aizawa said sharply, instantly silencing the students. They quieted down, shifting awkwardly in their seats.

“What you wear for this exercise is up to you.” Aizawa pressed a button on the remote in his hand, and the wall slid open, revealing the rows of suitcases that held their costumes. “I know you're excited about your Hero outfits, but keep in mind—you haven’t fully adjusted to them yet. They might limit your abilities, so consider that before deciding what to wear.”

The class exchanged glances, a bit more serious now.

“This training is at an off-campus facility,” Aizawa continued, “so we’ll be taking a bus to get there. That’s all. Start getting ready.”

With that, Aizawa turned and walked off, leaving the students to their eager preparations. Everyone jumped up, rushing to grab their suitcases, the excitement of the unknown still buzzing in the air. Izuku grabbed his own case, his mind already running through the challenges of rescue training ahead.

They moved toward the changing rooms, where everyone was suiting up. Iida was already discussing the importance of teamwork with his usual enthusiasm, and Bakugo, unsurprisingly, looked like he was preparing for battle rather than a rescue.

Once in his costume, Izuku flexed his fingers, adjusting the gloves slightly as he tried to get a feel for his gear. Though he'd only worn the suit a handful of times, it still felt like a second skin.

As everyone finished dressing, Aizawa gathered the class in front of the school buses waiting for them. The cool morning air brought a slight chill, but the students’ excitement kept the mood warm.

“All right, load up,” Aizawa said as he stood by the bus doors. “It’s a bit of a drive to the facility.”

Once everyone took their seats on the bus. They were rolling out of school grounds and through the city. 

Izuku sat down next to Katsuki in the corner of the bus. The lively chatter from the other students was a distant hum compared to the quiet tension that always seemed to hang between them. He stared out the window, trying to focus on the upcoming training, but he could feel Katsuki's presence beside him, the heat of his usual intensity simmering just below the surface.

Minutes passed in silence before Katsuki finally broke it, his voice low but sharp. “Oi, Deku.”

Izuku blinked, turning to look at him. Katsuki was staring straight ahead, his arms crossed, but there was no mistaking the edge in his voice.

“I know you were holding back during combat training yesterday.”

Izuku's eyes widened slightly, but he quickly tried to play it off. “What do you mean? I gave it my all, Kacchan!”

Katsuki’s sharp eyes cut to him, clearly not buying it. “Don’t lie to me. Do you think I can’t tell when you’re pulling punches? I know you too well for that.”

This was one of the times that if he could, Izuku’s smile would drop, but it didn’t. So he sighed, glancing at Katsuki before looking down at his hands. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then finally said quietly, "You know why, Kacchan."

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed in confusion, clearly not understanding what Izuku meant. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Izuku bit his lip, his heart beating faster as memories from years ago resurfaced. It wasn’t something he liked to think about often, and he definitely didn’t talk about it. But Katsuki had always been there, always pushing, always daring him to go further. It was hard to forget moments like that—especially the bad ones.

“You remember,” Izuku said, his voice a little firmer now, “back when we were kids... those older kids were picking on you. They were going to hurt you. And I—” He stopped, his breath catching as the memory played in his mind.

It had been one of the first times Izuku ever felt his Quirk surge uncontrollably. He had been so angry, so desperate to protect Katsuki, that something inside him snapped. His Quirk, something he hadn’t fully understood at the time, exploded out of him with raw, terrifying force. The ground had cracked, the air had practically vibrated with the energy he released, and the kids who had been after Katsuki had run away in fear. But the worst part was the look on Katsuki’s face afterward.

“It scared you,” Izuku finished, his radio voice barely above a whisper. “I scared you.”

Katsuki was staring at him now, eyes wide with realization. He hadn’t brought it up since, but Izuku could tell that moment had stuck with him too. Katsuki wasn’t someone who easily admitted fear, especially not to someone like Izuku, but in that instant, all those years ago, the look on his face had been unmistakable.

“I lost control back then, Kacchan,” Izuku continued, his hands clenching in his lap. “And I never want that to happen again. Not with you, or anyone else. That’s why I hold back. Because... I don’t want to hurt you.”

Katsuki was silent for a long moment, processing what Izuku had just said. His usual fierce expression softened slightly, though his eyes still held that burning intensity.

“That was a long time ago,” Katsuki finally said, his voice rough but quieter than usual. “We were kids. You’ve got a handle on your Quirk now, don’t you?”

Izuku nodded slowly. “Yeah, I do. But... back then, it showed me what could happen if I didn’t. I don’t ever want to risk it.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue in irritation, but there was something different in his gaze now. “Deku, you don’t get it, do you? That’s the difference between me and you. I don’t care if you lose control. I don’t care if you go all out and break the damn earth in half. I can take it.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “I want that fight. The real fight. Not the one where you’re holding back because you think I can’t handle it. So yeah, I was scared back then. But I’m not scared now. You got that?”

“I don’t hold back just because I don’t think you can handle it, Kacchan. I hold back because I’m scared of it. I’m scared of that kind of rush and when that Sludge Villain was killing you, I felt that power rise again.”

Katsuki’s mind flashed back to that day, the chilling memory of Izuku’s sclera turning completely black for just a moment. It had been a terrifying sight, a reminder of how easily things could spiral out of control.

“I don’t take kindly to Villains who think they can get away with hurting someone I care about.” He had said, his voice low and firm.

That was the core of it, wasn’t it? Izuku’s strength was tied to his emotions, and when someone he loved was threatened, that power could surge uncontrollably. Katsuki sighed, knowing he had to get through to him.

“You know, as a Hero, I’m going to get hurt. That’s inevitable,” he stated, meeting Izuku’s gaze. “We won’t be able to protect each other all the time.” He could see the tension in Izuku’s shoulders, but he pressed on. “With your kind of power, you have to know how to use it to its fullest potential because there might be a situation one day where you have to unleash it.”

Katsuki placed a firm hand on Izuku’s shoulder, grounding him. “When that happens, you can’t afford to lose control. Your movements could become predictable, and that can be used against you. Talk to Aizawa about this. I bet he’ll help you learn how to control it.”

Izuku closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing the weight of Katsuki’s words.

Just then, Kirishima broke the serious mood with his typical exuberance. “Well, if any of our classmates have pro Quirks, it's Todoroki, Bakugo, and Midoriya!” He said, grinning widely at the three boys.

Asui, ever the realist, chimed in bluntly, “Sure, but Bakugo's always angry, so he'll never be that popular.”

Izuku's eyes sparkled with amusement, anticipating the chaos that was about to unfold. Katsuki snarled, his temper flaring. “What'd you say? I’ll kick your ass!” He yelled, his voice echoing in the bus.

“You see?”

“Y'know, we basically just met you. So it's kinda telling that we all know your personality is flaming crap mixed with garbage,” Kaminari added with a smirk, leaning back in his seat.

Izuku laughed as Katsuki’s head whipped in Kaminari's direction, his expression a mix of fury and disbelief.

“You're gonna regret the day you applied to this school, you loser! I’ll kill you!” Katsuki growled, his hands clenching into fists.

“You will not!” Iida interrupted, his voice filled with authority. “Classmates are supposed to encourage each other!”

“I’m gonna encourage this dumbass to explode!” Katsuki shot back, his tone as sharp as ever.

“Wait, what did you say? Anger issues.” Kaminari taunted, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Shut it, sparky!” Katsuki snapped, but a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth despite his irritation.

“Alright, alright. Now you two apologize!” Iida said, crossing his arms sternly.

“Sure, if he goes first,” Kaminari replied, still wearing that smug grin.

Katsuki snarled, his patience wearing thin. “Like hell I will!”

“Hey, hey, we're here. Stop messing around,” Aizawa said, looking out the window as they approached the facility.

“Yes sir!” The class chorused, a sudden wave of seriousness washing over them.

“Whatever.”

When the bus rolled to a stop in front of a huge dome building, everyone exited the bus and met the third Pro who was going to be helping teach them. Thirteen, a favored Rescue Hero. 

“Hello, everyone, I've been waiting for you!” She said with a wave. All of the girl squealed when they recognized the woman in the puffy white astronaut suit. “I can’t wait to show you inside!” Thirteen exclaimed and everyone followed her into the building. 

The students all gasped at the interior of it. Different areas of the facility each had its own natural disaster. 

“A shipwreck. A landslide. A fire. A windstorm. Etc. I created this training facility to prepare you to deal with different types of disasters. I call it the Unforeseen Simulation Joint. But, you can call it, USJ!”

Aizawa walks up to Thirteen with his hands in his pockets. “Hey, shouldn't All Might be here already? Lemme guess, he booked an interview instead.” 

Izuku snickered at the obvious distaste of that man in Aizawa's voice.

“Actually, it's something else.” Thirteen held up three gloved fingers. “Apparently he did too much Hero work on the way to school this morning and used up all his power. He's resting in the teacher's lounge.

Aizawa sighed. “That man is the height of irresponsibility. He moved to the side and let Thirteen explain what they were going to be doing today. 

“Excellent. Before we begin, let me just say one thing. Well, maybe two things. Possibly three, four, or five–”

“We get it!” The students yelled and Thirteen cleared her throat. 

“Listen carefully. I'm sure you're aware that I have a powerful Quirk. It's called Black Hole. I can use it to suck up anything and turn it into dust. Yeah, you've used Black Hole to save people from all kinds of disasters before, haven't you? That's true, but my Quirk could also very easily be used to kill. Some of you also have powers that can be dangerous. In our superhuman society, all Quirks are certified and stringently regulated, so we often overlook how unsafe they can actually be. Please don't forget that if you lose focus or make the wrong move, your powers can be deadly. Even if you're trying to do something virtuous like rescue someone. Thanks to Aizawa's fitness tests, you have a solid idea of your Quirk's potential. And because of All Might's combat training, you likely experienced how dangerous your powers can be when used against other people. Carry those lessons over to this class. Today, you're going to learn how to use your Quirks to save people's lives. You won't be using your powers to attack enemies or each other, only to help. After all, that's what being a Hero is all about. Ensuring the safety of others.” She clapped her gloved hands together. 

“That's all I have to say. Thank you so much for listening.”

Izuku suddenly twitched and his head snapped to the plaza in the middle of the building. Aizawa noticed the movement and narrowed his eyes. Then the lights above them flickered before going out, if it wasn’t for the windows, they would have been engulfed in darkness. The constant hum that Izuku always heard suddenly went silent and his eyes widened, turning to his teacher, his smile widening with excitement? Stress? Aizawa could never tell with this kid.

“Something is coming.” He warned, just as the fountain below stuttered and a familiar purple and black mass grew in its place.  Aizawa spun around when a pale hand reached through the hole and pushed it back. A face, covered with a severed hand mask, stepped through what Izuku realized was a warp gate, with an army of others behind him.

“Stay together and don't move! Thirteen, protect the students!”

“Whoa, what is that thing? Wait, has the training started already? I thought we were rescuing people.” Kirishima said and stepped forward to get a better look.

“Stay back!” Aizawa yelled, pulling his yellow goggles over his eyes. “This is real. Those are Villains.” 

Izuku pulled his mask up, reached behind his back and pulled his staff from its restraints to palm it between his hands. Despite whatever the teachers might think, Izuku knew that getting out wasn’t going to be easy. He had to be ready for anything. 

Thirteen blocked the students' line of sight from the Villains as Aizawa jumped down to stall them so they could escape. “Come on! I need to get you all out of here.” Everyone shook off whatever they were feeling about being in the middle of a Villain attack and ran for the doors. Izuku looked back down at the plaza, where Aizawa, or rather, Eraserhead, was taking down the Villains one by one with such ease that Izuku couldn’t help but admire. Then his eyes drifted to the man he met before. 

‘This is going to be fun.’

“Midoriya! What are you doing?! We need to get out of here!” Iida called, but Izuku wanted to go down there so badly. He wanted to fight. Izuku took a step towards the chaos, but a hand grabbed his wrist. He looked behind him where Iida was holding him back.

“We have to go! You can’t go down there. Didn’t you hear Thirteen and Mr. Aizawa?”

Izuku's eye twitched, but he sighed. “Hmmm, fine.” He reluctantly followed Iida back to the group. Just as they neared the entrance, a purple mass materialized in front of them, and glowing yellow eyes bore down on them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the Villain said, his voice dripping with malice. “We are the League of Villains. I know it’s impolite, but we decided to invite ourselves into this haven of justice to say hello. Isn’t this a fitting place for All Might, the Symbol of Peace, to take his last breath? I believe he was supposed to be here today, yet I see no sign of him. Perhaps there’s been a change in plans we couldn’t foresee. Ah, well, in the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter.” He spread his Quirk out ominously. “I still have a role to play.”

Katsuki and Kirishima seemed to have other plans though. With a yell, they both jumped in front of them and attacked. Smoke filled the air from Katsuki’s explosion. 

“Did you think we’d just sit back and let you tear this place to shreds?” Kirishima said to the Warp Villain Izuku’s eyes narrowed as he looked through the smoke, where the Villain was still flickering like a candle. Unharmed. “You should be more careful, children. Otherwise, someone might get hurt.” He growled. 

“You two,” Thirteen said urgently, the canister on her index finger popping open. “Get out of the way right now!”

“I'll scatter you across this facility to meet my comrades... and your deaths!” The Villain's chilling words echoed as his Quirk spread, engulfing them all. Izuku barely had time to react before the dark mass enveloped him. He raised his arms, instinctively shielding his face from the oppressive force, feeling the suffocating pressure all around him. His body began to glitch—his Quirk attempting to free him—but before he could slip away, the ground disappeared beneath his feet.

Suddenly, Izuku was falling.

The sensation hit him all at once—weightlessness, followed by the sound of rushing wind in his ears. He tumbled through the air, his heart racing as his surroundings blurred past him. He had no idea where he was headed, but within moments, a cold, unforgiving splash engulfed him as he sank into the deep water in the flood zone. 

He immediately started to swim back to the surface. The water shifted behind him and he spun around. As the shark-like Villain surged through the water, razor-sharp teeth bared and eyes narrowed in a predatory glare, Izuku felt a rush of adrenaline and channeled his Quirk just as the Villain lunged. In an instant, he glitched, allowing the menacing figure to phase right through him.

The Villain’s momentum carried him forward, and Izuku took the opportunity to swim out of reach, feeling a surge of triumph. He was quickly losing air, just as he thought of using his Quirk to get to the surface, something slithered around his stomach, he barely had time to look down before he was yanked to the surface. He broke the water with a gasp and he was lifted up to the boat that sat in the middle of the water. As he scrambled to sit up, the appendage that had pulled him away from the depths slipped away, leaving him momentarily dazed.

Just then, he caught sight of Mineta being slammed down onto the deck with a loud thud. “Ugh, not cool!” Mineta groaned, trying to shake off the daze. Izuku couldn't help but snicker at the sight as his pulled down his soaked mask. Moments later, Asui emerged from the water, climbing up the side of the boat with her usual grace. “Are you okay, Midoriya?” She asked, her eyes scanning him for any signs of injury.

“I think so! Thanks for getting me out of there!” He twirled his staff, before resting the end of it on the deck. 

“This is turning out to be a terrible day of class.” Asui croaked. 

Izuku couldn’t help but laugh despite the dire situation. “You can say that again! This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for rescue training.”

Mineta looked between them, his face pale. “You guys are kidding, right? We’re about to become fish food!”

“Now, now, no need to panic! We’ll figure something out.” He reassured, but that hardly helped calm him down. 

Izuku turned to Asui. “They knew our whole schedule and who would be here. They must’ve gotten into school files while everyone was all stuck in the cafeteria. The teachers were busy trying to get the media off school grounds. They must’ve been waiting for the perfect time to attack.” 

“Hey, hold on a second!” Izuku and Asui looked at their smallest classmate. “It’s not like these guys can actually kill All Might! Once he shows up, he’ll pound these guys until there’s nothing left!”

“Think about it though. If the Villains spent so much time planning this attack, then they probably figured out a way to kill him. And didn’t you hear what that smoke guy said? Maybe we should worry more about not getting tortured to death. Otherwise, we might not be alive to see All Might again.” Mineta started to sweat. “And if he does show up, who knows if he’ll make it out in one piece.” Mineta whimpered and turned to Izuku, who tilted his head with that same insane smile of his. 

“But the pros are gonna save us right?! Tell frog boobs to shut up!”

A rush of water made Izuku hum and turn back to the water, where numerous Villains swam towards the boat, surrounding it. Mineta screamed bloody murder beside them, making Izuku roll his eyes out of annoyance. Maybe Aizawa should have expelled him that day. He obviously wasn’t suited to be a Hero. 

“Well as I see it, the only out of here is to fight.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN FIGHT? ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Mineta yelled. “They might have a way to beat All Might and you think we can take them?!” Tears and snot streamed down his face. “The best plan is to just wait for the Pros to just show up and save us!” He declared stomping in place like a child, while Izuku and Asui examined the Villains in the water. 

Izuku ignored him. “Those Villains down there clearly have an advantage in the water and assume that’s where we’ll fight.”

“Are you even listening to me?!”

“If that’s the case then they must’ve known what was inside the USJ before they warped in.” Asui said calmly. 

“Yeah.” Izuku’s brows furrowed. “But for all that time of careful planning, there’s one thing that really sticks out to me. One thing that just doesn’t add up.” He turned his gaze to the frog girl. “They sent you here. To a place full of water.”

Asui let out a ‘ribbit’ when she realized where he was going. “You’ve got a point there. If they knew I was a frog, then they would've sent me into that fire zone over there instead.”

Izuku nodded and pulled her with him to the side of the boat where the Villains could see them. They knelt down to strategize. 

“So let’s talk about Quirks,” Asui said. “I’ll go first if that's okay. Obviously, I can jump high and cling to pretty much any wall. And of course, there's my tongue. I can stick it out about 20 meters. Oh yeah, and I can spit out my stomach so I can clean it. That's not really useful. Finally, I also secrete a toxic mucus. It just stings a bit. We can probably only use my jumping, and my tongue here. Forget about the last things.”

“Aha! You have quite the Quirk!” He lifted his hand in front of him, letting his Quirk make his hand glitch. 

“I call my Quirk Static Distortion. I can create static energy, which causes my surroundings to glitch. That includes objects and people, as well as myself.” 

Asui tilted her head, her wide eyes fixed on Izuku. “What about how you talk? You sound like you’re speaking through a radio.” She said, her curiosity evident.

Izuku chuckled, his voice carrying the familiar static undertone. “I can talk normally, just like anyone else. But I like the sound of the radio. It's... nostalgic. A proper form of entertainment,” he added with a playful grin.

Mineta, who had been nervously fidgeting, reached up and plucked one of the sticky balls off his head. It made a popping sound, and another quickly grew in its place. “I’ve got these sticky balls,” he said, pressing it against the boat’s railing. It stuck instantly. “Their strength depends on how I’m feeling. They could stick for a whole day sometimes. They grow back as fast as I pull ’em off, but if I use too many, I’ll start bleeding... And they don’t stick to me. I just bounce off ’em.”

He turned to the others, expecting some kind of admiration, but Asui and Izuku were simply staring at him, their expressions unreadable. Mineta’s face crumpled, and he immediately started tearing up.

“AHHH! Don’t look at me like that!” he wailed. “This is why I said we should wait for the real Heroes! My Quirk is totally unfit for battle and we’re gonna die!”

Izuku blinked, snapping back into the moment. “Mineta, stop freaking out! Your Quirk’s actually perfect for this. You can keep the Villains from climbing aboard by blocking them with your sticky balls.”

Mineta sniffled, wiping his eyes. “Y-you think so?”

He nodded with one of his hums, but was interrupted by a massive water claw slammed down on top of them, tearing through the boat with a deafening crash. The force split the vessel in two, sending chunks of debris flying. Izuku barely had time to brace himself before he was thrown off balance, tumbling across the splintering deck as the boat began to sink rapidly.

"Well, there goes that plan…" Izuku muttered under his breath, eyes wide as the cold water rushed up around them, flooding the boat.

Mineta let out a terrified wail, gripping onto one of the intact railings with everything he had. “We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die!!”

Asui raised a thin brow. “So Mineta, are you really sure the Hero thing is right for you?” 

“Shut up! It's weirder not to be scared right now! We just got outta junior high a little while ago! I didn't think I'd be facing death a few days after starting UA! I can't believe I'm gonna die without ever getting to touch Yaoyorozu's boobs!” 

Izuku’s eye twitched at that, suddenly wanting to just hurl the boy into the water with the rest of the Villains. 

Mineta cried again and rushed to the railing, ripping the purple balls off of his head and throwing them into the water. Izuku’s eyes widened and he dragged the boy away from the edge. “You gotta calm down! They’ll guess what your Quirk is.” He peeked over the railing to see what that panic attack could have caused, only to watch the Villains push them away with water. 

‘They’re afraid to touch them…’ 

He turned back to his classmates. “Alright, listen up. I’m going to go down there and distract them. Mineta, while they’re focused on me, throw your balls in the water. Don’t worry about hitting them, I’ll make sure they get trapped in them. Asui, when I give the signal, you jump away from the boat.” 

Mineta blinked through his tears. “W-what? But—"

"No time to argue!" Izuku cut him off. “Just throw as many of your balls into the water as you can — around the Villains! I’ll distract them.”

With a nod, Mineta began furiously pulling the sticky orbs from his head and tossing them toward the encroaching Villains.

As did Asui, the ever-calm and composed one, nodded. Izuku looked back over the railing, his smirk growing with excitement at the thought of causing chaos. 

“Alright then, let's do this.” He jumped onto the railing. The water Villains snarled and surged toward him, but Izuku phased through the first one’s watery claw, slipping through it like a ghost. Another Villain launched a stream of water at him, but he blinked out of existence and reappeared on the other side. 

Izuku fall through the air towards the water where Villains were struggling with Mineta’s sticky balls, a sly grin forming on his face. “Wow, is that the best you guys can do?” He called out. “You’re all stuck together like a bunch of kindergarteners on their first day of arts and crafts! How embarrassing for a group of so-called Villains.” He glitched before hitting the water, higher into the air, and falling back first with his hands laced behind his head.

The Villains froze for a second, their eyes narrowing at him as the taunt sank in.

Their frustration boiled over, and they roared in unison, thrashing against the sticky orbs even harder, trying to break free. Their wild movements sent waves crashing around them, and the boat remnants began to splinter further under the pressure.

“Y-You brat!” one of the Villains growled, the water around him bubbling with rage. “I’ll drown you myself!”

“Oh no, they’re angry,” Izuku said, mockingly putting his hands up as if he were scared. Then he grinned again, glitching in and out of view. “Come on, don’t be mad just because you got outsmarted by a bunch of high school kids. Maybe next time, try using your brain before picking a fight.”

The Villains, already infuriated, completely lost their composure. They lunged toward Izuku, their attacks now reckless and disorganized, their focus entirely on him.

“Is he trying to get us killed?!” Mineta whispered.

Asui sighed. “He’s provoking them on purpose. They’ll make more mistakes.”

The Villains launched themselves at the boy, water claws and tendrils flailing toward Izuku. But he just smirked and phased through their attacks, letting the Villains exhaust themselves with every reckless move. His plan was working. He always appeared in another spot where Mineta's balls were floating, making the Villains follow and get more to stick to them. By the time they realized what was happening, all of them were stuck together. Izuku cackled. 

“Asui!”

The frog girl jumped from the boat, her tongue wrapping around Izuku’s waist and pulling them to shore while the Villains struggled to get free behind them.

Chapter Text

Mineta chuckled as Asui dragged him through the water. “I had a good poop this morning, which makes my balls stickier. They're not going anywhere!”

Asui and Izuku exchanged a look, clearly unimpressed with the information they didn’t need. They chose to ignore it and focus on the task at hand.

“If we follow the shore to the exit, then we can avoid the central plaza entirely,” Izuku said, pointing towards a distant set of stairs.

“Good idea. That way we don't run into the Villains Mr. Aizawa's facing,” Asui agreed, nodding towards the growing dust cloud that marked the location of the ongoing battle.

Izuku remained where he was, staring intently at the dust cloud. “Yeah, but can he handle them on his own? How long can he hold out against a big group like that? If he doesn’t get some backup soon, he’s just going to overexert himself. He could end up defeated by those Villains because he’s trying to keep us safe.”

Mineta’s eyes widened in alarm. “Wait, don’t tell me you’re suggesting... Are you trying to get us killed or something?”

Izuku laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not saying we should jump into the middle of the fight. What I’m suggesting is that we find a way to help out without diving headfirst into danger. We can take out a few of the Villains ourselves and lighten Mr. Aizawa’s load. That way, he won’t be overwhelmed, and we can help him from a safe distance.”

Asui glanced between Izuku and Mineta, her expression thoughtful. “If we can manage to take out a few Villains without attracting too much attention, it might make a difference.”

Mineta, still looking nervous, took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll follow your lead. Just... let's be careful. I don’t want to end up as Villain bait.”

Izuku cracked his knuckles. “Oh, we’ll be fine. Who knows, maybe we won’t have to do anything at all.”

He hoped they would though. At least him. 

Izuku, Asui, and Mineta crept along the shoreline, carefully avoiding any direct confrontation with the Villains. The sound of the battle grew louder as they approached the edge of the central plaza, where Aizawa was engaged in a fierce fight against a group of Villains. They positioned themselves behind a cluster of rocks, partially submerged in the water, allowing them to watch the scene unfold without being seen.

From their vantage point, they could see Eraserhead using his Quirk to neutralize several Villains at once, but the sheer number of adversaries was clearly taking a toll on him. He was moving fluidly, using his scarf and quick reflexes to disarm and incapacitate the Villains, but it was evident that he was struggling to keep up with the onslaught.

“Look at him go,” Izuku murmured, eyes fixed on the fight he so badly wanted to join. “He’s incredible.” 

Izuku could see the precision in Eraserhead's movements, the way his scarf was used to disarm and incapacitate, but also the signs of strain that were becoming more evident. He spotted Shigaraki and ran to meet him in the center of the plaza. “Final boss.”

Shigaraki’s taunts cut through the tension like a knife. “First it was 23 seconds. Then it was 24 seconds. And then 20. Then 17.” His voice was mocking as he reached for Eraserhead, who thrust his elbow forward with a grunt. The impact seemed to land, but Shigaraki had grabbed it with an unnerving grip. Izuku's eyes widened as he saw Eraserheads skin begin to crack and decay, the black shirt disintegrating until it reavealed his skin and soon the raw muscle beneath.

Eraserhead’s face contorted in pain, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he tried to pull back, but Shigaraki’s hold was relentless. “It was hard to see when you were jumping around, but I've found your tell. It's your hair.” The Villain’s voice was dripping with cruel satisfaction. “When it drops, it means you've stopped using your Quirk. You're having to blink more often. Don't push yourself too hard, now. You might just fall apart. Wouldn't that be a shame?”

Izuku could see the pain etched on Eraserhead’s face as he struggled against Shigaraki’s grip. The pro Hero managed to punch Shigaraki away, but not without a visible cost. As he dodged another incoming Villain, Izuku saw him clutching his injured arm, his movements becoming more cautious.

Shigaraki, seemingly undeterred by the blow, got up with an almost casual grace. “That annoying Quirk of yours isn't suited for drawn‐out fights against big groups, is it?” he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. “Don’t you think you're a little out of your element here, Eraserhead? You’re much better at working stealthily. You’re known for surprise attacks, not fighting head‐to‐head. But despite knowing that, you didn’t hesitate to jump into the middle of this fight. To put your students at ease.”

Eraserhead, despite the pain, dodged and kicked another Villain away with impressive skill. He activated his Quirk again, grabbing his scarf and facing Shigaraki with renewed determination. The way Eraserhead handled the situation was a testament to his skill and resolve, even as he struggled with the effects of Shigaraki’s power.

Shigaraki’s smirk widened as he glanced behind him, and Eraserhead’s expression shifted to one of alarm as he followed his gaze. “Oh, by the way, Hero,” Shigaraki called out, his voice a chilling reminder of the danger still looming. “I am not the final boss.”

Izuku’s eyes widened as the monster that had stayed by Shigaraki’s side, appeared behind the Hero. 

Izuku jumped from the water, ignoring the warnings from Asui and Mineta. His hand snapped up in front of him. Eraserheads body flickered and glitched, causing the monster's hand to phase right through his body. Shigaraki stiffened when Eraserhead was untouched, despite the Nomu’s arm right through his head and neck. Eraserhead lifted his head up, his gaze immediately latching onto his student. Eraserhead didn’t know what was happening. And he was surprised when it didn't even hurt. It was a little uncomfortable, sure. But it didn’t hurt. He understood that it didn’t bother Izuku. It was his Quirk and his body was made to handle it. But then he suddenly found himself by Izuku’s side. 

He fell to the ground when the glitching stopped, not even realizing he was holding his breath until he started gasping for it. 

Izuku stepped forward, his grin stretching more than should be possible as he drew his staff from his back. He cleared his throat and tapped the mic on the end of the stick before bringing it to his lips. 

“Testing, testing—oh, it works! Good! Welcome everybody! Today we have a very special, but annoying guest star, uh…” he tapped his chin in thought. “Dust Bunny Supreme? No, wait, Crusty McHandface? You know what, I don’t care.” He laughed, his posture totally relaxed, as if he weren’t talking to someone who had control over a beast that could kill you with one hand.  

The Villain’s red-rimmed eyes narrowed behind the hand on his face, his lips twitching into a snarl as his fingers flexed, itching to decay something—preferably the kid in front of him.

Izuku paced back and forth, speaking to an imaginary audience like he was hosting a live broadcast. “Now, viewers, don’t touch that dial, because the stakes are high, the tension’s thick, and this guy’s skin routine is, uh…non-existent! Can someone get him a moisturizer sponsorship? No? Thought so.” Izuku cackled at his own rhymes.

“Nomu!” Shigaraki growled, his voice low and gravelly. The beast moved, so fast that no one could see him coming, but Izuku glitched before disappearing just as the Nomu punched the spot where he was standing. 

“Hey, hey! It’s rude to interrupt people!” Izuku said from a piece of debris, unharmed and grinning like he was having the time of his life, which to Aizawas irritation and concern, he probably was.

“You know, I thought you’d be the final boss. The one who would stand tall and—who am I kidding? Look at you. You’re just another villain who doesn’t know how to follow the rules. Like a cheat code gone wrong—too many bugs to even be considered a threat. You’re a walking disaster. A glitch in a glitchy system. Kinda sad, don’t you think? Here you are, thinking you’re the one pulling the strings. But guess what, pal? You’re just another pawn in this game.”

Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Izuku could see the veins on his neck bulge. His fingers twitched again, clearly fighting the urge to unleash everything he had at the boy who dared to mock him so openly.

“Well, look at that,” Izuku cooed, his voice dripping with mock pity. “I hit a nerve! Don’t worry, you’ll get over it... probably... maybe... though it’s hard to say when your whole plan is just falling apart.”

A shadow fell over him and a gust of air followed. Izuku rolled his eyes, flickering, and disappearing...right behind Shigaraki. He leaned in close, his grin still intact as he whispered, his voice a quiet, almost teasing hum against Shigaraki’s ear.

“Is it frustrating? Knowing that no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be the one in control?” His words were soft but laced with venom, the rhythm almost like a pulse in the air around them. Izuku’s smile widened, knowing just how much it would drive Shigaraki mad.

Izuku was gone before he could spin around with his hand outstretched, ready to decay him. He snarled in anger. It was a kid. He was just a kid.

The air next to Shigaraki warped and Kurogiri appeared materialized. “Tomura Shigaraki.”

Shigaraki didn't stop looking around the plaza for Izuku as he addressed the purple mass next to him. “Kurogiri, did you manage to kill Thirteen?” He asked, not really paying attention to him. Kurogiri hesitated before speaking. “The Rescue Hero is out of commission. But there were students I was unable to disperse and one of them got outside of the facility.” Now that got Shigaraki's attention. He stopped scratching his neck and turned his face to him. “Huh?” Shigaraki growled. “Kurogiri...you fool...If you weren't our warp gate, I'd tear apart every last atom in your body. There's no way we can win if dozens of Pros show up to stop us. It's game over. Back to the title screen. And I was looking forward to finishing this today. Damn it. Let's go home.” He looked around again and there he was.

Izuku stood across the plaza, posture straight, hands behind his back, and that damned grin on his face. Just watching. And if that didn't make his blood boil. 

“You!” Shigaraki snarled, his voice sharp and full of venom. His hands twitched as if itching to decay the ground between them just to wipe that smug look off Izuku’s face. “What the hell are you smiling at?! You think this is a joke?!”

Izuku didn't move. Didn't speak. He did nothing. 

“You think you’re so clever,” Shigaraki growled. “Standing there, acting untouchable. But I’ll show you. I’ll show you what happens to people who mock me!”

Still, Izuku didn’t budge. His grin widened ever so slightly, just enough to spark a flash of static in the air around him. His silence spoke volumes, louder than words ever could. It said, You can’t touch me. You don’t scare me. I’m in control.

And then, finally, Izuku moved. It wasn’t much—just a slow, deliberate tilt of his head to the other side, followed by the faintest hum of static. It wasn’t an answer, not really, but it was enough to send a shiver down Shigaraki’s spine.

The grin never left Izuku’s face. He didn’t need to speak. His silence was the taunt, and it was driving Shigaraki to the edge. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as his fury boiled over. His teeth ground together, and his body trembled with barely contained rage.

“No,” he hissed, his voice sharp and venomous. “I’m not leaving. I don’t care if the Pros show up. I don’t care if this whole stupid plan falls apart. I’m not going anywhere until I wipe that grin off your face.” 

Kurogiri hesitated, his mist-like form shifting as if uncertain. “Tomura, this is unwise. If we stay, it’s—”

“Shut up!” Shigaraki snapped, cutting him off. “We’ve already lost the element of surprise, and that... thing—” he jabbed a finger toward Izuku, “—is mocking me! If I leave now, it’s not just a retreat; it’s a defeat. And I don’t lose.”

Kurogiri’s hesitation was brief. With a nod, his form solidified slightly, tendrils of his mist curling and swirling in preparation for an attack. “As you wish,” he said, his tone neutral but resigned.

There. A laugh. Izuku laughed. And there wasn't a word that described how ecstatic he was. He finally moved, twirling his staff in his hands and crouching. Shigaraki moved first, his hands outstretched while Kurogiri stayed behind and made his mist outstretch towards Izuku. 

Izuku slid his leg back, moving his staff into a batter's stance like he was going to swing the staff at Shigaraki's head. And he would've if something didn't wrap around his waist and pull him away. Izuku flew through the air for a moment before he fell onto his back with a quiet "oof" next to Aizawa and his classmates. 

Izuku lay sprawled on the ground, staring up at the sky for a moment as if processing what had just happened. He pushed himself up on his elbows, his grin still intact despite the abrupt interruption. His staff rested beside him. Aizawa loomed over him, his capture scarf retracting as he glared down with a mix of exasperation and irritation. “What the hell were you thinking, Midoriya?” he snapped, his tone sharp and uncompromising. “Charging at him like that? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

Izuku tilted his head, his grin softening into something more sheepish. “Okay, maybe it wasn’t the smartest move. But he was losing it. One good swing would’ve ended his tantrum and given us an edge. I was just... seizing the opportunity.”

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to keep his patience intact. “Midoriya, you don’t get to ‘seize the opportunity’ when it risks not only your life but the lives of your classmates. You’re a student, not a solo hero. You act as a team or not at all. Got it?”

Izuku hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Got it.” But the glimmer in his eye said he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Aizawa sighed, muttering something under his breath about “problem children” before turning his attention back to the Villains. Meanwhile, Izuku gave a quiet chuckle, leaning over to whisper to Asui.

“See? Totally had it under control.”

She tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow, her voice calm but laced with disbelief. "Midoriya...that was...pretty reckless, even for you."

Mineta, on the other hand, was just a pale mess of anxiety. "Yeah, man! That was crazy! I thought you were going to get yourself killed!" He wiped his brow dramatically as if he’d just survived some catastrophic event. "You're lucky Mr. Aizawa was there to catch you. We all thought you were going for a one-way ticket to the afterlife." 

Izuku rolled his eyes as he climbed to his feet, dusting the dirt from his pants as he straightened. "I would have been just fine." 

Aizawas eyes were sharp when he demanded, "Get back to the entrance right now." 

Izuku's grip on his staff tightened, his mind conflicted. Despite his outward grin, his thoughts were swirling. He didn’t like being told to step back—especially when things were heating up. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing villains squirm, about throwing everything he had into the fight, especially when the odds seemed stacked against him. It made him feel alive, like he was actually doing something to make a difference. But Aizawa’s red-eyed glare had been enough to silence any protests. The man didn’t need to say much. He didn’t need to make a big speech. One look from Aizawa, and Izuku knew exactly what was expected of him. He wasn’t ready for this kind of battle—not yet. It wasn’t just about taking down Shigaraki or Kurogiri. It was about making sure his classmates made it out safe.

A quiet growl left Izuku's lips and he spun around, away from the fight while his teacher lunged for the Villains. 

Asui and Mineta caught up to him as they turned behind a long row of rocks, out of sight from the Villains. “Maybe this was a good thing, Midoriya,” Asui said, her voice laced with a quiet sense of reason. “Mr. Aizawa is a pro. We’re just students. He’ll be able to focus on the fight without worrying about us.”

Izuku blinked, taking in her words, but the gnawing itch of wanting to jump back into the action remained. Still, he couldn’t deny the truth in what she said. Aizawa was a seasoned Pro—he's been doing this for years. He didn’t need backup from a bunch of students. Not now, anyway.

“I know,” Izuku muttered, almost to himself, tapping his staff on the ground harder than necessary, frustration coloring his tone. “But it doesn’t make it easier.” His eyes narrowed, his smile flickering with a hint of something darker. “I want to help. I want to be the one to take him down. To crush his spirit. The thrill of it…” He cut himself off, stopping in his tracks. His eyes widened and his hand reached up to cover his mouth, the weight of his own words sinking in. The intensity of his desire to be the one to take down Shigaraki, to crush him both physically and emotionally, sent a shiver down his spine. It was more than just a need to fight—it was a deep-seated thirst for victory, a hunger for control that he couldn’t quite explain. He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they lingered, refusing to be ignored. The thrill of seeing Shigaraki suffer, of watching him squirm in the face of his power—it felt almost... good. Too good. And that terrified Izuku.

'What’s happening to me?' His breath catching slightly. 'Why am I thinking like this?' He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bubbling inside him, something darker than he’d ever imagined. He hadn't felt this way since...since those kids...

Izuku shuddered.

Mineta’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, but the unease still lingered. “Midoriya? You alright?”

Izuku blinked, his wide eyes focusing on his classmates. He forced a smile, but it felt strained, almost unnatural. “Yeah... yeah, I’m fine. Just... thinking. Let’s keep moving.”

They both shrugged and continued to the large staircase. Izuku took a deep breath to steady himself and took one last look at the fight...where Aizawa was being crushed by the Nomu. 

'No...no...'

The edges of his vision darkened the longer he stared at him. Pinned. Bleeding. Hurt. Dying. 

The Nomu moved its huge wrist just the slightest and Izuku’s blood ran cold at the sickening sound of Aizawa’s arm snapping. His heart stuttered in his chest, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. His teacher’s suppressed yell, the desperate noise of someone trying not to scream out in pain, rang in his ears, pulling at every instinct he had. He could feel his chest tightening, his breath becoming shallow and erratic.

The sight of their teacher suffering triggered a complete breakdown of his composure. His hands clenched into fists, and a deep, guttural growl escaped his throat. The flickering and glitching intensified around him, the sheer force of his rage amplifying the effect of his Quirk. Izuku's body glitched in place and suddenly, he was in front of the Nomu and Aizawa. The air around him crackled with static, his form glitching and distorting as his rage exploded outward, feeding the raw energy of his Quirk. It was as though the very fabric of reality itself bent to his fury, warping and pulsing with every emotion that stormed through him.

“Get off of him!” Izuku snarled, the words torn from his throat like a guttural roar, the intensity of his anger boiling over. His entire body flickered in and out of existence, a blur of motion that was nearly impossible to track. Every bit of his focus, every ounce of his power, was directed at the Nomu and the monstrous weight it had on his teacher. 

They all blinked, and his fist was buried in the Nomu’s stomach. The monster’s body bowed inward, the sheer force of the impact sending shockwaves through its grotesque form. It reeled backward, tumbling through the air across the plaza like a ragdoll, crashing into the ground with a heavy thud. The sound of Izuku’s punch followed a split second later, a deafening crack that echoed across the plaza.

“YOU—” Izuku’s voice, distorted and crackling with static, was barely recognizable. His eyes burned with a fierce, dangerous light, every ounce of his being consumed by a protective rage.

 “̷̲͎̈́̍̊̓̕ͅY̸̩̖̤͑̍͜O̸̼̎Ũ̶̹̼̬͈ ̸̢͕̻̻̬͌̾͛T̸̤͒͛̎̌͋H̴̢͇̑̈́̕̕͜Ȉ̶̢̧̛͍̩̫̀͌͗N̴̼̰̼̳̈́͑K̷͍̦̹͂̃ ̴̲̫͌̑͆Y̶̹͈̍̌Ó̶̝̯͒͊̚U̷͕̥͎͂͑̏ ̸̲̣͒C̸̢͔̜̒̏͋Ą̸̩̣̪̈́ͅN̴͔͕̙̱̾̎ ̶̻͎͕̱̄͛͜H̴͈̜͊͌̍́U̷͔͈͂̉̆R̷̛̦̬̻̪̃́͐Ţ̶̪̒̎ ̸̧̬̙̙͋̊̒͝H̶̛͈͐̇̄I̸̻̱͇͈̰͂M̴̢͙̆̓̄ ̵͇̅Ȧ̸̮͒͂̌͝Ń̶̡̢̜̝̬̽̒D̶̛̝̀̚͠ ̶̦͉̩́̾̐ͅG̸͈̙̏͝E̶̝̩̻̜̼͌̓͒̄͘T̵͎̮͈͐̄̊ ̸̤͈̮̤́͊̋A̴͔̱͇̜̞̍̍̋̈́͐W̶͇͍͎̌̈́A̴̠̻̙̾̀̓Y̷͇͛̑̏̒͝ ̶̮̆̎̉Ẃ̷̡̳͖̲͎̕I̵͚̤̤̘̊̏͝T̶̯̈́͘H̴̳͓̙̬͇͆̏̕ ̶̨̮̫̀̾Ị̷͝T̴̢͉͕̒̆͘͜ͅ?̶̡͎̙̫̼̉!̵͙̩̍̓̍̄̂”̸̧̢̘͉͍̃̅͠   

Asui and Mineta ran into the clearing after Izuku, only to cover their ears as a sharp white noise filled the area. Aizawa groaned, looking up at his student and watched as an inky blackness bled over the white of his eyes. That smile had widened impossibly further as he stared at the Nomu and Shigaraki. 

“It’s because, if I don’t keep smiling, I won’t be able to stop it.”

“I'm going to kill you….” He whispered.

Izuku Midoriya. His Quirk, Static Distortion. 

He can generate static energy, causing visual, auditory, and physical disruptions in his surroundings. He can create glitch-like effects that make objects, people, or even his own body flicker, distort, and phase in and out, making it hard for opponents to maintain control or focus. This static energy can also interfere with electronic devices, scramble signals, and short-circuit technology. But… in a state of heightened emotion, especially anger or despair, Izuku risks losing control and unleashing the monster he constantly tries to suppress. 

They all went silent as Izuku hunched over, so still and quiet that Aizawa thought he wasn’t even breathing.

“Nomu. Kill him.” 

Aizawa's eyes widened as the monster recovered and rushed to his student with such speed that none of them could see it until it stopped in front of him, its huge fist aimed for Izuku’s head. Just before it connected, everything seemed to slow down. Time itself felt like it was crawling to a stop. But then, Izuku glitched.

His form flickered, disjointed, like a broken signal on a screen, and the Nomu’s massive fist passed straight through his head as if it was nothing but air.

And then, in the blink of an eye, Izuku was gone.

No sound, no trace. Just… gone.

Then the laughing started. Soft at first, like a giggling child that echoed through the air. Then Izuku reappeared in front of the Nomu. He was still grinning, but something about it was different. It was more…psychotic. Out of control.

The Nomu reeled his fist back for another punch and Izuku didn't bother to dodge again. He just twisted to the side, wrapped his arms around its fat arm, and with one kick, the Nomu flew away from him with one less arm. It screeched when it landed, writhing like it was actually capable of feeling pain.

Blood—black, thick, and foul-smelling—sprayed across his clothes, dripping down his face and staining his skin. He looked down at the severed limb in his hands, his expression unchanged, a detached calmness in his movements. It was like he was a spectator to the chaos he’d just unleashed. With a casual sigh, Izuku dropped the severed arm, letting it fall to the ground with a wet slap. He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, which only smeared it further, his grin never once faltering.

"̵͈̤͖͙͌͋G̴̨̢̺̈́͒͠ǘ̸̞̝̖͌̆̊è̷̲̋̆͝s̵̯͚̓͌̋͗͜s̵̡̧͉̹̚ ̸̢̛̿͗̅̚y̸̧̩͛̒̀͊ȏ̸̢̠̓u̷̇̇̅̈͜’̴̬͓̥̋r̷̔̀̀͠ͅe̷̹̿̀͐͐ ̴͓̻͇̎́̈̐͗n̸̻͍͕̱͛͋ȍ̶̢̨̪̟t̴̨̬͓̑̽̌͗̓ ̸̡̩̣̱̞̓̊̉̊̆â̵̦̘͚͇͐̒̕ş̷̇̋̀ ̴̺̖̳̎̆̎̈́ț̵̨̻̱̊̇̒̈́͠o̶̮̹͋ŭ̶̙̹̩̯̇̔̀ģ̸͚̰̻͉̀h̵̥̩̘̜̅̈́̏̄͐ͅ ̷̛̗̹͚̾̆̑͝ȧ̷̟̾́ͅs̸̛̮̲͓̺͎͂͐ ̵̬̜̉ȳ̴̟̤̗͗̊͝ǭ̵̭̯̳͉̆͊̽͝u̷̮̠͍̦͖̓̃͗ ̷̪̲̅͂̊ḷ̵̢̡̥̤̇̒͒̈́̎õ̸̹̱̃͆̄͑ò̸̻̱͇͈̈́̓k̸̩͙̂͒̍͋͘.̵̛̞̱̫̦́̆̓͂"̵̧͎͕͐̉̎͆̓

The distortion in Izuku’s voice made the air itself feel heavy, as though reality was straining under the weight of his Quirk. His words were warped, broken fragments of sound that barely formed into something comprehensible. It was like listening to a radio tuned to the wrong frequency, static and chaos weaving through every syllable. Asui and Mineta inched forward until they were next to Aizawa and gently helping him sit up. They could actually see the air around Izuku glitching and felt the hair on their arms and neck rise. Izuku's power was...overwhelming. It was hard to believe that one person actually possessed such power.

“We need to get you out of here, Mr. Aizawa,” Asui whispered, her voice filled with concern, her hands working to support him.

But Aizawa, despite the obvious strain and injury, shook his head slowly. “No… we can’t leave yet.” His eyes were sharp, his usual no-nonsense demeanor cutting through the exhaustion. “Midoriya...”

“If I don’t keep smiling, I won’t be able to stop it.”

Aizawa’s gaze softened as he looked at the boy standing in front of him, the admission heavy with more than just the burden of a Quirk. It was fear, fear of what he could become, of losing himself in the very thing that should’ve been his strength. Aizawa remained calm, but his voice held a thread of concern.

“Stop what?” Aizawa asked his tone even, trying to gently coax Izuku into revealing more.

“The Quirk,” Izuku muttered, almost too quietly. His voice held a strange combination of resignation and fear. “It… I can feel it taking over sometimes. When it glitches. When I get too angry, too frustrated, when I want to fight… it just... happens. And when it happens, I can’t control it. I can’t control me.”

Aizawa watched him carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. It wasn’t just the Quirk that made Izuku dangerous—it was the fear of it. The uncertainty of what would happen if he let it go unchecked.

“That’s why you’re so obsessed with controlling it,” Aizawa said quietly, his words cutting through the tension in the air.

Izuku nodded, his eyes distant again. “Yeah… I don’t want to become like the villains. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to prove to everybody who looked at me like I was a freak, right.” He sighed again, the weight of the confession still sitting heavily on his chest. 

Izuku closed his eyes, a deep breath rattling through his chest as he tried to gather himself. “I don't want to become a monster," he muttered, quieter now, almost as if he were speaking to himself more than Aizawa. "Kacchan said that even when I lost control, I was still smiling," Izuku murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it wasn’t this kind of smile. It wasn’t the kind I try to keep on my face now. It was... darker. Like a demon’s grin, sharp and twisted. It didn’t feel like me, but it was still there. He said it would send shivers down his spine like he was staring at someone—or something—completely different."

Izuku paused, his hands clenching into fists as he struggled to find the words. “It wasn’t just my quirk acting up. It was something deeper, something in me that I couldn’t control. Like all the anger, all the frustration, all the fear I’d ever felt just poured out all at once, and that smile was how it showed itself. I wasn’t me anymore. I was something... something I don’t want to be."

He looked down at his hands, his knuckles white from how tightly he was gripping them. "That’s what scares me the most. I didn’t even realize it back then, but when Kacchan told me how I looked, I... I hated it. I hated the thought that I could be something people were afraid of. That I could lose myself like that."

Izuku let out a shaky sigh, his voice trembling. "That’s why I smile now. This smile, it’s not perfect—it’s not always real—but it keeps me grounded. It reminds me of who I want to be, of who I’m trying to become. And if I ever lose it... I’m afraid of what I’ll turn into. I’m afraid I’ll hurt people, even the ones I care about most. I don’t want to be a monster. I just... I just want to be a hero.”

He looked up at Aizawa, his emerald eyes with the weight of his emotions, despite that smile. "But sometimes... sometimes it feels like I’m fighting myself more than anything else. And I don’t know if I’m strong enough to win."

Izuku launched himself into the air, his body flickering with static as he flew toward the downed Nomu, his staff raised high above his head. He was about to strike—about to finish the job—when the air around him warped, and a swirling black mist materialized in front of him. Kurogiri’s warp gate had appeared, ready to engulf him in darkness.

Izuku’s body glitched, his movements jerking as he prepared to dodge. But before he could react, a hand shot out from behind him, grabbing Kurogiri by the neck brace and slamming him into the ground with an earth-shattering thud. Izuku skidded to a halt, eyes flicking over his shoulder as he saw Katsuki Bakugo straddling Kurogiri, pinning him down with an unrelenting grip. Explosions crackled in his hands, hovering dangerously close to the villain’s face.

“Don’t even think about it,” Katsuki snarled, his voice dripping with menace. “Try anything funny, and I’ll blow your ass up so bad they’ll be piecing you back together for weeks.” The threat was as real as the explosions in his palms, and Kurogiri could only groan in frustration, unable to move under Katsuki's firm hold. 

Shigaraki stood at a distance, seething, his eyes narrowing into a deadly glare. "Kurogiri," he growled, his voice filled with venom. "How could you let this brat get the best of you? You've gotten us into a real jam here." The rage in his tone was palpable, but he didn't take his attention off Izuku for long. His focus remained locked on the boy who had been toying with his Nomu.

Izuku, however, paid no attention to the bickering or the newly joined forces of his classmates. His focus was on the Nomu, still writhing on the ground, its body frozen in a thick layer of ice. The cold was radiating from it, trapping the beast in place as its body stiffened under the frost. Izuku’s eyes narrowed as he took in the sight, before something—or rather someone—caught his attention.

His head snapped to the side, his glitching form flickering as he processed the figure now standing across the battlefield. A boy, his costume white with ice covering the left side of his body. Shoto Todoroki. Izuku remembered him. The boy with the fire and ice Quirk. He had heard the rumors but had never seen Todoroki use his fire.

Kirishima came to a stop beside Asui, Mineta, and Aizawa, panting slightly from the skirmish. "Are you guys okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. But none of them answered. His brow furrowed, following their gazes until they all seemed to lock on one spot.

His own eyes widened in shock.

"Woah...what's going on with Midoriya?" Kirishima's voice was filled with awe and confusion as he stared at the scene unfolding in front of them.

Izuku stood in the center, his body flickering with static, his grin sharper than ever. The Nomu, once again trying to recover, was pinned by the icy grip of Todoroki’s attack, but Izuku was focused solely on the chaos he had stirred up. He was standing tall, almost basking in it, his body glitching with every flicker as his Quirk surged under the strain of his emotions. It was as if he were feeding off the destruction, thriving on the chaos and violence around him.

Katsuki, who had been focused on keeping Kurogiri pinned, looked up at the sound of Kirishima’s voice. His eyes immediately widened, his face going pale as he saw Izuku standing there. For a moment, Katsuki froze, his mouth opening in disbelief.

“H-Holy shit…” he muttered, his usual fire and cockiness faltering. This wasn’t the Izuku he knew. The way he was moving, the intensity of his smile, his eyes. He was exactly the same as it was that day. He hadn't seen him like this in ten years. All of it, except the blood. 

Shigaraki's eyes glowed with seething hatred as he glared at Izuku through the gaps in the severed hand, the cold sweat on his brow betraying his usual bravado. His fingers twitched, but not from the usual maniacal rage he was known for—no, this was fear. Pure, unadulterated terror.

"̸̢͙͝A̷̦̼͆̀r̴̤̉͗e̵̼̾ ̵͖̪͑̓y̷̼̑̒o̶̦̊͐ȗ̶̠ ̶̲̮̔͂s̵̡̖̚c̵̆̈́ͅà̷̲͎r̶̡̐ě̷͕̻̕d̷̪̗̚?̵͔̹͌"̷̢̜̔̕ Izuku taunted, his voice crackling with malicious delight.

"̷̠̪͊͐̽̈́̃͠I̸̡̳̪͇̦͗͋̊ ̸̰̟͔̭̩̌̌̿͘͝͝č̵̨̺͇̯̻̾̔̋̇͘ͅạ̷̦͎̞̮̦͐̎͠n̷̤̬̬̂̈́̇͊̈͐ ̷̻̄̍h̵̞͖͍̖̄͑̀̋̈́͠e̷͇̋̉͊͘ä̴̖́̀͌r̷͔͎͔̬̆̊̒̅͘ ̸̫̠̦̓͆̄y̸̺̰̆͑͗̕o̸̢̰̽̌͛͝͝u̵̧̧̲̜̔͒̾͌͜͝r̶̳͊̚ ̶̝̙̖͈͈̾́h̸͚̱͖̘̣̹́͐̈̅̊͘ả̵͉̱̀̀̅͒̕n̸̪̰̞̆̎d̸̡͎͑̒ş̶͇̈́͛ ̸̪͇̓̽̈́́͐̓s̶͉̟̯͐̿͑͘h̷̥̝͇̄̾ä̸̹͉̝̺̖̹͝k̶̢̙͍̳͐i̵̞̣̖̺̿͌̉͘n̵̗̦̼̂̀͐̆͘ǵ̶̡͍͂̎̍͑͝.̸̬̲̄̉̎̍͒́ ̸̝͈͙̀́̌͜ͅ

Shigaraki ignored him and looked at his Nomu.

"Get him." He hissed and the monster stumbled to his feet, its giant form easily snapping the ice into pieces as the muscles on his severed arm rippled before expanding as his arm reappeared. Izuku gasped in delight. 

A̷̳͊̎ḣ̵̟̀ ̷̙̯̉̾̔h̵̝̉̿ͅǟ̴̜̂!̷͍̤̇̇ͅ ̸̯̰̫͊Ỹ̵̭̙̘ȯ̷̧̯̝̓̕ȕ̵̝̪̌ ̵̺̽́j̸͚͛͠u̴͓̍͐̄ͅŝ̵̪̠̉t̶͚̉ ̷̼̪͓͐̔͗m̴̫̭̗͗̒͆i̵̹̩̓̇̈ǵ̴̮̪̝͐͝h̸̛̹̤̔̓ţ̸̫̈ ̶̧̭̌͒̿n̷̺̺̰̒o̴͉̙̪̓t̴͙͋̒̂ ̷͉̜͍̏b̵̺̞̋e̵͙̲͊̂ ̷̼̝̖̔̏͝ǎ̵̭̮̮ŝ̶̨͍͝ ̵̳͊͗̂p̷̨̖̌́͠ͅȧ̴̩̠͋͋͜t̴̡̳̔̇h̷̯̥͍̄̂̔ȅ̶̱̚t̵͚̆ï̶͎̜̞̃́č̶̘̰ ̷͚͇͗͌ą̷̯̫͐̑̒s̷̨̯̮̃͋ ̷̯̌̉͜I̷͚̾͝ ̵̦̘̀̐͜t̴͔̯͐͋h̴̡̢̻̀̋ȯ̶̤̩ù̶̪ͅg̸͈̰͘h̶̥̤̼́̽̌t̸͓̠͖̋̃͒.̶̞̹̄̀͜"̵̫̤͇̃

The Nomu lunged as soon as it gained its footing. Izuku crouched, palming his staff, but the Nomu wasn't going for Izuku. 

It was going after Kurogiri. After Katsuki. 

Izuku’s heart stopped as the Nomu charged toward Katsuki, its massive form tearing through the air with frightening speed. A deep, animalistic growl rumbled from the creature's throat as it barreled past Izuku, aiming to crush the only person he couldn't afford to lose.

The world seemed to slow around him, his pulse pounding in his ears as everything around him disappeared but the one person who mattered. His body twitched, glitching again as his rage intensified, warping reality around him. He didn’t think. He couldn’t. His instincts screamed, and his body obeyed.

A huge cloud of dirt bloomed and everyone standing near them got thrown back. 

Everyone shielded their eyes as the shockwave tore through the battlefield, forcing them to brace themselves against the violent wind. The sound of cracking earth and shattering debris filled the air, and for a moment, nothing else existed but chaos. When the dust finally began to settle, silence blanketed the plaza, broken only by the faint sound of rubble shifting.

Multiple pairs of eyes locked onto the thick cloud of smoke still lingering in the center of the destruction.

“Bakugo!” Kirishima’s voice cut through the tension, his panic evident as he scanned the area. His heart dropped when he saw Kurogiri materializing next to Shigaraki, but his gaze was quickly drawn to a pair of booted feet just within his line of sight. His eyes widened when he realized they belonged to Katsuki, who was sitting on the ground, pale-faced but unharmed.

“Bakugo!” Kirishima rushed forward, kneeling next to him with wide eyes. “Are you okay? Dude, did you dodge that? That was insane!”

Katsuki grunted, pushing himself to his feet with a scowl. He dusted off his uniform, his movements sharp and irritated. “Shut up,” he snapped, though his voice lacked its usual bite. “I didn’t dodge a damn thing.”

Kirishima blinked, confused. “Wait, what?” His gaze darted back to the dissipating dust cloud. “Then what the hell happened?”

Todoroki, standing a few feet away, scanned the area with a frown. His heterochromatic eyes swept over the plaza, taking in every detail. Something didn’t feel right. His brow furrowed as realization struck him. “Where’s Midoriya?”

The question hung in the air like a heavyweight, and the group fell silent, each of them suddenly aware of the one person who wasn’t accounted for.

The dust cloud began to thin, revealing the crater left behind by the attack. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, a sound broke through—soft and eerie, like the giggle of a child echoing through the battlefield.

Everyone froze. The giggle grew louder, distorted, and unnatural until it morphed into full-blown laughter. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that brought relief or joy; it was sharp and unsettling, filled with a manic edge that sent shivers down their spines.

A silhouette appeared within the smoke, slowly becoming clearer as the dust settled. The figure stepped forward, each movement deliberate, and the laughter continued, echoing unnaturally as if it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

When the dust finally cleared, the group’s collective breath hitched.

It was Izuku.

He stood on top of the downed Nomu, his boots planted firmly on the creature's massive chest. His staff was embedded deep into the exposed brain protruding from its skull, blood and viscous fluid dripping down its length. His posture was casual, almost relaxed, but there was an unmistakable intensity radiating from him—a dangerous, feral energy that made it impossible to look away.

Izuku tilted his head back slightly, his blackened eyes scanning the battlefield. His grin stretched impossibly wide, teeth bared in something that was more a snarl than a smile. Blood splattered his face, mixing with the faint glow of static still flickering around his form. 

The Nomu twitched beneath him, its body spasming as its regeneration tried desperately to fight back. Izuku let out a sharp laugh, leaning down and twisting the staff deeper into its brain. The sound of cracking bone echoed in the air, and the Nomu's movements stilled.

Y̸̪̆̓o̷͑͜u̴̳͝ͅ ̴͍̻̏̂̔b̶̛͇̤ͅr̷̖̬͊̃o̶̼͗̓ű̷͚͇ͅg̷̼̦̀̒͠ͅh̶̢̦̲͘t̵͔̀ ̵͍͗̕t̸̪̐̌h̴̳̄͒i̷̫͒͂s̵̘͛̉̆ ̵̻̙̀͌ẗ̶̠́͠h̴̯̺̼͛i̸̓̎͜n̷͈̳̯͋̀̿g̴̭̹̝̔ ̴̝̖͐̕t̷̨̡͖͒͘ǫ̶͈̻̂͝ ̷̢͓̻͗ķ̷́̈́͊͜ḯ̷̹͐l̶͇̞͇̓̚l̶͖̯̻͋̎ ̷̢̯̭͛̀̓Ã̸̫̪̎͜l̴͊͜l̷̞̱͒͋ ̸̢̨͇̇͋M̷̧͓̞̈́i̵̯͚̍͌̾g̴̗̘̪̃̀h̵̛͔͚ẗ̶͓̝͐̋?̸̧̓

Another condescending laugh as he pulled his staff out of its head, blood spattering out as he stepped off the dead body. 

I̴̪̬͙͐͌͆t̶̨̑̃ ̵̛̛̇ͅc̸̲̫̖̈̈́͝a̶͍̿ņ̵̟͗̓'̵̥̪̠̐̈́̿t̴̤̟͋̽ ̵͔͑e̵̥̝̥̐v̷̈͜e̵̫̳̊̕ń̸̫̈́ ̴̢̼̙̽͘͝l̷̯̉̂a̴̲̓̈́̎ỹ̸̺̺̖͠ ̶̫̃a̷̠̐ ̸̼͛s̸̺͉̺̆̌c̵͚̔̍̊r̴͍̥̺͗̍̇ḁ̵̗́͂t̵͖̊̎c̵͙͖͊ͅḩ̴̜͈̊͆̽ ̷̛̣̤̕ǒ̷̙̹n̶̠̣͑̽ ̷̬̰̭̐͊ḿ̵̜̉̀e̴̛̺̥͚͋͠ ̷͖̅̓a̵̞̥͌n̵̛͕͕̈́͜͝d̸̼͌ ̸̩̙̈͌̕y̶̼͊̓o̶̼̯̒̕ū̶͓̒ ̵̛̭͘͝t̷͔͒h̸̦̀o̶̧̩͗̅̒ü̵̗ͅg̵̥̻̔ḩ̷̬͑͂͆t̷͍̹́ ̷͉͕̽̀i̶̬̣̼̓͋͋t̶̨̡̓ ̶̘͗c̴̦͛o̴̜̺̊̀u̶̢̩̓̾͒l̵͇͆͘ḑ̸͗ ̷̞̄k̶̨̡̪̉i̴̦̿̑̃l̸̡̜̒̑l̷͎̘̘̒̈́̌ ̷̡̑̆̾t̴̬͇̋h̶̼̝̳́̊e̷͖̝͗͜ ̵͙̆S̴̛̞͕̑̑ÿ̴̦m̷̙͔̤̍b̴̯͈̺͒ő̸͇̺̹̈̓l̸͙̄́ ̷̦̍̂o̸̱̅f̵̣̤̔͐͝ͅ ̶̮̫̬̌͊̃Ṕ̶̧̺ę̵́̉͠ͅȁ̴̡̧̜̇c̶̫̣̎ȅ̵̢?̷͉̑̓̔

His eyes locked onto Shigaraki, resting the bottom of his blood-soaked staff on the ground. The look in Izuku's eyes wasn’t just dangerous—it was predatory.

Shigaraki backed up. "Kurogiri, let's get out of here."

Kurogiri didn't hesitate to open a warp gate and they both disappeared. 

Izuku’s eyes remained fixed on the space where Shigaraki and Kurogiri had stood, the echo of their departure lingering in the air. His body still crackled with static, the remnants of his distorted power humming under his skin as he stared at the empty space. He tilted his head, almost disappointed.

Katsuki’s voice cut through the thick silence, raw and intense, pulling Izuku's attention like a slap to the face.

"Deku?"

Izuku's head snapped towards him, his eyes wide for a moment, the chaotic energy still swirling around him. He blinked rapidly as if snapping out of some trance, his grin still lingering, though now it felt almost... wrong. There was something unsettling about the way he was staring as if the boy they knew was somewhere beneath the surface, but it was hard to tell whether he was in control.

Katsuki’s brow furrowed, his posture tense, but there was no anger in his voice—just a kind of rough urgency. "Hey," he said more firmly, stepping a little closer. "Listen to me. You’re still you, right?"

Izuku blinked again, his head tilting slightly as if the words weren’t quite processing. The twitching in his fingers slowed, but the buzzing feeling in his chest was still there, threatening to take over.

Katsuki clenched his fists at his sides, trying to keep his voice level, though his frustration and worry were starting to show. "I get it, alright? I get that you’re pissed, that you wanna take down everyone who comes after us—but this," he motioned vaguely at the destruction around them, "this isn’t you. You’re not some monster."

Izuku dropped to his knees, his staff hitting the ground with a sharp clink. His hands shot up to clutch at his head, the uncontrollable glitching wracking his body. Each sob, each cry, was distorted, stretched out and cut off like a broken recording. His vision blurred in and out, his mind battling to hold onto reality.

"Stop!" Izuku’s voice cracked, his breath hitching as his body fought the force inside him, fighting to regain control. It felt like something was clawing at him from the inside, trying to tear through the surface of his mind, and it hurt—physically hurt. His body jerked, glitching more violently like it might tear him apart.

"Please..." he whimpered, his voice warping as he fell forward onto his hands. His fingers twitched uncontrollably, but there was something different now—something fighting to push the chaos back. He gritted his teeth, trying to focus, trying to think—but the glitching only intensified, amplifying the sensation that he was losing everything.

Then it all just stopped. Izuku gasped and the blackness in his eyes shrunk until they were back to normal. His huge grin softened into his normal mischievous smile, but the fear and exhaustion in his eyes told a different story. Aizawas hair draped back over his shoulders as he blinked. 

Thank god for Erasure.

Izuku’s body sagged as his eyes fluttered shut, his head tipping to the side as the last of his strength drained away. His arms went slack, and the fight completely left him. Katsuki, seeing the telltale signs of collapse, rushed forward, sliding across the ground with a speed that defied his usual brashness. With a quick motion, he caught Izuku’s head just before it hit the ground. Izuku thought he heard someone say that he was okay before he finally just let go and succumbed to the inky blackness. 

Chapter Text

Izuku stood under the steady stream of the shower, his eyes fixed on the water swirling at his feet. Red mixed with the water, a dark reminder of the chaos, of everything that had happened. It swirled endlessly, the crimson lines cutting through the clear water, like an unending stain that refused to wash away.

His mind felt... off, fragmented. The moment in the fight when he’d lost control had left a mark, deep in his bones. He tried to focus on the feeling of the water, the cool pressure against his skin, hoping it would ground him. He wanted the red to fade. He wanted it to be gone. But it didn’t.

The red kept coming. Swirling and winding around his feet like it had a life of its own, persistent, clinging to him.

His hands twitched at his sides, and he exhaled shakily, trying to push the thought away. It’s just water, he told himself. It’s just water.

But it didn’t feel like just water.

He snatched a loofah from the shelf behind him and scrubbed his skin raw. He scrubbed and scrubbed until his skin was so numb that he didn't even feel the rough texture against his now sensitive skin. He scrubbed harder. He didn't understand. The blood was gone, the water was clear, so why could he still feel it on his skin?

Finally, with a deep, shuddering breath, Izuku turned the water off, the sudden silence heavy in the air. He stood there for a moment, still caught in his thoughts, feeling the remnants of everything he’d done pulse under his skin. And then, without a word, he walked toward the mirror above the sink, his fingers rubbing the steam away until he stood in front of his own reflection. It greeted him with that familiar, distorted grin. That grin—it had always been there, hadn't it? That twisted, unsettling smile that everyone had grown to know him by. It was a part of him, a defense mechanism, a mask that covered the fear, the doubts, the insecurities.

But now?

It didn’t feel like his. It felt like a monster’s.

And he couldn't let it go.

He sighed and raised the side of the towel around his neck into his sopping green curls, rubbing fiercely to dry it faster. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of the towel on his hair. When he opened them again, his breath hitched, his eyes widened, and his reflection didn't copy it. The grin in the mirror twisted. Not his own. Not anymore. The reflection’s mouth stretched unnaturally, curling into something grotesque and inhuman. Its green and black eyes stared at Izuku while its head slowly tilted to the side. It's mouth opened. 

"̷̤̑Y̸̑ͅo̷͖̕u̶̟͒’̵̯̋r̴̯͗e̵͂͜ ̸̿ͅš̸̪t̵̩̓ạ̸͆r̶̰̊t̷̰͆i̸͙̍n̵̞̒g̶̎ͅ ̷̰́t̶͓͌o̴̧͛ ̵̺̾u̷̞̽n̶͇̍d̶̥̋e̷̫̓ŗ̷̚s̷̜̋t̴̙̂a̸̩̓n̷͚͘d̷̔͜,̷͖͒ ̷̬̽ȁ̶̪r̶̫̒e̶̛̜n̶̢͗’̴̰̓t̷̢́ ̵͙̾ÿ̷ͅo̵̧͆u̷̩͠?̶̨͌ ̶̜́T̸͚̐h̸͓͝e̴̙͛ ̸̺̕p̵̜̎o̶͈̚w̸̼̍e̸͇̒r̷͕͝.̸͇͘ ̴͓͠Ṱ̴̀h̵̏ͅe̴̥̐ ̶̛̮c̵̟͆h̴̢͂a̶͎͌ǒ̴̜s̶̤̀.̵͉͝ ̶͇̈́Ṯ̴̓h̵͙͑ë̵͜ ̶̗̈́t̷̳͌h̸̺́ṙ̵͔ǐ̴͚l̵͙͂l̸̯͒.̶̺̀ ̸̪̋Ĭ̶̳t̵̤̚’̵̧̽s̴̢̚ ̸̻̂n̷̯̿ǫ̴̂t̶̫͝ ̷̲̀t̸̢͠ḧ̷̳́e̵̲̽m̵̩̆ ̶̥͂y̴̤͒ȯ̴͇u̷͇̔’̸̨͝ṙ̶̢ḛ̷̍ ̵̗̉f̵̡͌ḭ̶̓g̷̤̋h̶͈̋ț̵́í̸͉n̷̯̅g̴͙̀—̶̘̈i̸͔͑t̵̼̿’̴̖̿s̴͕͋ ̸͉͐y̷̗͠ǒ̷͜ủ̵̙r̷̝̈s̴̞͊e̴̩͐ḻ̵̄f̴̯̈.̶̯̆ ̵̖͋A̵̪͠n̴̗̑d̴͍͒ ̴̪̌ý̶̲o̶̦̍ṵ̸͝’̶͕͛ȓ̷̯ë̸́ͅ ̴͈̀ĺ̸̥ö̸̞́s̵̰͑í̵̦n̷͓͆g̵̢̊,̷̑͜ ̵̹̉l̷̘͝ḯ̶̺t̶͊ͅt̴̞̑l̵̞̕e̷͈̔ ̴̫͘h̸̤͊e̵̯͘r̵̥̕o̶͎͝.̴̨̉"̶̫̾

("You’re starting to understand, aren’t you? The power. The chaos. The thrill. It’s not them you’re fighting—it’s yourself. And you’re losing, little hero.")

Izuku froze, towel clutched tightly in his hands. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing shallow and ragged as the voice seeped into his mind like poison. The reflection tilted its head, grinning wider as its form flickered like static on a broken television.

"̸̝͐Y̷͎͎͠ọ̴̈́u̶̿̚ͅ ̵̰̠́̚c̴͓̬̆͝a̶̼͕͛ǹ̵̺̖’̵͍͛͆t̷͉͑ ̶̢̠̌͒h̵͙̫̔̔i̸̙̖̽̓ḍ̸̚ë̸͚́͛ ̷̙͇̾͘f̶̻͐̚r̴̮̈͐o̷̟̤̾̂m̵̥͎̏͠ ̸̲̮̓͊ḿ̷̙̑ë̵̜.̷̧͕̂̓ ̸̩̌͜I̷̳̱̓̏’̷̪̯̇̾m̴̻͙̆ ̵̼͐t̶̠̔ẖ̵̬̇é̶̤ ̴̫̋ǒ̵̤ń̶̛͙è̸̮ ̵͖̌͗w̴̫̰̃h̸̛̞́ô̸̤ ̵̨̞͑͝f̸̝̌͛o̷̺̖͑͋u̷̢͋g̴̙͝ḧ̵͉́͋t̸̞͊͝ ̷̦̑f̷̨͚͛o̶͈̓̚r̴̍͊ͅ ̵̞̿̉y̴̡͎̑o̵̝̐̃u̴͔̥̔́.̴̲͇̈́ ̴͙̜̉̽T̷̲͆̏h̸͉̥̔ḛ̶͝ ̸̺̰̐ȍ̵̩̋ͅn̸̝͌e̸̗̣͑ ̷̠̗̉ẇ̷̦̥h̵̪͖͋o̴͒͜ ̸̭̈̇ş̴̓̑ą̵̖̐̇v̷̯̿͑e̸̛͍͙͛d̶͍͍̓̚ ̸̟͝y̷͔̍̓͜o̴̰͆u̸̠̿.̸̧̱̌̕ ̵͇̈́͒͜W̵̳͖̋͑i̵̳͐ͅt̴̢͇̀h̴͔͎̅͋ȫ̵̠ͅu̸̲͙͂̐t̵͇͑ ̷̧͇̿̒ḿ̶̧e̵͍͝,̸̣̂ ̸̩͂y̵̦̔͐ỏ̴̲̞̈́u̷̡͕̚’̷̡̈́͝r̶̗͚̍̓ê̷̬̤ ̸̮͖̆n̵̡̝͠o̷̘̍͝t̶͕͑h̷͚̒̈́ị̴͝n̴̥̘̈̉g̴͓͊.̵̦̒̍ ̴͇͕̚W̷͚̚ͅē̷̤a̸̞͌ǩ̴̠̘.̵͖̦͛ ̶̨͉̀Ụ̷̫́s̸̳͝e̸̹̋̈́l̴̮̙̀̑e̷̋͘ͅs̵̨̝̈́s̴̭̃͒.̴̗̓ ̴͈̞͊Å̷̢͔̃ ̸̠̽̏͜s̵̭̎̅c̷̢̫̍a̷̪̤̓͐ȓ̴̘ê̸̯̝̈ḏ̴̏̔ ̷̩͇̇͝l̴̜͙̄i̴̢̯͐̒t̴͕̓t̸̡͘l̷̳̠̽̌e̶͔̗͑̈ ̴̧̼̏b̴̰̺̿o̴͚͛y̷̡͖͆̉ ̷͉̌̎p̴͇̕r̷̥̻͘e̷̗͝t̸̡͉͒ȩ̸̬̈n̵̪̓̀d̴̥͐ỉ̷͚n̶͎̚g̵̩̠͝ ̴͖̌͜͝ṫ̸̝͙ồ̷͕ ̴͉͋b̴̩̅̆ė̷̤ ̴̦̺̐â̷͕̹͝ ̵̞̜͊̐h̵̗́ẻ̸͈̫r̶̠͙̓ŏ̴̭̻̈́.̸̯͉͘"̴̜͐́

("You can’t hide from me. I’m the one who fought for you. The one who saved you. Without me, you’re nothing. Weak. Useless. A scared little boy pretending to be a hero.")

His hands trembled, the towel slipping from his grip and falling to the floor. The voice grew louder, echoing in his skull, drowning out every rational thought. It laughed—a sound that was both his own and entirely alien.

"̴̬̠̭̑Ỹ̵̤̂ö̷̘̙́u̷̻͕̐̍̚ ̸̡̞͙̆̓͘f̷̛̩͗ẽ̵̳̤̑l̶̺̮̒t̴̥̪͂ ̶̠͈̉̋ȉ̴͔̔̏ͅt̵̛̝͖͕̃,̸͍͕̤̊ ̷̢͙̲͐d̷̩̬̠̅i̷͓͛̂d̸̲͆̓̂ṉ̴̨̖̏’̴͔͆̾͌ṭ̸̤̤́ ̸̺̞͓̄͝y̷̳̤̓o̶̭̐̅ŭ̸͍̦͗?̷͙̐͑ ̴͚̰͊̎̎Ţ̷͇̘͑͛̿ȟ̸̪͜ẹ̵͐̚ ̷͉̤̬̓̓̕r̶̡̩̉̎͐u̸͔͐̍̕ͅš̵̝̠̖̈́͠h̸͈͋̾̕.̴̼͝ ̷̍̀̎ͅT̶̪͚̘͋͂h̸̟͛ḛ̵͇̳̚ ̸̭̈́ẉ̸̌̋̊a̵̦̟̐ỵ̷̡̫̎͒̽ ̵̪͛ţ̴̻̟͋͗́h̷̦̦̪̓e̶̟̔̍̕y̸̡̓͐̆ ̷̣͕͊̑̃f̵̘͉͚̑e̷̞͒̈́ȃ̴̳r̵̨̝̭̀͑e̸̺̱͉͋̎d̵̟̭̾̾ͅ ̷̦̜͠y̸̜̱̎o̶̝͂̆͝ư̴̘̺̺̑̀.̷̆ͅ ̵̙̙̣̏T̸̳͑̓h̶͚̓͜͝͝e̶̤̜̫͘͘ ̷̻̋ŵ̵͇̺͔a̶͍̔͛͒y̶̞͙̥̌͝ ̸̠́̚͝h̵̞́͜͜e̸̺̘͝ ̸̤̀f̶̩̪̈́e̵͎̝͊͝a̶̖̠̣̓r̷̻̟̬͋ȩ̷̮̈́́d̶͎̼̫̀͋ ̴͍̣̳͂̄ŷ̵͚̚ǒ̶̜͎͚͠͝ū̷̠̬̍.̸̙̽͗͝ ̷͈̌̆̕À̷̹d̸͉̲͙̄̍̈́ṃ̸͔̈́̽i̸̱̕t̴̠́̔͜ ̶̦̝͋̽͜i̴̦̊͒t̴̰̪͎̄̉,̷̨̦͋͋ ̷̠̋̓͂Ì̷̪̲̯z̸̪̹͗͑͗ủ̷͓͕̪̓̏k̵̳̐̈́ư̶̟̝͎͊̄.̸͔̳̈̚ ̷̢̚Y̶̭̆̉o̸̗̒́ų̸̺̠͊ ̸͚̚ḷ̵̎̇͠ȯ̶͇̰̙v̸͉̓̆͌ë̴̬́͊d̴̢̦͎̈ ̶͍̓i̷̹̱̬̓͐t̷̘̜̥̂.̵̟̱̱͋̍̚"̴̰͕̿̂͂

("You felt it, didn’t you? The rush. The way they feared you. The way he feared you. Admit it, Izuku. You loved it.")

“Shut up,” he whispered, his voice shaking. His nails dug into his palms as he tried to steady himself, but the reflection only leaned closer, its grin splitting its face in two.

"̵̦͖̇Y̸̝̥̙̒̾̓o̷̬̿̕͝ủ̷̗͖͜ ̸̮̺̬̇̿c̵̝͍͋̒͑a̷̢͔̼̓ṅ̸̬̥͍’̴͙̥͉͆̇̔ṭ̸̱̅̏͝ ̴̩̍̏͝g̴̋̽͜ͅͅë̴͙̻͜t̵̨̫͇̉̅̍ ̸̪̳̋r̶͖̟͒͠i̴̪͇̘͒d̸̩͂̈́ ̶̟̮̘̅̽͝o̷̟̚̕f̴̈́ͅ ̵̗̭́̀m̶̥͕̩̈́e̸̼̝̐.̸̲̥̆̅̕ ̶̤͓̂͘I̴̪̕ ̶̺̘̲̑̓̏á̷̲̺̀͗m̷̥̪͐̀ͅ ̵͇̣̒̐͝ý̴͎̞o̷͉͗u̶͙̮̤̔.̸̞̣̐̏ ̵̜̍́́A̵͇̔͘n̷̲̣̋̓d̸̮̹̎ͅ ̶̼͊̒̓y̶̛͔̐ͅǫ̵̛ṷ̸̋͌͝ͅ…̶̤͕̈́́̓y̶͖̪̟͂̅o̷͖̤͖̓̉u̴͚̰̥͗ ̸̠̋̈͂ä̶̧̮̥́r̷̟͎̈́͝ͅë̵̫̰ ̶̧̮͖͐͑m̴̦̻̫̒e̸̛̗̩͐̚.̴̣̰͌"̸͍̮͚̓̀

("You can’t get rid of me. I am you. And you…you are me.")

Without thinking, Izuku’s fist shot out, shattering the mirror with a deafening crash. Shards of glass rained down, cutting into his knuckles and staining his pale skin with fresh streaks of blood. He let out a choked laugh—then another. The sound built and built, spiraling into something hysterical and unhinged as he stared at the fractured remnants of his reflection.

Blood dripped onto the counter top, mingling with the water droplets, but Izuku didn’t care. He slowly sunk to his knees, not even feeling the pain of the glass in his hand as he bent over his legs until his forehead was almost touching the floor. Soon, he was crying. Everything that happened in the last few hours finally coming out. 

A soft knock echoed through the door before it creaked open and his mother’s head popped in, looking around the small bathroom before landing on him. She rushed in, her slippers protecting her feet from the shattered glass on the floor as she kneeled beside him.

”Honey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She lifts his bloodied hand, biting her lip at the glass sticking out of his knuckles. “Oh Izuku, what happened?”

Izuku shook his head, his tears mixing with the quiet laugh that kept leaving his throat. 

Inko wrapped a clean towel around his hand, hiding his hand, and pulling him into her arms. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” She rocked him back and forth for a few minutes, letting him calm down before helping him up. She looked around, trying to figure out a way to get him out of the bathroom barefoot when there was glass all over the floor.

”Okay, don’t move. I’ll be right back. She ran out of the bathroom, leaving her slippers in the bathroom so she didn’t trail glass in the hallway and walked into his room to get his own slippers. 

Izuku was still in the same spot she left him in, staring at the shattered remains of the mirror. Inko got her feet through her slippers and layed Izukus at his feet. 

“Alright honey, let’s get you out of here.”

He unconsciously slipped into them and let his mother guide him out of the bathroom, got some clothes out for him. 

“Get changed, we need to take you to the hospital to get the glass out.”

Izuku nodded robotically and Inko closed the door to give him some privacy. Izuku didn’t remember getting his clothes on before he mom came back in. They made their way out the door, but Izuku paused, grabbing a scarf on the coat rack and held it out to Inko, who took it questionably.

”Can you wrap it over my face?”

“Oh Izuku, no. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You—“

Izuku placed his uninjured hand over hers. “Please.”

Inko bit her lip, her wide green eyes worried but when he bent to her level, she gently slipped the soft material over his smile, and they left.

Izuku sat still on the infirmary bed, his hand outstretched as Recovery Girl worked carefully with the tweezers, pulling out the tiny shards of glass embedded in his knuckles. He didn’t flinch, didn’t wince, didn’t react at all. The scarf around his mouth concealed the ever-present grin, but his eyes, heavy-lidded and distant, were enough to unsettle anyone who looked too closely.

Inko sat beside him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white from how hard she was gripping them. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, trembling as she tried to hold herself together. She glanced between Recovery Girl and Izuku, her heart breaking with every piece of glass that was pulled from his flesh and dropped into the dish beside her. Aizawa stood behind her, healed completely other than a new scar underneath his right eye and an arm in a sling. If Izuku hadn't interfered when he did, his injuries could have been a lot worse. He tried not to think about that too much. Izuku was only here just a few hours ago and now he was back. He really was a problem child, but at least he was free of the dried blood that clung to his skin. 

“What happened, Midoriya?” Aizawa’s voice was quiet, calm, but carried the weight of concern.

Izuku glanced down at his bandaged hand. “I punched the mirror,” he admitted softly, his radio voice uncharacteristically subdued.

“Why?” Aizawa pressed, his tone even though his eyes were sharp.

Izuku’s gaze flicked to his mom from the corner of his eye. She was watching him closely, her brows knit with worry, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She didn’t know—couldn’t know—about the darker side of him. About the thing that lurked just beneath the surface, waiting for an opportunity to take control. If she knew, it would destroy her.

So he did something he had never done to her before.

He lied.

“I just…tried to stop smiling and got frustrated,” he said, his voice steady, though the words felt heavy on his tongue.

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed slightly. He knew. Of course, he knew. A man who lied as often as Aizawa did could always spot another liar. But he didn’t call Izuku out on it, at least not in front of his mother.

Inko sighed softly, her expression softening as she reached out and squeezed Izuku’s uninjured hand. “I think your smile is beautiful,” she said gently. “You wouldn’t look the same without it.”

The words made Izuku chuckle quietly, a sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. At least she bought the lie. He didn’t care if Aizawa knew the truth—that was a problem for another time. But his mom? She didn’t need to know. She didn’t need to carry that burden.

A few minutes later, Recovery Girl finished extracting the shards of glass from his knuckles. She leaned over and kissed his hand, healing the cuts instantly. “There,” she said, wiping away the dried blood that caked his skin. “All good as new.”

Izuku flexed his hand experimentally, feeling the ache that had begun to creep in fade away entirely. The adrenaline had long since burned out, leaving him with nothing but the memory of punching his bathroom mirror. No pain had registered in those moments—only the overwhelming urge to destroy his reflection.

“Mrs. Midoriya,” Aizawa said after a moment, his voice soft but firm. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to have a word with your son. Privately.”

Inko frowned, clearly reluctant. “Is he in trouble?” She asked, her voice tinged with concern.

“No,” Aizawa reassured her. “I just want to clear something up.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but Izuku gently placed a hand on hers, stopping her. “It’s okay, Mom,” he said softly. “I’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, she nodded, though her worried expression didn’t ease. Izuku slid off the bed and followed Aizawa out into the hallway. They walked in silence for a few moments before Aizawa stopped and turned to face him.

“You lied to your mother in there,” Aizawa said bluntly, crossing his arms as he gave Izuku a pointed look.

Izuku’s mouth twitched. Of course, he’d bring that up. “And?” He asked quietly, though there was no defiance in his tone. Just exhaustion.

“And what’s with the scarf?” Aizawa added, his gaze dropping to the fabric draped around Izuku’s shoulders.

Izuku let out a heavy sigh, his fingers fiddling with the edge of the scarf. “My mom doesn’t know about the other half of my Quirk, and I’d like to keep it that way,” he admitted, his voice low. “I punched the mirror because… because I saw it again. Him. Taunting me.”

He paused, swallowing hard as his grip on the scarf tightened. “The scarf was to cover my face,” he continued after a moment. “I didn’t want her to see me smiling like… like that. And honestly, I was afraid. Afraid that if I saw my reflection somewhere, I’d see him again.”

Aizawa didn’t say anything right away, his sharp eyes watching Izuku closely. “You need to talk to someone about this,” he said finally, his tone firm but not unkind. “I’m not just talking about me. Keeping this bottled up—it’s going to eat you alive.”

Izuku chuckled dryly, the sound hollow. “It already is,” he murmured, his grin flickering into something more somber for the briefest moment before snapping back into place. “But what can I do? Tell people I’m fighting with myself? That the thing keeping me alive is the same thing that’s slowly driving me insane?”

“You don’t have to go through this alone,” Aizawa said, his voice softening. “You have people who care about you, Midoriya. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

Izuku looked away, his grin faltering. “Maybe,” he muttered, though he didn’t sound convinced. “But for now, I just need to keep her safe from all of this. She doesn’t need to know.”

Aizawa sighed but didn’t push further. Instead, he reached out and patted Izuku’s shoulder. “Just remember,” he said quietly, “you’re not alone. No matter how much it might feel like it.”

Izuku nodded slightly, though his gaze remained fixed on the floor. “Thanks, Mr. Aizawa,” he said softly, though the words sounded distant.

The two of them stood there in silence for a moment before Aizawa finally stepped aside, letting Izuku walk back to the infirmary. As the boy disappeared down the hallway, Aizawa let out a heavy sigh, his expression grim.

Something had to give. And soon.

Izuku walked into the classroom, the faint remnants of bruises hidden beneath his uniform. The halls buzzed with whispers about Class 1-A’s run-in with actual villains, but no one outside the class knew the full truth. Only his classmates—the ones who had been there—knew about the psychotic grin, the eerie voice, and the twisted delight Izuku had taken in fighting the Nomu.

And that was because Kirishima couldn’t keep a secret.

Izuku didn’t blame him, though. He figured the redhead had just been too shaken to process what he saw without sharing it. Still, it was strange walking into the classroom and feeling the weight of their stares, their nervous glances, like they were all trying to figure out if he was still the same guy they’d laughed with just days ago.

Izuku could feel the stares burning into the back of his head as he sat in his seat, his hands folded neatly on his desk. He wore a neutral expression, but the faint upward curve of his lips betrayed the constant effort he put into controlling his Quirk. He could feel his classmates’ curiosity and unease, but he didn’t say anything to acknowledge it. What was there to say? He had no intention of explaining himself.

Aizawa walked into the room, his usual tired expression in place as he called for silence. “Alright, settle down. We have a lot to cover today, so let’s get started.”

The class went through the motions, though there was a noticeable lack of energy in the room. The weight of the USJ attack still lingered, and despite their attempts to move on, the incident was impossible to ignore. Aizawa noticed it, too. His sharp gaze scanned the room, lingering for a moment on Izuku before moving on.

When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, everyone began packing up their things. Aizawa’s voice cut through the noise, stopping them in their tracks.

“Midoriya, stay behind,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Izuku blinked, glancing at his teacher, then nodded. “Yes, Mr. Aizawa.”

The rest of the class hesitated, their curiosity obvious. Aizawa shot them a sharp look. “That means the rest of you need to leave.” 

One by one, the students filed out, though not without sneaking a few glances at Izuku as they left.

He stayed seated for a moment longer than necessary before standing up and heading to the front of the classroom. “What’s up, Mr. Aizawa?” he asked, his tone more casual than he felt, though he couldn’t keep the edge of wariness from creeping in.

Aizawa didn’t beat around the bush. “I want you to see the school counselor,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Hound Dog. He’s been asking to meet with you since the USJ incident.”

Izuku’s mind immediately raced. A counselor? He hadn’t seen a counselor since… well, never. He had always kept everything bottled up inside, never letting it spill over. But he could see it now, in Aizawa’s eyes—the teacher was serious. He wasn’t going to drop this.

“I don’t need to see him,” Izuku said, rolling his eyes and trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m fine, really. I just—”

“You’re not fine,” Aizawa cut him off, his voice sharp, though there was a hint of worry buried beneath the surface. “You’re not fine, Midoriya. And if you think ignoring this is going to make it go away, then you’re fooling yourself.”

Izuku clenched his fists at his sides, the corners of his smile tightening in agitation, resisting the urge to snap back. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, didn’t want to have to explain what had happened, what he had done. He wanted to pretend like nothing was wrong, like it hadn’t changed him.

“I’m not some kid who needs to talk to someone, Mr. Aizawa,” he muttered, though the words were more out of frustration than conviction. “I don’t need a shrink to tell me how to handle my own head.”

Aizawa didn’t back down. “You can call it whatever you want. But you need to face what happened, Midoriya. I’m not going to watch you fall apart because you’re too proud to admit you need help.”

Izuku gritted his teeth, his mind swirling. He had never felt so exposed, so... vulnerable. But as much as he wanted to argue, to push back, something about Aizawa’s tone made him pause. It was like the teacher was telling him something he couldn’t deny, not even to himself.

With a deep sigh, Izuku finally let the tension drain from his body, slumping slightly. “I’m not going to be a mess, okay? I can handle this.” 

Aizawa watched him for a moment before leaning back with a sigh. "Midoriya, you have no idea how relieving it is to talk with someone about something traumatic. Please, just give it a chance. I promise that even if you're pretending that you're fine, you will feel a whole lot better."

"You think therapy is going to fix my problem? You think it'll get rid of this...this thing inside of me?"

"No. That's where training comes in. You learn to control your emotions. You learn to utilize that power and protect people with it. Learning to control your emotions while you still have such a huge stockpile of them won't help your progress. Think of it as training. Therapy is just the first step to learning control.” 

Izuku froze, Aizawa’s words cutting through his defenses like a blade. The sharp, matter-of-fact tone wasn’t sugarcoated, wasn’t softened to spare his feelings. It was raw, blunt, and exactly what Izuku needed to hear.

He gritted his teeth, his knuckles tightening into fists. “You’re saying… this is just another part of training?” he asked, his voice low but carrying an edge of disbelief. “Like learning to throw a punch or control my Quirk?”

Aizawa nodded, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Exactly. You can’t rely on brute strength or your Quirk alone, Midoriya. Heroes need to have control—not just of their bodies, but of their minds. Therapy isn’t a weakness; it’s a tool. A tool that helps you gain that control. Without it, you’re just a loaded gun with no safety.”

Izuku frowned, mulling over the words. He wanted to argue, to push back with some witty remark, but the logic was solid. He couldn’t deny that his emotions had gotten the better of him at the USJ. The memory of the Nomu’s severed arm, of the twisted pleasure he’d felt in those moments, made his stomach churn. He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the unknown. But if this was part of his training, part of becoming the hero he wanted to be, then he couldn’t back down. Not now. Not ever.

“Alright,” he said finally, his radio voice steadying. “I’ll do it. I’ll talk to Hound Dog. But don’t expect me to be all sunshine and rainbows about it.”

Aizawa smirked, his usual deadpan demeanor softening just a fraction. “Wouldn’t dream of it, problem child. Just show up and do the work. That’s all I ask.”

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual lunchtime chatter and clatter of trays. Izuku sat at a table near the window with Ochako and Iida, the sunlight streaming in and warming the spot they’d claimed. For once, everything felt… normal. No villains, no Quirks spiraling out of control, no heavy conversations weighing him down.

“Okay, so, hear me out,” Ochako said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “If you had to pick between fighting one All Might-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized All Mights, which would you choose?”

Izuku blinked, caught completely off guard by the question. He tilted his head, his chopsticks pausing mid-air. “Uh… what?”

“It’s a valid question!” she insisted, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Think about it! A hundred duck-sized All Mights would be terrifying. Imagine all the ‘I AM HERE!’ yelling but, like… tiny.”

Iida adjusted his glasses, his expression as serious as ever. “While I find the question to be… unconventional, I must agree with Uraraka. A hundred small but powerful entities would be far more difficult to combat than a single over sized adversary.”

Izuku stifled a laugh, setting his bowl down. “You’re both overthinking it. I’d take the big duck. It’s just one opponent. Plus, ducks don’t have Quirks. I could handle it.”

Ochako burst out laughing. “Oh my gosh, Izuku! You’re taking this way too seriously! It’s just a hypothetical!”

Iida nodded solemnly. “Midoriya’s analytical approach is commendable, though. He’s already strategizing for a battle that will never happen. That’s the mark of a true hero!”

Izuku shook his head, his grin widening—this one genuine, without the eerie edge that usually haunted it. “You two are ridiculous. But okay, fine. Let’s flip it. What about you, Ochako? What would you choose?”

She tapped her chin, pretending to think deeply. “Hmm… I think I’d go for the tiny All Mights. I could just make them float away, and boom! Problem solved.”

Izuku chuckled, picturing it. “So you’d just leave a bunch of tiny, floating All Mights drifting through the sky forever?”

“Exactly!” she said, laughing so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes. “They’d be like little motivational balloons.”

Iida cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure despite the absurdity of the conversation. “While that’s an… innovative solution, I believe it’s important to consider the ethical ramifications of such an action.”

Ochako groaned playfully. “Iida! You can’t bring ethics into this!”

Their laughter filled the table, light and unburdened. For the first time in what felt like ages, Izuku felt like a regular student, just hanging out with his friends. No one was looking at him like he was dangerous or broken. No one was tiptoeing around the events at the USJ or the ever-present smile on his face. It was just… nice.

The rest of lunch flew by in a blur of jokes, bickering, and Iida’s increasingly elaborate attempts to rally support for his efficiency plan. By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of the break they headed back to class together, Ochako and Iida chatting animatedly about the upcoming group project for Heroics. Izuku stayed quiet, content to listen to their banter as he walked between them. 

His mind, however, was elsewhere. Therapy. Just the word made him feel… uncomfortable. Vulnerable. He’d spent so long trying to control everything on his own, keeping his struggles locked away behind a carefully crafted wall of smiles. Letting someone else in—someone who’d pick apart the mess inside him—felt like baring himself to the world.

But then there was Aizawa’s voice in his head, calm but firm. “Think of it as training. Therapy is just the first step to learning control.”

“Midoriya?” Ochako’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts.

Izuku blinked and looked up, surprised to find her and Iida waiting for him near the door. They were giving him a confused look. Had he been zoning out?

“Are you okay?” Ochako asked, her brows furrowed in concern. “You’ve been really quiet.”

Izuku nodded quickly. “Yeah, just thinking. About…some stuff.”

Iida, ever the observant one, eyed him carefully. “Is it something you want to talk about?” He asked, his voice gentle but full of concern.

Izuku shook his head, a little too quickly. “Nah, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

He could see the hesitation in their eyes, but neither of them pushed further. Ochako smiled, though it was slightly tight. “Well, if you ever want to talk, we’re here for you, okay?”

“Yeah,” Iida added, with a nod of encouragement. “We’re your friends, Midoriya. You don’t have to go through anything alone.”

Izuku’s throat tightened as the thought lingered in his mind. It was strange, surreal almost, how much had changed in just a short amount of time. Katsuki had always been his only friend. His best friend, and despite all the ups and downs, the fights, and the misunderstandings, he was the one person Izuku could always count on. But now... now there were others.

Ochako and Iida.

Izuku had never imagined he'd be able to make friends like them. When he first came to UA, his heart was full of hesitation, ready for people to keep their distance just like they had all those years back. But Ochako’s bubbly enthusiasm and Iida’s earnest concern had pulled him in. They had accepted him without hesitation, without fear of what was inside him, and now, Izuku had people who genuinely cared.

While his grin didn't move, his eyes softened. "Thank you."

Aizawa stood at the front of the classroom, he cleared his throat, signaling that class was officially in session. Slowly, the chatter died away, and all attention focused on their unkempt teacher.

“Your fight isn’t over yet.”

His voice resonated through the quiet room, and a hush fell over the students. Despite the simple statement, there was a weight to his words. They all knew he wasn’t just referring to their lessons. After everything that happened at the USJ, life at UA felt changed—more serious, more urgent.

Aizawa let the moment hang in the air for dramatic effect, and everyone stiffened in anticipation of what might come next. Without another word, he began shuffling some papers on the podium. The rustling seemed deafening in the silence.

“The UA Sports Festival is about to start.”

Kirishima, ever the ball of enthusiasm, leapt to his feet, fist pumping as though his heart had just been set ablaze. “Alright! Let’s go kick some-” he began, but his excited exclamation was immediately interrupted.

“Wait a second!” Kaminari called out, half-rising from his seat, eyes wide. “Is it really such a good idea to hold the Sports Festival so soon after the USJ attack?” His voice held a genuine note of concern, and a few classmates nodded, echoing his worry. “They could attack once we’re all in the same place.”

Aizawa let out a tired sigh, but there was a ring of resignation in it—like he had been expecting these questions. “Apparently the administration thinks that this is a good way to show that the threat has been handled and the school is safer than ever. Plus, they’re increasing security compared to the past few years. This event is a great opportunity for all UA students. It’s not something we can cancel because of a few Villains. The Sports Festival is one of the most watched events in the world. In the past, everyone obsessed over the Olympic games, but then Quirks started appearing. Now the Olympics have been reduced drastically in terms of scale and viewership. For anyone who cares about competition, there is only one tournament that matters. The UA Sports Festival.”

A ripple of excitement spread through the room. The mere mention of the Sports Festival seemed to electrify the students. Eyes lit up, thoughts of new techniques and intense training sessions raced through their minds. Even those still rattled by the USJ incident felt a stirring of purpose—an opportunity to prove themselves, to show the world what Class 1-A could really do.

Aizawa watched them carefully, weighing their reactions. He took a moment to let their enthusiasm build before continuing in a measured tone. “It’s true that joining a famous Hero agency can get you experience and popularity. That’s what matters. If you want to go Pro one day, then this event can open a path for you. One chance a year, three chances in a lifetime, no aspiring Hero can afford to miss this festival. That means you better not slack off on your training.”

At that, the classroom practically hummed with energy—quiet determination in some students, boisterous excitement in others. Everyone was already chatting about possible strategies, while Bakugo’s eyes gleamed with fierce anticipation. Izuku hummed, his grin widening in excitement he hadn't felt since the attack. 

'Now this is going to be fun.'

Chapter Text

Izuku sat in the small, sunlit office, his back uncomfortably straight against the padded chair. He was alone for the moment, staring at nothing in particular—he just refused to look at the large, canine silhouette standing behind the desk.’Why am I here again?’ He shifting his gaze to the shelves lined with books and files. The faint hum of the ceiling fan did little to ease the nervous flutter in his chest. When he’d agreed to come here, he hadn’t expected this awkward silence. He just wanted to get it over with, to say enough to satisfy his teacher that he was fine and then leave.

Hound Dog—Ryo Inui—who reclined behind an unassuming wooden desk, quietly observing him. The counselor’s canine features were somehow intimidating and gentle all at once, his pointed ears and muzzle making him appear perpetually ready to either bark or offer sympathy. And right now, those sharp eyes were trained on Izuku with unwavering focus.

They locked gazes in an unspoken standoff. Neither said a word for a few beats, letting the silence—and maybe a little tension—stretch out. Izuku’s usual grin twitched at the corners of his mouth, caught somewhere between defiance and discomfort. He had promised Aizawa he’d show up for therapy, sure, but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it. Not to mention, he was half tempted to use his usual chipper, “radio host” voice to crack a joke and break the ice. Yet something about Hound Dog’s presence made him pause, made him consider just… shutting up.

Finally, Hound Dog broke the silence, clearing his throat with a soft growl. He opened a manila folder with Izuku’s name on it and nodded in greeting. “Midoriya,” he said, his tone surprisingly warm despite the gruff timbre. “I’m Ryo Inui. But you can call me Hound Dog, if you want.”

Hound Dog’s muzzle dipped slightly in acknowledgment. “I understand you’re not thrilled to be here,” he said, flicking an ear. He set the folder aside for the moment, as if to signal that he wasn’t going to dive right into an interrogation. “I want you to know that’s okay. I’m not here to pry into every corner of your life on day one. I just want to get to know you a bit. Maybe understand what brought you here. We can go at your pace. You can talk or not talk; it’s up to you.”

Izuku ran a hand through his hair, trying to ease the knot in his chest. As much as he wanted to push back and walk out the door, something about Hound Dog’s calm, even approach chipped away at his defenses. This was a hero who’d likely seen it all—the struggles, the pain, the self-doubt. He looked like the kind of person who would listen without judging.

Still, Izuku wasn’t ready to spill his guts. Not yet. So he pressed his smiling lips into a thin line, and shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “I guess I’m here because, uh… I’m supposed to be. Aizawa thinks I could use some… emotional fine-tuning.”

Hound Dog nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a fair start. We can talk about how you feel regarding that later, if you want. For now, maybe you can tell me a bit about yourself. Nothing heavy—just who you are outside of training to be a hero.”

Izuku took a moment to process what that meant. No one ever really asked him that. Usually, all the conversations were about his Quirk, his combat style, or that unnerving grin of his. A quick pang of anxiety fluttered in his stomach. He swallowed hard, fiddling with a stray thread on his pant leg.

“Well,” he said slowly, “I’m Izuku Midoriya. I’ve got a static voice and a smile that apparently freaks out half my classmates.” He gave a shaky laugh, trying to pass off the admission as a joke.

Hound Dog’s ears twitched. “I see,” he said, kindly but without pity. “And how do you feel about that? About people’s reactions?”

The question hung in the air. Izuku hadn’t expected it, and for a heartbeat, he debated deflecting—maybe throw in a sarcastic quip. But something in Hound Dog’s gaze invited honesty, or at least the closest Izuku could manage.

“I…don’t know,” he said at last, his tone subdued. “It’s easier to just smile and act like everything’s fine, you know? Especially around my mother. She doesn’t need to worry about me if I’m always…upbeat. A smile inspires, keeps the enemies guessing, and makes me feel in control.” Especially during the fight with Shigaraki. He let out a small laugh when he recalled how he reacted before everything went to hell.

Hound Dog nodded again, giving him space to continue if he wanted, or change the subject if he needed to. Izuku realized that was the point—he was in control here, not pinned down by prying questions he wasn’t ready to answer.

They fell into a comfortable lull, letting the moment stretch without a trace of awkwardness. Izuku shifted, crossing one leg over the other, but this time the tension wasn’t quite as suffocating. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“So,” Hound Dog said gently, “let’s just take it slow, alright? Maybe next time you can tell me a little more about why you think you have to smile all the time.”

Izuku’s lips twitched, and for a brief second, that forced grin softened into something more real. He breathed out, nodding. “Sure,” he said, trying for a noncommittal shrug. “Next time.”

And that was enough. For the first session, at least.

The clock ticked to 3:21 when everyone realized that they couldn’t leave the classroom. 

The entire UA student body stood in the hall, gawking at everybody. 

Ochako stuttered. “Wh-why are you all here?” 

Some were even taking videos and picture like they were celebrities.

Izuku slowly packed his notebooks, keeping his face down to hide his grin from the other classes. They were going to see it eventually so he didn’t exactly know why he felt so self conscious.

”Why are you blocking our doorway? I won’t let you hold us hostage!” Mineta declared and Izuku rolled his eyes. What was his small ass going to do against a mob of students? His little declaration at the USJ had put him on Izukus permanent shit list.  

“They’re scouting out the competition idiots.” Katsuki said, stalking to the door. “We’re the class that survived a real villain attack. They wanna see us with their own eyes.” He stops in front of them and glares. “At least you know what a future Pro looks like.” He growls. “Now move it, extras.” He demands and Class 1-A gasps. Izuku snickered, shoving his face against his arm to muffle it. 

“You can’t walk around calling people ‘extras’ just because you don’t know who they are!” Iida said frantically. 

“So this is class 1-A.” A voice drawls from the crowd and a boy with purple hair and tired eyes push in front of the other students. Izuku raised a brow. If it wasn't for the purple hair, Izuku would have thought that this was Aizawas son.

“I heard you guys were impressive, but you just sound like an ass.” The boy says and stands in front of Katsuki. “Is everyone in the Hero course delusional, or just you?” He taunts rubbing his head. “Instead, I find a bunch of ego maniacs. I wanted to be in the Hero course, but like many others here, I was forced to choose a different track. Such as life.” 

Katsuki tsked. 

“I didn’t cut it the first time, but I have another chance.” He lowered his hand and stared straight into Katsuki’s eyes. “If we do well in the Sports Festival, the teachers can decide to transfer us into the Hero course. And they’ll have to transfer people out to make room.” He turned his attention to the rest of them.  

“Scouting out the competition? Maybe some of my peers are, but I’m here to let you know that if you don’t do your very best then I’m gonna steal your spot right out from under you. Consider this a declaration of war.” His voice carried calmly through the classroom, but the words themselves were anything but mild. The eyes of Class 1-A flicked between the boy and the rest of the room, reading the challenge loud and clear.

a burst of laughter echoed from the back, slicing through the tense atmosphere like a playful whip. All heads swiveled to find Izuku, hand clamped over his mouth as he fought to stifle the laughter that still threatened to spill out. His eyes shone with unmistakable excitement, that telltale grin stretching under his fingers. Despite the looks, he couldn’t contain his amusement—he loved an underdog with a bold streak, and his declaration was brimming with promise.

Realizing he was front and center of everyone’s attention, Izuku hastily cleared his throat and tried to rein in his reaction. He dropped his hands and slung his backpack over his shoulders, moving to join Katsuki at the door. 

He didn’t bother hiding his grin as he made his way through the crowd of students, each step brimming with confidence. Whispers rippled among them, some casting wary looks in his direction, others exchanging anxious glances when they all saw his unnatural smile. The tension was palpable; everyone knew what was at stake with the Sports Festival just around the corner.

Still, Izuku wore his excitement openly, that familiar sharp grin stretching across his face. He could practically taste the electrifying anticipation in the air—it was the kind of thrill he lived for. Katsuki stood nearby, arms crossed and a scowl on his lips, but Izuku could sense a similar fire simmering in him, too.

A few students stepped aside, making room so Izuku and Katsuki could square off against the boys bold declaration. At this point, Izuku’s grin only grew wider. Despite the mutters and nervous tension, it was clear that the rest of Class 1-A was backing them up, the same grin of determined excitement dancing on their faces.

“We accept your challenge,” Izuku announced, his voice carrying that unmistakable radio-like cadence. It was equal parts respect and playful intimidation, just enough to let the boy and the other onlookers know that he intended to give them all a fight worth remembering.

Two weeks.

Two weeks to train, to prepare, to strategize. Those fourteen days felt both painfully short and impossibly long for Class 1-A. As the Sports Festival loomed on the horizon, the atmosphere at UA grew charged with anticipation. Every morning brought fresh ideas, new routines, and the echo of determined footsteps racing through the halls as students hurried to training fields, gyms, or anywhere else they could refine their Quirks.

For Izuku, those two weeks felt like a precious and dangerous countdown. His mind buzzed with strategies and counter-strategies, pulling from the handful of rivalries and friendly challenges he’d collected since the USJ incident. That kids words stuck in the back of his mind, fueling his late-night workout sessions and sparring drills. He could almost taste the excitement—and the pressure—of the upcoming tournament.

Between classes, he’d steal moments to rework his notes, scribbling down possible tactics for the obstacle courses or imagining ways to apply his Quirk more creatively. There was never a shortage of ideas, only the question of how much time he had to test them all. In the evenings, he practiced new moves until his muscles screamed for mercy.

Two weeks would pass in a blur, each day a building block in Izuku’s growing arsenal. And as the countdown to the Sports Festival ticked steadily toward zero, one thing remained absolutely certain: if anyone—even a rival from another class—wanted to challenge him, they’d better be ready for the kind of fight only Izuku Midoriya could bring.

“HEY! Make some noise, rabid sports fans!” Present Mic appeared on the screens above the stadium. “This year we are bringing you some of the hottest performances in Sports Festival history guaranteed. I’ve only got one question before we start this show! Are you ready?! Let me hear you scream as our students make their way to the main stage! This first group are no strangers to the spotlight! You know them for withstanding a villain attack. The dazzling students that line up their classmates with solid gold skills. THE HERO COURSE STUDENTS OF CLASS 1-A!” Class 1-A steps out of the many tunnels, heads held high and shoulders back. 

“I hope we are still able to give our best performance even with all of these eyes watching us.” Iida said next to him. “I suppose it's just another aspect of being a hero. We’ll have to learn to get used to it.”

“They haven’t got a whole lot of screen time, but this group is still chalk full of talent! WELCOME HERO COURSE CLASS 1-B! Next up, General Studies classes C, D, and E! Support classes F, G, and H. And finally, Business classes I, G, and K!” The crowd cheered as all the students walked onto the field. 

When they all gathered in front of a small stage, The Pro Hero Midnight snapped her whip. “Now for the introductory speech!” The crowd whispered and blushed. 

“Um…someone should talk to Ms. Midnight about what she's wearing.” Kirishima said, embarrassed. The R rated hero sure lived up to her nickname with her provocative costume and perverted mind. Her costume was a very thin skin-tight white bodysuit that left very little to the imagination in places. 

“Yeah, that costume should come with a warning.”

“Is that really an appropriate appeal for a high school game?”

“Silence everyone!” She snapped her whip again. “Now for the student pledge, we have…Izuku Midoriya!”

All eyes turned to Izuku as he stepped out of the crowd of students and onto the stage, hands clasped behind his back, his smirk tugging at his lips. He let the hush linger for a moment, savoring the palpable energy thrumming through the crowd. 

“Hello, UA!” He began, voice steady, but carrying a playful undertone. He could visibly see the crowd. “I was told to keep this short… so I’ll try my best not to overstay my welcome.” His eyes gleamed as a ripple of light laughter traveled through the crowd. “But I’ve got to say: I’ve never been one to hold back.”

He took a moment to scan the sea of expectant faces, from pro heroes and faculty down to the youngest students who’d come to watch. “We’ve all worked ourselves to the bone to get here—countless hours training, pushing our Quirks, pushing ourselves. This festival isn’t just about winning; it’s about stepping up and showcasing how far we’ve come.”

“We’ve all spent weeks, months—maybe even years—honing our Quirks, grinding out late nights and early mornings, pushing ourselves to the limit. Why?” He spread his hands in a playful gesture. “Because we have to. Because we want to. Because we’re aiming to be the best heroes we can possibly be.”

He tilted his head, looking almost conspiratorial as he lowered his voice. “And I’m guessing you all want one heck of a show, right?”

At that, a chorus of cheers and whistles erupted, the crowd clearly loving the confidence. Izuku waited a beat for the noise to subside, then continued in a more resolute tone. “Well, don’t worry. We’re going to give you one. Every student here has trained like their future depends on it, because, frankly, it does. But whether we rise or fall, I promise you this—you’re going to see heart, guts, and a never-say-die spirit from each and every one of us.”

He looked over his shoulder at the rest of the students, casually bringing the mic with him. A wry grin flashed across his face, and his voice carried across the stadium, smooth and confident. “You ready to go Plus Ultra?”

At first, a few scattered voices responded, but then the rest of the classes joined in, their own excitement catching them by surprise. It didn’t matter if they were in General Studies, Support, or Business—or if they’d been jealous of Class 1-A for stealing the spotlight after the USJ attack. In that moment, all those feelings evaporated beneath the heat of shared adrenaline. Waves of cheers and applause broke out across the field, rippling into the stands until the entire stadium thundered with enthusiasm.

Izuku allowed himself a brief chuckle, then slipped the microphone back into its stand. With a neat shift of his posture, he folded his hands behind his back and strode offstage, still wearing that confident smile. The cheering crowd continued to echo through the air, trailing behind him like a roaring tide.

“Well said!” Present Mic screamed through the audio system, his voice practically shaking the stadium. “Izuku Midoriya, of Class 1-A!”

Aizawa’s tired drawl cut through the speakers right after, betraying his usual annoyance. “How did you talk me into this?” He muttered, though the crowd around him was too hyped to pay it much mind.

Present Mic cleared his throat loudly, drawing everyone’s focus back to the monitors hovering above the arena. “What we should be paying attention to are the early stages of the race!”

“The doorway,” Aizawa added in his usual monotone, as though he were reading off a grocery list instead of hyping a race.

“And now it’s time for us to get started!” Midnight announced with a sultry smile, snapping her whip for emphasis. “This is where you begin to feel the pain. The first round of the Sports Festival!”

A hologram flickered to life at center field, the glowing wheel spinning with a flourish of lights until it finally settled on bold text:

Obstacle Race

“All of the classes will participate in this treacherous contest,” Midnight continued, her voice echoing through the colossal stadium. “You will have to run four kilometers around the outside of the stadium. I don’t wanna restrain anyone, at least in this game. As long as you don’t leave the course, you’re free to do whatever it is your heart desires!”

That last declaration lit the crowd ablaze with excitement, cheers and shouts rising like a wave around the stands.

“Now then, take your place, contestants,” Midnight commanded, gesturing toward a massive tunnel on the far side of the field.

Every student crowded into position, their hearts pounding in anticipation. A set of signal lights hung overhead—green, yellow, and red—blinking in succession. The first green winked out: Get ready. Then the second: Set. And as the third light began to dim, a hush fell over the stadium.

Go.

The horn went off and Izuku stayed still for a moment just to see what would happen.

Everyone was so clustered together that no one could get out. People were pushed and shoved. Not even twenty seconds into the race, and people were already getting bruises. Izuku looked at the narrow doorway. 

‘I get it. They’re testing us. Seeing how we will get through.’ 

Izuku's vision blurred for just a second, and when it sharpened again, he found himself on the other side of the doorway, already sprinting at full speed. The rush of cold air against his back snapped him into focus, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Todoroki hot on his heels, his icy demeanor as sharp as ever. Izuku’s grin widened. Of course, he’s already on the move.

Behind them, the rest of Class 1-A spilled out of the tunnel, their determination evident in every stride. Just as the race seemed to find its rhythm, the sound of heavy machinery roared to life ahead. Towering robots, just like the ones from the entrance exams, marched onto the course, their mechanical joints creaking and eyes glowing menacingly.

The crowd erupted in cheers as the first wave of obstacles appeared. Todoroki didn’t even break stride. His hand flicked out, and a wave of ice erupted from the ground, encasing the nearest robot in a glistening prison. The temperature plummeted as the ice crept up the towering machine’s frame, freezing it solid in seconds. Without a second glance, Todoroki darted through the robot’s legs, disappearing into the mist of frost he’d created and pulling a head of Izuku.

Izuku kept running, his heart pounding as his eyes darted between the robots and the path ahead. His grin didn’t falter, though. If Todoroki wanted to clear the path for himself, that was fine by Izuku—he had his own strategy.

As another robot lumbered toward him, its massive arms swinging, Izuku’s body glitched for a moment, a faint crackle of static surrounding him. The robot froze for half a second, its movements lagging as though something had interrupted its system. In that instant, Izuku blurred past it, his body flickering briefly before reappearing on the other side.

He didn’t destroy it. There was no need. Leaving it intact meant it would stall the students behind him, forcing them to either fight it or find another way around. Work smarter, not harder, he thought, his grin sharpening as he kept his pace.

The course was chaos behind him. Kaminari sent bolts of electricity flying at a smaller robot, short-circuiting its systems, while Kirishima charged headfirst into another, his hardened skin deflecting the machine’s blows. 

Up ahead, Todoroki was a blur of ice and determination, freezing every obstacle in his path with ruthless efficiency. Izuku could see him clearly now, the frost from his Quirk leaving a glittering trail behind him. But Izuku wasn’t about to let Todoroki have the lead without a fight.

Static crackled around him again as he pushed himself harder, his steps glitching slightly as he flickered in and out of sight. The gap between him and Todoroki began to close, the two of them weaving through the chaos of the obstacle course with practiced precision.

Todoroki glanced over his shoulder, his cold eyes narrowing as he saw Izuku gaining on him. He didn’t say a word, but the way his pace quickened was enough of a response. Izuku’s grin widened. 'Good. Let’s make this interesting.'

The sound of explosions echoed behind them, and Izuku didn’t need to look back to know it was Katsuki.

“Deku! Get back here, you damn nerd!”

Izuku couldn’t help but laugh, the exhilaration of the race driving him forward. The crowd roared as the three front runners—Todoroki, Izuku, and Katsuki—continued to push ahead, leaving the rest of the students to deal with the wave of robots. But the course wasn’t over yet, and Izuku knew better than to let his guard down. 

Izuku kept his pace steady, his eyes locked on Todoroki's back as the icy trail stretched ahead of them. The faint crackle of static danced around his body, teasing the edges of his control. He could feel it—he could flicker forward in an instant, easily overtaking Todoroki and maybe even making it halfway across the course in the blink of an eye. His Quirk was perfect for this kind of challenge.

But he didn’t. Something about that felt...wrong.

It wasn’t just about winning. Not really. Izuku couldn’t shake the thought of the others, those who didn’t have the convenience of a Quirk like his or Todoroki’s. Students who were working just as hard but had to push through obstacles the old-fashioned way. Jumping ahead now, exploiting an advantage so casually, would feel like he was undermining all of that effort. 'What’s the point of competing if I don’t challenge myself?'

His grin softened slightly as he flicked his eyes toward Todoroki’s back. 'No shortcuts,' he thought. 'If I’m going to win, it’s going to be because I earned it.'

Up ahead, Izuku watched Todoroki slow to a stop. 

“For those of you who thought the first obstacle was easy, let's see how you feel about the second one! If they take a spill, they're out. But if they want to pass this test then they're gonna have to get creative. It’s…THE FALL!” 

Todoroki stepped onto a rope that was connected pillars of rocks that were around a huge pit so deep that you couldn't even see the bottom of it. Izuku was confident though that the school put up some kind of safety net if students fell. Ice spread from Todoroki's feet and he slid across the rope.

The balance and control he had over his Quirk was quite impressive. 

Izuku looked over his shoulder and Katsuki blow past him, putting him in third place. Izuku supposed that if he wanted to win, he would probably have to start moving, especially since the other classes were catching up. He chuckled and jumped off the edge, only to glitch onto the nearest rock pillar safely, his movements smooth and calculated, the crowd erupted into cheers. The camera feed zeroed in on him, showing his sharp grin as he leaped from one precarious perch to the next, steadily closing the gap between himself and the two front runners.

“Whoa! Look at that!” Present Mic’s voice boomed through the stadium, brimming with excitement. “Izuku Midoriya, the wildcard of Class 1-A, is making his move! Just look at that precision—glitching from pillar to pillar like it’s nothing! But here’s the real question…” His voice lowered dramatically, building suspense. “Why doesn’t he just teleport straight to the finish line with that crazy Quirk of his? He could wrap this up in seconds!”

Aizawa sighed, his voice cutting through Present Mic’s theatrics with his usual monotone. “Midoriya’s not interested in an easy win.”

Present Mic blinked, clearly taken aback. “Not interested in an easy win? What does that even mean, Eraser?!”

Aizawa tilted his head slightly, watching the screen as Izuku leaped onto another pillar, his grin never faltering. “He’s giving everyone a fair chance to compete. If he used his Quirk to teleport straight to the finish line, it’d take away the challenge—not just for himself, but for everyone else. Midoriya’s here to push himself, not cheat his way to victory.”

The crowd murmured at Aizawa’s explanation, a new wave of admiration rippling through the stadium. Present Mic let out a low whistle. “Well, you heard it, folks! Midoriya’s not just fast—he’s fair! A true hero in the making, showing respect for the spirit of the competition!”

On the screen, Izuku landed on the final pillar with a graceful glitch and took off in a sprint, his eyes locked on the two boys ahead of him.

“And there he goes!” Present Mic’s voice soared with excitement again. “He’s closing the gap, folks! Todoroki and Bakugo might have to start looking over their shoulders, because Izuku Midoriya is coming for that top spot! Especially for the last obstacle. Everyone had better tread carefully. YOU’RE STEPPING ON A MINEFIELD! If you look carefully, you can see where those little bombs are buried, so keep your eyes on the ground folks! By the way, those landmines were designed for the games. So they might be loud and flashy but they’re not all that powerful.” He said with a hint of disappointment, but quickly recovered. 

“JUST ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU WET YOUR PANTS!” 

Izuku cackled and stopped just at the edge of the field. He watched Todoroki shuffle through the mines and Katsuki fly down to him, knocking him off balance and almost making him step on the buried mine. Katsuki landed on the ground and they both attacked each other to get into first place, even though Izuku knew that Katsuki didn't even have to the ground. Katsuki was like him too in a way, even though others didn't see it, Katsuki was a fair player, even if he aimed to be the best. Even if he hated his rivals and anyone that threatened his ability to get to the top. 

Izuku didn't move even as other students ran by him and onto the mine field, tiptoeing over the grounds and setting off some mines that exploded with what looked like pink smoke, sending them flying into the air. Like Present Mic said, they weren't very dangerous. Even when students stepped on them, they didn't go as high as a normal mine would send them. 

It was kind of boring really. 

Izuku didn’t waste another second. His sharp grin widened as he set his sights on the two students ahead of him. The mines scattered across the dirt field glimmered faintly, their timers waiting for the slightest pressure. But Izuku wasn’t fazed. With a flicker of static, he stepped onto one of the mines and glitched away just as it began to set off. The explosion erupted behind him, kicking up a cloud of dirt and debris.

He repeated the motion, glitching from mine to mine, each detonation perfectly timed as he moved in a direct line toward Todoroki and Katsuki. The sequence of explosions became rhythmic, like a drumbeat building in intensity, echoing across the stadium.

Present Mic practically lost it in the announcer’s booth. “What is even happening?! Izuku Midoriya is using the mines to gain ground! This kid’s got guts, strategy, and a serious flair for the dramatic! Look at him go!”

Out on the course, the commotion drew the attention of the two leading students. Todoroki glanced over his shoulder, his expression cool but wary as he tried to make sense of the series of explosions creeping closer. Katsuki, on the other hand, was scowling, his eyes darting wildly. “What the hell is going on back there?!”

They didn't see anything other than fading pink smoke clouds and struggling students until the air in front of them distorted. A second later, he reappeared—right between them. His grin was sharp and mischievous, his eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee. “Miss me?” he quipped, his voice low and playful. 

Izuku landed hard on the ground between Todoroki and Katsuki, his boots kicking up dust as he dropped in with perfect timing. His mischievous grin was sharp and unapologetic, a glint of excitement in his eyes that only fueled the chaos to come.

The faint sound of three consecutive clicks echoed beneath them, barely noticeable in the tense moment. Before either of them could react, Izuku disappeared in a burst of static, his glitching form vanishing just as the mines beneath him detonated.

The explosions roared to life, the force kicking up dirt and debris as the shockwaves rippled outward. Todoroki and Katsuki were thrown to the side, their instincts barely giving them enough time to raise their arms and shield their faces from the blast. The ground beneath them trembled, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and scorched earth.

Todoroki rolled to his feet quickly, ice already forming at his fingertips as he searched for Izuku, his expression full of irritation as he made a small ice path to run on without activating the mines beneath him and Katsuki let out a growl as he scrambled up, wiping dust off his face with a snarl. “Damn it, Deku! You’re dead when I catch you!” He jumped into the air again with his explosions.

But Izuku’s laughter cut through the chaos like a blade, his voice echoing over the speakers as he sprinted ahead, completely unfazed by the pandemonium he’d left in his wake.

“Look at that plot twist! Now they're chasing Midoriya! That’s what having a common enemy will do in this competition! Eraserhead, your students are amazing! What the heck are you teaching them?!” 

“This has nothing to do with me. Each of them is driven by their own will to succeed.”

Izuku pushed his legs to go faster. He refused to let the other too pass him. To even let them get close to him, even when they started using their Quirks to speed up.

“Who would have imagined that the climax of winning this race would be a non-stop mega mix of surprises!” 

Fifteen feet. Ten feet. Five. 

“IZUKU MIDORIYA IS OUR CHAMPION!”

The announcement boomed across the stadium, and the crowd erupted into an ear-shattering roar of applause and cheers. Confetti and streamers burst from cannons stationed around the arena, raining down in a dazzling display of color. The air was electric with excitement, the sound reverberating off every surface and making the ground beneath Izuku’s feet seem to hum with energy.

Izuku stood in the center of it all, chest heaving as he caught his breath, his grin still plastered across his face. He blinked through the rain of confetti, the sheer volume of the crowd drowning out everything else around him. The adrenaline from the race still coursed through his veins, making him feel almost weightless, as though he were still mid-sprint.

He didn’t even hear the pounding footsteps of Todoroki and Katsuki as they crossed the finish line behind him, taking second and third place. The thunderous cheers of the spectators eclipsed everything else, swallowing up any sound that wasn’t pure celebration.

Izuku glanced up at the crowd, his eyes wide with disbelief as he took it all in. The stands were alive with waving banners, clapping hands, and cheering voices, each person caught in the euphoria of the moment. He hadn’t just won—he’d earned this, and the crowd knew it.

“Midoriya!” Present Mic’s voice cut through the noise, booming with unrestrained enthusiasm. “What an incredible performance! That race had it all—strategy, skill, and pure heart! You’ve set the bar sky-high for the rest of this festival!”

Izuku gave a short laugh, still catching his breath as he wiped a hand over his forehead, brushing away the bits of confetti that had landed there. His usual grin softened for just a moment, replaced by something quieter, something real. For once, he wasn’t thinking about the grin itself or the weight behind it—he was just... happy.

The crowd’s cheers continued to roll like waves, each one louder than the last, a seemingly endless tide of celebration. Izuku turned back to face them, his chest still heaving as he caught his breath, and let the moment wash over him. The bright colors of the confetti swirled around him, the sunlight catching on the metallic strands and making the entire arena shimmer.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel the crushing weight of expectations. He didn’t feel the gnawing, ever-present darkness he usually kept buried deep inside. He wasn’t thinking about his grin, his Quirk, or the chaos of the past few weeks. All of it—the therapy, the training, the struggle to hold himself together—was gone, at least for now.

Right here, right now, he was simply Izuku Midoriya.

Not the kid with the eerie smile, not the boy fighting to keep his demons at bay. Just a teenager who had outrun, outmaneuvered, and outplayed his competition. A kid who, for once, didn’t have to worry about anything other than winning this entire festival.

His grin widened, this time genuine and unrestrained, as he lifted his hand in acknowledgment of the crowd’s cheers. He couldn’t hear any of the individual voices, couldn’t make out any words, but he didn’t need to. The energy in the stadium told him everything: they’d seen him. They’d seen what he was capable of, and they believed in him—even if just for this moment.

Izuku took one last look at the roaring crowd, at the confetti still raining down, and then turned to face the other students lining up behind him. His heart still raced, but now it wasn’t from the competition—it was from the pure exhilaration of the victory.

This wasn’t just about winning a race. This was about proving to himself that he could rise to the challenge. And as the festival continued, he knew he wasn’t just competing to win—he was competing to show the world exactly what he could do.

Once everyone passed through the tunnel, everyone that didn't make the first forty two spots were disqualified and led off the field and the rest of them gathered in front of the small stage where Midnight stood. 

“The first game for the first years is finally over!” Midnight announced. “Now let's take a look at the standings shall we?” The big screens above them scrolled down the list of people. 

“Only the top forty two were qualified to make it to the next round. But don’t be too left out if you didn’t make the cut. We’ve prepared other opportunities for you to shine.” Midnight said, licking her lips. “Now the real fun is about to begin. The chance to fully move yourselves into the limelight. Give it your best!” She snapped her whip as the hologram screen behind her rolled. “Let's see what's in store for you next. Will it be that your wildest fantasies come to life? What could it be? The wait is torture!” She slid her red glasses onto her nose. “Prepare yourselves…for this!” 

Cavalry Battle

“Allow me to explain.” The screen changed to see Thirteen and Present Mic supporting All Might. A weird combination considering that All Might probably weighed the same as a train car.  “The participants will form teams of two to four people as they see fit. In theory, it’s basically the same as a regular playground game. But there is a difference. Each player has been assigned a point value from their ranking in the obstacle course.” The screen changed again to the rankings. 

Next to him, Uraraka and Ashido mumbled to each other. "So that means that each team will have a different point value based on what students they are paired with. 

Ashido, ever spirited, gave her a big grin and a thumbs up. On the stage, Midnight growled and snapped her whip.

"Maybe you should shut up and let me explain it to you!" 

Izuku's hand slapped over his mouth to stop the snicker from coming out. 

“Now then,the point assignments go up by increments of 5, starting from the bottom. For example, 42nd is worth 5 points and 41st is 10. And the point value assigned to the first place contestant is… 10 MILLION!”

Izuku's eyes widened. And everyone's eyes zeroed in on him. He just became target number one and you know what? 

He didn't care in the slightest. 

Izuku stretched his arms out in front of him, fingers weaved. 

"Fine. Bring it on."

Chapter Text

Okay, maybe he cared a little bit. 

He had the highest point value by a mile, which should have been a badge of honor. Should have been. But it also painted a massive target on his back—and no one was eager to climb aboard the sinking ship. Combine that with the unnerving edge of his ever-present smile, and, well… it wasn’t exactly the most welcoming vibe in the world.

All around him, other students were scrambling to form teams, calling out to friends and classmates they trusted. The fifteen-minute countdown ticked away on the massive digital board overlooking the arena. And yet, whenever Izuku caught someone’s eye—someone he thought might be a good teammate—they’d quickly avert their gaze and shuffle off. He tried not to take it personally, but it was hard not to notice the wary stares directed at him.

A faint blush crept over his cheeks as he stepped forward to see if maybe… someone would approach. But each time he moved, the small groups of students drifted subtly away, almost as if he were radiating some sort of invisible force field. He could practically feel their unease.

“Uh… guess not,” he muttered under his breath, voice low enough that only he could hear it. His grin, ordinarily a show of bravado or ease, made everyone more uneasy. Some seemed outright intimidated by the lethal mix of his high points and that sharp, unyielding smile.

He glanced at the clock again. Thirteen minutes left. He’d been so focused on the race and the big reveal of how many points he was worth that he hadn’t considered this outcome. ‘Of course no one wants to team up with me,’ he thought, feeling the weight of the situation settle over him. ‘I’m practically guaranteed to be targeted.’

People in the crowd murmured, noticing how Izuku still stood there, arms shifting restlessly, scanning the field for any sign of interest. A few classmates cast him sympathetic looks, but their own teams were already formed, or they just couldn’t bring themselves to face the bull’s-eye painted on his back.

Izuku sighed, forced an even bigger (albeit more strained) smile, and tried to project some sort of assurance. 'C’mon, guys… I’m not that scary… right?' He wanted to shout it, but the words lodged in his throat. The clock ticked down another minute—no rescue in sight.

He rolled his shoulders and exhaled, letting the tension slide off him. 'Fine', he thought. 'If I have to go this alone, so be it.' Not that he could actually enter the cavalry battle solo, but at least the grim resignation gave him some bizarre sense of calm.

The seconds ticked by, and Izuku braced himself for the shame of finishing this time limit empty-handed. His fists clenched at his sides—he was ready to just accept the worst and figure out a plan. But then he felt a small tap on his shoulder. He glanced back, and there was Ochako, smiling wide, her eyes sparkling with certainty.

“Deku!” She called over the noise, brushing aside a stray lock of hair. “You, me—let’s do this together. I mean—if that’s okay?”

For a split second, Izuku felt a rush of relief so overwhelming he nearly forgot to breathe. 'She wants to team up with me?' His grin stretched in genuine gratitude rather than just forced bravado. “Uraraka, seriously? Are you sure?” He had to ask—he knew how risky being on his team would be, with that massive point total painted like a bull’s-eye.

Ochako’s laugh was bright and unreserved. She put a hand on her hip, jutting her chin in determination. “Of course I’m sure! I’m not letting you tackle this alone, you know. This festival’s supposed to be fun, and what kind of friend would I be if I left you stranded?” Her eyes flicked over his unnerving score displayed on the board. “I’m not worried about the points—I want to work with you.”

Izuku’s chest felt suddenly lighter. All around them, other teams were busy finalizing strategies and jockeying for position, but right now, all that mattered was that at least one person had believed in him enough to step forward. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide the genuine relief beneath his usual grin. “Thanks, Uraraka. Really. I appreciate it.”

She gave him a playful tap on the arm. “Don’t mention it! And hey,” she lowered her voice conspiratorially, “I’m ready to go plus ultra on these guys. You game?”

Izuku couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah,” he said, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. “Yeah, I’m definitely game.”

"So, who are we going to get next?"

A low, mechanical humming broke into their conversation, followed by a bright, almost smug laugh. A pink-haired girl with elaborate dreadlocks and goggles perched atop her head zipped across the field, coming to a smooth stop right in front of Izuku and Ochako.

“Oh, perfect, you’re still alone. And you’re the star.” She said with no small amount of glee.

Izuku blinked, briefly startled as the girl leaned in closer, giving him a once-over. It was as if she was sizing up her next big project—though he was the project in this case.

“Team up with me, first place!” She declared, a huge grin splitting her face as she pointed at him.

Izuku exchanged a surprised glance with Ochako, who looked equally taken aback. This newcomer was more direct than most students they’d encountered.

The girl laughed again, adjusting her goggles so they rested on her forehead. “I’m a student from the Support Course—Mei Hatsume.” She tapped her goggles, which looked decked out in all sorts of modifications. “We haven’t met, but I’d like you to use your current fame to my advantage.”

Her blunt words hung in the air, and Ochako’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, you don’t hold back, do you?” She mumbled, half-amused, half-bewildered.

Hatsume waved off the comment. “Of course not! The name of the game is exposure. I’ve been waiting for a chance to show off my babies on a big stage, and teaming with the top scorer is the best way to do it. Everybody’s eyes will be on you—and by extension, on me.”

Izuku scratched the back of his neck, his usual grin edging toward uncertainty. “Um… Hatsume, right?” He paused to gather his thoughts. “I appreciate the offer. But I, uh…” He glanced at Ochako, who nodded encouragingly. “We were just putting a team together. And I don’t mind helping you show off your gadgets, but are you sure you want to be stuck on the biggest target out here?”

Hatsume’s grin only widened. “Absolutely! I thrive under pressure.” She tossed a casual thumbs-up in his direction. “And I’ve got plenty of support gear to keep us ahead of the competition—just picture it: my inventions, your insane Quirk, plus whatever your friend can do—we’ll be unstoppable! More publicity for me, and more strategic options for you. Everybody wins!”

Ochako gave Izuku a nudge. “It might work in our favor. Having someone with Support gadgets could really help.” She turned to Hatsume, raising her voice just enough to be heard over the stadium. “What kind of gear are we talking, exactly?”

Hatsume’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Oh, I’ve got hover soles, grappling hooks, sensor-laden goggles, you name it! Stick with me, and we can outmaneuver half the field before they even realize what’s happening. The Support Course specializes in creating equipment that helps heroes personalize their Quirks and enhance their skills.” She laughed. I packed a ton of powerful babies to bring with me, so I’m sure you’ll find something you like around my arsonal.”

A second ticked by as Izuku considered the offer—clearly, Hatsume wasn’t shy about her motivations, but neither was she shy about helping him. In a situation this chaotic, an inventive mind (and an armory of high-tech gadgets) might be exactly what they needed.

Finally, Izuku let out a breath and nodded, that playful grin widening with excitement. “Alright, Hatsume. Let’s give your "babies" some time in the spotlight.”

“Fantastic!” She clapped her hands together. “You won’t regret this.”

Two down, one more to go.

Izuku spared a glance at Ochako and Hatsume—his newly-formed crew. Between Ochako’s zero-gravity Quirk, Hatsume’s arsenal of gadgets, and his own distortion ability, they had a pretty well-rounded setup. Still, something tugged at him; there was a gap they needed to fill. He’d mulled it over for a split second, then realized exactly who they needed.

He slipped his hands into his pockets, scanning the students scattered across the stadium. Some were huddling in groups, discussing last-minute strategies; others looked just as lost as he had been moments ago. His sharp eyes flicked from face to face until they landed on a familiar figure standing at the edge of the field.

Izuku’s grin slowly curved wider. 'That’s the one.' With a quick nod to Ochako and Hatsume, he broke away, weaving through the clusters of students, until he stood before Tokoyami.

His classmate turned to regard Izuku with calm curiosity, Dark Shadow hovering at his side like a protective wraith. Without missing a beat, Izuku greeted him with that upbeat, radio-polished tone that always caught people off-guard. “Tokoyami! I’ve got an offer you might not want to refuse.”

Tokoyami regarded him coolly, arms folded. “Is that so?”

Izuku shifted his stance, nodding toward the two teammates waiting for him in the distance. “I’m short one member, and we’ve only got a few minutes left. I can see the power in your Quirk, and combined with what we’ve got… I think we can pull off something big.”

Dark Shadow eyed him, too, a faint growl echoing under its breath. “A shadow stands stronger with those who would wield it carefully,” it said.

Izuku dipped his head, keeping his grin respectful. “Exactly. Between your offense, Ochako’s support, Hatsume’s gadgets, and… whatever I manage to bring to the table, we could dominate this cavalry battle. Plus, we can keep each other safe when the competition starts gunning for our points.”

Tokoyami’s eyes flicked to where Ochako was waving them over, and then to Hatsume tinkering with some kind of contraption. He seemed to mull it over for a moment, considering the tactical advantage. Finally, he inclined his head. “Very well. I’ll lend my strength to your team.”

Izuku’s grin widened, genuine relief glinting in his eyes. “Awesome.” He turned on his heel, motioning for Tokoyami to follow. “Let’s go. We’ve got precious little time, and if we’re going to show them who’s on top, we need to plan fast.”

Izuku gathered his new team in a small huddle just outside of everyone else's earshot. They had only a few minutes to strategize before the cavalry battle officially started, and he could practically feel the tension in the air. Ochako stood beside him, a determined light in her eyes as she reviewed her own role. Hatsume, gadgets at the ready, kept glancing from Izuku to her various support gear with barely contained excitement. Tokoyami lingered on the outskirts of their circle, Dark Shadow hovering close in the bright sunlight.

Izuku tapped a small, crudely drawn map of the arena he’d sketched moments ago. “We’ve got the highest point total—meaning we’re the biggest target out here,” he began in a low, urgent voice. “So, our plan shouldn’t be to pick fights. Let everyone else tear each other apart. We just need to keep our points safe until the timer runs out.”

Hatsume grinned, one hand resting proudly on a jet pack prototype. “Perfect, because I want my babies—” she patted the device, “—front and center, for maximum exposure.”

Izuku offered her a half-smile. “I’m counting on that gear, Hatsume. Because when things get messy, we’ll need to move fast. Really fast.”

He shifted his attention to Ochako. “You can use Zero Gravity on the gear and us so that the extra weight won't slow us down. Will you be able to handle that?" 

Ochako nodded, balling her hands into fists. “You bet. It'll be good training anyway for heavier and multiple objects.

Izuku gave a tight, satisfied nod, then turned to Tokoyami. He was quiet, observing the group through narrowed eyes. “Tokoyami,” Izuku said, “I’m thinking you’ll play defense. Keep Dark Shadow on guard duty, especially when other teams rush us.”

At that, Tokoyami’s interest seemed to sharpen. He folded his arms across his chest and waited, prompting Izuku to elaborate.

Izuku grin sharpened. “So, what I want you to do is devote yourself to defense. I’m hoping you won’t have to attack at all. Sound good?” As he spoke, Hatsume slipped behind him, tightening a harness around his torso—the jet pack straps snugging against his shoulders with a series of soft clicks.

Tokoyami glanced at Dark Shadow, and a small smile quirked at the edges of his beak. “Hmm. Interesting. My Quirk’s offensive ability gets stronger when I’m in darkness. But that makes Dark Shadow aggressive and hard to control. On the other hand, the beast is easy to handle in the sunlight. That’s at the cost of its attack power, though.” He paused, leveling his gaze at Izuku. “You couldn’t have known this, and yet you’ve chosen the correct role for me. Your proposal seems like a good one, under the circumstances.”

He bowed his head slightly, and a rare note of camaraderie threaded through his voice. “Very well. I’ll follow your lead. We’re counting on you, Midoriya.”

Izuku sighed in relief, exhaling as Hatsume finished adjusting the last buckle of the jet pack. So far, so good. They were an unusual team. It wasn’t your typical cavalry lineup, but that was half the fun.

He glanced again at the scoreboard, where their combined points still gleamed like a neon sign: Target here. The overhead speakers blared a countdown, warning them the battle would begin any second. All around them, other teams finalized their own last-minute huddles, predatory eyes flicking toward Izuku’s band. There was no doubt half of those teams would come charging for their headbands the instant the buzzer sounded.

Izuku took a steadying breath. “Remember, if we hold onto our points, there’s no need to grab any more. Let the others duke it out. We stay out of their line of fire and keep our headband safe. That means we dodge. And if we can’t dodge, we defend. Understood?”

Ochako nodded, her face set. Hatsume gave a quick thumbs-up, excitement written all over her features. Tokoyami merely inclined his head, Dark Shadow huffing in acknowledgment. Ochako tapped Izuku's shoulder, making him float off the ground, but before his could get too high, the three of them grabbed a limb and boosted him on their shoulders. Izuku wrapped the 10 million point headband around his forehead. 

The timer hit zero and the crowd cheered, already so excited for the fight that's coming. Present Mic screamed through the speakers. “After fifteen minutes to pick teammates and talk strategy, all Cavalry teams are prepared to go head to head! COME ON! Everyone get your hands in the air! It’s time for an arena bumping UA Battle Royal! Let me hear you scream! LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED! One final countdown before the game starts.” Every head on the field turned to Izuku’s team.

“THREE!”

Izuku's eyes flicked through the multiple groups of students. 

“TWO!” 

Here we go. 

“ONE!”

“BEGIN!”

None of them wasted a single second before running towards them from all sides. 

“They’re not even giving us a chance huh? Such as the fate of the pursued. Make your choice Midoriya!” Tokoyami shouted. 

Izuku laughed. “That’s easy. We’re running away!” 

“I don’t think so!” A boy from Class 1-B screamed and the ground beneath them suddenly turned into mud. Izuku looked at the team's front. ‘It must be that guys Quirk.’ His thumb found the button in his hand. “Uraraka, Hatsume! Watch your faces!” They closed their eyes and Izuku pressed the button, activating the jet pack on his back. They inched out of the mud pit and into the air, away from the rest of the competition. 

Izuku let the tension in his shoulders drop for the short time they were in the air. 

Dark Shadow suddenly surged outward, cloaking Izuku and his teammates like a living shield of darkness. It knocked aside Jiro’s earphone jacks just as they were about to snatch Izuku’s headband. There was a muffled thud as her cables slipped harmlessly off his forehead, earning a frustrated frown from the girl, who immediately pulled back to regroup with her own team.

“Good work,” Tokoyami commended his Quirk with a terse nod. Dark Shadow rumbled in acknowledgment, its eyes gleaming as it resumed its watchful stance. “Please continue to watch over our blind spots, Dark Shadow.”

Izuku’s eyes shone with genuine admiration. “Your shadow is exactly what we needed,” he said, turning a grin on Tokoyami. “It’ll take care of our omni-directional defenses. Seriously, Tokoyami, you’re amazing!”

Tokoyami inclined his head calmly. “You are the one who chose me,” he replied with quiet pride.

A blaring horn and a sudden shift of movement caught their attention. Numerous teams were colliding, jostling for headbands in a frantic tug-of-war of Quirks and strategy. A swirl of dust and shouts filled the air as students fought to maintain balance.

“We’re landing!” Ochako announced, loud enough for the team to hear over the din. She activated the hover boots Hatsume had handed her, slowing their descent with a controlled hiss of air pressure. Their makeshift “cavalry” touched down on firmer ground, giving them a moment to regroup.

“Nice job!” Izuku said, glancing at the boots with appreciation for the Support Course’s handiwork. “Any heavier landing, and we’d have knocked ourselves off balance.”

Hatsume gave a thumbs-up from behind the jet pack’s controls. “Don’t forget who’s responsible for those boots—and that hover function! My babies are working exactly as intended.”

Izuku let out a quick, relieved breath. So far, so good. They hadn’t lost any points, and in fact, they hadn’t needed to steal any either. Their plan was working.

“WOW! Barely two minutes since we started and it’s already a total free for all! YEAH! Watch those headbands! You can even ignore the ten million points and go after the other chart toppers!”

A cackling laugh echoed across the field, drawing Izuku’s attention. He glanced over his shoulder to spot Shoji sprinting toward them, his duplicated arms spread out above his head like a tent. 

“Shoji?” Tokoyami narrowed his eyes. “Is he by himself? Where’s his team?”

Just as he said this, another group charged in from the side, blocking a potential escape. Tokoyami’s expression hardened. “What we need is breathing room,” he muttered to Izuku. “We can’t get trapped between multiple opponents.”

Ochako gasped and tried to run, but her foot wouldn’t budge. “Wha—? Something’s wrong with my boot!” she exclaimed, pulling desperately at her leg.

Izuku quickly looked down to see a small, sticky purple sphere clinging to the sole of Ochako’s hover boot. “Mineta’s ball?” He said, eyes widening. “But… where did it come from?”

“Right over here!” came a taunting voice. Izuku turned just in time to see Mineta peek out from the narrow gap formed by Shoji’s arms. The tiny student gave a wild little wave. “Hi, Midoriya,” he cackled, before ducking back under Shoji’s protective canopy.

A long pink tongue darted out next, missing Izuku’s head by inches. “You’ve got Asui in there, too?” Izuku asked, dodging aside.

“I told you to call me Tsu,” Asui’s said, though her usual calm tone was laced with determination. Her tongue and Mineta’s purple spheres launched in rapid succession, forcing Ochako to swerve desperately out of range.

“Quickly!” Tokoyami urged, spotting more students converging from the other side. “We must move!”

Without hesitation, Izuku pressed the button on Hatsume’s jetpack. A sudden burst of power lifted them into the air—but Mineta’s sticky ball had done more damage than they’d realized. Ochako’s hover boot tore partially free from its bottom casing, causing sparks to erupt as wires were yanked loose.

“My baby!” Hatsume cried out, eyes wide with horror as she watched the broken piece trail smoke. “My baby is ruined!”

Izuku grimaced apologetically. “Sorry, Hatsume, but at least we got away from everyone." He wasn’t proud of breaking the gear, but it had bought them a momentary advantage—one they desperately needed.

An explosion thundered somewhere below them, drawing Izuku’s attention. Leaning over, he spotted a familiar figure rocketing toward them, propelled by bursts of fire and smoke. Katsuki’s face was contorted in raw determination.

“Don’t think for a second you’re safe!” He snarled, palms glowing ominously. Izuku's eyes narrowed as his smile grew. Katsuki's attempt was cute, but no one was getting close to this headband. 

"Tokoyami!"

Responding in a flash, Dark Shadow swooped forward, positioning itself squarely between Izuku’s team and Katsuki’s incoming blast. Katsuki’s explosions slammed into the inky mass, sending a crackling flare of light and heat across the arena. The crowd roared at the spectacle, and Present Mic’s voice echoed loud and clear through the speakers.

Dark Shadow, singed by the blow, shrank back immediately, returning to Tokoyami’s side with a wavering hiss. Izuku let out a breath, chest still tight from the sudden burst of danger.

“WAAAAAHH! BAKUGO HAS BEEN SEPARATED FROM HIS HORSES!” Present Mic boomed with unrestrained excitement. “Is that even allowed?!”

Katsuki started to fall back and Sero’s tape shot out, securing him in mid-air and reeling him back to his own group.

All eyes turned to Midnight, who casually gave a thumbs up. “He never touched the ground, so technically… he’s okay!”

Meanwhile, Izuku’s team was forced into a rough landing, skidding across the dirt in an unsteady arc. Ochako tensed, bracing for impact as the damaged hover boot sparked once again. Hatsume clutched at Izuku’s jet pack, teeth gritted in dismay at the sight of her ‘baby’ in less than optimal condition. Tokoyami steadied Dark Shadow, who still bristled from deflecting Katsuki’s blasts.

Despite the jarring touchdown, Izuku gave a quick, encouraging nod toward his friend. “Nice work, Uraraka,” he said.

“Yeah…” she let out a small huff, her brow furrowed with lingering worry, “But it’s still hard to control where we’re going with just one foot functioning.” She gestured at the battered hover boot. The bottom portion clung on by a few wires. 

Hatsume, biting her lip, crouched to give it a quick assessment. “I can fix it—just gimme a second.” However, another swirl of movement near the edges of the ring made them all tense. The cavalry battle was still in full swing, and the clock was relentlessly ticking down.

Izuku glanced up, scanning the frenzy of students diving in for each other’s headbands. He hummed in interest when he saw Katsuki's headband get snatched. He never thought he'd see the day where his friend was frozen in shock. 

Izuku hummed. “Everyone, don’t worry. I think we’re okay,” Izuku said, though the moment the words left his mouth, their team jerked to a sudden halt. The dust around them billowed as they skidded across the arena floor, bringing them face-to-face with a new threat.

Izuku’s eyes narrowed, the grin on his face turning razor-sharp. It was Todoroki’s team—ice and determination radiating off them like a cold front. For a second, no one moved, as though the sheer tension in the air demanded a standoff.

“And now, we’ve reached the halfway point of the game!” Present Mic’s voice boomed across the stadium, fueling the rising excitement.

Izuku took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to steady the burst of adrenaline coursing through his veins. “I thought we had it made,” he said, the static crackle of his radio voice bleeding into each word. His mocking smirk only grew as he met Todoroki’s frosty glare. “Guess I was wrong.”

Todoroki’s eyes flicked to the headband around Izuku’s neck, ice already crackling at the edges of his uniform. “I’ll be taking that now,” he declared calmly, though his stance betrayed just how serious he was.

An excited laugh tore from Izuku’s throat, unrestrained and echoing in the confined space between them. “Ha! I’d like to see you try.”

The crowd roared in response, the tension thick enough to slice with a knife. For a moment, both sides stood poised on the razor’s edge, hearts pounding to the same frenetic beat. Ochako’s hands hovered near her damaged hover boot, and Tokoyami’s Dark Shadow bristled in anticipation, ready to strike or defend at a moment’s notice. 

“I didn’t think this confrontation would happen until later in the contest. He seems to have it out for you, Midoriya,” Tokoyami observed, his voice cool under the din of the roaring crowd. Dark Shadow shifted protectively by his side, tensing in anticipation of whatever was coming next.

Izuku’s gaze swept the arena, noting multiple teams edging closer. The tension in his stance made it clear: he wasn’t backing down. “The game’s almost over—we can’t stop now,” he said firmly. A moment later, he spotted Todoroki’s team preparing something. “Watch your surroundings,” Izuku warned, his smile growing taut with adrenaline. “It’s not just Todoroki that’s after us. Everyone is!”

Sure enough, five more groups converged from various angles, each one with eyes set on Izuku’s high-value headband. Before anyone could mount a proper defense, Todoroki’s team suddenly pulled a thick blanket over themselves—everyone except Kaminari, who stood exposed, sparks dancing along his hands.

“Indiscriminate Shock, 1.3 Million Volts!” Kaminari bellowed. Blue-white electricity crackled across the stadium, a massive surge blazing outward in every direction. He gritted his teeth, ready to unleash all of that power in one spectacular burst.

Izuku’s heart pounded. That’s going to take out half the field if we don’t do something. Without hesitation, he focused his Quirk, causing his entire team to flicker with static for a split second. “I’m sorry, guys! This might feel weird!” He shouted over the chaotic hum of electricity.

In an instant, a hazy distortion engulfed them, making their outlines flicker like a glitchy TV signal. The bolts slammed forward—and then slipped right through, sizzling harmlessly in the space they’d just vacated. The force and light left the surrounding ground scorched, but Izuku’s group remained unscathed within that moment of static-laced displacement.

When the lightning finally dissipated, Izuku relinquished his Quirk, letting them reappear solidly on the dirt. Hatsume stumbled, muttering in dizzy disorientation. Ochako blinked rapidly, looking like she’d just gotten off a spinning carnival ride. Tokoyami swayed for a fraction of a second, Dark Shadow huffing in confusion at being momentarily phased out of reality.

“That was… definitely weird,” Ochako admitted, pressing a hand to her temple.

Hatsume shot Izuku a look both fascinated and mildly alarmed. “Next time, a little more warning might be nice,” she teased, though her eyes gleamed with excitement. It wasn’t every day she got to experience a literal glitch in reality firsthand.

Izuku gave her a light chuckle, his smirk softening into a sheepish grin. “Sorry. Thought a moment of weirdness was better than being fried.”

They started running, but Todoroki’s ice struck first. The massive wall snapped into place with a thunderous crack, forming a frigid barrier in front of them. Before Izuku and the others could react, another sheet of ice erupted behind them, sealing them in like fish in a tank. This makeshift enclosure brushed right up against the stadium’s boundary lines, effectively cutting off any chance of escape.

“Damn it,” Izuku hissed, skidding to a stop. Ochako’s eyes darted across the frozen walls, looking for any gap or weakness. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized just how completely they were trapped.

Todoroki’s group sprinted forward through the thinning dust, closing in fast. Ochako took a trembling breath, her fingers curling around her battered hover boot. “Izuku—can’t you, I don’t know, use your Quirk to teleport us out of here or something?”

Izuku shot her a grim look, one hand clenching around the strap of the headband. “No. I’ve never tried transporting a whole group before,” he growled, frustration leaking into his voice. He wasn’t about to mention the dangerous, monstrous presence that lurked within his Quirk, the one he could barely keep in check even by himself.

“I might be able to phase myself out,” he admitted, eyeing the ice warily. “But all of us together? I have no idea what that would do, or if I’d just leave you behind. I can’t risk finding out the hard way.”

Ochako’s shoulders slumped at the admission, but she steeled herself against the rising panic. From the corner of her eye, she could see Todoroki’s team storming in, their expressions set like stone.

Tokoyami drew Dark Shadow closer, the inky creature snarling softly as if tasting the tension in the air. “We need a new plan,” he said, voice grim. “Because ready or not, they’re nearly upon us.”

Izuku glanced between the ice walls hemming them in and the oncoming threat. His heart hammered, but a determined grin slowly curled at the corners of his mouth. “Then we’ll just have to make our stand right here, won’t we?” He murmured, bracing for the clash.

“Team Midoriya has nowhere left to run! ONLY ONE MINUTE LEFT! Todoroki has cornered the ten million point team and is poised to seize the ultimate prize! At least that's what I would have predicted five minutes ago! Unbelievably, Team Midoriya’s been able to keep away from the ice master for the last half of he game!” 

Todoroki's only move to get the points was to freeze them, but he couldn't do that with Iida in the way. So they stayed on his left side. When Todoroki's team moved, they moved. 

Though he wasn’t particularly thrilled to be trapped, Izuku recognized the pattern. The second Todoroki got a clear shot, he’d turn the whole arena into a winter wonderland, points or no points. They just had to keep throwing him off.

The hair on the back of Izuku’s neck prickled when he caught sight of Iida crouching, the boy’s lips forming silent words. A flash of realization struck, and Izuku’s heart kicked into a frenzy. He’s about to charge.

His fingers twitched, glitching faintly—a prelude to what he was about to do. “Be ready to catch me,” he breathed to his team.

“Wait, what—?” Ochako began, confusion creasing her brow. But before any of them could fully register his words, Izuku disappeared in a burst of static.

Everything happened in an instant. Iida’s Recipro Burst rocketed right by them, and in that same split second, Izuku reappeared above everyone’s heads as gravity claimed him. Ochako and the others had only a split second to realize what was happening. With a collective gasp, they scrambled to cushion his fall, arms outstretched. Izuku’s momentum drove him straight into their waiting grasp, where they caught him with a heavy thud, stumbling but staying upright.

Panting slightly, Izuku let out a shaky laugh, feeling the rush of what he’d just pulled off. 'If Kacchan could do it, why couldn’t I, right?'

“WHA-HO-HO! What just happened? Present Mic’s excitable voice boomed through the stadium speakers, nearly drowning out the crowd’s clamor. “That was one massive blur! Iida just showed off some impressive speed that makes me question why he didn’t use that move in the preliminaries! And as for Midoriya—he completely vanished! Dodging Iida’s attempted snatch for the ten million points like it was nothing! Seems like a high-risk, high-reward move on both sides. One miscalculation, and we’d have a totally different outcome!” He let out a loud cackle that reverberated across the stands. “But with Midoriya slipping out of Iida’s clutches, we’ve still got ourselves a very interesting showdown in this final stretch of the cavalry battle, folks!”

Izuku straightened up, an exhilarating laugh spilling from his lips despite the pressure of the moment. His heart thundered in his chest as he surveyed the chaotic battlefield around him. Debris from Todoroki’s earlier ice walls still littered the ground, and sporadic bursts of Quirk-fueled battles raged across the stadium. The roar of the crowd thundered in his ears like an unrelenting storm.

Todoroki and his teammates eyed them warily. The tension in the air felt palpable—like a bowstring drawn taut, ready to snap. Suddenly, Yaoyorozu’s arm shimmered with the familiar glow of her Quirk. She created a sleek, metallic staff from her forearm, which she smoothly passed to Todoroki.

“Ah ha! Still got some fire in you, huh?” Izuku called out, his signature grin edging toward the wild side. The adrenaline from the near-miss with Iida still buzzed in his veins. Dark Shadow swirled protectively around Izuku’s team—Tokoyami’s inky guardian pulsed like a coiled storm cloud, prepared to repel any threat that dared approach.

A faint rumble snaked through the shards of ice near them, and Izuku’s eyes flicked toward it. The eerie crackle made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Tension is high between Team Midoriya and Todoroki with only eleven seconds left in the game!” Present Mic’s voice blared through the stadium, ratcheting up the excitement.

Todoroki's team lunged forward and Izuku swore that he saw a faint flicker of red fire on his left side, just before Todoroki paled and it extinguished. 

Before Izuku could fully register the odd expression that crossed Todoroki's usual monotone face, the towering wall of ice erupted. Chunks of frozen debris flew in every direction as Todoroki lunged from behind the explosion. At the exact same moment, a thunderous boom tore through the air—Katsuki, eyes blazing with determination, blasted his way through the ice’s opening, twin explosions propelling him toward Izuku’s team like a living cannonball.

Izuku’s pulse spiked. He could see Todoroki’s team gunning for them on him to his left, while Katsuki careened in from the right, his growl audible even above the roar of the audience.

Panic warred in Izuku’s chest. Dark Shadow hissed around them, and Ochako and Hatsume braced for impact. Tokoyami stood poised, ready to unleash a defensive barrier if needed. This is it—just seconds left.

“TIME’S UP!”

Everything froze, as though the entire arena were holding its breath. In that single moment, Katsuki—caught mid-lunge—lost his momentum. Without the impetus of the battle, he fell short, landing face-first on the ground with a thud, a mere five feet away from Izuku’s team. The tension snapped like a broken string, and the crowd roared in an explosion of noise.

Izuku exhaled a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His grin wavered with relief as the final wave of adrenaline pulsed through him. He and his teammates sagged from the release, knees weak from the rush. Ochako managed a relieved laugh, while Hatsume clutched her gadgets protectively. Tokoyami whispered a quiet command for Dark Shadow to relax, the inky creature withdrawing into the boys body.

“Man…” Izuku muttered, voice trembling with a mix of excitement and weariness. “That was… way too close.”

Tokoyami, standing at his side, gave a short nod of agreement, his sharp eyes flicking over the scattered chunks of ice and the current crisis Katsuki was having. “Indeed,” he said gravely. “We nearly lost everything in those last few seconds.”

Ochako fell back until she was sitting on the ground. “But we made it,” she breathed, relief washing over her. The scoreboard illuminated above them, signaling the end of the cavalry battle and the final tallies.

As the roar of the crowd reached a near-deafening volume, Izuku mustered one final grin at his teammates. His heart still hammered, and he could practically taste the adrenaline in the back of his throat. 

"Now lets take a look at who the top four teams are! In first place, Team Midoriya! In second place, Team Bakugo! In third place, Team Todoroki! And in fourth place, is Tetsute- wait, what?! It's team Shinso! When did they come back from the dead?! These four valiant teams will advance on to the final round! Now, lets take an hour lunch break before the afternoon festivities! We'll see you soon!"

"Well. You brought me here. Now what?" 

Todoroki stared at Izuku's smirking face from where he leaned against the wall of the tunnel. His own expression opposite to the boy in front of him.

“Have you ever heard of…Quirk Marriages?”

Chapter Text

"Quirk Marriages? Hmm. I can't say that I have."

Todoroki nodded and looked at his feet. “They became a problem in the first few generations after superpowers became widespread. There were those who sought out potential mates with the intention of creating powerful children. Many people were forced into marriages. They were simply viewed as old-fashioned arranged marriages. But clearly, it was unethical. My father has not only a rich history of accomplishments, but plenty of money to throw at his problems. He bought my mother;s relatives to get his hands on her Quirk. And now he’s raising me to usurp All Might.” Todoroki scoffed. “It’s so annoying. I refuse to be a tool for that scumbag.” He paused. “In every memory of my mother, I only see her crying.” He raised his arm again and covered his scar. “I remember that she used to call my left side unbearable before she poured boiling water on my face.” His voice broke and Izuku's breath hitched in barely suppressed horror.

Todoroki looked up at him, his expression dark and unreadable. The frost in his eyes mirrored the ice he wielded so effortlessly, but beneath that cold exterior, something simmered—a storm of defiance, anger, and something deeper. Something personal.

“The reason I picked a fight with you,” Todoroki began, his voice quiet but sharp, “was to show my old man what I was capable of. Without having to rely on his damned fire Quirk.”

Izuku stiffened slightly. He had suspected something like this—Todoroki’s fighting style, the way he only ever used ice, the way his right side always seemed… dormant. But hearing it from the source made it real.

Todoroki continued, his jaw tight with determination. “I’m going to show him that I reject using his power. And that I can take first place without it.”

Silence stretched between them.

Izuku stared, searching Todoroki’s face for something—understanding, maybe. He thought about what it meant to fight with only half of your power, to reject a part of yourself out of sheer defiance. He thought about what Todoroki was trying to prove, about the weight of expectations, the burden of family, and the way scars—physical or not—could shape a person’s entire world.

But before Izuku could say anything, Todoroki turned on his heel and walked away, his shoulders squared, his posture rigid. He left Izuku standing there, watching his retreating figure, the words lingering in the air between them like frost in the wind.

Izuku’s grin slackened slightly, replaced by something more thoughtful, more serious. 'So that’s what this is about,' he mused, running a hand through his hair. 

'Alright, Todoroki. If that’s what you’re after, then I guess it’s my job to show you exactly why you’re wrong.'

“Alright, alright! For those who didn’t qualify for the finals—don’t sweat it! We’ve got a ton of fun, completely optional games planned for you guys. Dodgeball, scavenger hunts, Quirk relay races—you name it! Just ‘cause you didn’t make the top sixteen doesn’t mean the fun stops here!”

Excited murmurs rippled through the crowd. Meanwhile, the sixteen finalists were directed toward the stage, where Midnight stood with a small yellow box in hand, her signature smile in place.

“Come closer and draw lots to see who you’ll be playing against,” she instructed, lifting the box slightly. “Then, feel free to enjoy the recreational events before we begin. The sixteen finalists have the option to participate or sit out to conserve stamina. I’m sure some of you want to play it smart before your battles.”

Some of the finalists exchanged glances. The idea of burning unnecessary energy wasn’t exactly appealing, but at the same time, the excitement of the festival was infectious.

Midnight stepped down from the stage, preparing to have the first-place team begin drawing lots, when suddenly, a single hand shot into the air.

“Um, excuse me.”

Ojiro’s voice was firm, though the hesitance in his stance was evident. “Sorry, but… I’m withdrawing.”

A hush fell over the students, followed immediately by a wave of gasps.

“Ojiro! No way!”

“But this is a rare chance for you to get scouted!” Iida said, walking up to him.

Izuku blinked, taken aback. Ojiro wasn’t someone who made decisions lightly, and for him to willingly step down from the finals was… unexpected.

Ojiro kept his gaze steady, his tail flicking slightly behind him. “I can’t, in good conscience, fight in the one-on-one matches,” he admitted. “During the cavalry battle… I don’t remember anything. It’s like I blacked out. I know it was because of that guys Quirk.”

Izuku followed Ojiro's gaze and saw the same boy who had declared war on their class. He stood a few feet away with his hands in his pockets, face unreadable. His gaze flickered toward Ojiro but didn’t betray any emotion.

Whispers broke out in the crowd.

Ojiro clenched his fists. “I don’t think it’s right for me to move forward in the competition when I didn’t get here by my own merit. I refuse to accept a spot that I didn’t earn fairly.”

Midnight tilted her head, intrigued. “Are you certain? It’s a rare opportunity for exposure.”

Ojiro nodded firmly. “I’ve made up my mind.”

Another student stepped forward, and like Ojiro, he was withdrawing from the finals because he believed that a chance to be scouted should only be reserved for those who truly earned it. He spoke of self-respect, of not wanting to take advantage of a system he felt had been built on hard work and integrity rather than shortcuts or luck.

Izuku’s eyes widened in shock as he listened. Here, in the middle of one of the most important events of their future, a student was willing to give up an opportunity that could have changed his life for the better—just because he valued honor above personal gain. Izuku didn’t think he’d ever heard anything more honorable than a competitor choosing to sacrifice fame for the sake of integrity. It was a statement that resonated deep within him, stirring feelings of admiration and a renewed sense of purpose. 

Midnight’s eyes blazed as she surveyed the cluster of finalists before her, her presence dominating the makeshift stage in the arena. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation, and every student—whether brimming with ambition or quietly anxious—waited for her verdict.

After a long, piercing stare that seemed to strip away any pretense, she snapped her whip with a crisp, commanding crack that reverberated throughout the stadium. “This sort of talk is incredibly naive, my boys,” she declared, her tone both amused and scornful.

Before anyone could react, a wicked smile spread across her face. “That turns me on! Shoda! Ojiro! You’re withdrawn!” Her words rang out boldly, leaving the arena momentarily stunned into silence. 

Izuku's head tilted. 'Did she actually just say that to a bunch of teenagers?'

“Now let's see. We’ll have to move up students from the fifth place cavalry team so we have enough contestants.”

A ripple of murmurs passed through the crowd and a girl from Class 1-B stepped forward. She glanced around at her teammates. “We were frozen most of the time. Honestly, we barely did anything in the Cavalry Battle. Isn’t that right?” She looked at her teammates nodded in agreement, their faces etched with resignation.

With a determined look, she added, “You should choose from the group that kept fighting the whole time. Team Tetsutetsu.” A protest broke out from one of the boys on the fifth-place team—a hesitant, indignant tone rising from his lips—but before he could say much more, her lips curled into a confident smile. “I’m not doing this as a favor, it’s just fair.”

Midnight smiled and nodded. “And so Tetsutetsu and Shiozaki advance to the finals. Take a look at the brackets, my dears! These are your opponents!”

A cheer burst forth from the crowd as the new match-ups flashed across the screen. Izuku found his name in the first round against a boy named Shinso. He hummed. A match against someone he didn't know. Against a Quirk he's never seen. This'll be fun. And if he won'e the round, there was a possibility that he would be facing Todoroki next. His grin widened. 

'Perfect.'

His head twitched when he felt someone silently walk up behind him and turned before he could speak. It was the same boy that Ojiro had talked about. 

“That is you right? Izuku Midoriya?”

Izukus eyes narrowed as he nodded. 

“A pleasure. So, are you excited?” He asked. 

Izuku hummed. "I supp-" Something wrapped over his mouth, stopping him from saying anything more.

“Not so fast.” Ojiro said behind him. The boy smirked and walked away. Izuku turned to him as Ojiro pulled his tail back. “Ojiro. What’s the deal?”

"You can't say a word to him." He warned.

Izuku stood at the edge of the tunnel as he waited to be called out. He stared at the new arena where all of the brawls were going to happen in the center of the stadium. 

His heart was racing, but not from the anticipation of the fight, or the thousands of people watching above them, and the thousands of more that are watching from home. But of what Ojiro had told him while the students who didn't make it to the finals were playing in the side games. 

“So his Quirk can let him take over peoples minds?” Izuku leaned back in the metal chair as Ojiro nodded. 

“Yes. By not giving him a chance to use it. He didn’t get into my head until I answered a question before the second round. I think that’s the secret behind his power."

Izuku hummed.“So I have to be careful not to say anything or I’ll lose for sure.”

“Not exactly. Even if he gets you, there's still a chance. For round two, I don’t remember anything at all except the very end of the battle. I think we were running away after we took Tetsutetsu’s headband. I bumped into another person and it was like I woke up. I was me again, and suddenly I was able to think clearly. It’s only a guess. Still, I don’t know how much of a shock it would take to break his spell. And in a one-on-one match, you can’t count on an outside force intervening to help you.” He rubbed the back of his head. "Although I don't think you'll have anything to worry about, I've seen you fight." He stood. “Anyway, I hope that’s helpful.”

Izuku joined him, pushing up from the chair. “Thank you so much. You’re a good guy Ojiro.” 

Ojiro held out his fist. “I know this sounds selfish but I’ll say it anyway. Beat this guy for you and me, all right?”

His eyes glittered with excitement. “I’ll do my best.” He bumps his fist with Ojiro's.

Izuku shook the memory away as Present Mic's voice screamed through the speakers. “ALL RIGHT, AUDIENCE! Let’s cut to the good stuff and not delay any of these finals any longer. Welcome our first fighters!” The screen lights up to show their faces and Izuku took a calming breath before walking out of the tunnel. “It’s Izuku Midoriya from the Hero Course versus…Hitoshi Shinso from General Studies, who really hasn’t done anything to stand out yet! The rules are simple. Immobilize your opponent or force them outta the ring. You can also win by getting your opponent to cry uncle! Bring on the injuries, ‘cause we’ve got our very own Recovery Girl waiting on standby. So put your morals aside and don’t be afraid to play dirty! But of course, no life threatening crap folks. It’s not allowed! Real heroes use their power to throw villains in jail, not kill them!”

Cementoss formed a chair of concrete to sit in on the side of the arena while the matches go on, away from any long distance Quirks, but close enough to intervene if things got too rough.

“So you can just give up, huh?” Shinso said, making Izuku's eyes narrow slightly. “In a way, this is a test of how strong your spirit is. If you know what you want your future to hold for you, you can’t worry about what other people think.” 

“READY?!”

Shinso’s eyes narrowed as he fixed his steely gaze on Izuku. “That monkey was going on about his pride earlier,” he sneered, his tone heavy with contempt.

At the insult, Izuku’s fingers began to flicker erratically—small bursts of glitching static that betrayed the simmering fury beneath his composed exterior. His trademark smile tightened into a hard, grim line, and his eyes darkened as he listened to Shinso's nonsense.

“BEGIN!” 

Shinso wasn’t finished. With a dismissive wave, he taunted further, “But I just think he’s an idiot for throwing away his chance like that.” His words were laced with mockery and scorn, clearly meant to provoke. Izuku clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles whitened, and he stepped forward, each stride fueled by a mounting resolve.

“How dare you say—” Izuku began, his voice rising in indignation. But before he could continue, something shifted within him—like a light switch being abruptly flicked off. In an instant, he froze mid-stride. The world around him seemed to dim, and his mind fell into an eerie, quiet darkness. The anger, the defiance—all of it was swallowed by a sudden, overwhelming void.

In that suspended moment, Shinso’s voice broke through the silence. “That’s it. I win,” he declared, his tone smug and triumphant. Yet there was something off in the sound of his words—they came out muffled, as if filtered through water, as if Izuku himself were unable to register or respond.

“So here we are.” Shinso said, breaking the deafening silence. “You were lucky to be blessed with such a powerful Quirk, Midoriya. Now turn around and walk out of bounds like a good little hero.” 

Against his will, Izuku turned around and walked stiffly to the edge of the arena. 

“Uh—WHAT?! AHH! Midoriya’s obeying him!”

Izuku couldn't control his body as he was forced to walk to the edge of the arena. Couldn't make a sound. He could barely think. The boundary line was getting closer and closer and there was nothing he could do to stop. 

Just a few steps away. No. If he was going to lose, he'll be damned if it was going to be like this. Just then, something cold washed through him, canceling out the tight warm embrace of his subconscious and through his fogged vision, he could see a shadowed version of himself. It was smiling. Big enough that it could have been splitting his face. 

'No...go away. I don't want you here.'

The dark apparition cocked its head to the side, as if savoring his internal anguish, its voice emerging in a garbled, otherworldly whisper that slithered into his mind.

"H̸̨͙̔̕o̷̫͇̟͆̋̑w̸̯̟̌ ̷̖̀̍p̵̝̞̓̃ā̴͕̽͝t̴̛̼͉ḩ̴͔͈͒̂͋͒e̷͉̓̿̎͛t̸͇̬͐̽̓͠ì̶̖̀̑̃c̵͚̰͍̞̐̂.̵͍̫͝͝ ̷̞̇̀͘Į̸͈͈̇̂s̸̯͈̣͙̔ ̶̭̣̤̣̔̎t̶̳̝̱͒̒͝h̴̳̜̔̀̾̂i̶̢̦̘̩̎s̷̭͈̻̅̿̿ ̷̳̋͒̄̓r̸̨̠̝͔̀̈́e̸̤͔̿͠a̵̩͈͇̽̑̃ͅḷ̷̩͕̑̈́ḽ̸̬̄ẙ̸̞̳̦͕̔ ̵̧̹̩͉̒̍͘h̸̢̟̙̾o̸̹̝̔w̸͕̫̬̖̌͑ ̷̻̎̓̈́w̸̪̝̕͝ê̶̬̗'̷̡͈̮́͘͜r̸̢̡͑́̕e̶̼͖͊́͠ ̴̭̪́g̵̙̰̟̘͝o̶͇͑̌ĭ̵̱͘͝n̶̪͙̱͇͂̿́͝g̴̝͑̈̐͜ ̴̻̑t̶̪̱͂̍o̵̤̥͐̚͝͝ ̸̡̱͆̋͑̋l̷̀͜ȍ̴̱͐s̶͇͋̄̌è̸̝̭̖ ̶̛̹̑̈́̑ͅẗ̶̡̩̠͈̂h̶̘̰̙̐i̵̺̫̒͋̎s̶̱̭̾̑͗ ̷̳̃͑͋͘m̷͉͆͐ä̴͍̩̤ͅẗ̵͕́̽̕ͅċ̷͉͠͝h̶̩̄͝?̶̘̮̿̆̓ ̷̪̌́̅̚"

("How pathetic. Is this really how we're going to lose this match?")

'Shut up. Get out of my head. I don't need you.'

His shadow disappeared and he thought that was the end of it, but then something was whispering in his ear. 

"A̵͚̖̒̐d̶̡̫̗̈́̌͂m̷͇̔͌̚ͅi̷̺̕t̴̪̼̣͝ ̸̺̽̚͝i̸̗̒t̴̻̦̀.̷̢̡͕̄̈́̀ ̷̡͂̈̊Y̸̹̗͎͝ǒ̷̗̳̤̀̀ü̵̩ ̶͙̤͂̓̍ń̴̟e̸͉̜̺͋̓ḛ̶̭̂ḑ̵̬͆̉͛ ̵̢̤̐̿ͅm̵͙̌e̸͉̜͝.̸̠͓̽̐̅ ̷̬̳͚̊J̶̥̻͌ȗ̴̦̭̈́͘s̵̱̰͛͐ͅt̷̝̒́ ̷̨̣̘͂͝l̴̪̗̇̔̈́é̶̮̥̌ẗ̶͉͉́́͗ ̵̞͋m̷͔̬̲̈́͘e̶̡̺͐̇ͅ ̴̨̜͍͑͑i̴̢̭̝͊n̵͙̞͈̍ ̸̢̭̙͗̀̚a̴͓̚n̸͋ͅd̶̺̈́̈ ̴̨͊̀͠I̴̳̙͑͋̀ ̷͓̽̈́̈́c̶̢̳̩̈́͋̚a̷̭̳͌ń̴͎͇͔͝ ̸̻͈̺̒͑̓ẖ̷͍͕̏̔ě̸̥̰͐l̵͙͉͒̀͝p̶̱̘͒̉̕ ̶̧̛̽̓y̸͖̚͠o̷̟͌̊̚u̷̡̘͉̓.̷̨̟͑̍ ̷̧͎̥̋Ẅ̷͓e̶͙̠̔͝ ̷̳̻̫͛͒̏ċ̷̦̲͐̎ă̵̙̬͇n̵̔̾̏ͅ ̶̖̳̻̉̀w̷͚̣͇͝ȉ̵͍̻̮̓n̸̳͆̇ ̵̧̛̰̮̒͒ẗ̶̨̗́̀̅h̶̯͊ì̴͇͙͐ș̷̌̉̿.̷̲̦̖̄ ̶̜̆͌̓H̶̛̪̮͑̆ȇ̸̩̦͇ ̶̠̘̮́̈́͝w̸̢̡̠̎̓͠o̷̜̩̎n̵̦̘͗'̴̧͂t̴̘͎̺̂̽ ̴̺̝̥͗s̷̲͕̠͛̓̀t̴̛̪â̵̯̳n̶͍̮͗͜d̶̛̲̔ ̶̼̐̎̀a̵͈̭͕̾͌̐ ̸͉̦̣̒c̸̜̱̊h̸͉͙̬̋̂͠å̸̺̓n̴̔̔͊͜c̸̡͉̭̓e̶͚̕.̸̹̩͝͝"

("Admit it. You need me. Just let me in and I can help you. We can win this. He won't stand a chance.")

'No. I won't let you hurt him. I won't let you out again.' He hissed to himself and his vision shook. The shadow faded into smoke and suddenly, the chatter of the crowd came back and he stopped just at the edge of the white line that would have cost him the entire event and grabbed his head. Present Mic's scream blocked out the slight hysterical laugh that escaped Izukus throat. 

It was back. It was talking to him. It almost took control again. Oh God. What was happening to him?

“HOW’D YOU DO THAT?!”

Izuku's head snapped over his shoulder to the distraught purple haired boy. He just stared at Shinso, his eyes wild from just a mere shadow.

Shinso suddenly smiled, but Izuku could see the sweat drip down his neck. “C’mon, say something. I didn’t know you had so much resolve that you could break out of my Quirk. I’m kind of jealous of you.”

Izuku stared. He must look like a lunatic. Tossuled hair, wild eyes, and a psychotic grin. Shinso was saying something, but a ringing slowly filled Izuku's ears. 

It wasn’t gone. Even now, under the pressure of every heartbeat, Izuku could still feel that incessant, burning presence beneath his skin. It made him feel as if his very flesh were closing in on him—hot, claustrophobic, and utterly oppressive. Every nerve in his body screamed with the desire to claw his skin off, if only it would grant him some relief. If it would finally kill the thing that lives inside him.

“You’re lucky enough to have a heroic Quirk! It’ll be so easy for you to reach your goal!”

'Heroic? My Quirk isn't heroic.' It's anything but heroic. It was a curse. 

Izuku clenched and unclenched his shaking fists to release some of the tension. He had other things to worry about. This was a matter for later, after he won this round. 

He didn't respond to anything Shinso said, not only because he new that it would activate his Quirk, but because he didn't know if he could even listen to the sound of his own voice. 

If Shinso couldn't use his Quirk, then Izuku wouldn't either. He charged, watching panic race through his eyes.

“Thanks to the way my Quirk works, I’ve always been at a disadvantage. People would stay away from me and rule out my Quirk as villainous. But someone as blessed as you wouldn’t understand that!” He yelled, getting desperate now. 

Izuku almost laughed. Blessed was the last word he would use to describe what he was.

Izuku’s fist collided with Shinso’s face in a brutal, precise arc. The impact sent Shinso stumbling to the side, and a fresh trickle of blood ran down from his split nose. His eyes, alight with fury, narrowed as he snarled at Izuku. For a heartbeat, the arena fell silent—every eye fixed on the sudden burst of raw violence.

Shinso wasn’t one to back down easily. Regaining his balance, he lunged forward. Izuku didn't use his Quirk to dodge, he ducked away from the punch and slammed his hands on Shinso's shoulder and chest, throwing all of his body weight into Shinso. The boy tripped over his feet to regain his footing as he was being pushed closer and closer to the white line. 

Shinso's fist dug into Izuku's torso and he lost his breath for a moment, but continued on. Then, when Shinso started swinging, Izuku grab his arm and collar, twisting, and then was throwing Shinso over his shoulder and watching as his legs crossed the white line. 

Izuku breathed hard, ignoring Midnight announcing him the winner, and the crowds roaring applause.

Shinso was wrong. Izuku wasn’t blessed. Izuku wasn’t lucky. He was a monster. 

Still shaken from their previous clash, Izuku stepped forward, his expression a mixture of defiance and anguish. He extended a hand toward Shinso, his gesture offering both an olive branch and an unspoken challenge. After a long, weighted moment, Shinso groaned as he met Izuku’s outstretched palm. His eyes, still blazing with the remnants of fury, locked onto Izuku’s. With a reluctant sigh, he allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

But Izuku wasn’t done. Instead of simply helping him up and moving on, he drew Shinso in close, so that his voice dropped to a harsh, low tone against his ear so Shinso could hear him over the roar of Present Mic's commentary and the crowd. His words were laced with bitter honesty.

“I’m not blessed, Shinso. My Quirk is nothing to be praised about,” he hissed, each syllable trembling with raw emotion. “I’m actually jealous that your Quirk is so…normal. You don’t know me. You don’t know what I have gone through.” His grip tightened as he leaned in further, his tone turning anguished. “Everything you said during that fight—none of it was true.”

For a long heartbeat, he let the silence stretch between them, his eyes searching the other’s for any sign of understanding. Then, his voice broke once more, heavy with despair. “My Quirk is tearing me apart. And there is nothing I can do to stop it.”

He stepped away, walking back through the tunnel and into the waiting room—a quiet, dim space set apart from the chaos of the arena. The narrow corridor echoed with each measured footstep, and the soft hum of emergency lights barely lit the path as he tried to collect himself. His heart pounded relentlessly, a staccato reminder of the fierce battle and the weight of his own inner turmoil. With a deep, shuddering breath, he speared his fingers into his unruly hair, tugging at the strands as if trying to pull out the tension itself. He closed his eyes, willing himself to steady his breathing and quell the trembling that had overtaken his body. Yet even in this moment of reprieve, he could still feel it—the burning, oppressive presence of his Quirk crawling beneath his skin, a constant reminder of the darkness he carried. 

So he sat there with his eyes closed, trying to recapture some semblance of calm, he vowed quietly to himself that he would not allow that cursed power to define him. He would fight to master it—even if every step forward felt like wading through fire. For now, in the quiet of the waiting room, he took a steadying breath and tried to reclaim control of his mind and body, preparing himself to step back into the fray as the hero he knew he had to be, even if he felt nothing like one.

Izuku’s heart was just starting to slow when the door swung open. He didn’t even need to look up—he recognized Katsuki’s hard, deliberate footsteps before the door fully opened. For a long, heavy moment, neither spoke. Finally, Katsuki sighed, and Izuku heard the scrape of a metal chair as Katsuki sat down directly across from him.

They sat there in silence, the tension lingering like an unspoken challenge. Finally, Katsuki broke the quiet, his voice low and edged with concern. “You alright, Deku?”

Izuku swallowed hard, still feeling the residual tremor of adrenaline. “Yeah... I’m fine,” he replied, his grin that was usually so full of mischief, didn’t reach his eyes.

Katsuki’s gaze was intense as he studied him for a moment. “You looked like you were about to break.” He said bluntly, the silence heavy between them.

Izuku finally releases his hair from the death grip of his fingers and layed them flat on the metal table, refusing to look at his friends eyes. “I… I can’t shake it off that easily. That… thing in my head, it nearly got me this time.” He admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

For a long, weighted moment, neither spoke. Then, Katsuki slowly leaned forward until Izuku was forced to look away from his shaking hands and into his eyes, which was uncharacteristically soft for someone like Katsuki Bakugo. 

“I know you’re fighting something you can’t see,” Katsuki murmured, his tone a blend of irritation and genuine concern. “Maybe you don’t like it, but you have to remember—you’re not alone in this. I’m here, whether you like it or not.”

Izuku’s forced grin wavered and then slowly faded into a pained, conflicted expression. “I… I know,” he said quietly. His voice trembled as he added, “Sometimes, it feels like my Quirk is a curse. It’s tearing me apart from the inside. I’m scared, Kacchan… scared that I’m not as strong as I need to be. I'm scared that whatever this demon is, it's going to come out, and I won't be able to stop it.”

The words hung between them, heavy and raw. Katsuki’s jaw tightened, and his expression softened. “Deku, you’re stronger than you know. You’re not a monster—you’re the guy who pushes through even when everything’s against him.”

For a moment, silence reclaimed the space, filled only by the steady hum of the waiting room’s fluorescent lights and the distant murmur of the arena beyond. Izuku’s gaze dropped to his shaking hands, his mind swirling with doubts and memories of that dark presence that had nearly overwhelmed him. Slowly, he released the tension in his shoulders and leaned back, exhaling deeply as if trying to push the chaos from his thoughts.

After a long pause, he shifted the conversation, attempting to ground himself in something more familiar. “So, who is your opponent?” He asked, his voice quieter than before.

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed at the abrupt change of subject, his jaw set in a way that suggested he was calculating his next move even in this quiet moment. Finally, he indulged him with a curt answer, “Some girl called Uraraka.”

Izuku blinked in surprise—Some girl?—and huffed a laugh that was equal parts incredulity and amusement. “You mean our classmate Ochako Uraraka? She was my partner during our first hero training class with All Might.” He paused, considering how much to reveal. Perhaps he should hold off from detailing her Quirk—especially if Katsuki was so self-absorbed he didn’t even remember what she was capable of. After all, Katsuki’s focus in combat had always been ruthless and unyielding, and he wasn’t known for indulging sentiments beyond his immediate objectives.

Katsuki’s expression remained unreadable for a moment as he processed Izuku’s words, his eyes flickering briefly with something that might have been recognition—or maybe just a calculation of his own advantages.

“You mean the extra that screws with gravity? Pink cheeks?” Katsuki’s voice rang out, laced with his signature snark. The remark, as usual, was aimed with precise cruelty—an insult meant to rile up the ones he’d consider weak or overly sentimental.

Izuku’s eye twitched imperceptibly at the barb. Uraraka was his friend—someone he respected and trusted—and while he hated hearing such jeers directed at her, he wasn’t entirely surprised. Katsuki had always been a hot shot, unafraid to let his tongue lash out. Over time, Izuku had learned to deal with his rival’s harsh words, knowing they were part of Katsuki’s way of showing concern, however clumsy it might be.

Shaking his head with the familiar grin he wore for ten years, Izuku stood up. “I suppose I better let you get ready.” He murmured, his tone light despite the sting of the insult. He turned toward the door, his hand reaching for the knob as if to make his exit and retreat to a quieter space.

Before he could step away, Katsuki’s hand shot out and landed firmly on Izuku’s shoulder. The unexpected contact made him pause, and Katsuki’s eyes—intense and sincere beneath his rough exterior—met his. “Don’t shut me out, Deku. Let me help you when you need it, alright?” Katsuki said, his voice low and edged with a rare note of genuine concern.

Izukus smile softened. "Okay. Thank you Kacchan." With that, he pushed open the door and, leaning back just long enough to glance over his shoulder, quipped in his smooth, radio-like tone, “Oh, by the way, good luck in your fight with Uraraka, Kacchan. I hear she’s got a knack for lifting opponents off their feet—just try not to lose your temper and float away, alright?”

Katsuki's red eyes narrowed into slits, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "You little..." He growled and his hands popped. Izuku's grin widened, and with a carefree laugh, he dashed out of the room before Katsuki could reach him. 

Chapter Text

Izuku would never stop being grateful for the enigma that was his best friend. Katsuki, for all his fury, all his sharp edges and explosive personality, had a strange way of grounding him. He was loud, he was reckless, but in the moments that mattered, he had a way of settling the noise in Izukus head. A reminder that, no matter how much they clashed, no matter how many times they stood on opposite sides of a fight, Katsuki was still there. Still him. And sometimes, that alone was enough to pull Izuku back from the brink.

He climbed the stairs leading to the spectator booth where the rest of his classmates were seated, the hum of the crowd a steady roar in the background. The stadium was alive with energy, the buzz of excitement crackling in the air like static electricity. Izuku found himself rolling his shoulders, easing the last remnants of tension from his muscles as he approached the seating area.

His mind drifted to the next match,the one everyone was waiting for. The one between Katsuki and Uraraka.

Katsuki would win. That much was obvious. Izuku knew it, Katsuki knew it, and even Uraraka probably knew it. There was no denying the sheer gap in experience between them. Izuku had been sparring with Katsuki for years, long before UA had ever come into the picture. He knew, better than anyone, how terrifyingly skilled his best friend was. Katsuki wasn’t just stronger, he was brilliant in battle. His instincts, his reflexes, the way he could analyze a fight and adapt in the blink of an eye, it was all second nature to him. A lifetime of victories had sharpened him into a near-unstoppable force.

But even knowing all that, Izuku still hoped, just hoped, that Katsuki wouldn’t go all out on Uraraka.

‘She isn’t me.’ Izuku thought as he reached the booth, his fingers tightening around the railing as he scanned the field below. ‘I can fight Katsuki at his strongest. I can push him to his limit. I can take everything he throws at me and still keep going.’ But Uraraka? She wasn’t a brawler. She didn’t have years of battle-hardened training or the ability to take hit after hit and keep moving forward.

And yet, Izuku smiled to himself, she was still going to fight.

That was what made her incredible.

The odds were stacked against her, and she knew it. But Uraraka was smart. She was determined. And Izuku had no doubt that she had spent the last couple hours meticulously crafting a strategy to give her the best possible chance. She wasn’t the type to back down. She wasn’t the type to give up before the fight even started. No. She was going to stand in that ring, face Katsuki head-on, and she was going to make him work for that win.

His grin widened slightly at the thought. ‘Honestly, watching Kacchan struggle with someone other than me? Now that was going to be a sight worth seeing.’

He took a seat in the front row and leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting against his knees as Present Mics voice boomed across the stadium, signaling the next match was about to begin. He could already see Katsuki stepping onto the field, his posture relaxed but eyes gleaming with the promise of a fight. Across from him, Uraraka stood tall, her expression set with unwavering determination.

Izuku’s heart pounded, excitement thrumming through his veins as he watched them face each other down.

‘Alright, Uraraka,’ he thought, his grin stretching just a little wider. ‘ Lets see what you’ve got.’

Izuku blinked, pulled from his thoughts by the familiar, sharp voice beside him. He turned to his right, where Iida sat, posture straight as always. His friend gave a signature karate chop to the air, his mechanical precision unwavering.

"Midoriya!" Iida began, his tone firm yet congratulatory. "Congratulations on winning your match with Shinso. When we saw you starting to leave the field, we feared you might lose, but once again, you have impressed me with your fortitude and strength. You should be proud!"

Izuku hummed in response, turning his face away slightly, the usual warmth of praise settling uncomfortably in his chest. Proud? He nearly lost control. Again. That thing inside of him had almost won. What was there to be proud of?

Still, he forced his usual grin back into place and shifted the topic. “Thank you, Iida! I heard you won your match as well. You were paired with Hatsume, right?” His smirk turned knowing. That must’ve been a disaster. He had been on a team with Hatsume during the cavalry battle, and even in that short time, he had learned just how eccentric she could be when it came to her beloved inventions. It was a shame he hadn’t been there to witness what had undoubtedly been a very interesting match.

Iidas face immediately turned a shade pinker. “Yes, well,” he coughed into his fist, clearly embarrassed, and Izuku’s smirk only grew wider.

“That bad, huh?” Izuku teased.

Iida sighed dramatically and covered his face with his hands. “She tricked me into being a test subject for her inventions in front of the entire support course! I made a fool of myself, Midoriya! Then, just as I believed the match had truly begun, she stepped out of bounds without so much as attempting to fight!” He groaned, clearly mortified by the memory.

Izuku’s eyes widened before his lips twitched and his shoulders began to shake. He tried to hold in his laughter out of respect for Iida’s suffering, but it was a losing battle. The mental image of Iida, ever-serious and battle-ready, unknowingly strutting around as Hatsumes unwilling model while she enthusiastically advertised her latest creations to the support course was just too good.

It took all of his willpower not to burst out cackling. Iida was his friend. He needed encouragement, not more embarrassment.

After a few moments of careful composure, Izuku finally managed, “I was only teamed up with her for thirty minutes, and even I can say that sounds exactly like her.”

Iida groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “It was humiliating, Midoriya. I came here to showcase my abilities as a hero, not as a walking commercial!”

At that, Izuku let out a small chuckle despite himself. “Well, look at it this way, you got some free publicity. Maybe you’ll be famous in the support course now.”

Iida shot him a look of pure exasperation, to which Izuku responded with an easy grin. “Come on, Iida, at least you won the match. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

His friend crossed his arms and huffed. “Victory at the cost of dignity is a bittersweet thing, Midoriya. I would have preferred a proper match.”

Izuku patted him on the shoulder, still grinning. “Well, you’ll get another chance in the next round.”

“LET THE EIGHTH MATCH BEGIN!”

The instant the signal rang out, Uraraka was off like a shot, her body bent low to the ground as she sprinted straight toward her opponent. Determination burned in her eyes, her breath steady despite the weight of the challenge before her.

“Giving up isn’t an option for me!” She shouted, her voice loud enough that they could even hear it.

Izuku grinned from the stands, his hands gripping the railing as he leaned forward, watching intently. “Wow, look at her go! She only needs one touch—if she can get close to him, she’s got a real shot at this!”

Iida, sitting rigidly beside him, adjusted his glasses with a sharp movement. “But you know Bakugo isn’t going to just let her get too close to him.” He said.

Izuku nodded, his expression shifting to something more calculating. “Exactly. Which is why he won’t waste energy dodging—he’ll focus everything on counterattacking. He fights like a wrecking ball—always pressing forward, always overpowering his opponent before they have a chance to think.”

Down in the ring, Katsuki let out a slow breath, his eyes locked on Uraraka with razor-sharp focus. The moment she stepped into his range, he slipped his hands from his pockets, shoulders relaxing into something terrifyingly casual.

Uraraka barely had time to react before Katsuki moved.

The moment his right hand drew back, an explosion erupted from his palm. The sheer force sent a shock wave rippling through the air, and before she could react, the blast slammed into her, hurling her across the battlefield and tearing up the ground, sending smoke and debris into the air.

Izuku’s grip on the railing tightened as he watched the fight unfold before him. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat matching the intensity of the battle raging below. Uraraka was fast—so fast—but Katsuki was faster.

When the smoke began to clear, Izuku immediately spotted Katsuki standing in the midst of the destruction, his posture shifting into a better stance. He looked ready to end this. Izuku could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his fingers flexed as if already primed to detonate another explosion.

“You should have dropped out of the match when you had the chance,” Katsuki’s voice rang through the arena, cocky and merciless as always. The moment his gaze flickered to Uraraka’s jacket lying limply on the battlefield, his hand snapped up, ready to blast her into the ground. “There’s no way you can beat me!”

Izuku felt the tension coil in his chest. 'No, Kacchan, don’t—'

The explosion went off, a fiery blast sending dust and smoke billowing into the air. For a split second, Izuku’s breath hitched. 'Did she—?'

Then, Katsuki’s sharp intake of breath was loud enough to be heard even from the stands.

Izuku’s eyes widened.

When the smoke thinned, all that remained was Uraraka’s jacket. Her body was nowhere to be seen.

"WOAH! She flew her jacket over as a decoy! What incredibly quick thinking!" Present Mic bellowed, his excitement reverberating through the stadium.

Izuku’s grin stretched wide. Smart. That was really smart!

His eyes snapped to the battlefield, and sure enough—just as he had hoped—Uraraka emerged from the smoke behind Katsuki, her hand outstretched, mere inches from making contact.

She’s going to make him float! He leaned forward so far he nearly fell over the railing. This was it!

BOOM

Katsuki spun on instinct, sending another explosion roaring through the ground. The force of it sent Uraraka flying back, the ground cracking under the pressure.

Izuku flinched, his heart lurching. He swallowed hard as Uraraka yelped in pain, rolling as she hit the dirt before scrambling back to her feet.

The crowd was tense, murmuring amongst themselves at the sheer aggression Katsuki was throwing at her. Izuku barely registered Iida’s sharp intake of breath beside him.

“She’s not giving up,” Izuku muttered under his breath. She can’t give up. She still has a chance.

Uraraka charged forward again, her movements quicker now, dodging through the smoke that Katsuki’s explosions kept creating. But Katsuki was ready.

"TOO SLOW!" Katsuki barked, his hand popping as he dragged it across the ground. Another devastating explosion erupted, the shock wave tearing through the arena, sending rocks and dust flying in all directions.

Izuku gulped. Katsuki wasn’t playing around. He was treating Uraraka just like any other opponent.

Uraraka disappeared into the smoke again, her form barely visible as she circled behind him.

Izuku gripped the railing so tight his fingers ached. “Come on, Uraraka…” He whispered.

Then, she lunged, but Katsuki turned again. Another explosion erupted from his palm, and once more, Uraraka was blasted backward, crashing into the ground.

A chorus of gasps echoed in the stands.

“Is she okay?!” Asui asked urgently, her eyes wide with concern.

Jiro covered her face. “I can’t watch this!”

Izuku clenched his jaw. His heart hammered in his chest, a war raging inside of him. He wanted to believe she could still turn this around. He wanted to believe she had one last trick up her sleeve.

But as he watched Uraraka struggle back to her feet again, breathing heavily, dirt smeared across her face, he realized something.

Katsuki wasn’t holding back.

Mineta glared at the arena, arms crossed as another explosion rocked the battlefield. Katsuki was relentless, the force of his attacks leaving craters in the ground. Uraraka kept pushing forward, but every time she got close, Katsuki sent her flying back.

With an unimpressed scoff, Mineta muttered, “Like I always suspected, Bakugo’s a total sadist.”

The words barely had time to settle before Izuku spun around so fast that Mineta actually flinched. His usual easy-going expression was gone, replaced by something sharper, something dangerous. His eyes gleamed under the bright stadium lights as his smile tightened. 

“What did you just say?” Izuku’s radio voice was low, even, but there was a dangerous static-laced edge to it.

Mineta shrank back slightly, suddenly very aware of the weight of Izuku’s stare. “W-Well, I mean, look at him!” Mineta stammered, gesturing wildly toward the arena. “He’s enjoying this! He’s just blowing her up over and over like some kind of lunatic—”

“You don’t get it." None of them could see what he was actually doing. Sure, his method was a little violent, but anyone with common sense could see what he was doing. He huffed and spun back to the fight, but his eyes flicked up and his brows slowly rose at what he saw and his grin stretched. 'Well...would you look at that.’

“Hey, shouldn’t one of the teachers step in?” Someone said from the stands. 

“Yeah, this is too rough!”

Izuku’s fingers tightened around the railing, his knuckles turning white. He knew this was hard to watch. He knew Uraraka was taking a beating. But… but they didn’t understand. They weren’t seeing what he was seeing.

Down below, Uraraka panted, her body shaking as she forced herself up once more. Her eyes locked onto Katsuki’s silhouette through the haze of dust and smoke. She grunted and pushed forward.

BOOM

Izuku flinched, but Uraraka didn’t stop.

“This is shameful!” A Hero from the stands suddenly stood, his glare fixed on Katsuki like he had just committed some kind of crime. “Listen, kid! You really wanna be a hero? Then stop acting like a bully! If you’re so good, then send her out of bounds!”

BOOM

Another blast. Another impact.

“Stop toying with the girl and end this match already!”

“Yeah, you heard the guy!”

The crowd’s boos started low but grew louder, rippling through the stands in disapproval.

Izuku’s body tensed. They didn’t get it. None of them got it.

Katsuki wasn’t toying with her. He wasn’t mocking her. He wasn’t being a bully. This was how he fought. This was how he fought anyone. He wasn’t looking down on Uraraka—he was treating her like an equal. He was fighting her just like he would fight Izuku, or Todoroki, or anyone else.

And that was exactly what Uraraka wanted.

“The crowd is now booing Bakugo!” Present Mic shouted over the growing noise. “And honestly, I kinda agree with what they're saying—” Present Mic yelped and the microphone shrieked loudly like someone was wrestling with it. 

“HEY, WOAH!” Present Mic yelped. “What the crap?!”

“Where is the man that started this uproar?" Aizawa said, his voice angry. Izuku sighed. Finally, Aizawa would understand. "Are you a pro? Because if you’re being serious, you can go home and hang up your cape. I’d suggest looking into another career. Bakugo’s fierceness is an acknowledgment of his opponent’s strength. He knows she deserves to have made it this far, so he’s making sure he does whatever it takes to keep her bay and come out on top.”

Izuku nodded to himself, relishing in the silence that had settled over the crowd. They didn’t know Katsuki—not really. They saw an explosive, aggressive, arrogant fighter, but they didn’t understand him the way Izuku did. Everyone had their own way of fighting, their own way of proving themselves. This was Katsuki’s. And even if he hadn’t been treating Uraraka like a real opponent, it wouldn’t have mattered—because at the end of the day, he was still just a kid. They all were. This was what school was for. To fight. To struggle. To learn and grow.

But as Izuku lifted his gaze to the sky, to the massive chunks of the ruined arena suspended high above them, his grin widened.

It was almost embarrassing—how so many people, including Pro Heroes, had booed Katsuki, had assumed he was bullying Uraraka, when they hadn’t even realized what was actually happening. She had never been helpless. She had never been blindly charging in without a plan.

Uraraka’s Quirk—Zero Gravity—needed objects. She didn’t have any. So she made them. She had been playing the long game, forcing Katsuki to rip apart the arena with every explosion, keeping herself low and close to the ground, letting him do all the work for her.

Izuku's heart pounded with excitement. This was it!

Then, down in the ring, Uraraka straightened her back, her expression unreadable.

“I think… it’s about time,” she announced, voice steady despite the strain in her body.

Katsuki tensed instantly, his stance shifting ever so slightly. He hadn’t expected that.

Then she smiled. “Thank you, Bakugo,” she said simply, lifting her hands. “For keeping your eyes focused on me.”

Katsuki’s eyes widened just a fraction. “What?”

Izuku gripped the railing as his pulse quickened. He could see it—see what was about to happen—just as Uraraka slammed her fingertips together and one second later, the chunks of debris plummeted toward Katsuki all at once.

The crowd erupted in gasps and shouts.

Izuku jumped from his seat, his smile splitting wide.

“Haha! Great plan, Uraraka!” He laughed, his radio-toned voice bursting with pride.

This was it. Her moment.

And Katsuki had seconds to react. Uraraka took those seconds to sprint through the falling concrete towards Katsuki. All she had to do was touch him and she would win. 

Izuku watched, his breath caught in his throat, as Katsuki exhaled deeply and raised his arm above his head.

No way…

Uraraka moved too, touching her fingers together, that soft pink light flashing between them. Izuku knew what she was trying to do—one last desperate push, one last effort to make contact. ‘Come on, Uraraka.’

Her hands shot forward toward Katsuki’s chest.

Katsuki didn’t flinch. He braced his other hand over his wrist, steadying himself, explosion crackling up his arm like white-hot embers. Then—

BOOM.

The air detonated.

The shock wave of the explosion slammed into the battlefield like a cannon blast, sending a ripple through the entire stadium. Izuku instinctively threw an arm up as the force blasted through the stands, sending everyone's hair and clothes whipping back against their skin. He could feel the raw heat of it even from where he stood.

He had seen Katsuki’s explosions a thousand times. He had felt them firsthand. But this—this was something else.

This was the most powerful explosion Izuku had ever seen Katsuki produce without the help of his gauntlets.

And in one shot—one single blast—it obliterated Uraraka’s entire finishing move.

The massive chunks of debris that had loomed so ominously in the sky shattered like brittle glass, breaking into thousands of pieces. The sheer force of the blast sent Uraraka flying back once again, rolling toward the edge of the arena.

Izuku’s heart pounded as bits of debris rained down on the roof above the stands, the distant clatter barely registering over the ringing in his ears.

He quickly looked back at the battlefield. 'Is she okay?!'

Uraraka slowly pushed herself onto her knees, her body visibly trembling.

Izuku’s eyes snapped back to Katsuki. And there he stood—untouched.

A chill ran down Izuku’s spine.

He had known Katsuki was strong. Had known that Uraraka was at a severe disadvantage from the start. But to see that level of destruction, that raw force—it sent a deep, unnerving realization through him.

Even Uraraka, with her intelligence, her careful planning, her determination—

She never stood a chance.

“BAKUGO BANKS OUT A HUGE DEMONSTRATION OF POWER!” Present Mic’s voice exploded over the speakers, his energy almost lost in the lingering shock of the crowd. “He blasted off Uraraka’s finishing move and remained untouched!”

Izuku's head ducked slightly, his hands gripping the railing tighter as his stomach twisted. She was so close.

Her strategy had been brilliant. The amount of time and effort it must have taken to build up all that debris, to hold it suspended while still dodging Katsuki’s relentless attacks—she had played the long game perfectly. She had taken everything he threw at her, turned his own strength against him, and nearly, nearly turned the match in her favor.

But it wasn’t enough.

The sheer force of Katsuki’s counterattack had wiped it all away in an instant.

Izuku’s jaw clenched as he looked at Uraraka, still kneeling on the ground, her arms trembling as she tried to push herself up. She was breathing heavily, her entire body swaying slightly, as if it would give out beneath her at any second.

The amount of energy it must have taken to hold all that weight, to maintain her Quirk on so many objects for so long—she had been fighting not just against Katsuki, but against herself.

Her limit had been reached. 

He was shocked that she even had the strength to stand back up, to twist towards Katsuki when he charged for her and even step forward, but he saw it in her eyes before she collapsed. She was done. Izuku stared at his friend as she struggled to move. 

Katsuki stopped and waited. 

"Uraraka is down!"

Izuku’s fingers curled around the railing as he watched Midnight step forward, placing a hand on Uraraka’s back to steady her fragile form. He didn’t move, barely breathed, as the pro hero raised her other hand toward Katsuki.

Katsuki’s shoulders, which had been locked and tense, finally relaxed.

Midnight let out a slow breath, closing her eyes as she solemnly declared, “Uraraka is KO’d. Bakugo advances to the second round!”

The stadium erupted with cheers, but Izuku barely heard them over the pounding in his ears. His gaze remained locked on the ring, on the way Katsuki stood still, his eyes still glued to Uraraka’s barely conscious form as the medical team hurried onto the field.

Izuku swallowed hard.

Katsuki wasn’t gloating. He wasn’t smirking or throwing his fists in the air in celebration. He just… stood there. Watching.

The gurney arrived, and as the medics gently lifted Uraraka onto it, Katsuki’s expression remained unreadable. His hands, which had been clenched into fists the entire match, finally loosened at his sides. His gaze lingered as they wheeled her into the tunnel, disappearing from sight.

Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

Izuku let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

That was it.

The fight was over.

“And that’s it for the first round!” Present Mic sighed into the microphone. “Man, I was really pulling for her. But yeah, I guess Bakugo’s moving on.” His voice carried a distinct note of sarcasm, his usual high-energy tone dampened with disappointment.

Izuku imagined his teacher scoffing at the Voice Hero. “You’re supposed to be unbiased, you know.”

Present Mic, predictably, ignored him. “LET’S TRY TO FORGET THAT DEPRESSING OUTCOME! With that, the first round is complete! We’re taking a quick break and then we’ll be back for more matches!”

Izuku exhaled slowly, forcing himself to loosen his grip on the railing. His fingers ached from how tightly he had been holding on.

Uraraka had given it everything. She had fought like hell. But at the end of the day, Katsuki had been too much.

He let his head dip for a moment, allowing himself a brief second to mourn the outcome, to feel the sting of frustration for his friend.

Izuku ignored his classmates as they whispered amongst themselves about Katsuki—some murmuring in awe, others debating whether his aggression had been too much. He wasn’t interested in their takes on the match. They hadn’t seen what he had seen. They hadn’t felt the sheer weight of the fight.

His focus had already shifted.

He was next.

Todoroki was his next opponent, and if Izuku had learned anything today, it was that holding back wasn’t an option.

He turned on his heel and made his way out of the stands, heading toward the waiting rooms. The low hum of the stadium buzzed around him as the murmurs of the crowd continued, but he barely registered any of it. His mind was already pulling apart every piece of information he had on Todoroki—his ice, his reluctance to use his fire, his precision, his efficiency. Izuku had been watching him this whole tournament, analyzing his movements, dissecting his fighting style.

But none of that changed the fact that Todoroki was strong.

So much stronger than most of the class even realized.

Izuku clenched his fists as he walked down the hall.

This match wasn’t just about winning. It was about proving something. To himself. To Todoroki. To everyone.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d run into Uraraka on the way.

He wasn’t sure what he would say to her, but he had to check on her.

Because even though she lost—

She had fought like hell.

And that was something worth acknowledging. He made it to the his designated waiting room and heard someone inside. He hesitated. Was it Uraraka? What would she be like? He wouldn't blame her if she was crying. She had the right to be devastated after fighting hard like that. It had to hurt knowing you were so close to victory against an opponent so much stronger than you. He steeled his nerves and eased the door open. He was going to be the friend she needed. 

He stopped in the doorway. He was expecting her head in her hands or hunched over, shaking, not her greeting him with a bashful smile and rubbing the back of her head. "Man! I lost! Too bad!

Izuku closed the door behind him and stumbled toward Uraraka, relief settling in his chest the moment he saw her sitting up, alert and energetic as ever.

“Guess I got a little carried away at the end, thinking I had it in the bag. Dang it!” She whined, slumping slightly.

He tilted his head, scanning her quickly. “You seem fine… but weren’t you injured?” His voice was softer than usual, concern lacing every syllable.

Uraraka lifted a hand and pointed to the small bandage on her cheek. “Yeah! Recovery Girl took care of it. She was careful not to drain too much of my stamina though, so I’ve still got a few scrapes and scratches.” She scrunched up her nose, pouting. “Geez, I never realized how powerful Bakugo was! He wiped the ring with me! Now I realize how much more training I have to do!”

Izuku stared at her, watching the way she laughed, the way her eyes still sparkled with excitement rather than disappointment.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Oh yeah, totally!” Uraraka grinned, rolling her shoulders to shake off any lingering soreness. “I’m actually better than I expected! Even if you lose, you always keep looking ahead to what’s next, Deku. This just means I have to work harder now.”

Izuku’s lips twitched, but his brows furrowed slightly. “That’s true, but—”

Before he could finish his thought, Present Mic’s voice erupted through the stadium speakers, cutting through the waiting room like a siren.

“WAHOOO! WE’RE ABOUT TO FIND OUT WHO THE WINNER IS FROM THE SEVENTH MATCH! KIRISHIMA OR TETSUTETSU! WHOEVER PREVAILS IN THIS ARM WRESTLE WILL ADVANCE TO THE FINALS! LET’S GOOOO!”

Uraraka’s eyes widened with excitement. “Oh man! They’re really going at it, huh?”

Izuku chuckled, shaking his head at the pure enthusiasm in her voice. She really was something else. Even after everything, after fighting with everything she had, she was still looking forward, still excited for what was next.

But he knew it was all a mask.

The way Uraraka smiled, the way she rambled on like everything was fine—as if she hadn’t just poured her heart into that fight, as if she hadn’t just endured a brutal battle where she gave everything she had and still came up short.

She wasn’t fine.

She was strong. She was determined. But she wasn’t fine.

So he stayed quiet, listening as she filled the space with her usual energy, her voice light and full of forced cheer. She talked about training harder, about getting stronger, about how Katsuki had completely overwhelmed her. Izuku just watched her, his chest tight.

Then, without a word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.

Uraraka stiffened in surprise, her breath hitching as Izuku pulled her close. He held her tightly, tucking his chin over her shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper as he murmured into her hair.

“It’s okay to cry.”

For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Then, slowly, he felt her hands clutch the back of his jacket.

Her shoulders started to shake.

She let out a choked breath, and just like that, the dam broke.

Silent, shuddering sobs wracked through her, her body trembling as she buried her face into his shoulder. Izuku just held her, rubbing slow circles on her back, saying nothing more.

She had fought so hard.

She deserved to let herself feel this.

So he stayed right there, holding her as she let it all out, as she allowed herself this moment of vulnerability. Because he knew—when she was ready, she’d wipe her tears, straighten her back, and keep moving forward.

That was just who Uraraka was.

And Izuku would be right there, cheering her on.

Chapter Text

Was punching a Hero in the face considered a punishable offense? Was it against a rule that was in this school? Izuku didn’t have to much time to think about it before his knuckles sunk into the Endeavor's face so hard it knocked him back a few steps. 

Lets take a step back...

Izuku held Uraraka tightly as she trembled against him, silent sobs shaking her small frame. He didn’t say anything more—there was nothing to say. She just needed to let it out, to feel what she had been trying so hard to suppress.

Her fingers gripped the fabric of his jacket, her tears dampening his shoulder, and Izuku simply stood there, grounding her. This wasn’t weakness. This wasn’t failure. This was what it meant to fight with everything you had.

After a few moments, her breathing started to slow, the shuddering in her body easing just a little. Izuku stayed still, letting her take her time. Finally, Uraraka pulled back slightly, sniffing and rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice thick. “I didn’t mean to get all…y’know.”

Izuku shook his head, his expression soft. “You don’t have to apologize, Uraraka. You did amazing out there.”

She let out a shaky breath, her lips pulling into a small, watery smile. “Still lost, though.”

Izuku grinned, tilting his head. “Doesn’t change the fact that you fought like hell.”

She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she wiped the last of her tears away. “Thank you. I feel a lot better now. You have this way of…I don’t know.” She trailed off, her expression thoughtful as she tried to put it into words.

Izuku tilted his head slightly, curious. “What do you mean?”

Uraraka shrugged, looking a little embarrassed as she played with the edge of her sleeve. “It’s just…when you talk, when you’re around, it’s like there’s this hum? This feeling? I can’t explain it, but it’s comforting, like I can breathe again, even when I’m upset.” She furrowed her brows. “It’s kinda like a sound you can’t hear but can feel. Like white noise, but not annoying. Just… steady.”

Izuku blinked, startled. He had heard comments like that before, though no one had ever really put it into words quite like that. He knew his Quirk had an effect on the environment around him, how it glitched and distorted reality in subtle ways. But this…this wasn’t something he had thought about much.

A hum that eases people’s nerves?

It wasn’t just his voice—though his radio-like tone was something that tended to draw people in. No, this was something else. Like an invisible presence, an unconscious effect his Quirk had on the people around him.

He scratched the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “Uh, well…I don’t try to do that or anything.”

Uraraka gave him a small, knowing smile. “I know. But it’s there. And I think it’s part of what makes people feel safe around you.”

Izuku’s eyes widened slightly. Safe?

That was something he never thought he could be.

Not with what lived inside him.

But, out of everybody he could emit this feeling to, he was glad it was her.

Before he could respond, the stadium’s speakers crackled to life, and Present Mic’s voice boomed through the waiting room.

“KIRISHIMA EARNS HIS PLACE IN THE SECOND ROUND! NOW WE’VE GOT A FULL ROSTER FOR THE NEXT ROUND OF THE TOURNAMENT! LET’S GET THE PARTY STARTED NOW, YA DIG?!”

Izuku huffed, releasing a short laugh as he straightened up. “Already?” He glanced at Uraraka, his sharp smile slipping back into place. “Later!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Deku. You weren’t able to prepare since I was here!”

Izuku reached for the handle and twisted it before looking back at her, his expression warm. “Nah, this was perfect,” he reassured.

Uraraka beamed at him, her usual bright energy returning to her eyes. “I’ll be watching. Good luck out there!”

Izuku nodded. “Thanks.”

With that, he turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him. 

Izuku was making his way toward the arena, his head buzzing with thoughts of Todoroki and their upcoming match. His focus was razor-sharp, his nerves steady, his mind already analyzing the possible moves he would need to counter Todoroki’s ice—when his steps suddenly faltered.

A presence loomed ahead of him, heavy and oppressive, stopping him dead in his tracks.

Endeavor.

The number two Pro Hero stood directly in Izuku’s path, his massive frame blocking the hallway. Flames crackled faintly off his shoulders, giving him an aura that made the air feel hotter. His gaze was intense, sharp, and unreadable, but Izuku had no interest in trying to decipher it.

Because as soon as he laid eyes on him, Todoroki’s words from their conversation echoed in his mind.

“The reason I picked a fight with you, was to show my old man what I was capable of. Without having to rely on his damned fire Quirk. I’m going to show him that I reject using his power. And that I can take first place without it.”

Izuku’s fingers twitched at his sides, his teeth clenching slightly as he held Endeavor’s stare.

Of all the people he could have run into before his match, it had to be this man.

Endeavor’s eyes flickered over him, his expression unreadable. Then, after a beat, he spoke, his voice low and gruff.

“So, you’re Midoriya.”

Izuku didn’t respond immediately. He just narrowed his eyes, his body instinctively tensing. What does he want?

Endeavor continued. “You’re fighting my son next.” He said it not with curiosity or even interest—just expectation.

Izuku’s jaw tightened. Your son? Not Shoto. Not Todoroki. Just his son. Like he was nothing more than an extension of himself.

Like Todoroki had said.

Endeavor exhaled, the heat in the air flickering just slightly. “Make him use his fire.”

Izuku’s eyes widened slightly before his expression darkened.

“Excuse me?”

Endeavor crossed his arms, his gaze heavy. “It’s my Shoto’s duty to surpass All Might and become the number one hero. And this match against you will be a good test to show how much more training he needs. So hit him hard. Don’t disgrace him or yourself by holding back.”

Izuku’s fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms.

He couldn’t believe this. Couldn’t believe the sheer audacity of this man.

Todoroki had spent his entire life trying to escape from his father’s control, trying to reject the flames that had been forced upon him. And here Endeavor was, not even talking to his son—just trying to manipulate someone else into doing his dirty work.

Izuku felt his heartbeat hammering in his ears.

This wasn’t about power. It wasn’t about pushing Todoroki to be stronger.

It was about control.

It was about winning.

And it made Izuku sick.

His body moved before he even fully registered the thought.

He stepped forward, his shoulders squared, his gaze steady as he met the number two Hero’s stare head-on.

And then, without hesitation—

He swung.

His knuckles sank into Endeavor’s face so hard that the man actually stumbled back a few steps, his head jerking to the side from the sheer force of the hit.

Silence.

The hallway felt different now, the air heavier, charged with something volatile.

Izuku’s breath was steady, his fist still clenched from the punch as he slowly lowered it, his eyes darkening as he glared at him, his grin sharp. "Todoroki is not a piece of property. He is not a person you can manipulate into doing a job that you can't do yourself. He may be your son, but he isn’t you. I don’t care how strong you are. You don’t get to decide for him." With that, he walked away, leaving the man standing in shock as he made his way to the tunnel that would lead him to his next fight.

The stadium roared with excitement, the sheer anticipation thick in the air as the two fighters stepped onto the battlefield.

“I CAN FEEL THE ANTICIPATION IN THE STADIUM!” Present Mic’s voice boomed through the speakers, his energy electrifying the crowd. “And that’s because the first round of the second finals is gonna be epic! It’s the guy that won his last match by a landslide and literally left half the audience frozen! From the Hero Course, SHOTO TODOROKI!”

Huh, what did he miss when he was wallowing in his own self pity?

Todoroki walked up the stairs on his side of the ring, his face blank, unreadable. But Izuku saw it—the tension in his posture, the barely-there flicker of emotion in his mismatched eyes.

They locked gazes across the arena, Todoroki’s cold stare meeting Izuku’s own unwavering one.

“And this kid almost walked out of his first matchup, but made an amazing comeback with some stunning moves of his own! Also from the Hero Course, IZUKU MIDORIYA!”

Izuku climbed the steps, his steps even, controlled. The echoes of his encounter with Endeavor still rang in his mind, fueling the fire burning beneath his calm exterior. He could still feel the impact of his fist against the man’s face, still hear his own words echoing in his head—

"I don’t care how strong you are. You don’t get to decide for him."

Izuku exhaled sharply, shaking off the lingering thoughts as he came to a stop at the opposite end of the ring.

They barely said a word.

They didn’t need to.

Todoroki’s eyes burned with unspoken intent, and Izuku’s own expression hardened in response. This wasn’t a match they could afford to take lightly. This wasn’t just about winning.

This was about proving something.

To each other.

To themselves.

The energy in the stadium crackled as the tension built. The crowd could feel it—the weight of something bigger than just a simple tournament match.

Present Mic grinned as he leaned into his mic. “Both of these heroes-in-training have been front loaders in the Sports Festival! But which one of them will advance to the second round? It’s the battle of Midoriya vs. Todoroki!”

The crowd roared.

A beat of silence.

"BEGIN."

Izuku wasn’t surprised when Todoroki attacked the moment the match started.

A massive wave of ice erupted from his right side, tearing through the arena like a frozen tidal wave, barreling straight for him.

Izuku barely blinked before his body flickered—and then, in a static-laced glitch, he was gone.

A good thing, too—because the ice that had been meant for him didn’t just stop.

It kept growing.

And growing.

And suddenly, the battlefield wasn’t just covered in ice—it was a glacier.

Izuku’s breath caught as he reappeared high above the battlefield, his body momentarily weightless before gravity took hold.

His knees almost buckled when his boots landed hard against the nearest jagged ice spike, the sheer cold biting through the fabric of his uniform. The surface was slick, and before he could fully stabilize himself, he was already sliding.

Hard. Fast. Straight toward Todoroki.

For a second, Izuku barely registered the cheers and gasps from the crowd. His entire focus was locked on Todoroki—who stood at the base of the glacier, his breath visible in the frigid air

He’s not moving.

He’s waiting.

Izuku grinned, eyes gleaming with exhilaration.

"Alright, Todoroki," he muttered, shifting his stance mid-slide. "Let's see if you can handle this."

And then, just before he reached the ground—

He glitched again.

Straight into Todoroki’s blind spot.

Izuku flickered into existence behind him, reality snapping back into place just as Todoroki turned—too late.

Izuku’s fist slammed into his gut with brutal force. Todoroki’s eyes went wide, his breath leaving him in a sharp, strangled gasp as he went flying backward. The sheer force of the punch sent him hurtling toward the boundaries at alarming speed.

For a split second, Izuku thought it was over. That he had just won the match in one clean hit.

But then Todoroki’s left arm swept behind him, and in an instant, a massive wall of ice erupted from the ground, halting his momentum just before he could be sent out of bounds.

Ice cracked and groaned, splintering from the force, but it held.

Todoroki’s back hit the wall and he went down, his breath sharp as he steadied himself. It took a few moments, but he got to his feet again, his shoulders squared and expression blank.

Izuku straightened, rolling his shoulders as his grin widened, exhilaration thrumming through him.

“Nice save,” he called out, voice steady despite the static humming beneath it.

Todoroki didn’t respond and Izuku's eyes traveled down his arm. His shaking arm. His head tilted to the side with a curious hum. 

"You're trembling Todoroki. It’s easy to forget that Quirks are physical abilities. And that means there's a limit to the cold your body can take, right? I get it. Usually, you’d make up for the drop in temperature by using the heat on your left side, but you refuse to do that now." He gave him a taunting smirk. “You haven't managed to put a single scratch on me yet. If you use your fire, you just might have a chance.”

“Midoriya…what are you trying to do here?” He ground out. “You want my fire? What, did my monster of a dad bribe you or something?” He lunged. “Now I’m mad!”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed. ‘His movements are slower...does he have too much frost on his body?' He stood there with his hands behind his back, just waiting for the right moment. As soon as his right foot left the ground, Izuku lunged, giving Todoroki another punch to the gut. That was going to bruise. 

Izuku didn’t let up. The moment Todoroki’s footing faltered, he flickered again, appearing to his left this time and swung his fist at his face, knocking him to the ground. Izuku stood still, putting his hands behind his back.

“Your life has been so much different from mine,” he said, voice sharper than before.
“So stop screwing around.”

Todoroki’s breath was heavy, his shoulders rising and falling in uneven rhythm. The ice creeping along his right side crackled under the weight of his exhaustion, but still, he refused to use his left side.

“If you wanna reject your father, fine.” Izuku took a step forward, his shadow looming over Todoroki as he remained on the ground. “But you don’t have the right to become number one if you don’t use your full power.”

Todoroki’s jaw tightened, his breath turning to mist in the cold air. The ice around him surged outward again, frost biting at the edges of the battlefield.

“Shut up…” He muttered, voice strained.

But Izuku didn’t flinch. He didn’t step back.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, watching as Todoroki struggled to push himself up.

“You can’t beat me with just your ice,” he said, his voice unwavering. “Come on, Todoroki. Use your fire.”

Todoroki groaned as he forced his body upright, his hands digging into the ground for support.

“I refuse to use my left side.”

Izuku’s fingers twitched. 

And then, before he even realized what he was doing, his hands snapped out, grabbing Todoroki by the collar.

Todoroki’s breath hitched, his mismatched eyes widening as Izuku yanked him forward, their faces inches apart.

“Are you so dense that you don’t realize that it’s your Quirk?” Izuku snarled, voice laced with static, his frustration bubbling over into something more dangerous, more raw. “It’s yours!” His grip tightened.

Todoroki’s pupils dilated.

“Your Quirk! Not your father’s. Yours! You control what you do with it! You decide how you fight! Not him, not anyone else! You!”

Todoroki’s breath stuttered, a flicker of something crossing his face.

But Izuku didn’t let him sit with it.

He let go and kicked him in the chest.

Todoroki gasped as the impact sent him flying backward, his body hitting the ground hard as the breath was knocked out of him.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then the frost on Todoroki’s body melted.

Steam hissed into the air.

And Todoroki’s left hand trembled.

Flames flickered at his fingertips. 

Izuku’s grin stretched wider, his eyes glittering as he took a slow step forward, his entire body humming with static anticipation.

“Go on,” he taunted, his voice smooth, coaxing. “You know you want to.”

Three seconds of tense silence stretched between them.

One.

Todoroki’s fingers twitched.

Two.

His breath came out uneven, his mismatched eyes burning with something unreadable.

Three.

Then he moved.

Izuku barely had time to react before Todoroki launched himself up, his feet slamming into Izuku’s chest with enough force to send him flying backward.

Izuku’s back slammed against the frozen ground of his side of the arena, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as the breath was knocked out of him.

And then, a wave of heat rolled over his body.

The biting cold that had dominated the battlefield? Gone.

Izuku blinked through the lingering frost and smoke, his chest rising and falling sharply as he looked up.

Todoroki stood there, engulfed in flames.

Brilliant, roaring fire consumed the entire left side of his body, flickering wildly, hungry and untamed. The heat radiated off of him, melting the ice at his feet, steam curling into the air as the battlefield shifted.

This wasn’t hesitation.

This wasn’t defiance.

This was acceptance.

Todoroki had finally taken what was his.

Izuku let out a breathless chuckle, his grin never faltering despite the sweat now beading at his temples.

“There it is.” His radio-toned voice crackled through the heated air, alive with exhilaration.

The fight was far from over.

But now?

Now it was truly beginning.

The stadium erupted.

Gasps, cheers, and shouts filled the air as the entire crowd reacted to the shift in the battle. The once-frozen battlefield was now a warzone of fire and ice, steam rising in thick waves as the two extremes clashed violently against each other.

Izuku grinned from where he lay sprawled on the ground, chest rising and falling with sharp breaths. His skin burned from the heat, but he didn’t care.

This was what he wanted.

Todoroki stood across from him, his left side blazing with fierce, untamed flames, his right side still slick with frost. His body radiated power, his breath coming out in ragged puffs as steam curled off his form.

He looked stunned.

Like he couldn’t quite believe what he had just done.

Izuku let out a breathless chuckle, slowly pushing himself onto his elbows.

Todoroki’s head snapped toward him, his expression tight, unreadable.

Izuku cocked his head, mocking and challenging all at once. “That feels better, doesn’t it?”

Todoroki stilled.

Then, his fingers flexed, and the flames around him flared higher.

The ground beneath him sizzled as ice and fire battled for dominance, and the air between them became thick with pressure.

Izuku’s grin widened.

Finally.

He was fighting with everything he had.

Todoroki’s breath was shaky, uneven but the fire didn’t go out. He didn’t put it out.

Izuku got to his feet, rolling his shoulders, his pulse thrumming with excitement. His Quirk glitched around him, little flickers of distortion warping the air as he took a step forward.

“YES, SHOTO!” Endeavor screamed and stomped down the steps of the stadium. “Have you finally accepted your purpose? That’s it. Great job. This is the dawn of a new era for us! With my blood in your veins, you’ll surpass me. You’ll live up to the reason I created you!”

A scoff escaped from Izukus mouth. 

“Endeavor suddenly shouts words of…encouragement? What a doting father.”

Todoroki’s eyes locked onto Izuku, the intensity in them sharper than ever.

For the first time since the match started, Todoroki actually looked like he wanted to win.

And Izuku planned to give him a fight worth using his full power for.

The crowd held its breath.

Izuku’s grin sharpened.

“Bring it on, Todoroki.”

Todoroki’s left blazed, his fire roaring to life as he closed the distance. His right arm froze the ground beneath him, using the momentum to propel himself forward at breakneck speed.

Izuku glitched, his form flickering out of existence just as a wave of fire crashed toward him. The moment he reappeared on Todoroki’s right side, ice burst from the ground, forcing him to jump back before he could land a hit.

The two of them moved in sync, attacking, dodging, countering—

Fire. Ice. Flicker. Glitch. Repeat.

The battlefield was a blur of heat and frost, Todoroki’s sheer power and control on full display, while Izuku’s speed and unpredictability forced him to stay on his toes.

Sweat dripping down his temple as he dodged another blast of fire. The heat licked at his skin, but he didn’t care. This was what he wanted.

Todoroki wasn’t holding back anymore.

“What’s the matter, Midoriya?” Todoroki exhaled, his breath visible in the clash of temperatures. “Not fast enough?”

Izuku laughed, a sharp, distorted sound as he flickered to the side just as a wall of ice tried to trap him.

“Fast enough for you to miss.” He taunted, tilting his head. “You sure you can keep up?”

Todoroki’s eyes narrowed.

Then, he moved.

Izuku barely had time to register the change in movement before Todoroki kicked off the ground, flames exploding from his left side to launch himself forward at blinding speed.

Izuku’s instincts screamed.

He glitched, but it was too late.

A fist engulfed in fire slammed into his ribs, sending him rocketing backward.

Izuku gasped as pain seared through his side, his body crashing into the ground hard enough to make the entire stadium shake.

Smoke billowed from the impact, obscuring him from view.

The crowd erupted.

Izuku coughed, his vision blurry as he pushed himself up on shaky arms. His uniform was singed, his ribs aching, but his grin never wavered.

From the edge of the smoke, Todoroki stood—his fire burning hotter than ever, his stance strong, unyielding.

“You asked for this, Midoriya.” Todoroki said, his voice steady, absolute.

Izuku wiped a trickle of blood from his lip, tilting his head with an amused glint in his eyes.

Todoroki’s fire raged hotter than ever, his ice growing more erratic as exhaustion started to weigh him down.

Izuku could feel the toll on his own body—the deep ache in his ribs where Todoroki had landed that brutal punch, the burns licking up his arms from near-misses, the bruises forming beneath his uniform from every hit they had traded.

But none of that mattered.

Because this—this was what he had wanted. A real fight. A real test.

And now, it was coming to an end.

Todoroki was breathing heavily, his stance a little unsteady, flames still flickering at his side. But his ice was slower now, weaker—he had overused it, and it was showing.

Izuku knew he had to end this now.

He glitched forward, flickering just as Todoroki tried to counter with another burst of fire. The heat burned his skin, but he didn’t stop. He reappeared behind him and with all the force he had left, he hit Todoroki in the side, hard.

Todoroki gasped, stumbling as the impact sent him skidding across the battlefield. His back hit the boundary line, his body slumping against the scorched ground, steam swirling around him.

Silence.

The stadium was dead quiet for a split second, the only sound Todoroki’s labored breathing.

“TODOROKI IS OUT OF BOUNDS! MIDORIYA WINS THE MATCH!”

The crowd exploded.

For a second, Izuku just stood there, his chest heaving, his hands still tingling with the aftershock of the throw.

Then, slowly, his knees buckled.

The adrenaline was wearing off, and suddenly, he felt every single injury at once.

The burns, the bruises, the ache in his ribs—yep, that’s probably cracked.

He let out a short, breathless laugh, grinning through the pain.

He did it.

But more importantly...he looked over at Todoroki, who lay on his back, staring up at the sky, his left side still warm with fading flames.

For the first time, Todoroki looked light. Unburdened.

And that?

That made the pain worth it. Izuku huffed and forced his legs to stand, his whole body screaming in protest, his burned skin stinging, his ribs aching with every breath. But he didn’t care. He took a step forward—wincing as the pain caught up to him. He forced himself through it, standing over Todoroki, looking down at the boy who had finally, finally accepted all of himself.

Then, without a word, he offered his hand.

Todoroki’s eyes flickered to his palm, his expression unreadable, then he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as his lips twitched—not quite a smile, but softer than before.

He reached up.

Izuku gripped his wrist, pulling him up with everything he had left until Todoroki was back on his feet.

The stadium erupted in cheers, the crowd roaring with approval at the sportsmanship between the two rivals.

Izuku’s grin never wavered as he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough so only Todoroki could hear.

"Don't let that bastard weigh you down. You don't need him. Besides…" He tilted his head, his grin widening. "I took care of it."

Todoroki blinked, caught off guard. His lips parted slightly, confusion flickering in his mismatched eyes.

Izuku laughed, his tone static-laced and full of mischief.

"I may or may not have punched him in the face before the match."

Todoroki’s eyes widened, his grip on Izuku’s hand faltering just slightly. “You…what?”

Izuku shrugged with an exaggerated innocence that didn’t suit him in the slightest. “Oh, you know. He stopped me in the hallway, said some things, I didn’t like those things, so…” He rolled his shoulder like it was no big deal. “He got a knuckle sandwich.”

Todoroki just stared at him.

Izuku could almost see the thoughts running through his head—disbelief, shock, maybe even a little bit of satisfaction.

Todoroki huffed. Not quite a laugh, but something close.

Izuku grinned wider, giving him one last smirk before turning on his heel, wincing as the movement reminded him of his very much injured body.

Oh, yeah.

Recovery Girl was gonna love this.

Chapter Text

Izuku hissed through his teeth as he trudged through the tunnel, his entire body aching with every step. His ribs throbbed, his burns stung, and he was pretty sure he had bruises in places he hadn’t even known existed before today.

The stadium’s cheers still echoed behind him, the energy of the match lingering in the air even as he exited the battlefield. His mind was still buzzing from everything that had just happened, from the fight, from the win, from the absolute satisfaction of seeing Todoroki finally use his fire.

But the real satisfaction?

That came from the mental image of Endeavor getting clocked in the face.

Izuku snickered to himself, but the movement jostled his ribs, sending a sharp pain lancing through his side. He grimaced. Yeah, okay, laughing is off the table for now.

His fingers twitched at his sides, and for the first time since stepping into the ring, he allowed himself to breathe.

Izuku flexed his fingers, testing the tightness of the bandages wrapped around his hands. They felt stiff but stable, the slight sting of healing skin reminding him of just how much damage he’d taken in that fight.

Recovery Girl had not been happy.

She had muttered under her breath the entire time she healed him, clicking her tongue as she tutted about his “reckless self-destruction” and how he was going to shave years off her life at this rate.

He had just grinned sheepishly, wincing as the healing process pulled at his burned skin.

Now, most of the damage was gone, but his body still ached, his hands were wrapped, and he still had a few lingering scrapes along his arms and jaw. Not bad, considering he’d been blasted with fire and ice for the better part of a fight.

As he walked back toward the stands, the distant roar of the crowd grew louder, signaling that the next match was already underway.

His classmates were gathered in their usual spot, some leaning forward eagerly, others chatting about the previous battles.

The moment he stepped up the stairs, all their heads snapped toward him.

A brief silence stretched over the group.

“MIDORIYA!”

Uraraka practically tackled him.

Izuku braced himself, his tired muscles screaming as she grabbed his arm and shook him.

“Your fight was amazing!” She gushed, her eyes bright with excitement. “I mean, I thought you were gonna die like, so many times!" She pulled on his arms, leading him to the front seats. "You’re here just in time! The next match is already going!”

He huffed out a breath and lowered himself onto the bench beside his friends, his muscles groaning in protest. It looked like it was Katsuki and Kirishima next. 

“BEGIN!”

Izuku barely had a chance to get comfortable before the moment the match started, Kirishima charged.

No hesitation. No waiting for an opening. Full offense from the get-go.

Izuku grinned. Yeah, that checks out.

Kirishima’s body was already hardened, his skin like red-streaked stone as he lunged straight for Katsuki, throwing a heavy right hook.

Katsuki ducked at the last second, narrowly avoiding the hit, his feet skidding against the ground, his teeth bared as he blasted himself sideways, dodging another attack from Kirishima’s left. 

Kirishima lunged forward again and managed to knick his cheek with his hardened skin, drawing blood. Katsuki tried to attack again, but thanks to Kirishimas skin, he couldn't get an effective hit in and it was clearly pissing him off. All Katsuki could do was dodge all of Kirishima’s attempts to punch him until he had a plan. 

“Bakugo is having a heck of a time trying to counter Kirishima’s fierce attacks!” Present Mic screamed through the speakers. But Katsuki was relentless and kept attacking, and Izuku noticed that they were all in the same spot. He kept dodging and ducking every swing Kirishima threw his way.

Katsuki moved fast, too fast, his palms exploding in rapid succession as he stayed in Kirishima’s face, refusing to give him a single moment to breathe.

Kirishima gritted his teeth, his hardened skin cracking slightly under the force of the constant attacks.

Izuku’s sharp eyes caught it immediately.

His Quirk was starting to wear down.

'He’s been using Hardening this whole match.' Izuku thought, his fingers tapping against his bandaged hands. 'That kind of strain has to be exhausting. The longer he holds out, the weaker his defense gets.'

And Katsuki knew it.

With a battle cry, Katsuki lunged, his palms igniting with a barrage of explosions.

One after another, relentless, brutal, tearing through the battlefield like thunderclaps.

Kirishima gritted his teeth, trying to endure.

But Izuku saw the cracks.

His Quirk was flickering, breaking, the strength of his Hardening failing against the sheer force of Katsuki’s assault.

Katsuki pulled back, his hand still crackling with energy.

And Kirishima staggered.

His arms lowered slightly.

His breathing was heavy.

His stance wobbled.

Katsuki saw it. Izuku saw it.

He swung his arm forward, a final, explosive strike heading straight for Kirishima’s chest.

The crowd held its breath and Kirishima’s hardening shattered.

The blast hit him square in the chest, sending him flying—his body flipping once, twice, and out of bounds.

The stadium erupted.

The buzzer blared and the announcement boomed overhead.

“Kirishima is out of bounds! Bakugo is the winner!"

“With the brutally ending battle, Bakugo advances to the third round. Ladies and gentleman, our final four!” Izuku, Iida, Tokoyami and Katsuki popped up on the screen.

Midoriya vs. Iida.

His eyes sparkled with excitement as he glanced toward his next opponent.

The class rep was already looking at him, his brows furrowed in determination, the lenses of his glasses reflecting the bright stadium lights.

Izuku tilted his head, his radio-hum voice crackling with amusement.

"Guess we're up next, Iida."

Iida nodded firmly, adjusting his glasses with a sharp motion. “Indeed! I expect nothing less than a fair and honorable fight, Midoriya!”

Izuku chuckled, rolling his shoulders. “Oh, don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of anything else.”

“The first match of the semi-finals! From the Hero Course, Tenya Iida! Vs. his classmate, Izuku Midoriya!”

The stadium buzzed with anticipation as Izuku and Iida stepped onto the battlefield, standing opposite one another.

Iida squared his shoulders, stance solid and prepared. His engines hummed quietly, steam curling from his calves as he readied his Quirk.

Izuku, on the other hand, stood relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back, his grin still firmly in place.

Midnight raised her whip.

“BEGIN!”

Iida moved instantly.

A sharp burst of steam shot from his legs as he launched forward, the sheer speed of his Quirk creating a sonic boom in his wake.

Izuku’s grin widened.

He flickered.

One moment, he was standing in front of Iida and the next, he was behind him.

Iida’s eyes widened.

Izuku tilted his head, voice laced with static.

“Too slow, Iida.”

Iida barely had time to react before Izuku’s foot slammed into his back, sending him stumbling forward.

Iida caught himself just in time, his powerful legs skidding across the stone surface of the arena as he twisted back to face Izuku. His expression was tight with focus.

Izuku grinned, hands still tucked behind his back, his body flickering slightly, like he wasn’t fully anchored in place.

“You’re fast, Iida, but I’m faster.” His radio-toned voice crackled, playful, taunting. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Iida’s jaw clenched. He adjusted his stance, planting his feet firmly.

“Then I’ll just have to go faster!” Steam hissed from his calves and then Iida just vanished.

Izuku’s eyes widened slightly.

Oh?

The class rep wasn’t hesitating anymore.

This time, Izuku wasn’t fast enough to glitch away completely.

A solid knee slammed into his side, knocking him off balance.

The stadium roared.

Izuku grunted, rolling with the force, his boots sliding across the ground as he twisted in midair.

Iida didn’t stop. With momentum still on his side, Iida spun on his heel and launched another kick to Izuku’s ribs.

Izuku barely managed to glitch at the last second, dodging the full brunt of the attack, but the sheer force of it sent a shock wave through the ground.

He reappeared a few meters away, crouched low, panting slightly.

Iida’s stance remained strong, his eyes sharp behind his glasses.

“You can’t dodge forever, Midoriya!” He called, steam still curling from his exhaust pipes. “I’ll catch you eventually!”

Izuku chuckled, rolling his neck. His static-hum filled the air like a broken radio transmission. He flickered in and out of sight, barely dodging Iida’s relentless attacks. Reciproburst had made him faster, stronger, and more determined than ever—but Izuku knew one thing Iida didn’t.

Each time Iida charged, Izuku glitched away, but not too soon. Just late enough to make it look like he was struggling, like Iida’s speed was finally overwhelming him.

The crowd leaned forward, watching as Izuku narrowly escaped each attack. Iida gritted his teeth, frustration building. He could tell—Izuku was tiring out. His glitches were getting slower, his dodges less precise.

He kicked off the ground one final time, moving at blinding speed, blazing toward Izuku.

Izuku didn’t move. His eyes widened like he had no time to react. Like he was finally caught. Iida’s foot swung forward, only for Izuku to glitch away at the last possible second.

The worst possible second.

Because at that speed, Iida couldn’t stop. His eyes widened in horror as he realized it too late. Izuku reappeared just inside the boundary line, his grin sharp, knowing. Iida shot past him. Straight out of bounds.

The buzzer blared, and the crowd erupted.

“IIDA IS OUT OF BOUNDS! MIDORIYA WINS THE MATCH!”

Iida skidded to a stop outside the ring, his breath ragged, stunned.

For a long moment, he just stood there, processing. Then he let out a short laugh. He turned, shaking his head as he adjusted his glasses, looking back at Izuku, who stood with his shoulders back and his hands behind his back, with a grudging smile.

“You tricked me.”

Izuku chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “Hey, you were fast. I had to get creative.”

Iida exhaled, exasperated but impressed.

Then he walked forward, offering his hand. Izuku took it without hesitation. The stadium cheered even louder.

“And now, Bakugo vs. Tokoyami!”

The atmosphere shifted the moment both combatants stepped onto the battlefield.

Tokoyami stood calm, composed, his sharp eyes unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. Dark Shadow loomed behind him, its massive form undulating in the dim stadium lights, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

Katsuki, on the other hand?

He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders as he grinned, the anticipation buzzing under his skin.

No words were exchanged.

None were needed.

Midnight raised her hand.

“BEGIN!”

Tokoyami attacked first. His Quirk surging forward, its shadowed claws outstretched as it shot toward Katsuki.

Katsuki’s palm ignited and he jumped, twisting in midair, his arm swinging out in a wide arc.

BOOM

A stream of explosions ripped across Dark Shadow’s form, sending black smoke curling into the air.

Dark Shadow shrieked, momentarily thrown back from the bright bursts of fire and light.

Izuku leaned forward in his seat, eyes sharp. "Of course."

Light was Dark Shadow’s greatest weakness.

Katsuki propelled himself higher into the air, dodging another swipe from the weakened shadow.

Tokoyami’s brow furrowed, his stance adjusting.

“Grab him, Dark Shadow!”

The massive form shot upward, its clawed hands reaching for Katsuki’s legs.

Katsuki sneered, twisting his body at the last second.

BOOM

A burst of his Quirk sent him flipping midair, bypassing the dark creature entirely and landing right behind Tokoyami.

Tokoyami’s eyes widened.

The moment his boots touched the ground, Katsuki’s palms began to pop, tiny sparks crackling as he cupped his hands together.

The heat intensified. The light grew brighter.

"He's going for it."

The crowd squinted, the brightness becoming overwhelming.

“STUN GRENADE!”

The arena vanished in a burst of blinding white light, a shock wave of heat and pressure rolling outward. Present Mic's groan rang through the speakers. “How am I supposed to commentate when I can’t see?!" He complained. 

Izuku snorted. Every single one of Katsuki's matches always ended up with the arena in smoke and impossible to see anything. Present Mic seemed to be at the end of the rope with him.

The smoke began to clear.

And when it did, Tokoyami was on the ground.

Katsuki sat on top of him, one hand still crackling with explosions, the other gripping his beak, forcing his head back.

Dark Shadow was cowering behind Tokoyami, trembling, smaller than before.

Izuku felt a shiver run down his spine.

Katsuki’s grin was wide, unhinged—predatory. Like his was. 

Tokoyami's lips moved and Midnight announced,“Tokoyami gives up! Bakugo is the winner of this match!”

The screen crossed off Tokoyami's name and both Izuku and Katsuki's face appeared. 

The final match was set, and his grin slowly grew.

"We're going to take a short break, but we'll be back for the final match of the Sports Festival! Katsuki Bakugo vs. Izuku Midoriya!"

Izuku sat alone, elbows resting on his knees, fingers rhythmically drumming against his bandaged hands. The low hum of the stadium speakers vibrated through the walls, muffled by the thick concrete. The distant roar of the crowd signaled the anticipation building for the final battle.

This was it.

The final match.

The moment he had been waiting for.

A shiver of excitement crawled up his spine, his body was still sore, but the healing from Recovery Girl had done enough to keep him in fighting shape.

Good. He wanted to be at his best for this.

Because Katsuki deserved that much.

Izuku exhaled slowly, shifting his hands in his lap. The white bandages wrapped tightly around his palms and knuckles.

Katsuki was something else entirely.

He would be the hardest fight yet.

Izuku’s foot tapped against the floor, his body humming with anticipation. He knew how Katsuki fought. Knew how his mind worked. Knew how much stronger he had gotten.

And Katsuki knew him just as well.

Which meant this fight was going to be brutal.

Izuku rolled his shoulders, flexing the sore muscles there.

“Midoriya,” a staff member called. “It’s time.”

Izuku slowly raised his head before he stood, opening the door and shutting it behind him.

The stadium rumbled with energy. The crowd was deafening, their anticipation palpable, excitement thick in the air like static before a storm.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT ALL COMES DOWN TO THIS!” Present Mic’s voice boomed, igniting another wave of cheers. “WE STARTED WITH SO MANY HOPEFULS, BUT ONLY TWO WARRIORS REMAIN! THESE TWO HAVE DOMINATED THE COMPETITION, DESTROYED THE BATTLEFIELD, AND FOUGHT THEIR WAY TO THE TOP!"

Izuku stopped just at the edge of the tunnel, taking a slow deep breath. 

“FROM THE HERO COURSE—FIRST UP, THE TERROR WITH A GLITCH, THE MASTER OF MAYHEM— IZUKU MIDORIYA!”

Izuku stepped forward, out into the sun. The roar of the audience washed over him, but his focus was razor-sharp, trained on the battlefield ahead.

His grin widened, his static-hum voice buzzing faintly as he made his way up the stairs, to the arena. He lived for this. His eyes glowed with anticipation as he stepped further into the ring.

“AND HIS OPPONENT—THE HUMAN GRENADE HIMSELF, THE EXPLOSIVE PRODIGY—KATSUKI BAKUGO!”

His best friend walked up the steps, his stride confident, his crimson eyes locked onto Izuku with a dangerous intensity. His arms swung loose at his sides, but Izuku could already see the way his fingers twitched, ready to ignite at a moment’s notice.

Ready for war.

The two of them stopped a few meters apart, Katsuki’s lips curling back into a smirk, his body already thrumming with aggression.

Izuku’s grin never wavered.

This was the fight they had always been heading toward.

Midnight raised her whip.

The crowd held its breath.

Izuku's fingers glitched.

Katsuki's palms smoked.

A sharp inhale through the speakers.

"BEGIN!"

Chapter Text

The signal had barely finished echoing before Izuku and Katsuki were on each other—a blur of raw power and instinct.

Boom. Glitch. Impact.

The ground trembled as Katsuki’s palm ignited, launching a blast aimed straight for Izuku’s chest. But Izuku’s body flickered, glitching out of the way just as the explosion detonated. The heat licked at his side, close enough to singe the edge of his uniform.

Before Izuku could reappear fully, Katsuki was already moving, cutting through the smoke with another explosive punch aimed at his head.

Izuku reappeared behind him—grinning, his breath catching with adrenaline—before swinging his leg toward Katsuki’s side in a powerful kick.

But Katsuki knew him too well.

He turned on instinct, catching the attack with his forearm before sending off a sharp, controlled blast point-blank to knock Izuku back.

Izuku’s body flickered mid-air, the attack grazing him but not landing fully. His feet slammed into the ground, sliding back, the heat still burning against his skin.

“You’re faster than before,” Izuku called out, voice laced with static, grinning wide despite the sting of Katsuki’s attack.

Katsuki snarled, palms popping aggressively. “Damn right I am. You think you’re gonna win this? Think again, Deku!”

Izuku’s eyes glittered, sharp and alive. “Let’s find out.”

The next second was pure chaos.

Katsuki charged with terrifying speed, palms flaring with heat.

Izuku responded in kind, glitching forward, dodging and weaving between the blasts that erupted around him.

Each movement was a deadly game of chess played at lightning speed—Katsuki’s sheer destructive force versus Izuku’s precision and control.

A powerful explosion sent debris flying through the air, forcing Izuku to flicker to the side. But Katsuki anticipated it, sending a secondary blast toward where he knew Izuku would appear.

It hit home.

The force slammed into Izuku’s side, sending him skidding across the arena floor, breath knocked from his lungs. The crowd roared, the energy in the stadium reaching a fever pitch. But Izuku didn’t stay down for long. His body twitched, glitching in and out of reality, and he was back on his feet before Katsuki could close in. The pain was sharp, but it was fuel now. He grinned wider.

“That all you got, Kacchan?”

Katsuki’s hands popped furiously. “You’re dead, Deku!”

He surged forward with terrifying speed, propelling himself with a series of rapid-fire explosions, closing the distance between them in a flash. His palm was aimed straight for Izuku’s chest, a devastating blast ready to detonate point-blank.

But Izuku was ready.

He glitched at the last second, his body momentarily phasing out of existence, reappearing just behind Katsuki’s blind spot.

Without hesitation, Izuku swung his leg in a low, sweeping kick—knocking Katsuki off balance.

But Katsuki recovered mid-air, twisting his body with pure instinct, throwing his palm downward—

BOOM!

The explosion ripped through the ground, sending a violent shockwave that forced Izuku to glitch again.

The heat from the blast singed the air, brushing against his skin, leaving a sharp sting in its wake.

Izuku reappeared across the arena, panting but grinning wider, the adrenaline buzzing like static through his veins.

Katsuki was faster. Stronger. Smarter.

But so was Izuku.

“You’re not holding back, Kacchan. Good. Neither am I.” His voice crackled with that familiar radio-static hum, filled with electricity and something darker—something feral.

Katsuki wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

“You better not. I’m gonna crush you.”

Then, they moved at the same time.

Izuku glitched forward, hands ready, while Katsuki blasted himself through the air with violent, chaotic force. Before Katsuki could hit him, Izuku’s hand caught Katsuki’s wrist mid-swing, twisting with surprising force, using his opponent’s momentum against him.

Katsuki’s eyes widened for a split second, before narrowing. 

BOOM

A close-range blast threw Izuku backward, his body skidding across the floor, the heat burning through his uniform and tearing into his shoulder.

But Izuku grit his teeth, his boots digging into the cracked earth beneath him, forcing himself to stop the momentum from the last explosive hit. His muscles screamed, his ribs ached, and every inch of him was burning—but it didn’t matter.

When he straightened, shoulders rolling back and chest rising with heavy, labored breaths—

He laughed, full of excitement, adrenaline, and something electric.

“HA!” His voice echoed through the arena, that familiar radio-crackle trailing behind it like static in the wind. His grin stretched across his face, bright and genuine.

This—this was what it was all about.

They had fought before. God, they had fought so many times before. On playgrounds, in alleys, in training rooms—years of clashes and arguments, of rivalry and frustration.

But this?

This was different.

It wasn’t about proving who was stronger.

It was about challenging each other—pushing each other—knowing each other better than anyone else ever could.

Katsuki stood across from him, his chest heaving, face flushed with effort, and his eyes burned with that same familiar fire. Just pure, unfiltered determination.

They weren’t just rivals. They were best friends. The kind of friends who could tear each other apart and still stand tall together at the end.

“This is insane…” Izuku muttered between breaths, his grin still wide. “You’re incredible, Kacchan.”

Katsuki’s fists trembled as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, but that familiar cocky smirk crept back onto his face.

“Tch. Damn right I am.”

Izuku took a step forward, the ground crackling beneath him from the pressure of his glitching body trying to hold itself together.

He took the hit—let it slam into him—but instead of falling back, his foot shot out in a vicious arc, slamming into Katsuki’s ribs with a force that echoed through the stadium like a gunshot.

But Katsuki wasn’t done.

Not even close.

“DIE!”

A massive blast erupted point-blank, forcing Izuku to glitch mid-strike—the static distortion crackled violently as his body flickered in and out of sight, dodging just enough to avoid the full force.

“THIS IS WILD, FOLKS! THEY’RE MOVING SO FAST IT’S LIKE WATCHING A TORNADO MADE OF FIRE AND LIGHTNING! BAKUGO’S AGGRESSION IS UNRELENTING, BUT MIDORIYA’S COUNTERS ARE SHARP AS A KNIFE—CAN EITHER OF THEM EVEN FEEL PAIN AT THIS POINT?!”

Izuku reappeared behind Katsuki—a blur of movement and static distortion—and landed a brutal, glitched punch across his friend’s jaw.

Katsuki stumbled but recovered instantly, spinning around and blasting himself into the air, sending a barrage of small, rapid explosions raining down like meteors.

The arena shook.

The ground cracked beneath the pressure of their battle—each blow felt like it could tear the earth apart.

Izuku dodged and glitched, his body becoming a blur of green static, darting between explosions with impossible precision. But even with his speed—

One blast clipped him.

The force threw him back, his body skidding across the shattered ground, his uniform burning at the edges.

“DEKU’S DOWN—NO, WAIT—!”

Izuku’s body glitched back upright before he even stopped sliding. His head snapped up, his grin still fierce—alive with adrenaline, pain, and determination.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy!” His voice echoed with that signature radio-static crackle, carrying across the arena.

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, jaw clenching so hard his teeth ground together.

“You stubborn bastard!” His palms sparked violently. “Fine—LET’S FINISH THIS!”

The two of them moved—simultaneously, perfectly in sync, like two sides of the same coin.

Katsuki dove in with another devastating explosion, a furious roar tearing from his throat as he aimed straight for Izuku’s chest.

Izuku glitched through the strike but didn’t retreat—he went forward instead, materializing right in front of Katsuki’s stunned face and landing a punch square in his stomach.

BOOM.

The explosion went off point-blank, the shockwave sending both of them flying in opposite directions.

“HOLY CRAP! WHAT WAS THAT?! THEY BOTH HIT AT THE SAME TIME! THAT WAS A COLLISION OF POWER AND PURE DETERMINATION!”

Smoke and debris filled the air, and the stadium was silent for one heartbeat—

Two.

Then the dust started to clear.

Both fighters were still standing.

Barely.

Izuku’s uniform was torn, his hands trembling from exhaustion, blood dripping from a cut above his brow. His body flickered weakly—glitching was getting harder now. He took a deep breath and disappeared, reappearing in the air. His eyes burned with focus, every muscle in his body screaming, but he didn’t care.

Katsuki was already moving, blasting off the ground with an eruption of power that tore through the arena, the force behind him like a rocket shot into the sky.

They collided in mid-air. Izuku’s fist sank deep into Katsuki’s jaw, the force behind it fueled by every ounce of adrenaline and desperation left in him. The impact echoed through the stadium like a gunshot.

But Katsuki wasn’t going down that easily. Before the momentum could send him spiraling away, his hand shot out, grabbing the front of Izuku’s jacket collar with a vice-like grip.

“Not. Done. Yet.” Katsuki snarled through clenched teeth.

His foot snapped up, crashing into Izuku’s stomach with brutal force. The breath ripped from Izuku’s lungs, pain exploding through his ribs as his body curled from the impact.

But Katsuki didn’t stop there.

He used the force of the kick to flip them mid-air, pulling Izuku with him in a brutal arc.

Gravity took over.

Katsuki’s palm shot out, arm extended above them both like the hand of a wrathful god.

His hand popped, the familiar sound of an explosion building—raw power igniting in a brilliant, violent flash.

BOOM.

The explosion ripped through the sky, a shockwave tearing through the air like a cannon blast.

Gravity took hold.

Both of them were sent hurtling downward, falling at breakneck speed, the world around them blurring into streaks of smoke and wind.

The force of the blast was still clinging to them, pushing them harder, faster—an unstoppable descent fueled by sheer will and fury.

The arena rushed up to meet them.

The air around them howled, screaming like a raging storm as the ground drew closer.

Closer.

CRASH.

The impact shook the entire stadium, the force so powerful it felt like the earth itself was cracking beneath their weight.

A massive dust and smoke cloud erupted, swallowing the battlefield in an instant. The arena disappeared behind the thick curtain of destruction, a dense, suffocating wall of debris and smoke curling into the air like a living creature.

The crowd fell into an eerie silence.

Even Present Mic hesitated.

“I-I can’t… I can’t see anything! What just happened? Did they—? Is anyone still standing?!” His voice trembled with genuine disbelief, the tension in the arena stretched taut and sharp as everyone held their breath.

The dust settled slowly—like a curtain being pulled back on the final act.

Then the silhouettes appeared.

Two figures in the center of the crater.

Katsuki, on top, gripping Izuku’s jacket with one trembling hand, his entire body shaking with exhaustion. His knees were pressed into Izuku’s shoulders, pinning him down, his arms trembling but steady enough to keep him in place.

Izuku lay beneath him, body glitching weakly, each spark of distortion fizzling out like dying embers. His arms were trapped, and his breath came out in short, painful gasps. 

Izuku let out a painful groan and shifted beneath him, making Katsuki tighten his hold. The static around them faded as Izuku's body went slack. He was done. 

Midnight stepped forward, her whip snapping down. 

"Midoriya is KO'ed. Bakugo is the winner!"

The crowd erupted, a tidal wave of cheers and screams shaking the very foundation of the arena. It wasn’t just excitement—it was awe, raw and electric, at the spectacle they had just witnessed.

But in the center of it all?

The two of them—Katsuki Bakugo and Izuku Midoriya—lay in the wreckage.

Katsuki’s body was slumped over Izuku’s, the remnants of his final blast still smoldering in the air. His hand was clenched tightly in Izuku’s torn-up jacket, holding on until that last moment of victory had been declared.

His chest heaved with every breath, each inhale like shattered glass scraping through his throat. His muscles burned. His arms felt like lead.

But he’d won.

He actually won.

A hoarse laugh broke through the noise, raspy and strained—but real.

Katsuki froze, looking up at the sound.

Izuku was grinning.

Not the usual static-laced smirk, not the taunting, glitch-cracked expression he wore when he was deep in a fight. No—this one was soft. Exhausted. Genuine.

"Congratulations, Kacchan."

For a second, Katsuki just stared, breath hitching in his throat. His body was still trembling from the aftermath of the match, every muscle screaming for him to just sit the hell down.

But that voice? That grin?

It made something in him loosen.

His lips twitched—the corner of his mouth pulling into a lopsided smirk before it broke entirely. A low, tired laugh bubbled up, raw from screaming and strain, but it was real.

“Tch… Stupid nerd.”

He pushed himself up to his feet, ignoring the burn in his legs. The world around them blurred—the roaring crowd, the confetti raining down for the winner.

Katsuki reached down without hesitation, grabbing Izuku’s wrist with a firm grip and hauling him upright.

Izuku stumbled forward, his knees nearly giving out from the sheer exhaustion weighing down on him.

But Katsuki’s hand was already there, steadying him—firm, familiar, grounding. His palm pressed against Izuku’s shoulder, holding him in place until he found his balance.

Medical bots rolled onto the destroyed arena, slowly maneuvering around the rubble as they made their way to them. Once they slowed to a stop behind them, Katsuki grabbed his bicep and helped lower him onto the stretcher. Izuku let out a sigh when he laid down, closing his eyes. The bots made their way off of the battle field and another duo of them showed up for Katsuki. Midnight walked up to him and he grumbled as she helped him down to the stretcher. Soon, he was following Izuku off the field and to Recovery Girl's office.

The arena was alive with energy—cheers, applause, camera flashes—all focused on the three students standing at the center of the stage. The winners' podium rose before the sea of spectators, decorated with confetti, streamers, and golden banners flying from every corner of the stadium.

At the very top of the podium stood Katsuki, his arms crossed, chin tilted up defiantly. Izuku stood just below him with his hands behind his back and that familiar smirk and Todoroki on the third place stand with his hands in his pockets. 

All Might appeared before them with his usual booming energy, microphone in hand, voice carrying across the stadium like thunder.

“What an INCREDIBLE Sports Festival this has been! These young heroes gave us everything they had—strength, courage, determination—and I think we can all agree they’ve shown us what it means to be true heroes in the making!”

The crowd roared in agreement.

All Might turned to Tokoyami first, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Young Tokoyami. Third place isn’t just a medal—it’s a testament to how far you’ve come, and how much stronger you’ll become. Hold your head high—you earned this.” Tokoyami bowed his head so that All Might could slip the bronze medal over his feathered head. He patted his shoulder before stepping up to Izuku.

“Young Midoriya. You fought with everything you had—every ounce of strength, every drop of determination. You stood tall against overwhelming odds and showed everyone here what a true hero looks like. Second place is just a step on your journey forward." He placed the silver medal around his neck and turned to Katsuki.

The gold medal gleamed like a crown in the sun.

“You fought like a true champion, Young Bakugo. You didn’t just win—you proved your strength through every punch, every explosion, and every ounce of determination you gave. You earned this.”

The medal settled around his neck and Katsuki rolled his shoulders proudly. "Damn right I did."

“Your future starts here.” All Might’s voice boomed across the arena. “This isn’t the end—it’s just the beginning. Go beyond… PLUS ULTRA!” 

The crowd roared, confetti burst into the air again, fluttering around the three of them.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the quiet streets of Musutafu as the two boys made their way home. The excitement from the Sports Festival had long since faded into the background, leaving only a peaceful silence in the air—a sharp contrast to the chaos they had left behind at UA.

Katsuki and Izuku walked side by side.

Well, technically, Katsuki stomped while Izuku limped slightly, hands still wrapped and bandaged from the fight. Every movement was a reminder of the punishment their bodies had endured, but neither of them seemed to care.

Izuku’s grin was impossible to miss—that smug, teasing kind of smile that Katsuki hated because it meant only one thing:
He was about to start something.

“You know, Kacchan, for someone who ‘wasn’t gonna lose,’ you sure took your sweet time finishing me off.” Izuku’s voice carried that playful edge, the kind that grated on every single one of Katsuki’s nerves.

Katsuki’s eye twitched.

“Tch. Shut the hell up, Deku. I was giving you time to process how outclassed you were.”

Izuku let out a light laugh, hands stuffed lazily into his pockets. “Outclassed? Really? Because last I checked, you looked really close to passing out before I went down.”

Katsuki rounded on him so fast that Izuku nearly tripped over his own feet trying not to laugh.

“I wasn’t close to passing out, moron! I was just pacing myself since you took so long to drop already.” His voice crackled with irritation, and his fists clenched like they were itching for one more explosion.

Izuku’s grin widened dangerously. “Oh, pacing yourself? Is that what we’re calling barely staying on your feet now?”

“You little—”

“Admit it, Kacchan. I almost had you.” Izuku leaned in slightly, that static-laced voice soft and smug, like a secret meant to drive Katsuki mad.

Katsuki’s hand popped instinctively, a faint explosion sparking from his palm as his irritation hit its boiling point.

“You couldn’t ‘almost have me’ if you had a damn map and a head start!”

Izuku snorted. “Pretty sure I had you reeling after that punch to the gut. You looked like you were about to cough up a lung.”

Katsuki shoved him—hard enough to make Izuku stumble but not enough to actually hurt him.

“That was a lucky hit. One. Lucky. Hit.”

Izuku stumbled dramatically, clutching his chest like he was dying. “Ah! The mighty Bakugo admits to getting hit by poor, weak little Deku! What a tragic day in history!”

“I swear to—”

“You’re not gonna blow up a guy still bandaged, are you?” Izuku grinned, smug as hell, hands raised in fake surrender.

Katsuki’s glare could have set the pavement on fire.

“You’re insufferable.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the bickering fading as the tension between them melted into something easier—something familiar.

The sunset bathed everything in orange and gold, and as they kept walking, Katsuki shoved his hands into his pockets with a low grumble.

“…You fought like hell, though.” His voice was quieter this time, rough but sincere.

Izuku blinked in surprise, then let out a soft laugh—not mocking this time. Just genuine.

“You too. You deserved that win.”

Katsuki didn’t respond right away. He just nodded slightly, gaze fixed forward.

They walked in silence for a few more steps, the tension from their teasing fading into something easier—comfortable, familiar. The air around them had settled, the glow of the setting sun casting soft shadows across the pavement.

Katsuki was just starting to relax, the corner of his mouth twitching into the beginnings of a smug little smirk. 

Izuku shoved him.

It wasn’t hard. Just a light, playful push against Katsuki’s arm—enough to make him stumble half a step to the side.

“What the hell?!” Katsuki snapped, whipping his head around, eyes blazing with irritation.

Izuku just grinned, wide and unbothered, hands sliding back into his pockets like he didn’t just poke the bear.

“You looked like you were getting too full of yourself, Kacchan. Thought I’d knock you down a peg before that giant ego of yours got any bigger.”

Katsuki’s eye twitched.

“You’re seriously asking for it, Deku.” His hands clenched into fists, the faint pop-pop of tiny explosions sparking off his palms like a warning shot.

Izuku snickered under his breath, still walking as if he hadn’t just provoked the most short-tempered person in existence.

“Relax, relax. You already won, remember? Or are you still bitter I almost had you?”

That did it.

“BITTER?!” Katsuki lunged, aiming a rough shove right back at him—except Izuku was already glitching a step ahead, laughing like a maniac.

“You’re so easy to rile up, it’s honestly embarrassing.” Izuku’s voice carried that familiar, teasing radio-static undertone, and it made every nerve in Katsuki’s body burn hotter.

“I’ll embarrass you, Deku! Get back here!”

Izuku was already jogging ahead, his grin stretching impossibly wide as he turned to face Katsuki, walking backward now.

“What’s wrong, Kacchan? Too slow after that ‘big win’? Gonna let the second-place loser outrun you too?”

Katsuki’s palms sparked brighter now, his jaw tightening dangerously.

“You’re dead.”

Izuku’s laughter rang out across the empty street, sharp and genuine—the sound of someone who wasn’t afraid of getting chased down by an angry explosive best friend.

And as much as Katsuki wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face, he didn’t stop himself from laughing too.

Because this? This was them.

Not rivals. Not just competitors.

Best friends—picking fights, throwing insults, and keeping each other sharp.

And for a little while longer—everything felt right.

Chapter Text

“You look tired.” Hound Dog’s voice was low, rough, but not unkind. “How are you feeling after the Sports Festival? And I don’t mean ‘good’ or ‘fine.’"

Izuku blinked. That question shouldn’t have been so hard.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, staring down at the bandages on his hands before answering.

“Tired. Sore.” His voice was quiet but genuine. “Kacchan…deserved that win. It was a good fight.”

“Sounds like you’re proud of how it went,” Hound Dog observed. “But that’s the physical side of things. Emotionally…? You were in the spotlight. Fought harder than most students could dream of. How’s your head handling all that pressure?”

Izuku shifted in his seat, his foot tapping lightly against the floor in a subconscious rhythm.

“It was… intense.” His voice dropped a little. “Everyone cheering…all that energy…it’s…” He trailed off for a second before giving a faint, almost embarrassed chuckle. “It felt good. Not gonna lie. Like I was actually worth something.”

“You are worth something.” Hound Dog’s voice didn’t waver, it wasn’t just a casual reassurance, it was fact.

Izuku’s smile tightened. “Yeah, I guess…”

There was a pause before Hound Dog leaned back, letting the conversation ease up just enough to give Izuku breathing room.

“Alright. Lighter question, let’s shift gears for a second. You mentioned Bakugo earlier. You two seem close, best friends or just stubborn rivals?”

That got an actual chuckle from Izuku, the tension in his shoulders relaxing just a bit.

“Both. He’s my best friend, even if we beat the hell out of each other more than we should. We’ve always been like that, pushing each other. He’s the only person who can really challenge me like that…and not treat me like I’m fragile.”

“Sounds like you trust him a lot.”

“Yeah. He’s…Kacchan’s always been there. Even when it didn’t feel like he was.”

Hound Dog nodded slowly, giving Izuku that extra moment to brace himself. “Good. Then let’s start with your match against Shinso.”

The name alone was enough to make Izuku’s body tense. His jaw clenched, and his foot tapped a little faster against the floor.

“You froze up out there,” Hound Dog continued carefully. “It wasn’t like the other fights. Something got to you. Something more than just his Quirk. What did you see when you were… stuck?”

Izuku’s heart twisted painfully in his chest, and for a moment, his glitching Quirk sparked faintly, small distortions rippling across his shoulders before fading away just as quickly.

His voice was quiet when he finally spoke. “I… I saw myself.”

Hound Dog leaned forward slightly but didn’t interrupt.

“Not me—not exactly.” Izuku’s voice was strained, as if every word scraped across raw nerves. “It was like… a darker version of me. Smiling like it knew something I didn’t. Like it wanted me to break. It wasn’t just some random hallucination. It… it felt real. Too real.”

The memory of those blackened eyes and that wide, unnatural grin still lingered in the back of his mind—a phantom weight pressing on his chest.

“It said I was pathetic,” Izuku whispered, staring down at his bandaged hands. “That I was weak. That I’d lose if I didn’t let it in.”

The silence stretched again, thick and suffocating.

Hound Dog didn’t speak right away. Instead, he let Izuku sit with it for a moment before breaking the silence.

“And did you let it in?”

Izuku’s head jerked up, eyes wide with a flash of fear. “No. I—No. I fought it. I pushed back. I couldn’t—” He cut himself off, voice cracking under the pressure of the memory.

“Good.” Hound Dog’s voice was steady, a solid anchor in the sea of panic beginning to rise again. “That takes strength, Midoriya. More than you realize.”

Izuku’s hands trembled, but his breathing stayed steady.

“What about after the USJ attack?” Hound Dog asked gently, though the question cut deeper than Izuku wanted to admit. “You punched the mirror—why?”

Izuku flinched as if the memory hit him physically. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the weight of what he didn’t want to say.

“I… I couldn’t stop smiling after it was over.” His voice cracked, quieter than before. “Even after everything, the attack, seeing my classmates hurt, Aizawa-sensei—” His fingers dug into his knees. “I looked in the mirror and…I didn’t recognize myself.”

The admission felt like ripping something open that had been stitched shut too quickly.

“It was like… that version of me was still there. That grin. Like I was proud of what happened. Proud of how much damage I did.” His voice wavered. “I hated it. I hated feeling like that. So… I hit it. I just… wanted it to stop. I didn’t want to see it anymore.”

For a long moment, the room was silent again, this time heavier than before, but not oppressive. Hound Dog let it sit, not rushing to fill the space.

“You’re carrying too much alone, Midoriya,” Hound Dog finally said, voice low but sure. “That darkness? That fear of losing control? It’s not something you have to battle by yourself.”

Izuku rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to push down the sting of exhaustion and emotion.

“I don’t want people to see me like that. Not Kacchan, not my mom, no one.”

“You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to hide that part of yourself to protect everyone else.” Hound Dog leaned forward again, voice firm but kind. “You’re not weak for being afraid. You’re human.”

Izuku exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the couch so tightly his knuckles went white. "Sometimes, I don't feel human." He said under his breath, and thanks to Hound Dogs heightened senses, he obviously heard it. 

“You’re doing better than most would in your position, Midoriya.” His voice was low but encouraging. “But I can tell it’s not easy keeping yourself grounded. Especially when those… darker moments hit.”

Izuku’s stomach twisted at that, he didn’t need anyone pointing it out for him to know it was true. Every time his body glitched, every time that thing in his head whispered, it reminded him just how fragile that balance really was.

“So, let’s talk about ways to help you stay grounded when you’re outside of these sessions.” Hound Dog leaned back slightly, giving Izuku space to think. “I want to introduce you to something called anchoring techniques. They’re simple, but effective when your mind feels like it’s slipping.”

Izuku’s brows furrowed, interest piqued despite himself. “Anchoring…?”

“Exactly. It’s about keeping you tied to the present moment when everything inside you wants to spiral out of control. You find something that feels familiar, safe. Something, or someone, you can rely on when things get too loud up here.” He tapped his own head for emphasis. “That’s where someone like Bakugo might come in.”

Izuku blinked in surprise. “Wouldn't Kacchan just make my thoughts louder?"

The counselor barked a laugh. Actually barked. "You never know, maybe the louder it is, the more it'll stop whatever is trying to come out." Then Hound Dog’s expression sobered for a moment before he continued. “You two have an unshakable bond, and from what I can tell, he keeps you in the present. He’s loud, aggressive, in your face, but he also keeps you from getting lost in your thoughts too long. He’s an anchor, whether you realize it or not.”

Izuku opened his mouth to argue…but stopped.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

Katsuki had always been a constant—throughout his entire life. No matter what, Kacchan was there. Whether it was through rivalry, friendship, or just being the stubborn bastard he was, Katsuki had always pulled him back.

Hound Dog watched as the realization settled on Izuku’s face before nodding. “See? Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

“…I never really thought about it that way,” Izuku admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hound Dog gave a small nod. “Think of it like this. When things start to go dark—when you start getting pulled in—ask yourself: ‘What would Bakugo do?’”

Izuku nearly snorted. “Kacchan would probably tell me to get my shit together and stop acting like a dumbass.”

Hound Dog grinned. “Exactly. So channel that. You respect him, and he pushes you to be better. Let that be something you lean on.”

Izuku’s fingers tapped lightly against his knee, his thoughts spiraling even as he tried to latch onto Hound Dog’s suggestion.

Katsuki was his anchor. That much was true.

But…he was also the one thing that could tip the scale.

Hound Dog’s words had settled something in him, but at the same time, they stirred up a different kind of anxiety, one that had been clawing at the edges of his mind for a long time.

Because the problem wasn’t just about staying grounded.

It was about what happened when he let go.

Izuku exhaled through his nose, his static-filled smile flickering for just a moment. “I get what you’re saying. And yeah, Kacchan keeps me in check a lot more than he realizes…but…”

He hesitated.

Hound Dog waited, patient.

Izuku swallowed hard before finally speaking again, his voice quieter.

“He also brings out the worst in me.”

That caught Hound Dog’s attention. His ears twitched, and his expression darkened with something that wasn’t quite concern, but understanding.

“Go on.”

Izuku licked his lips, searching for the right words.

“It’s not him, it’s…it’s me.” He clenched his fist, flexing his fingers as he stared at his palm like he could see the thing inside him crawling just beneath the surface. “When he’s in danger…when someone tries to hurt him, or take him away, or—” He exhaled sharply, glitching slightly before pulling himself back. "It triggered when Mr. Aizawa got injured, but there was also when the Nomu went after Katsuki and I felt something change..." He took a slow deep breath and continued. "I can't even describe what I was feeling when he was threatened like that."

He forced his shoulders to relax.

“I don’t just want to stop them. I want to erase them.”

The words sat between them like a landmine waiting to be stepped on.

Hound Dog didn’t react immediately, he let the weight of the statement settle before speaking.

“That’s a hell of a thing to carry, Midoriya.”

Izuku let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “Yeah. Tell me about it.”

Hound Dog nodded slowly, then leaned back, his claws drumming lightly against the arm of his chair.

“That kind of protective instinct—it’s not unnatural. A lot of heroes feel it. The need to eliminate threats before they can cause harm.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “The difference is whether you let that control you, or you control it.”

Izuku swallowed but didn’t look away.

Hound Dog exhaled, then gave a small nod. “We’ll work on that. For now, let’s adjust your anchor. Katsuki can still be that for you, but instead of ‘what would Bakugo do?’ try asking yourself—”

He locked eyes with Izuku, voice steady as a heartbeat.

“What would Bakugo want me to do?”

That stopped Izuku cold.

Katsuki would never want him to go that far. He didn’t need a protector. He needed a rival. A friend. Someone to fight beside him—not for him. Izuku’s breathing evened out slightly. The static in his head dimmed, just a little. “That… actually helps.” His voice was quiet, but it wasn’t a lie.

Hound Dog gave him a toothy grin. “Good. Now, that’s your assignment. Every time you feel yourself slipping—ask yourself that."

Izuku nodded slowly. Yeah...he could do that.

Hound Dog glanced at the clock and hummed. 

"How about we end the session with a lighter topic. Tell me about what you thought about the Sports Festival, did you have fun?"

Izuku blinked at the sudden change in direction, but the tension in his shoulders loosened. He hummed in thought, tapping his fingers against his knee.

"Honestly? The whole thing was incredible. But if I had to pick one favorite part," His grin widened, just a little. "Probably my fight with Kacchan."

Hound Dog gave an amused huff. "Yeah? Despite how much it wrecked you?"

Izuku snickered, nodding. "Especially because of that." His fingers twitched slightly, but not from stress this time just excitement. "That fight was raw. Real. It's been a while since we got to go all out like that. We've sparred for years, but this? It was different. We weren't holding back. We were just us."

Hound Dog tilted his head. "And that felt good?"

Izuku exhaled, shaking his head in amusement. "You'd think it wouldn't, considering we almost broke each other. But yeah. It did. It felt like we were kids again, fighting in the street, yelling at each other. But instead of just roughhousing, it was real. Like I could see how much stronger he's gotten, and he saw how much stronger I've gotten."

Hound Dog grunted approvingly. "Sounds like it reminded you of why you do this in the first place."

Izuku's grin softened, thoughtful now. "Yeah. It really did."

A comfortable silence settled between them before Hound Dog smirked slightly, ears twitching.

"So, did you actually have fun?"

Izuku let out a radio-laced laugh, running a hand through his messy curls. "You know what? Yeah. I really did. Even with all the bruises, the burns, and the fact that I lost to Kacchan of all people." He rolled his eyes playfully. "I'd do it all over again."

Hound Dog nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Good. Remember that feeling. Hold onto it. Not every fight has to be about survival. Some fights, some moments are just about proving to yourself that you're here, that you're alive, and that you love what you do."

Izuku let that sink in.

Then, with a slow, knowing smile, he nodded.

"Yeah. I think I get it."

Hound Dog stood, stretching his arms. That's all for today, then. You're doing good, Midoriya. Just keep showing up.

Izuku stood as well, adjusting his sleeves, and let out a slow breath.

"I will."

Izuku felt lighter as he stepped out of the school and into the cool evening air.

He never imagined therapy would actually help this much.

He’d always assumed it was just talking in circles, going over things he already knew about himself, reliving moments he’d rather ignore, but this? This was different. It was practical, like training for his mind instead of just his body.

And, of course, it also meant that Aizawa was right. Again.

“Tch. He’s never gonna let me live this down,” Izuku muttered to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets with a smirk.

He could already hear Aizawa’s deadpan ‘I told you so’ in his head.

Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, but therapy wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be. Hound Dog had actually given him something to think about something useful.

An anchor.

And, of all people, Katsuki was apparently his.

Huh.

Now, back home, the air smelled like fresh rice and simmering broth as he stood next to his mom in the kitchen, helping her prepare dinner. His bandaged hands weren’t exactly the most efficient tools, but he did what he could, washing vegetables, setting the table, and trying not to glitch while chopping onions. That wouldn’t have been nice…

Inko hovered nearby like a mother hen, constantly sneaking worried glances at his still-bruised face and wrapped hands.

“You don’t have to help, sweetie. You should be resting.”

Izuku grinned, giving the knife an exaggerated twirl in his fingers. “And let you do all the work? Never.”

Inko huffed but smiled, shaking her head as she pulled a pot off the stove. “You’re just like your father. Stubborn.”

“So I’ve been told.” Izuku snickered before dodging a playful swat to the shoulder.

The atmosphere was warm, familiar, safe. No roaring crowds. No battles. Just home.

A small part of him wanted to tell her about therapy. About what Hound Dog said. About Katsuki being his anchor.

But no.

Not yet.

Not when she already worried enough.

So instead, he focused on the now, letting himself exist in this moment. Helping his mom. Setting the table. Stealing bites of rice when she wasn’t looking.

Because after everything?

This normalcy was nice.

Izuku flopped onto his bed with a satisfied sigh, the lingering warmth of dinner still settling in his stomach. His body ached from the Sports Festival, but it was a good kind of ache—the kind that reminded him he was alive, that he had fought with everything he had. That he had pushed himself beyond his limits and still stood.

He pulled out his phone, idly scrolling through the usual mess of messages, hero updates, and a few teasing texts from Katsuki, who was still rubbing in his victory.

[Second place, nerd. How’s it feel?]

[Couldn’t even take me down, lmfao.]

[Bet you’re still sore. I’m not. Get on my level.]

Izuku snorted, typing a quick response.

[Congrats. I’m honored to be destroyed by your greatness.]

A few seconds later, Katsuki replied with a middle-finger emoji.

Izuku grinned, but as he kept scrolling, a headline caught his eye.

BREAKING NEWS: PRO HERO INGENIUM HOSPITALIZED AFTER BRUTAL ATTACK

He blinked, his grin slipping slightly as he clicked on the article. The news feed refreshed, and a video clip began playing. A serious-looking reporter stood in front of a hospital, her voice hushed but urgent.

"Just yesterday, Pro Hero Ingenium was critically injured in an attack while on patrol. Witnesses report that he was ambushed by a villain known as Stain, a serial assailant targeting pro heroes. Sources say that Ingenium suffered extensive injuries, leaving him in critical condition. Authorities have not released further details. We send our condolences to the Iida family."

Izuku sat up so fast his phone nearly tumbled from his hands.

Iida? As in his friend?

Iida had a brother?

His mind scrambled, replaying every interaction he’d had with him. The way Iida always carried himself, rigid and composed. His admiration for structure, his obsession with doing things "the proper way." The way he talked about Heroics as if it were something deeply personal.

It was personal.

And Izuku had never once thought to ask why.

The article continued, but Izuku barely registered the words. His chest felt tight, his fingers gripping the phone just a little too hard.

Ingenium. Iida’s brother.

A Hero.

And now he was fighting for his life.

The classroom buzzed with energy, a stark contrast to the usual morning grogginess that plagued most of 1-A. The aftermath of the Sports Festival had settled in, and it seemed like no one could stop talking about it.

“I swear, I couldn’t even walk down the street without people pointing at me,” Kaminari groaned, throwing his hands behind his head. “Like, yeah, I know I was awesome, but geez, let a guy breathe!”

Jirou rolled her eyes, smirking. “You barely lasted in your match. What, did they recognize you from getting your ass kicked?”

“Hey! I put up a good fight!” Kaminari shot back, crossing his arms. “...Sort of.”

Mina giggled, resting her chin on her palm. “No, but for real—this morning, these little kids ran up to me and asked me to do my acid attack. I almost did it before their parents gave me the look.”

“Elementary schoolers are relentless,” Sero added, groaning. “These brats came up to me and were like, ‘Nice try.’ Like, excuse me?!”

Asui tilted her head. “That was a nice try, though.”

“Not you too, Tsu!”

“The attention is only natural,” Momo said, ever composed. “With the festival broadcasted nationwide, it makes sense that we’d be recognized. We are, after all, representatives of U.A.’s next generation of heroes.”

“Still kinda weird, though,” Ojiro admitted, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m not used to random people knowing my name.”

“Maybe if your tail was longer, they’d recognize you more,” Kaminari teased.

Ojiro scowled. “What does that even mean?”

“Man, this school really is something else, huh?” Kirishima grinned, leaning back in his chair. “One day, we’re normal students—next thing you know, we’re celebrities!”

Just as another round of chatter was about to erupt, the door slid open. A heavy silence fell over the class in an instant.

Aizawa stepped in, looking as exhausted as ever, his capture weapon wrapped snugly around his shoulders. His sharp gaze swept over the students, lingering just long enough to remind them of their place.

“Morning,” he said simply, striding toward the podium.

“Good morning, Mr. Aizawa!” the class echoed in unison, their previous conversation now buried under the weight of their teacher’s presence.

Aizawa’s expression remained unreadable as he set a stack of papers down. “Settle down. We’ve got a lot to go over.”

And just like that, the mood shifted—because in U.A., there was always something more waiting just around the corner.

Aizawa barely gave them time to settle before he dropped the next bombshell.

"You'll be coming up with hero names today."

For half a second, there was silence—then the classroom exploded.

"NO WAY!"

"THIS IS GONNA BE TOTALLY AWESOME!"

"FINALLY! SOMETHING FUN!"

Even the more reserved students lit up, excitement buzzing through the room. Kaminari was practically vibrating in his seat, Mina had already grabbed a notebook, and even Todoroki, usually so stoic, seemed mildly intrigued.

But before the chaos could fully spiral out of control, Aizawa's sharp glare cut through the noise like a knife. His eyes gleamed red, and instantly, every single student went rigid, sinking back into their seats like scolded children.

The energy in the room dimmed to a more acceptable level, though it still crackled beneath the surface.

"This isn’t just some game," Aizawa continued, his voice carrying its usual tired authority. "It’s tied directly to your futures. Specifically, the pro hero draft picks I mentioned the other day."

Murmurs rippled through the class. Right—the draft. Izuku had nearly forgotten about that in the rush of the festival.

"Normally, first-years don’t have to concern themselves with this. The draft isn’t something students start worrying about until their second or third year. But your class is... different."

There was something in his tone that made the entire room stiffen. They knew what he meant. The Sports Festival had changed everything. It wasn’t just about U.A. anymore—the whole country had seen them fight.

"By extending offers to you this early," Aizawa continued, crossing his arms, "pros are making an investment. They’re taking a gamble on your potential. But let me make one thing very clear—just because you receive an offer now doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed."

Izuku frowned slightly, fingers tapping against his desk.

"What do you mean?" Momo asked, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

"It means," Aizawa said, "that these offers can be rescinded at any time. If a pro loses interest, if they decide you're not progressing the way they expected, they can pull out before you graduate. It’s up to you to prove you were worth betting on."

Kirishima clenched his fist. "So we have to show them we’re the real deal, huh?"

"That’s right," Aizawa said simply.

A small weight settled over the room. The reality of it all was beginning to sink in.

Then, without another word, Aizawa pressed a button on his remote.

The chalkboard lit up with a holographic display, flashing a list of names and numbers across the room.

"Here are the totals for those who received offers."

Every eye in the room locked onto the screen, hearts hammering. Like he said, not everyone had gotten offers, only nine people, and Izuku wasn't one of them. If anything, Izuku was grateful. He would have said no to probably all of them. There was only one person that could truly help him with his power. 

"Talk to Aizawa about this. I bet he’ll help you learn how to control it.” 

He looked at Katsuki sitting in front of him. He had said those words to him the day of the USJ, and he was right. Logically, Aizawa was the only person that could help him with this problem. And he knew that despite his rough and unapproachable nature, if one of his students needed his help, he wouldn't hesitate. 

Aizawa barely gave the class time to process the numbers on the board before he continued.

"Regardless of these results—whether you received offers or not—you will all be participating in internships with pro heroes," he stated, his voice even and firm.

A wave of murmurs rippled through the class. Some students visibly perked up at the idea, while others looked apprehensive.

"You've already had firsthand experience with real villains during the USJ attack," Aizawa continued, "but that was a crisis. You weren’t learning—you were surviving. This will be different. You’ll be in the field, observing and working alongside pros, getting real experience in what it means to be a hero."

"So that’s why we’re coming up with hero names!" Kaminari realized, grinning.

"This just keeps getting better and better!" Kirishima added, practically vibrating in his seat.

"Don’t get ahead of yourselves," Aizawa warned. "These names are still temporary. But take them seriously or—"

The door slammed open with a dramatic BANG, nearly making some students jump out of their seats.

"You’ll have hell to pay later!"

The sultry voice rang out through the room, followed by the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking against the floor.

The entire class turned to see her—Midnight.

She strode in confidently, one hand on her hip, the other gesturing dramatically as she flipped her thick, dark hair over her shoulder. Her ample curves were, as always, on full display, and a few students immediately had to look anywhere else. Kaminari was already nosebleeding. Mineta? Completely incapacitated.

"What you pick today," she continued with a smirk, "could very well become your code name for life. So be careful, or you might end up with something utterly indecent~."

"Says the woman flaunting her—" Sero began before a shoe flew past his head, narrowly missing him.

"Anyway," Aizawa said, completely unfazed by the dramatic entrance, "Midnight will be ensuring that your names are appropriate. It’s…not my forte."

He picked up his yellow sleeping bag with a tired sigh, as if resigning himself to another long day of dealing with these kids.

"The name you choose for yourself is important," he continued. "It reinforces your image, establishes your identity, and shows the world what kind of hero you aspire to be."

He glanced at the class, his gaze lingering on a few students longer than others.

"A code name isn’t just something cool—it’s a statement. Like 'All Might,' for example."

Izuku, who had been deep in thought, suddenly tensed. His fingers curled slightly as he reached for the stack of whiteboards Katsuki was passing down the row. He took one and handed the rest along, his mind already racing.

A name for the future.

A name that defined who he was—who he wanted to be.

Some students hunched over their desks, scribbling furiously on their whiteboards, while others sat with their arms crossed, deep in thought. Kaminari was already whispering ideas to Kirishima, who seemed torn between something manly and something cool. Momo, as expected, was taking a methodical approach, listing out possibilities before narrowing them down.

Izuku, however, simply stared at his blank board, marker poised but unmoving.

'A hero name…something that represents me.'

His fingers twitched.

It wasn’t just about sounding cool—it had to mean something. A name that encompassed everything about him.

The flickering static in his voice.

The way people looked at him, unsure if they should be comforted or afraid.

The glitching.

The demon.

The hero.

He thought back to Aizawa’s words. 'A code name isn’t just something cool—it’s a statement.'

A statement about who he was. Who he wanted to be.

His marker touched the whiteboard and left black streaks as he wrote his decided name. 

Ten minutes flew by in an instant, and soon, Midnight clapped her hands, drawing their attention back to the front of the class.

“Time’s up! Who’s ready to show off their brilliant new identities?” She sang, her eyes gleaming. Judging by the looks on everyone's faces, no one was expecting that they would be presenting these, much less wanting to go up in front of the class. 

One by one, the students stood, stepping forward to present their names. Some got approving nods, others got immediate rejections from Midnight, much to their dismay.

Like Katsuki. Everyone was stunned into silence when he went up to the front of the classroom and confidently said "King Explosion Murder". 

Silence.

Izuku’s eye twitched. 'Oh, for the love of—'

A sharp, distorted 'snrk' slipped from his lips before he could stop it. His glitching static laugh buzzed through the quiet, and within seconds, his shoulders shook violently as he turned away, hand slapping over his mouth in a desperate attempt to contain himself.

Midnight arched a brow, completely unimpressed. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to say that one’s a little too violent.”

Katsuki scowled. “HUH?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!”

“How about Explosion Boy?” Kirishima offered helpfully.

“Like hell I’m going with that!”

Izuku, still struggling to stifle his laughter, finally turned back around, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye. His grin stretched just a little wider as he hummed in mock thought. “Oh, oh! I’ve got one!”

Katsuki turned his fiery red glare to him. “Shut up, nerd.”

Ignoring him completely, Izuku tapped his whiteboard and grinned, voice laced with glitching amusement.

"Sparky Sparky Boom Man!"

Dead silence.

Then the class erupted.

Kaminari fell out of his chair, wheezing. Mina collapsed onto her desk, Sero was banging a fist against his table, and Ojiro had to turn completely away to avoid laughing in Katsuki’s direct line of sight. 

Katsuki growled, his dangerously narrowed gaze locked on Izuku.

“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY, YOU GLITCHY LITTLE SHIT?!”

Izuku grinned, turning his head slightly, his voice crackling with static mischief.

“What? I think it suits you.”

Midnight clapped her hands together, her voice carrying an undeniable authority.

“Alright, alright, settle down, boys,” she purred, waving a perfectly manicured hand. “As much as I love the energy, I’d rather not have my classroom turned into a warzone.”

Katsuki was still fuming, his hands sparking at his sides as he glared daggers at Izuku, who was still grinning like a glitching menace.

Midnight placed a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder and firmly guided him back to his seat. “Go on, sit down. Take a breath. Think of something less likely to make civilians question your sanity.”

Katsuki yanked his chair out, dropping into it with a huff. “Tch. Whatever.”

Mina wiped tears from her eyes. “Sparky Sparky Boom Man will never be forgotten.”

“Immortalized,” Kaminari agreed, still chuckling.

Kirishima leaned over. “C’mon, man, you gotta come up with something cool that still sounds heroic.”

Midnight turned back to the rest of the class. “Moving on! Who’s next?”

Izuku supposed it was his turn.

Still grinning, he stood up, casually spinning his whiteboard in one hand as he made his way to the front of the class. Wisely, he took the long way around, weaving through his classmates’ desks to put as much distance as possible between himself and one very explosive gremlin.

His hands twitched with residual sparks, his jaw locked so tight Izuku swore he could hear his teeth grinding.

Izuku’s grin stretched wider, but he had the sense not to push his luck. For now.

Reaching the front, he turned on his heel, gripping his whiteboard with one hand, and faced the class. His radio-static voice crackled as he announced,

“Pharos.”

A hush fell over the room.

Unlike the other names, which had been met with laughs, cheers, or outright rejections, this one carried weight.

It wasn’t flashy like King Explosion Murder or fun like Froppy. It wasn’t a gimmick. It was a statement.

Midnight tilted her head, intrigued. “Hmm. Pharos. Interesting choice. Explain it to us.”

Izuku lifted his board slightly, letting the word sink in before he spoke.

"I got it from the ancient lighthouse of Alexandria, one of the greatest guiding lights in history. I want to stand as a beacon in the storm, guiding others through the darkness, even though I struggle with it myself. No matter how much my quirk warps reality or how terrifying my presence may be, I want to be a signal of light that always reaches those in need.

He watched all of his classmates reactions, all humor gone and replaced with meaningful expressions and small smiles. Even Katsuki's murderous rage was gone, now just staring at Izuku with an expression he couldn't quite read. 

Midnight smiled, placing a hand on her hip. “I like it. It’s unique, meaningful. Approved.”

Izuku's shoulders relaxed as he walked back to his seat, the weight of his chosen name settling comfortably on his back. It felt right, like an identity he could truly claim as his own. As he passed Katsuki, he expected some kind of jab, maybe an insult about how his name was stupid or over dramatic. Instead, Katsuki muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

“Tch…‘s not bad, nerd.”

The words were low, barely above a whisper, but Izuku heard them.

He blinked, pausing just for a second, his eyes flicking toward Katsuki.

Katsuki wasn’t looking at him, his chin resting on his palm, his gaze fixed anywhere but on Izuku. Still, there was something about his posture, relaxed but firm, not stiff with irritation like before.

Then, even quieter, Katsuki muttered, “You did good.”

He didn’t say anything in return, he didn’t need to.

With a small nod, he kept walking, sliding into his seat just as the next student made their way to the front.

But the warmth in his chest lingered.

Chapter Text

“Now that everyone's decided on their Hero names, we'll go back to talking about the internships. They will last for a week. As for where you'll have them, those who had offers from Pros will be given your own lists, so you can choose from those yourself. Those who didn't have offers will choose from among forty agencies around the country that will be accepting our interns. They all work in different places and have different specialties. For example, Thirteen would be focused on rescues from accidents and disasters more than fighting villains. Think carefully before you choose.”

Izuku tapped his pencil against the edge of his paper, his eyes scanning the long list of Pro Hero agencies available for internships. Some of them were big names—Heroes he had admired for years, ones that would give him incredible combat training or boost his reputation. Others were lesser known, but still highly respected, offering more specialized mentorship.

None of them felt right.

He had done his research, looked into what each agency specialized in, but in the end, there was only one Hero that stood out—only one who could actually help him.

The sharp ring of the bell echoed through the classroom, signaling the end of the period. Aizawa, barely looking up from the stack of papers in his hands, addressed them with his usual tired monotone as he made his way toward the door.

“Turn in your choices before the weekend.”

A few students groaned in protest.

“Wait, we’ve only got two days to decide?” Kaminari whined, slumping in his seat.

“Make your decision efficiently,” Aizawa replied, completely unbothered. He stepped out, adding a final, “dismissed,” before closing the door behind him.

The second he was gone, the classroom burst into movement.

“Alright! Who’s picking who?” Kirishima asked, turning in his seat with a grin.

“I have no idea yet,” Jirou admitted, twirling her earjack. “There are too many choices.”

“Is anyone else going for one of the top ten Heroes?” Ashido leaned in, eyes gleaming. “C’mon, spill the tea!”

Across the room, students were already comparing notes, leaning over desks, and debating their picks. But Izuku didn’t stick around. He shot up from his seat and making a beeline for the door. He ignored the curious glances thrown his way, ignored the sound of someone calling his name. His feet carried him forward, his heart hammering in his chest.

He needed to do this now. Before he second-guessed himself.

Before he talked himself out of it.

Because if there was even a chance that Aizawa would say yes—if there was even a possibility that he could help him—then Izuku wasn’t going to waste a single second hesitating.

Izuku practically flew down the hallway, weaving through clusters of students just leaving their classrooms. His mind raced just as fast as his feet, but his goal was crystal clear—catch up to Aizawa before he disappears.

He knew his homeroom teacher’s habits well enough by now. The moment class ended, Aizawa would vanish like a shadow, retreating to some quiet corner of the school to take a nap, review paperwork, or avoid unnecessary human interaction. If Izuku didn’t reach him now, he might not get another chance before the weekend.

He pushed forward, dodging a group of third-years and nearly tripping over his own feet as he turned a sharp corner. His static-laced breath crackled faintly in his throat, but he ignored it.

Then, finally—there he was.

Aizawa walked a few steps ahead, his capture weapon draped loosely around his shoulders, his posture slightly slouched as always. He carried a stack of papers under one arm, his other hand lazily rubbing at his eye, as if he were already exhausted despite the day barely being half over.

Izuku took a deep breath and sped up.

“Mr. Aizawa!”

Aizawa didn’t stop.

Izuku gritted his teeth, jogging closer. "Wait, please—I need to talk to you!"

At that, Aizawa did stop. Just for a second. He turned his head slightly, enough for a single tired eye to settle on him before he let out a long, exhausted sigh. "…You’re not in trouble, are you?"

Izuku shook his head. “No. I just...I wanted to talk about my internship choice."

Aizawa gave him a look that screamed 'that’s what you ran after me for?' but didn’t say it out loud. Instead, he continued walking, and Izuku had no choice but to keep up.

"You have two days to decide," Aizawa said, his tone flat. "There’s no reason to rush."

"For me, there is," Izuku admitted. "I already know who I want to intern with."

Aizawa didn’t respond right away. His footsteps were slow but deliberate, carrying them toward the faculty wing. Finally, he glanced at Izuku again, his expression unreadable. "Who?"

Izuku swallowed. This was it. No backing out.

"You."

Aizawa stopped mid-step, his sharp gaze pinned Izuku in place, unreadable and unyielding. The hallway felt colder now, quieter, as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. Izuku’s fingers twitched at his sides, but he forced himself to stand still, to meet his teacher’s eyes without looking away.

He had run through this in his head a hundred times. Every scenario, every argument, every reason why this was the right decision. He had expected resistance. He had expected Aizawa to shoot him down immediately, to tell him that his internship should be spent refining his combat ability with a pro hero that specialized in something flashier, something stronger.

But strength wasn’t what Izuku needed.

Not just strength.

Aizawa finally spoke, his voice as dry and flat as ever. “You’re serious about this?”

“Yes.” Izuku didn’t hesitate.

Aizawa studied him for a long moment, his expression giving away nothing. “You understand that I don’t run an agency like Endeavor or Best Jeanist. I don’t take in students for show. I don’t do PR training or brand-building.”

Izuku nodded. “I know.”

“My training methods aren’t flashy. They aren’t designed to make you look good on television or boost your popularity. I train my students to survive.”

“I know,” Izuku said again, firmer this time. “That’s why I want to work with you.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Go on.”

Izuku took a deep breath, steadying himself. “My quirk isn’t like the others. It’s not just raw power or a straightforward ability. It glitches. It disrupts things. And I—” He hesitated for only a second before pushing forward. “I disrupt things. You’ve seen what happens when it takes over.”

Aizawa didn’t react, but Izuku knew he was listening.

“If I intern under a normal Hero, they’ll push me to be stronger. But I don’t need that—not yet. I need someone who can help me control what’s already there. Someone who understands Quirks that don’t fit into neat little boxes. Someone who can stop me if I go too far.

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “And you trust me to do that?”

Izuku nodded. “Yes. You can erase my Quirk if things go wrong. And more than that—you won’t treat me like I’m broken.”

That last part hung in the air between them.

Izuku wasn’t sure why he said it, but it was true.

Other Pro Heroes would see his quirk and try to mold it into something useful, something palatable. They’d try to smooth out the edges, fit him into a role that made sense. But Aizawa...he had never asked him to be anything but himself.

The silence stretched, heavy and thick.

Then, Aizawa let out a slow breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re a stubborn kid, you know that?”

Izuku's grin turned lopsided. “I’ve been told.”

Aizawa sighed, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of the conversation. “Fine. I’ll take you on for the internship”

Izuku’s heart leapt in his chest.

“But,” Aizawa continued, leveling him with a sharp look, “if you’re expecting me to go easy on you, you’re in for a rude awakening.”

Izuku grinned wider. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

After school, the halls of U.A. were still buzzing with energy. Students lingered, talking about their internship choices, discussing hero agencies, and theorizing about which pro hero would give them the best experience. Izuku, however, had other plans.

He adjusted the straps of his backpack, walking briskly through the hallways with a clear destination in mind. The support course.

Even though he’d chosen Aizawa for his internship, there was still one problem he needed to address before training even began—his gear.

His quirk was unpredictable. Glitching, stuttering, phasing—it wasn’t like a normal strength or speed enhancement that could be easily accommodated by standard hero gear. His suit needed to move with him, not against him. It needed to adapt, to withstand the unnatural strain his body went through every time he flickered in and out of reality.

Which meant there was only one person he could turn to.

The moment he stepped into the support workshop, he was met with a deafening explosion.

BOOM!

A gust of smoke and steam shot through the room, followed by a maniacal cackle.

Izuku barely had time to brace himself before something—or someone—came flying toward him.

“HA! THAT WENT BETTER THAN EXPECTED!”

A wild blur of pink and green nearly slammed into him, stopping just short of crashing. The smoke cleared, revealing none other than Mei Hatsume, grinning like a mad scientist.

Izuku sighed in relief. 'Yup. Just who I was looking for.'

“Midoriya!” Hatsume beamed, wiping grease off her forehead. “What brings you to my humble lair of genius?” She gestured dramatically to the mess of half-built gadgets, mechanical arms, and charred pieces of failed experiments littering the room. What the hell was she doing before he...

Is that a canon?

Izuku smiled sheepishly. “Hey, Hatsume. Uh…I need some help with my hero costume.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Oh?” she said, circling him like a predator sizing up its prey. “You need upgrades? A complete overhaul? A FULL SUPPORT SYSTEM OF AUTOMATED DRONES THAT WILL FOLLOW YOU INTO BATTLE?!”

Izuku blinked. “Uh—”

“Or—WAIT! Do you need something completely new? Maybe a glitch-resistant fabric? Self-repairing armor? A built-in frequency stabilizer to regulate your quirk?”

Izuku’s brain struggled to keep up with her rapid-fire questions, but his heart leaped at that last one.

“Wait, you can do that?” He asked, eyes widening.

Hatsume grinned, pushing her goggles up onto her forehead. “Pfft. Midoriya, do you even know who you’re talking to? Of course, I can! Tell me everything—details, Quirks, limitations! I NEED DATA!”

Izuku took a deep breath. If anyone could help him control his quirk from a technical standpoint, it was her.

And if he was going to train under Aizawa, he needed to make sure his body—and his suit—could keep up.

Izuku took a deep breath, steadying himself as he met Hatsume’s eager gaze. "Alright," he started, choosing his words carefully. "I need a failsafe—something that will stop me if my quirk ever gets out of control."

Hatsume’s excited grin didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes as she leaned in. "Now that sounds interesting. Define ‘out of control.’"

Izuku hesitated. How was he supposed to put it into words?

He clenched his fists. "There’s... another part of me," he admitted. "When someone I care about is in danger, my quirk reacts in ways I can’t control. It’s like something inside me wakes up, and suddenly, I’m not me anymore. I become—"

"—a demon," Hatsume finished for him, eyes sharp behind her goggles.

Izuku flinched, but he nodded. "Yeah. That’s what people would call it. When that side of me takes over, I don’t think, I act. And I don’t stop until the threat is gone."

Hatsume hummed, tapping her chin with a gloved finger. "Interesting. And you want a failsafe that kicks in automatically? Something that will yank you back before things get too crazy?"

"Exactly," Izuku said, relieved that she understood so quickly. "Aizawa can erase my quirk if he’s there, but if he’s not, I need something built into my costume that will activate the second I lose control."

Hatsume’s grin widened like a shark scenting blood. "I love this. Tell me more. What kind of stopgap are we talking? A tranquilizer? Restraints? A localized EMP? OH! An AI-powered neural inhibitor that reads your brainwaves and deploys a failsafe before you fully snap?!"

Izuku blinked. "I…was thinking something simpler than that."

"Lame." Hatsume sighed dramatically, but her hands were already moving, grabbing a notepad and scribbling furiously. "Okay, fine. What’s your limit before you snap? How long do you have before you go full demon mode?"

Izuku frowned, thinking back to the last few times it happened. "It’s different depending on the situation. If I get a warning, if I feel the shift coming, I can fight it for a bit. But if it’s sudden, if something happens too fast—"

"—you’re gone before you even know it," Hatsume finished, nodding along. "So it needs to be automatic. No input from you. Something that recognizes when you hit a danger threshold and shocks you back to your senses."

Izuku swallowed. "Yeah. A shock might work."

Hatsume’s grin returned. "Then that’s what we’ll do! I can integrate a bio-monitoring system into your suit—something that reads your heart rate, brain activity, and quirk fluctuations. The second it detects a ‘Demon Event,’ BAM—it sends a high-voltage shock straight to your nervous system!"

Izuku flinched at how enthusiastic she sounded about electrocuting him.

"Uh, Hatsume, I was thinking something more like a stun pulse—not, uh… frying myself."

"Pfft. Where’s the fun in that?" She teased, waving a hand. "Fine, fine. I’ll calibrate it to disrupt your quirk just enough to snap you back. Too strong, and we risk knocking you out, too weak, and Demon-Zuku keeps rampaging."

Izuku sighed in relief. "That sounds…actually perfect."

Hatsume smirked. "Of course it does. You came to the right place!"

She scribbled more notes, muttering to herself about adaptive shock thresholds and glitch-resistant wiring before glancing back up at him. "One more thing. You said you wanna train to work with this power during your internship, right?"

Izuku nodded. "Yeah. I don’t just want to suppress it, I want to learn how to control it. Use it without losing myself."

Hatsume tilted her head, eyes gleaming with an almost dangerous level of excitement. "So basically…you want to dance on the edge of losing control but have a built-in emergency eject button if you go too far?"

"...That’s one way to put it," Izuku admitted.

Hatsume let out an unhinged cackle before slamming her notepad shut. "Midoriya, my friend, you just gave me the best excuse to build something insane!"

Maybe he should be worried. Maybe he should be deeply concerned that entrusting this particular project to Mei Hatsume, of all people, was the worst possible decision he could have made.

But honestly?

All he felt was humor.

Because, really, who else would take this kind of request with the same level of wild enthusiasm and a complete disregard for personal safety?

Anyone normal would have hesitated. They would have questioned why he even needed something like this in the first place. They would have looked at him with pity or caution, maybe even fear.

Not Hatsume.

No, she just saw an engineering challenge, a chance to break new ground, and possibly break him in the process.

Not that she would do it on purpose…right?

She was already rummaging through her parts bin, tossing wires and bits of metal over her shoulder like a gremlin constructing a doomsday device, muttering about bio-feedback relays and nerve impulse calibration like those were totally normal things to say out loud.

Izuku should be rethinking his life choices.

Instead, he leaned against the workbench, watching her with something that could only be described as resigned amusement.

"So…exactly how many prototypes do you think this is going to take?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Hatsume didn’t even look up. "Oh, definitely more than five. Probably less than twenty. Maybe."

"Maybe?"

She finally glanced at him, grinning like she hadn’t just casually suggested that he might have to endure nearly twenty rounds of electroshock testing. "What? You wanted perfection, didn’t you?"

Izuku sighed dramatically. "Great. Love that for me. Should I write my will now or after the first trial run?"

"Midoriya, please," she scoffed, waving him off. "What kind of engineer do you think I am?"

"The kind who launched herself out of a canon because she forgot to install a braking system."

"Okay, first of all, that was a controlled test—"

"Was it?"

"Second of all! I promise, this’ll work! Probably! And if it doesn’t, I’ll make the second version even better!"

"…And what happens if the second version doesn’t work?"

"Then we go to version three!" She beamed. "Obviously."

Izuku pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course."

Maybe he should be worried.

But then again, if there was anyone crazy enough to pull this off, it was Hatsume.

And that was exactly why he came to her.

Three days later, while the rest of his classmates made their way toward the bus or train station, chattering about their upcoming internships with an electric mix of excitement and nervous energy, Izuku walked through the U.A. gates like it was just another school day.

The sun was barely peeking over the skyline, casting a soft, golden glow over the campus. The air was crisp, the world still waking up. But instead of boarding a train to some prestigious hero agency, instead of heading toward an internship that would boost his reputation or give him flashy battle experience, he was here.

And waiting for him in front of the school doors, looking decidedly unimpressed, was Aizawa.

Izuku had seen his homeroom teacher tired before—hell, exhaustion was practically Aizawa’s default state, but today? Today, he looked downright irritated.

His shoulders slumped even more than usual, his messy hair even more disheveled, and the bags under his eyes, normally just a sign of chronic sleep deprivation, were darker than ever, like he had been dragged out of bed at gunpoint.

Probably because he was supposed to be sleeping in and free of problem children for a week.

Instead, his biggest problem child was standing right in front of him.

Izuku did not feel sorry.

“Midoriya,” Aizawa greeted, his voice flat and exuding the energy of a man who deeply regretted every life choice that led to this moment.

Izuku smiled innocently, rocking on his heels. “Good morning, Mr. Aizawa.”

Aizawa closed his eyes briefly, inhaled, then exhaled very slowly. Izuku could practically see him debating whether or not he should just turn around and walk away.

He didn’t. Unfortunately for him.

"You really had to be here at seven a.m.?" Aizawa muttered, rubbing his temple. "Internships don't officially start until tomorrow. I was going to let you ease into this before we started actual training."

Izuku tilted his head. "You were?"

"Yes."

"Huh." He tapped his chin in mock thought. "That doesn’t sound like something you’d do."

Aizawa’s eye twitched. "I was trying to be nice."

Izuku blinked. "Wait, since when?"

Aizawa sent him a look. One that very clearly conveyed ‘do not test me at this ungodly hour, problem child.’

Izuku only grinned wider.

He knew he was being a pain in the ass. He knew Aizawa probably wanted to strangle him for showing up this early, on a day he didn’t have to be here.

But honestly? This wasn’t just him being eager.

This was necessary.

He had spent the last few days preparing. Mentally, physically, emotionally.

And now, he was ready.

If he was going to train with Aizawa, if he was going to learn to control the other side of himself, then there was no point in delaying. He had already waited long enough.

And besides, he wouldn’t get better by taking it easy.

Aizawa, to his credit, seemed to pick up on his determination. He stared at Izuku for a long moment, likely debating whether or not he should send him home and tell him to come back at a reasonable hour like a normal human being.

Then, with another sigh, a long-suffering one this time, he simply turned toward the school doors.

"Fine. If you’re so eager to start, then let’s get to work."

Izuku straightened, grinning as he fell into step beside him. "Really?"

Aizawa side-eyed him. "Did you think I was going to let you off easy after making me wake up for this?"

Izuku swallowed.

"...Ah."

Maybe he should have felt sorry.

Too late now.

Izuku hit the mat hard, his body bouncing slightly from the impact before he lay sprawled out, gasping for air. His limbs felt like lead, his lungs burned, and every inch of his body throbbed with exhaustion.

A shadow loomed over him.

"You're done already?" Aizawa’s voice was unimpressed, standing above him like a judge overseeing a very disappointing performance.

Izuku wheezed. "This…was supposed to be…a warm-up?"

Aizawa simply stared, completely unbothered by his student's suffering. "Yes."

Izuku let his head fall back against the mat, chest rising and falling rapidly. He was soaked in sweat, his muscles screaming in protest from the sheer intensity of what Aizawa had the nerve to call a ‘warm-up.’

Forty-five minutes.

That’s how long Aizawa had been absolutely wrecking him.

They hadn’t even touched on his quirk yet—this was just conditioning. A full-body endurance regimen, designed specifically to push him past his limits before the real training began.

The session had started simple enough—running, agility drills, reaction timing exercises—but then came the hand-to-hand combat.

Or, in Izuku’s case, ‘getting thrown into the ground repeatedly by his teacher.’

Aizawa’s fighting style was brutally efficient—zero wasted movement, zero mercy. Every time Izuku tried to land a hit, Aizawa would redirect, counter, and slam him into the mat before he even realized what happened.

Izuku had fought against Katsuki, against Todoroki, against people with insane quirks and overwhelming firepower.

But fighting Aizawa?

It was like fighting a black hole. No matter what he did, no matter how fast he moved or how unpredictably he tried to glitch, nothing landed. Every attempt was absorbed, nullified, and punished.

Aizawa crouched down next to him, arms resting on his knees as he peered down with mild interest. "You done?"

Izuku groaned, dragging a shaking hand over his face. "I'm…taking a break."

Aizawa made a sound that might have been a hum, but it sounded way too judgmental. "You’ve barely lasted an hour."

Izuku’s breath hitched. He turned his head slightly to squint at him.

"Barely?"

Aizawa shrugged. "Most of my sessions last five."

Izuku felt his soul leave his body.

"Five hours?" He repeated, voice somewhere between horrified disbelief and deep, deep regret.

"You’re the one who wanted this," Aizawa reminded him, standing back up with an air of infuriating calmness. "You chose me because you wanted to push past your limits. If you can’t even make it through warm-up, then what’s the point?"

Izuku groaned again and rolled onto his stomach, pressing his forehead to the mat. "I hate that you’re right."

Aizawa let out a small exhale and Izuku swore it was almost a laugh, but that was impossible.

After another moment, Izuku pushed himself up onto his elbows, arms trembling slightly. His whole body ached, a deep, bone-deep exhaustion that made every movement feel like he was wading through cement. His muscles screamed in protest, but he pushed through it, jaw tightening as he forced himself upright.

He groaned, rolling his shoulders in a poor attempt to loosen the knots forming beneath his skin. "This is payback, isn't it?" He muttered, giving Aizawa a tired, accusatory look. "For making you get up at seven in the morning?"

Aizawa didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked over to a small pile of supplies, his water bottle, his capture weapon neatly folded, a towel he clearly had zero intention of using, and took a long, slow swig from the bottle.

Izuku watched him. Waited.

The silence stretched.

Finally, Aizawa exhaled, rolling his shoulders slightly. "I had a very long night."

Izuku blinked. Then narrowed his eyes.

"Uh-huh," he drawled. "And what exactly were you doing last night that made you extra grumpy today? Did you get stuck in an alleyway again and have to wait for Present Mic to find you?"

Aizawa didn’t even blink. "I'm not just a teacher, Midoriya."

Izuku tilted his head, crossing his arms despite the burning protest in his biceps. "That doesn’t deny my question."

Aizawa sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Do you want me to add an extra hour to your training?"

Izuku’s mouth opened—then snapped shut.

Alright. Not pushing that button.

Still, he couldn’t help the slight widen of his grin, wiping sweat from his forehead. "So, in other words, yes?"

Aizawa stared at him. "Get back on the mat."

Izuku laughed, despite himself. "Hey, you didn’t say no!"

Aizawa gave him a flat look, then took another slow sip of his water before finally saying, "Training starts in five seconds. If you're not standing by then, you’re running laps until lunch."

Izuku’s amusement died immediately.

"I’M UP! I’M UP!"

He scrambled to his feet, wincing as his muscles protested violently. Aizawa simply tossed his empty water bottle aside like a man who was already done with his student’s nonsense.

"Good. Now, let’s see if you're actually capable of making me break a sweat."

Izuku groaned. This was gonna be a long day.

It was three hours later when Aizawa finally decided that Izuku had suffered enough.

Izuku didn’t hit the mat this time—he collapsed onto it, his body utterly spent. His chest heaved, lungs dragging in air like he had just crawled out of the ocean after drowning. His limbs burned, every muscle screaming in protest, his entire existence reduced to aching exhaustion.

He didn’t even have the strength to groan properly. All he could do was lay there, half-dead, his body twitching from exertion as the world around him blurred at the edges.

Above him, Aizawa looked down at him with an expression that could only be described as mildly satisfied but mostly unimpressed.

"Three hours," Aizawa mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Not bad. You lasted longer than I expected."

Izuku barely cracked open an eye, glaring weakly. "Longer than you expected?" he wheezed. "You—" He took in a shuddering breath. "You were trying to kill me."

Aizawa shrugged. "You asked for this."

Izuku wanted to argue. He wanted to say something biting and clever about how this was cruel and unusual punishment, but all that came out was a broken-sounding wheeze.

Aizawa huffed. "You're not dead, so quit whining."

Izuku flopped onto his back dramatically, throwing an arm over his sweat-covered face. "You say that, but I can see the light."

"If you have enough energy to be dramatic," Aizawa said dryly, "then you have enough energy to run drills for another hour."

Izuku sat up immediately. "Nope! Nope, I’m good. Completely fine. Fully trained. Peak Hero physique."

Aizawa smirked. He actually smirked.

Which meant Izuku had officially lost.

A moment passed before Aizawa finally relented, sighing like he had been forced to tolerate the absolute worst form of suffering in existence.

"Fine. You have until noon to recover. Do whatever you want. Just don’t break anything or pass out somewhere inconvenient."

Izuku let out an exhausted, relieved laugh, flopping back onto the mat with a thud. "Wow, Mr. Aizawa, I didn’t know you had such a generous side."

Aizawa gave him a look. "Don’t push it."

Izuku weakly lifted a hand in surrender.

With that, Aizawa turned, cracking his neck as he stretched, then walked toward the exit of the gym, probably to go get some sleep. His capture weapon draped loosely around his shoulders, his movements slow and heavier than usual—like even he was finally feeling the weight of the morning.

Izuku knew that Aizawa was not an easy man to exhaust. The fact that he looked even a fraction more sluggish than before meant that their session had taken at least something out of him.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

The gym doors shut behind him, leaving Izuku alone with the lingering silence of the aftermath.

He let out a long, shaky breath, staring up at the ceiling.

He had survived. Somehow.

And in just a few hours, they were going to do it all over again. But he knew that he was finally going to get to what he really asked for. 

He could almost feel it stirring underneath his skin, just waiting to be released. 

Chapter Text

Izuku lay sprawled across the mat, phone held loosely above his face. His body still felt like it had been put through a blender, but at least the trembling in his muscles had finally started to ease.

His break had officially started, and like any responsible hero-in-training, he was using it to scroll through his phone and distract himself from the existential dread of doing this all again later.

His thumb lazily swiped through headlines, hero news, Sports Festival highlights, social media debates on who should’ve won between him and Katsuki, until a familiar name caught his eye.

PRO HERO INGENIUM OFFICIALLY RETIRES AFTER BRUTAL ATTACK

Izuku’s breath hitched.

His exhaustion was forgotten in an instant as he clicked the article, eyes rapidly scanning the words.

"After days of uncertainty following his attack at the hands of the notorious villain 'Stain,' Pro Hero Ingenium, known as Tensei Iida, has officially announced his retirement from hero work. Sources confirm that the injuries sustained during the attack have resulted in permanent paralysis in his legs, making it impossible for him to continue active duty as a hero. Iida released a statement earlier today, thanking his fans and fellow heroes for their support and expressing his desire to continue contributing to society in other ways, despite his condition."

Izuku swallowed hard.

Permanent paralysis.

Tensei Iida could never be a hero again.

The words felt heavy, weighing down on his chest. He exhaled sharply through his nose, staring at the screen, rereading the article as if the words might change.

His mind immediately went to Iida.

They hadn’t talked much in the last few days—which was understandable. His big brother had been fighting for his life, and Iida had more important things to worry about than keeping in touch with his classmates.

But still…

Something about how Iida had been reacting to this concerned him.

He was always put together, composed, methodical—the type of person who took problems and organized them into solutions. He was structured in a way Izuku had always admired.

But when Tensei was attacked—when his own brother’s life was hanging in the balance, Iida had gone quiet.

Too quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that came from grief. Not the kind that came from shock or sadness.

It was a cold kind of quiet. A stillness that felt like something brewing beneath the surface.

Izuku knew what rage looked like.

He had felt it in himself when his Quirk pushed too hard. Had seen it in Todoroki's eyes at the Sports Festival.

Izuku saw it in him.

His stomach churned, fingers hovered over his phone, debating whether or not to message him.

Would he even respond?

The last thing Iida probably wanted was someone poking at the wound, but Izuku couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

That this wasn’t just grief.

That Iida was about to do something stupid.

Izuku stared at the screen for a long moment before finally tapping out a message.

[Hey, Iida. I saw the news about your brother. I know you probably don’t want to talk right now, but if you need anything—anything at all—let me know, okay?]

He hovered over the send button, hesitating.

Then, before he could overthink it, he pressed it.

Now, all he could do was wait.

Izuku stared at his phone screen, refreshing the chat for what had to be the hundredth time.

Nothing.

No response.

Iida never waited two minutes before replying to a text.

It had now been two hours.

The entirety of his break had been spent stretching out his aching, overworked muscles, rehydrating, and shoveling down food from the meal he had packed to refuel after Aizawa’s attempted murder. He had even taken the time to mentally prepare himself for the next round of training, forcing himself into a state of readiness.

But the entire time, through every stretch, every sip of water, every bite of food—his mind had been on Iida.

Izuku could make excuses, maybe Iida was busy, maybe he was training with his his chosen Hero for his internship, maybe he just didn’t feel like talking.

But the longer the silence stretched, the more his stomach twisted.

Because this wasn’t like him.

Iida was the kind of person who always responded, even if it was just to say that he’d talk later. He was structured like that, organized, diligent, always keeping communication clear.

Except now? Nothing.

Izuku scrolled back up, rereading his own message. It was simple. Non-invasive. An open door.

And yet, Iida had left it shut.

Izuku exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Something about this felt off.

Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe he was paranoid after seeing what happened to Tensei.

But a part of him—the part that had always been too good at reading people, at picking up on the cracks beneath the surface—told him that this wasn’t nothing.

Iida was hurting.

And Izuku had a sick feeling that he was handling that hurt the wrong way.

His fingers hovered over his phone again, debating whether he should text him a second time.

Would that push him away?

Would that make him feel cornered?

The door to the gym slammed open, rattling on its hinges, and Izuku’s body reacted before his brain did.

A sudden static flicker, a burst of distortion, one second he was seated, the next he had glitched to his feet, body crackling with residual energy. His muscles protested at the sudden movement, but adrenaline had already kicked in.

His grin was all teeth.

"Hey, Mr. Aizawa!" He chirped, stretching out his aching limbs like he hadn’t just teleported upright like a startled cat. "Have a good nap?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted it.

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

There were a lot of things that Izuku could handle—Katsuki’s screaming, Todoroki’s icy judgment, even Present Mic at full volume on the radio—but nothing struck fear into his soul quite like Aizawa's unimpressed stare.

Izuku immediately realized two things.

One, he seriously needed to learn when to shut up.

Two, he was about to regret his life choices.

Before he could even attempt to backpedal, Aizawa’s capture weapon snapped forward like a viper.

Izuku could have dodged it.

He could have glitched out of the way, sidestepped, phased, something.

But something told him that actively avoiding Aizawa right now would only make the hole he was digging even deeper.

The capture cloth wrapped around his torso in one swift, effortless motion, binding his arms to his sides.

He barely had time to brace before Aizawa yanked him forward.

Izuku stumbled, half-dragged, half-walking as Aizawa wordlessly pulled him out of the gym.

"Ah—wait, where are we—?" Izuku yelped, feet scrambling to keep up.

Aizawa didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look at him. Just kept walking. He didn’t slow his pace as he dragged Izuku through the halls of U.A., the sound of their footsteps echoing against the empty corridors. The school was quieter than usual, most students already having left for their internships. The only people still inside were staff, support, general, and buisness course students, along with third year Hero students.

Izuku, for once, wasn’t resisting. Not really.

He could have glitched free at any moment, could have unraveled himself from the capture cloth and vanished down a hallway like a rogue signal. But he didn’t.

Because despite the circumstances, he had more important things on his mind.

He exhaled slowly, deciding that if Aizawa was going to haul him around like a rebellious cat, he might as well take the moment to ask what had been nagging at him for hours.

"Mr. Aizawa," he started, keeping his voice serious.

Aizawa didn’t respond, but he didn’t stop walking, either.

Izuku pressed on. "Where is Iida doing his internship?"

That finally got a reaction.

Aizawa’s grip on the cloth didn’t tighten, didn’t loosen, but the brief silence that followed was enough to tell Izuku that Aizawa was debating whether or not to tell him.

It was a small hesitation. Barely noticeable.

But Izuku caught it.

Aizawa wasn’t one to hesitate unless there was something worth hesitating over.

Izuku's stomach tightened.

Another few steps. Another few beats of silence.

"Hosu," Aizawa said flatly. "Manual’s agency."

Izuku went cold.

His breath stalled, mind spinning.

That wasn’t a coincidence.

It couldn’t be.

Hosu was where Tensei had been attacked.

Hosu was where Stain had last been sighted.

Izuku felt something icy crawl down his spine, a realization sinking its claws into him and refusing to let go.

Iida was smart. Methodical. He was not the type to make random choices.

He had deliberately chosen the exact city, the exact place where his brother had been left paralyzed.

And Izuku was willing to bet everything that it wasn’t because he admired Manual.

He swallowed hard, glancing up at Aizawa, who still hadn’t looked at him.

But Izuku saw it in the way his shoulders were tense, the way his posture stiffened just a fraction.

Aizawa suspected it too.

"...That’s not a coincidence," Izuku murmured, voice quieter than before.

Aizawa let out a slow breath through his nose. "No. It’s not."

That silence stretched again, heavier this time.

Izuku’s fingers twitched against his sides, his mind racing. Iida was walking straight into Hosu. Into the same city where the Hero Killer was last seen.

Izuku clenched his jaw.

He didn’t believe in coincidences.

And right now?

He had a really bad feeling that Iida was about to do something he couldn't take back.

"Since you're still standing after this morning’s session, I assume you're ready for the real training to begin."

Izuku's closed mouth grin almost turned into a smirk. Almost. He was tired, sore, and mildly traumatized, but he wasn't done.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he said.

Aizawa hummed in mild approval before stopping outside a sealed metal door deep in the UA training facility. He finally released Izuku from the capture cloth, the fabric slithering back around his neck like a snake returning to its coil.

Izuku stretched his arms out, rolling his shoulders, waiting.

Then Aizawa turned to him, gaze sharp.

"This is how your real training starts," he said.

Izuku stood at attention.

"I'm going to put you in a controlled simulation. A constructed scenario designed to trigger your Quirk’s…other side."

Izuku’s stomach tightened.

He had expected this. He had even wanted this. But hearing it out loud still sent a weird rush of anxiety and anticipation through his system.

Aizawa continued. "Inside this room, you’ll witness someone you care about—someone like Bakugo—get critically injured."

Izuku felt his breath catch.

"It won’t be real," Aizawa clarified, reading his reaction instantly. "It will be a projection. An advanced holographic simulation designed to replicate a high-stress scenario. But for your mind, for your instincts, it will feel real." He grabs two electrodes and holds them up. "These go on your temples just so I can monitor your brain waves."

A phantom chill ran down Izuku’s spine.

The image of Katsuki lying on the ground, broken, bleeding, crying out for help—

His fingers twitched. His breath hitched.

His static buzzed in his ears.

He knew exactly what Aizawa was trying to do.

"You’re going to fight it," Aizawa said simply, watching him carefully. "You’re going to take everything Hound Dog told you, everything about anchors, control, grounding yourself, and you’re going to resist."

Izuku exhaled sharply, trying to push back the static building in his head. "So I’m supposed to just…what? Stand there while my instincts scream at me to do something? Resist the urge to let it out?"

Aizawa gave a slow nod. "For now, yes. This first phase of training is about stopping it before it starts. If you can't do that, then we’ll never move to the next stage."

Izuku's head tilted. "Next stage?"

Aizawa’s expression remained neutral. "Once you’ve proven you can resist, I want to see if you can do more than that."

Izuku blinked, his body still tense from the idea of seeing someone he cared about hurt, even if it was a simulation. "You mean…actually use it?"

Aizawa nodded. "I’ve been watching you, Midoriya. When that side of you takes over, it’s terrifying, but it’s also powerful. Your strength, your speed, your reflexes, they all spike to a level you don’t normally have access to. If you could control that power, wield it instead of being consumed by it—"

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t have to.

Izuku’s breath felt too shallow.

This was real.

He had spent his life fearing that side of himself. Fearing what he might do if he ever lost control completely.

Now, Aizawa wasn’t just telling him to resist it.

He was telling him that one day, he would have to face it head-on.

Izuku swallowed hard, his heart pounding.

"...And if I can’t?" he asked quietly.

Aizawa’s expression didn’t waver. "That’s why I’m here. If you slip, if you lose control, I’ll erase your Quirk. Every single time."

There was no judgment in his tone. No fear. Just certainty.

Like he knew Izuku could do this.

Like he was waiting for him to prove it.

Izuku breathed in, then out.

His hands clenched into fists.

"Alright," he said, voice firm. "Let’s do it."

Aizawa nodded and took off the seal on the electrodes, sticking them on the sides of his head, opening the heavy reinforced door, stepping aside as Izuku moved past him into the simulation room.

The second he stepped inside, Izuku’s senses sharpened.

The walls were plain, lined with hidden projectors and sensory emitters, all designed to make whatever simulation was programmed feel as real as possible. The air even felt different, like stepping into a space separate from reality—where anything could happen, and his instincts wouldn’t know the difference.

Izuku swallowed, taking slow, measured breaths.

He could feel the weight of what was about to happen pressing down on him, but he forced himself to stand tall, to ground himself before the test even began.

Behind him, Aizawa moved to the control panel behind the reinforced window—a protected observation room that allowed him to monitor everything without interfering unless necessary.

A few buttons clicked. A faint hum of machinery came to life.

Then, Aizawa’s voice came through the speakers.

"Alright, Midoriya."

Izuku tensed, eyes flicking toward the glass.

"The scenario will start in one minute. You know the goal, fight against the trigger. Use what Hound Dog taught you. Do whatever it takes to keep yourself from snapping."

Izuku nodded, swallowing past the unease coiling in his stomach.

"You’re not expected to win this fight," Aizawa continued, his voice even. "I'm not expecting you to get this right away. This is what training is for. This is what I am here for so don't sulk if you lose control. We'll keep trying until you get it."

He didn't want to fail it though. He wanted the constant faint itch underneath his skin to stop. To not hear the manipulative, distorted voice, feeding him ideas that push him over the edge. He just wanted it to stop. But Aizawa was probably right. This was the first time he was doing this. It seemed obvious that he would fail. That wouldn't stop him from trying though. 

"Simulation starting in five…"

The lights in the room dimmed.

"Four…"

The static in his brain buzzed, a low hum pressing at the edges of his consciousness.

"Three…"

His breath hitched.

"Two…"

He could feel it already—the other side of him, waiting.

"One."

The world shifted violently.

One second, Izuku was standing in the simulation room. The next, he was somewhere else entirely.

The air was thick with the scent of blood and dust. The distant sound of fire crackled in his ears as he stood in the plaza of the USJ.

And then, the sight that made his breath stop.

Katsuki was at his feet.

Barely breathing.

His body was crumpled on the cracked concrete, his uniform torn and soaked in blood, his gauntlets shattered beside him. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven gasps, fingers twitching slightly, as if reaching for something—for help.

Izuku’s stomach plummeted.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

He was supposed to make it in time. He was supposed to stop the Nomu.

But it was gone. Kurogiri had escaped.

He had taken the Nomu with him.

And Katsuki...Katsuki had been left behind, broken, gasping, clinging to life at Izuku’s feet.

The world tilted.

Everything around him suddenly felt wrong, warped, unstable.

His vision blurred at the edges, static buzzing in his ears, drowning out every other sound—the crackle of flames, the distant screams of battle.

Nothing else mattered.

Just Katsuki.

Bleeding. Dying. Because he had been too slow.

Something cold laid itself across his shoulders.

Izuku’s breath hitched.

Then suddenly, it was breathing into his ear.

"̶̖̲̯̝̩̺̅͆̇̚L̶̖̺͙̲̯͐̇̇̽o̶͖͇̩̣̽͜ȯ̵̹̹̬͍̬͔̓̇͗̃͝k̷͕̫̭̬̭̪̍̓͗͝ ̸̺̓̄͂̓͘a̵̻̮̻̮̍̍̊͠ͅt̶̛͙̂̒̔̈́̄ͅ ̶̲̮̕͠͝h̷̗͓̥̊̈́̌͝ǐ̴̺͒͝m̶͙̫͖̬̭̓,̷̻̝̈́̚"̸̘̹̦̮̫̫̈́̄̑̃

("Look at him")

The voice slithering into his mind like smoke, low, familiar, crawling under his skin.

Izuku froze.

"̶̜̟̲͗Y̸̢̛̬ͅō̸͙̰͍ụ̸͕͚̯̍ͅ ̸̨̦͙̈͋̀͊́̕f̷̖̂̈͊a̵̟̞̰̔̋͋̕͠i̷̛̜͙̺͈͒̀̃̀̚l̸̨̻͊̓͆͂͝ĕ̸̤̦̫̏̾̾̚͝d̶̮͈̯̼̥͊ ̵̨̖̙͙̦̤̚h̷̘͙͓̫͐̈́i̶̬̫̲̐̂͝ṃ̸̧̛͉̖͈.̴̺̇̓̀͒̀"̴̞͂͂

("You failed him")

A shiver ran down his spine, something deep inside him unraveling as the presence curled around him, unseen but felt.

His fingers twitched—not of his own will. His vision flickered, warped, his muscles locking up as the static swelled, crawling up his throat, his mind, his limbs.

He tried to breathe.

Tried to move.

Tried to tell himself it wasn’t real.

But he couldn’t.

Because it felt real.

And the demon—the part of him he feared most—was already wrapping its claws around him, whispering, smiling.

"̸̫̤̉͜L̸̨͕͍̬͇̞̾͠e̷̙̭̦̖̘͗̆̒ṯ̵͇̬̳̈́͌̆́́̚ ̸̧̦̹̗̉̀̍̒̐͠m̶̈́̈́̑͜ͅe̷͖̘̤̖͎͌̅̃͘ ̵̳͗̈́͌͌i̵̠͙̺͈̥͇̐͊̊͝n̵̟̗̕͝.̶̡̭̇́ͅ"̷̢̫͌̈

("Let me in")

Izuku couldn’t stop it.

Because he wasn’t even trying.

He let him in.

The moment the demon surged forward, the static in Izuku’s mind exploded. The weight on his shoulders became crushing, the cold breath in his ear morphing into a roar that swallowed him whole.

The world shattered—

And then he was gone.

When Izuku came back to himself, he was gasping for air, his hands clutching at the fabric over his chest like he was trying to hold himself together. The world around him melted away, the USJ dissolving into streaks of color, glitching apart until it was nothing but a hollow echo in his mind.

The blood.

The smoke.

Katsuki.

Gone.

He was back in the simulation room. Back under the dim, sterile lights. Back on his knees, shaking.

Through the haze, through the pounding in his skull, he felt Aizawa’s presence before he even saw him.

Standing behind the reinforced glass, eyes glowing a deep, burning red, locked onto him like a sniper sight.

There was no emotion on his face, but Izuku knew better.

Aizawa had seen everything.

Izuku forced himself to focus, dragging in one ragged breath after another, trying to force his heart rate down before he completely unraveled.

Then Aizawa leaned forward, pressing a button on the control panel.

His voice came through the speakers, low and steady.

"Are you okay?"

Izuku swallowed, still feeling the ghost of cold claws curling around his spine.

He had to take a few more breaths before he managed to nod.

"Yeah."

His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, forcing himself to steady.

"Yeah, I’m good."

Aizawa didn’t move from behind the glass, his glowing eyes unwavering as he continued to assess Izuku like a man who had just witnessed something dangerous and wasn’t sure if it had truly passed.

The simulation room was dead silent, the air thick with tension.

Izuku knew he should say something.

Something reassuring, something to convince Aizawa that everything was fine, that he wasn’t about to fall apart.

But the truth was…

He still felt it.

That cold grip on his shoulders, the static buzzing in his skull, the presence just beneath the surface, waiting.

Even now, standing in an empty room, he could still hear the demon’s breath in his ear.

"̴̯̣͓̩̒ͅT̵̡̞͋͗͛̈́̒̒h̸̯̖̘̔͘ͅå̵͉̎͛̕ṯ̸̯̀ ̴̙͗̈͂w̶̩̰̄̃̍̊̓͜ȁ̶̡̬̞̟̟̳͒̈ś̵̢̮̲͇̑̅̾̚n̸̛̪̜ͅ’̸̭̔̓̍̔̕t̴̢̝̖͙͂̈̍̾̓͛ ̵̥̃s̸͓͊ö̷̳̖ ̶̺̼̬͖͓͈̏̇̃́̐͑b̶̡̧̛̺̯̟͇̋͌à̷̱̼̹͌̓̽d̵̗̠̲̂̀̾̄̚,̴̨̰͑̈͒ ̶̤̻̳̞̈́̓̚ẁ̴̹͍͕̳͌̓̀͂͜ā̸̗͖̦̥͉̮̉͛͠s̶̨̹͖̭̳̼̎͛ ̵̡͈͛̿̉́í̵̺̀̐̀̊͘ẗ̷̰̖̳̥͒̉̐?̶̛̻̜͓̩͙͍͆̂̀͛"̷̤̗̱̋̆̎̈́̅ͅ

("That wasn’t so bad, was it?")

Izuku gritted his teeth.

Aizawa’s voice came through the speaker again, cutting through the haze.

"What did you feel?"

Izuku exhaled sharply through his nose, shifting where he stood. "Like… something was waiting for me to slip."

Aizawa didn’t look surprised. "Did it push you?"

Izuku shook his head, fingers twitching. "No. It didn’t have to."

It wasn’t like fighting a villain. It wasn’t like anything else.

The demon didn’t fight for control. It didn’t force him down.

It waited, because it knew.

It knew exactly what he saw, exactly what would break him.

And it knew that all it had to do was stand there with open arms.

Aizawa leaned into the mic. "You let it in."

Izuku’s stomach twisted.

"I…" He hesitated, his throat tightening.

Because he had.

Not on purpose. Not willingly. But in that moment, when he saw Katsuki on the ground, helpless, something in him had cracked. And the demon had walked right in.

Izuku exhaled through his teeth. "Yeah."

Aizawa studied him, the weight of his gaze pressing down on him like he could see right through the fraying edges of his control.

"Again."

Izuku’s head snapped up. "What?!"

Aizawa pressed a few more buttons, and the lights in the room shifted, flickering back into standby mode.

"We’re running it again," Aizawa said, voice completely calm.

Izuku’s blood ran cold. "You—you want me to do it again?!"

Aizawa nodded. "We'll do this however many times it takes."

Izuku stared at him.

His heart pounded too fast, too uneven, static crawling up his spine, his entire body recoiling at the thought of seeing that again.

Seeing Katsuki broken again.

Seeing himself lose control again.

Aizawa’s voice came through the speaker, firm and unyielding.

"You wanted to control it, Midoriya. That means facing it—over and over again—until it has no hold on you."

Izuku’s fingers curled into fists.

His breathing shaky but determined.

This was what he asked for.

This was what he needed.

Even if it hurt.

Even if it terrified him.

Izuku lifted his head.

"Do it."

Aizawa didn’t hesitate.

"Simulation starting in five…"

The lights flickered.

"Four…"

The air shifted.

"Three…"

Izuku’s pulse roared.

"Two…"

And he swore, he swore, that it laughed.

"One."

The world collapsed around him.

Chapter Text

"You're getting better."

Izuku let out a long, tired sigh, reaching up to drag the damp towel from his face, the fabric still cool against his overheated skin. His breath came in slow, uneven exhales, his muscles twitching from the strain of another grueling session. His shirt was completely soaked through, sweat clinging to his back like a second skin, but he was too exhausted to care.

Beside him, Aizawa sat cross-legged on the mat, his usual tired, deadpan expression firmly in place, but something in his gaze was just a little different.

Izuku didn’t look at him right away, still catching his breath, his mind sluggish as he tried to process the words.

"What do you mean?" He muttered, finally turning his head, his damp curls sticking to his forehead. "I keep failing."

He wanted to laugh at how pathetic he sounded, but it was the truth.

Every single time, the demon found a way in.

Maybe it wasn’t as bad as the first time, maybe he managed to hold out a little longer, but in the end—he still lost.

The moment the scenario started, the moment he saw Katsuki injured, bleeding, vulnerable— something inside him broke, and that thing was always waiting.

Every. Single. Time.

Aizawa watched him for a moment, then exhaled through his nose, resting his arms on his knees.

"It's better than when you started two days ago."

Izuku blinked, caught off guard by how calmly he said it.

He turned his head toward his teacher, frowning slightly. "How? I still lose control every time."

Aizawa shrugged. "Not every time."

Izuku opened his mouth, then paused.

Because…he was right.

The first time, the demon had taken over completely.

The second time, he lasted longer before the weight of it crushed him.

The third time, he had actually fought back.

The fourth time, he had nearly held out until the end—until the demon had whispered just the right thing, said just the right words, and he had cracked.

Aizawa wasn’t praising him.

He was simply stating a fact.

Izuku was lasting longer.

The demon was still winning, but not as quickly.

He sighed, rubbing a hand through his damp hair. "It doesn’t feel like improvement."

Aizawa made a low noise, something almost resembling a scoff. "Of course it doesn’t. You’re not going to wake up one morning and suddenly be amazing to it, Midoriya. This isn’t something you can fix overnight."

Izuku groaned, letting his head tilt back against the wall. "I know, I know," he muttered. "It’s just…frustrating. I feel like I should be able to hold out longer. Like—like I should be stronger than this."

Aizawa’s dark eyes narrowed slightly. "Strength doesn’t mean instant results. Strength means showing up even when it’s hard. Strength means resisting even when you fail."

Izuku huffed, pulling the towel over his face again to hide the way his mouth twitched into a bigger grin.

Aizawa’s words were annoyingly right.

Again.

"Two days ago," Aizawa continued, "you went under in less than ten seconds. Today, you lasted nearly a full minute before I had to erase your Quirk."

Izuku still flinched a little at the memory of that—the way the demon’s grip had tightened around him, the way he had felt himself slipping—only for everything to suddenly go silent when Aizawa’s quirk kicked in.

The rush of cold clarity had left him shaken, breathless, and feeling like a stranger in his own skin.

But…

It had taken longer.

And that meant something.

Izuku sighed again, this time a little less defeated.

"...So what you’re saying," he muttered, voice muffled under the towel, "is that I suck slightly less?"

Aizawa rolled his eyes. "Yes, Midoriya. You suck slightly less."

Izuku let out a hoarse laugh, brief but real.

He let the towel slip from his face, tilting his head slightly toward his teacher. "...How many more times are we doing this?"

Aizawa didn’t hesitate.

"Until you win."

Izuku should have expected that answer.

But somehow?

Somehow, it made him feel lighter.

Aizawa stood, rolling out his shoulders, his movements slow and deliberate—the only sign that even he was feeling the weight of today’s session. "Now go shower. We’re done for the day."

Izuku, still sprawled out on the mat, barely twitched in response. His body felt like lead, every muscle overworked to the point of exhaustion. He didn’t even know if he had the energy to walk to the showers.

But before he could try to summon the will to move, Aizawa’s hand landed on his head, fingers ruffling through his sweat-damp curls in a rare moment of quiet reassurance.

"Don’t worry," Aizawa muttered, voice a little softer than usual. "You’ll get through this."

Izuku froze.

For a moment, all the exhaustion, all the frustration, all the static still lingering in his mind—it all fell away.

Aizawa wasn’t one for empty platitudes. He never sugarcoated things, never promised something he wasn’t sure about.

So when he said you’ll get through this, it wasn’t just encouragement.

It was a statement. A fact.

A guarantee.

Izuku swallowed hard, blinking up at him. And his grin softened into a small, real smile.

"...Yeah," Izuku said, voice rough from overuse, but steady.

Aizawa grunted, clearly done with the sentimental moment, and promptly stepped over him, heading toward the exit.

"Shower," he called over his shoulder. "And for the love of God, don’t pass out in there."

Izuku snorted, finally dragging himself up to his elbows. "No promises, Sensei."

He could hear Aizawa’s exasperated sigh as he walked out.

Izuku exhaled, letting himself sit with the moment for just a little longer.

Then, with shaking limbs and a mind still buzzing from the day’s battle, he pulled himself up and made his way to the showers.

[Don’t come in the morning. Meet me at the gates at 7.]

Izuku stared at the message from Aizawa, blinking in mild confusion.

After the past two days of absolute hellish training, he had just assumed Aizawa would drag him back into the simulation room again, force him to relive the same nightmare over and over until he finally won.

But this? This was different.

He tilted his head, quickly typing out a response, his grin widening when he could already picture the way Aizawa's eye would twitch in annoyance. 

[What, you just wanna sleep in?]

Not even ten seconds passed before Aizawa’s reply came through.

[We’re going on patrol.]

Izuku’s brows shot up.

Patrol?

Since when was that part of his training?

Izuku immediately started typing.

[Where?]

Aizawa’s next response made his blood turn to ice.

[Hosu.]

Izuku’s entire body went rigid.

His stomach dropped.

His pulse spiked.

Before he even fully processed it, he was already moving, jumping up from his bed, his muscles screaming in protest after everything Aizawa had put him through, but none of that mattered right now.

Hosu.

That wasn’t just some random patrol location.

That was where Iida was. That was where Tensei had been attacked. That was where Stain had last been seen.

Izuku’s hands tightened into fists, his breathing shallow.

Aizawa had known.

He had seen what Izuku saw and he had suspected it too.

This wasn’t a normal patrol. This was something else.

Izuku grabbed his phone, fingers flying over the keyboard.

[Is this about Iida?]

Aizawa didn’t text back immediately.

The three little dots appeared on the screen, blinking for an uncomfortably long time.

[Meet me at the gates at 7.]

The next evening, at exactly seven o’clock, Izuku made his way toward the front gates of U.A.

The air was cool and crisp, the sky still painted in hues of early dawn, and the world was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that felt like the calm before a storm.

As he approached, he spotted Aizawa immediately.

Leaning against the U.A. wall, arms crossed, head tilted slightly downward, eyes closed—he looked like he was about to fall asleep right there.

But Izuku knew better.

Aizawa might have looked relaxed, but he was alert. Always.

Next to him, sitting neatly against the wall, was a briefcase.

Izuku didn’t need to ask what was inside.

His hero suit.

Aizawa was bringing him on patrol as a hero-in-training.

Izuku came to a stop a few feet away, rocking on his heels as he eyed his teacher carefully.

"You look comfortable," he said lightly. "Are you sure you don’t just wanna sleep in and let me handle this?"

Aizawa opened one eye, unimpressed.

Izuku grinned.

"You handling a patrol without supervision?" Aizawa muttered dryly. "That’d be the fastest way to get U.A. shut down."

Izuku let out a fake gasp, placing a hand on his chest. "Mr. Aizawa, that was almost mean. I think I’m hurt."

Aizawa rolled his eyes.

Then, without another word, he nudged the briefcase toward Izuku with his foot.

"Suit up," he instructed, tone shifting to something more serious. "We leave in five minutes." He got comfortable against the wall again, closing his eyes. 

Izuku exhaled slowly, his breath steady, but his heart pounded a little harder.

Aizawa bringing his gear meant this wasn’t just a lesson.

This wasn’t just training. This was real.

"It’s about Iida, isn’t it?"

That got a reaction. Not much. But enough. Aizawa’s shoulders tensed, just slightly. His head tilted half a fraction.

Nothing.

Silence stretched between them, heavy, uncomfortable.

Izuku’s stomach twisted. He had expected a flat-out denial. A simple ‘no’ or a ‘stay out of it’. Instead, Aizawa said nothing.

And that was worse.

Izuku clenched his fists, heart pounding faster now. "Mr. Aizawa," he said, voice quieter, but firm. Aizawa opened his eyes. There was no irritation there, no exhaustion, just a calculating sharpness. He studied Izuku for a long moment, gaze measuring, like he was deciding how much to say.

Then, without answering the question, he simply said, "Get dressed."

Izuku inhaled sharply. Aizawa bent down, grabbing the briefcase by the handle and holding it out. Izuku took it, fingers curling around the cool metal.

That was it, then.

He had his answer.

Even if Aizawa wasn’t saying it outright, he had just confirmed everything.

Something was happening in Hosu.

The train rattled softly as it sped along the tracks, cutting through the quiet night toward Hosu City.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense.

There weren’t many people in their car—just a few commuters, a handful of late-night travelers, all minding their own business. The low hum of the train filled the space, but for Izuku, the sound barely registered.

His thoughts were elsewhere.

He sat across from Aizawa, his hero suit now fully secured, his mask tucked beneath his chin. The cool leather of the seat pressed against his back, but his posture was stiff, restless.

His phone was gripped tightly in his hand, his thumb hovering over the screen as he stared down at his open messages.

The last conversation he’d had with Iida was days ago.

And the text Izuku had sent days ago—the one he had still been waiting for a reply to all day—still sat there, unread.

[Hey, Iida. I saw the news about your brother. I know you probably don’t want to talk right now, but if you need anything—anything at all—let me know, okay?]

Still nothing.

Not even a single acknowledgment.

Izuku exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the device.

It had been hours since he last tried, but he couldn’t help himself.

He tapped out another quick message.

[Iida? Are you okay? Where are you?]

He hesitated.

Then added one more text.

[Please respond.]

He hit send.

And then, like the last time—like the time before that—nothing happened.

Izuku stared at the screen, the faint glow reflecting in his wide, unblinking eyes.

He never had to wait this long for a response from Iida.

Not unless there was a reason.

His stomach churned.

He glanced up at Aizawa, who was sitting with his arms crossed, his eyes closed. He was thinking. Calculating. Watching without watching. Izuku licked his lips, shifting in his seat, his foot tapping rapidly against the floor before he finally broke the silence.

"You think he's going after the Hero Killer?"

Aizawa’s eyes snapped open.

They locked onto Izuku immediately, sharp and unreadable, glowing faintly in the dim light of the train.

He didn’t answer right away.

Which, for Aizawa, was an answer in itself.

Izuku’s fingers clenched around his phone.

"You do."

Still, Aizawa said nothing.

Izuku inhaled deeply, forcing his voice to stay level, even as the unease in his chest coiled tighter.

"We both know this isn’t just a coincidence." His tone was firm, more certain now. "The second you said where he was doing his internship, I knew something was off. Iida isn’t the type to pick an agency at random. He doesn’t do anything without a plan."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp. "And now? He’s completely ignoring my messages, barely even acknowledging his friends?" Izuku shook his head.

"Iida isn’t grieving." He swallowed. "He’s hunting."

Aizawa’s expression didn’t change. But his gaze was heavier now.

He knew it too.

Had probably known before Izuku even put the pieces together.

Finally, after another long moment, Aizawa spoke, his voice low, steady, careful.

"We’re not jumping to conclusions."

Izuku frowned. "But—"

"We’re not jumping to conclusions," Aizawa repeated, sharper this time. "What we know is that Iida is in Hosu, working under Manual. We know his brother was injured there. We know Stain was last sighted there. But that doesn’t mean Iida has made a move yet."

Izuku’s jaw tightened. "Yet. So you do believe it. It's so obvious. Why would he go to Manuals agency when he wasn't the kind of Hero where Iida could improve his Quirk, or his combat skills? Nothing Manual offers will be anything Iida can learn from. What if he does go after the Hero Killer?"

Aizawa held his gaze. "Then we’ll be there."

Izuku exhaled through his nose, his foot still tapping against the floor, his heart still pounding unevenly.

This wasn’t enough. This wasn’t fast enough.

They were still hours away from Hosu, and every second that passed felt like another second wasted.

Iida was smart. Iida was careful. But vengeance made people reckless. Izuku had felt it before.

The train continued its steady hum along the tracks, but for Izuku, the sound had faded into the background.

His mind was running at full speed, cycling through everything he knew, everything he feared, and the one question that kept echoing in his head—

'What if we’re too late?'

Aizawa had said they weren’t jumping to conclusions. That they didn’t know for sure what Iida was doing.

But Izuku had spent years analyzing people, picking apart their tells, their choices, their patterns.

And Iida wasn’t acting like himself. Not responding. Going quiet. Disappearing into a city that had taken his brother’s future. It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. Izuku gritted his teeth, staring down at his phone screen as if willing Iida to respond. Still nothing. A sinking feeling curled in his stomach.

They still had a couple of hours before they reached Hosu. A couple of agonizing hours where Iida could be out there alone—tracking down a villain that had already proven himself capable of taking down pro heroes. Izuku’s fingers tapped restlessly against his knee.

"You’re thinking too hard."

Izuku glanced up, finding Aizawa watching him from beneath the curtain of his hair, gaze unreadable but firm.

Izuku frowned as much as he could around the tense grin on his face. "I’m just—"

"Overthinking," Aizawa cut in, voice flat. "I can hear you spiraling from here."

Izuku pursed his lips, shifting slightly in his seat.

"I just—" He exhaled sharply. "What if he’s already found him?"

Aizawa didn’t immediately respond. His expression remained calm, steady, but there was a weight behind his gaze that Izuku didn’t miss.

"Midoriya," he said evenly, *"I know what you're afraid of. But panic isn't going to help. You want to be prepared? Then stay focused. If we go in thinking we’ve already lost, then we’ve already lost."

Izuku clenched his jaw, his leg still bouncing.

"I know that," he muttered. "But Iida’s my friend. And if he does something reckless, if he—"

"If he does," Aizawa interrupted, "then we stop him."

His tone was firm, final.

Like it was as simple as that.

Like failure wasn’t an option.

Izuku swallowed, his throat feeling tight.

Because this wasn’t just stopping a classmate from making a mistake. This was stopping a friend from throwing away his future. From throwing away who he was.

Izuku knew what vengeance could do to a person. Knew how it felt to want to destroy something for taking away someone you loved. He had almost lost himself to it before. Now Iida was standing on that same edge. And if Izuku had to be the one to pull him back, then he would.

Even if it meant facing him head-on. Izuku exhaled, fingers loosening slightly around his phone, and just tried to relax for the rest of the ride.

A chime sounded through the car, followed by the crisp voice of the conductor.

"Next stop, Hosu City. Estimated arrival in ten minutes."

Izuku sat up straighter, the restless tapping of his fingers against his knee coming to a halt.

This was it.

Across from him, Aizawa opened his eyes. They hadn’t spoken much over the past hour. There wasn’t much left to say.

Izuku had spent the time preparing—mentally walking through every possible scenario, every way this could play out, every contingency plan he could come up with.

But no matter how many times he ran through it, there were too many unknowns.

Iida still hadn’t responded.

Still hadn’t checked his messages.

Still hadn’t acknowledged that anyone was looking for him.

Which meant either he didn’t want to be found… or it was already too late.

Izuku’s jaw tightened, his grip clenching around his phone.

"When we get there," Aizawa said suddenly, breaking the silence between them, "we stay smart. No reckless decisions. No splitting up."

Izuku looked up at him, brows furrowing slightly. "Even if we see him?"

Aizawa held his gaze. "Especially if we see him."

Izuku swallowed.

He wanted to argue. Wanted to say that if he saw Iida, he wasn’t just going to stand there and wait.

But Aizawa wasn’t wrong.

They weren’t the only ones in Hosu tonight.

The city was big, and Stain was still out there somewhere.

If Iida was looking for him, then chances were, Stain already knew.

And if they rushed in without thinking...

Izuku pushed the thought away before it could settle and took a breath, rolling his shoulders, already mentally preparing himself. Aizawa was watching him, reading every flicker of movement, every shift of his expression. 

Bzzztt

Izuku sharply twitched to the window, his head tilting when something started to ring. And it was getting louder, meaning something was coming closer. 

"Hey, did you see that?!"

The voice came from somewhere in the back of the train car, drawing the attention of both heroes.

Izuku turned, his pulse spiking. Aizawa, who had been standing up to prepare for their departure, immediately froze, his head snapping toward the commotion.

Passengers were pressing against the windows, murmuring in confused panic.

"That building over there—" someone started.

"It just exploded!"

A sick feeling settled in Izuku’s gut.

"What’s all the ruckus?" another voice asked.

"Some kind of fire?"

Aizawa narrowed his eyes, his posture shifting slightly, no longer in rest mode, but battle ready.

Izuku moved toward the window, gripping the back of the seat in front of him as he strained to see. His heart pounded in his ears, the flashing lights of the city blurring in his vision.

"Passengers, please hold onto your seats—"

Izuku barely had a chance to react before something crashed into the train with the force of a cannon.

The entire car shook violently, the impact sending him flying backward. His body slammed into the floor, his head knocking against the base of a seat.

Aizawa grunted somewhere beside him, barely managing to brace himself before hitting the opposite side of the cabin.

Screams filled the train as the lights flickered, sparks bursting from the damaged walls.

Izuku forced himself upright, wincing from the impact. His vision spun, the train still skidding along the tracks, trying to adjust from the force of whatever had just slammed into them.

Thud.

Followed by a sickly, inhuman noise.

Izuku turned, eyes widening in horror.

The Hero who had crashed through the train was pinned to the ground, their body spasming beneath a twisted, clawed hand.

And standing over them, a figure pressed against the wall, gripping the metal like it was paper, its muscles bulging, veins dark and pulsing with something unnatural.

Then it turned its head.

Its face was horrifically wrong, its skin stretched over a visible, pulsing brain, its eyes bulging and vacant, locked onto the terrified passengers like it didn’t even recognize them as people.

Izuku’s breath hitched.

"A NOMU!"

The word left his throat before he even realized he had shouted it.

The passengers around them screamed louder, scrambling to get away from the monstrosity.

The Nomu’s second hand gripped the edge of the train wall—and with an awful metallic shriek, it began peeling it back.

Aizawa was already moving his capture weapon was already whipping forward, his stance lowering as his eyes flashed red.

"I want you to stay back, you hear me?!" He barked, his voice commanding, sharp.

Izuku’s heart slammed against his ribs, but his feet still moved forward. "Wha—wait!"

Eraserhead didn’t hesitate. He jumped, twisting mid-air, his leg snapping out with brutal precision. The moment his foot connected, the Nomu was launched backwards, soaring through the hole it had created, his teacher going with it. The train car rocked from the force, sending another wave of shouts and panicked cries through the passengers. Izuku scrambled to the torn opening, gripping the edge of the mangled metal.

"Mr. Aizawa!"

The cold night air whipped against his face, but he barely noticed.

His eyes locked onto the distant skyline, the glow of fire spreading across the horizon.

His stomach twisted violently. The city was burning. Hosu was burning.

And Izuku knew—deep in his gut, in every screaming part of his instincts that this wasn’t just some random attack.

Izuku couldn’t sit still.

Every part of him screamed to move, to do something—to stop watching, to stop waiting.

The city was on fire.

People were in danger.

And Iida—Iida was somewhere in this chaos.

His gut twisted violently.

Without another thought, he jumped out of the train, the rush of wind ripping through his hair as he fell toward the city below. His body flickered, distorting, shifting—before he reappeared on a rooftop in a burst of static. His feet hit the concrete hard, but he barely noticed. His mind was running a mile a minute, eyes darting across the burning skyline, searching for any sign of Iida.

"Tenya!"

Izuku halted, his heart lurching.

Someone was calling for Iida.

"Where are you, Tenya?!"

Izuku’s eyes snapped toward the sound, his body already twisting mid-motion, feet slamming against the rooftop as he glitched forward, following the voice.

A screeching roar filled the air.

Izuku barely had time to process it before his instincts screamed at him—

MOVE!

He flickered, just in time.

A bus came barreling toward him, crashing through the street below at full force, metal screaming against pavement as it skidded out of control.

Izuku glitched farther down the street just as it slammed into the ground where he had just been.

The explosion ripped through the air.

The heat blasted against him, making him cover his face as a shockwave of fire and debris roared into the sky.

Izuku stumbled, coughing against the thick smoke, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the scene unfolding before him.

Chaos.

The pros were fighting—struggling—against two more Nomus.

Izuku’s breathing sped up.

"Oh no."

More of them?

His hands shook, his mind racing.

"What are these things?!"

Beside him, a hero leapt into action, crushing a fire hydrant with a powerful stomp.

A powerful spray of water shot into the air, cascading down like a temporary rainstorm.

"Manual! Put out the fire!"

"Right!" Manual moved quickly, directing the water toward the spreading flames, trying to keep the destruction from getting worse.

But Izuku’s mind wasn’t on the fire.

"Why’d you run off, Tenya?! Dammit!"

Izuku froze.

'Iida...is gone? He's not here?'

Izuku’s stomach plummeted.

He would never just run off. Not unless he found something more important. Not unless...he found the Hero Killer. Izuku’s chest went tight. ‘He went after him. He went after Stain.’

Before he could move, a Hero suddenly stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"You’re in the way, kid! Get out of here!"

Izuku blinked, snapping back to the present.

He nodded quickly.

"Right! I’m so sorry!"

He turned on his heel, already glitching away from the fight. Because he knew where he needed to go.

Iida wasn’t here. He was somewhere else. And Izuku just knew that he was with Stain.

Chapter Text

The city burned.

Ash hung in the air like snow, clinging to the sweat on Izuku’s brow, catching in his breath and clogging his throat. Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance—close, but not close enough. Every step he took echoed through the crumbling alleyways of Hosu like footsteps in a graveyard, the ground littered with fallen debris, the distant sound of chaos swallowing the city whole.

But none of it mattered.

Not the smoke. Not the fire. Not even the pain screaming through his muscles from the fight on the train.

Because he could feel it—that sinking weight, that suffocating dread.

He’s here. He’s close.

Izuku turned the corner, skidding to a halt as his breath caught in his throat.

Iida.

Lying in the middle of the alley, his glasses shattered, blood pooling beneath him. His body was limp, motionless, eyes wide and filled with pain and panic—but he wasn’t moving.

Izuku didn’t understand. Not at first.

But his eyes snapped to the figure looming over him, the shape wreathed in shadows and menace, the glint of metal catching the firelight as it rose into the air.

A long, jagged sword.

Poised to strike.

To kill.

Izuku didn’t think. He didn’t shout. He didn’t hesitate. He moved. In a split second, his body snapped forward, glitching in a burst of static as he closed the gap between them and his fist connected with the Hero Killer’s face.

The impact sent Stain crashing across the alley, his body slamming into a dumpster before skidding to a stop on the far side.

Dust and debris kicked up around him as he staggered, boots dragging against the concrete.

Izuku stood there, chest heaving, the static around his body still flickering like broken radio signals. His shoulders rose and fell with each sharp breath, eyes wide and locked on the man across from him.

Then he turned, just slightly, looking back at Iida.

He was still on the ground. Still unmoving. His jaw clenched, grin not matching the fury in his eyes.

Izuku stepped forward and positioned himself directly in front of Iida. He would not let him take another step.

Without breaking eye contact, Izuku reached behind his back and drew his microphone staff, the weapon expanding with a sharp click as it hummed to life in his hands.

His voice didn’t waver.

"You’re not touching him again."

Stain rose slowly from the shadows, movements fluid and eerily graceful for someone who had just been launched across the alley. His boots scraped against the pavement as he stepped into the faint moonlight, shoulders squared, sword still gripped tightly in his hand. Blood dripped from its jagged edge, spattering onto the concrete with soft, wet taps.

Izuku didn’t take his eyes off Stain as he knelt down beside Iida, carefully keeping his body between his injured friend and the Hero Killer’s blade. The monster hadn’t moved yet, hadn’t charged again, he was waiting. Watching. Measuring.

"You found him too? But how?" Iida’s voice was hoarse, strained, weak—his pride trying to mask the pain in his body.

Izuku answered without looking away from Stain. “I saw it on TV,” he said, low and steady. “They had this breakdown… stats about the Hero Killer. I noticed most of his victims were found in places where there weren’t a lot of people. Quiet corners, forgotten alleyways.” He tightened his grip on his staff. “So I ran away from the panic. I figured if I wanted to find you… I had to go where no one else was looking.”

His grin faltered just the tiniest bit. “I didn’t expect to be right.”

Iida grunted as he tried to move, but his arms refused to respond. "I...I can't move," he finally said, his voice trembling with frustration. "It has to be...his Quirk. Since he cut me...I’ve been paralyzed.”

Something shifted in the corner of his eye. Izuku turned to the second body that was leaning against the wall. The Hero, Native, was barely conscious, breathing shallow. Blood on his uniform. One that wasn't so popular, but Izuku knew him.  'Someone else is here?' 

Things just got a whole lot harder for him if he wanted to get both of them out. 

“Midoriya, please…” Iida’s voice strained with desperation. “Don’t get involved. This doesn’t have anything to do with you!”

Izuku turned his head, slow, disbelief written across his face.

“You’re joking, right?” He said softly, eyes flickering. “You’re my friend. You think I’d just walk away?”

Iida’s expression twisted with guilt. He opened his mouth to argue, but Stain stepped forward.

"You came here to save your friend," the Hero Killer said, voice dark and gravelly, sharp like the edge of his blade. "You even made a big entrance."

He took another slow step, dragging the tip of his blade across the asphalt, leaving a shallow groove in the pavement.

"But I have a duty," he continued, eyes locked onto Izuku’s. "To rid this society of frauds. This Pro,” he gestured coldly toward Native, “chose to fight me. When your friend made that same choice…”

His gaze sharpened into a glare, his voice lowering into something that sent a chill crawling up Izuku’s spine.

“It guaranteed that the weaker would be culled.”

Izuku’s body went rigid.

Stain tilted his head, grin spreading unnaturally across his face.

“So…what will you do?”

Izukus grin was unflinching and unmoving. Like something old and powerful was waiting just beneath his skin.

He spun his staff once, the end of it smacking against the pavement in front of him.

“I’m going to save them,” he said, voice laced with something darker “Even if I have to go through you to do it.”

Stain narrowed his eyes, blade poised at his side, waiting for the boy to lunge. But Izuku didn’t move. His voice, when it came, was clear. Unshaking.

"Being strong doesn’t mean standing at the top alone. It means being able to stand in front of others…even when you’re scared. Even when it hurts. Even when it would be easier to run."

Izuku stepped forward once more, his staff lowering just slightly. His grin hadn’t left, but there was something else behind it now. Something calmer. Human.

“Iida didn’t fight you because he wanted fame. He didn’t come here to be admired. He came here because someone he loved was hurt, and he thought he had to carry that pain alone. But he’s not alone. Heroes aren’t supposed to be.”

The words echoed through the alley, settling like dust after a storm.

Stain didn’t move. His fingers flexed slightly around the hilt of his sword.

Izuku’s voice dropped into something quieter.

“I want to live in a world where people feel safe. Where they can rely on someone else to protect them, to care. Where someone like Iida doesn’t have to carry the weight of revenge on his own. That’s why I’m going to be a hero. Even if no one remembers my name… even if I die in the dirt, if I can save someone—just one person—then it’s worth it."

Stains grip around the hilts of his sword slackened when he said that. Disbelief and glee flashed through his eyes as a huge grin stretched his face. "...You’re not like the others," he muttered. "You’re not tainted."

Izuku didn’t respond. Didn’t flinch. He simply raised his staff again, and lunged forward, glitching mid-step. His form skipping, splitting, then snapping back into focus just in front of Stain. His staff swung low, aiming to sweep Stain’s legs out from under him.

Stain dodged, flipping backward, his blade slashing outward in a wide arc—but Izuku phased again, disappearing in a flash of static and reappearing behind him mid-air with his staff raised over his head and swung down. Stain barely raised his blade in time to deflect it, metal meeting reinforced carbon with a harsh clang that rang out through the alley.

The moment their weapons clashed, Izuku grinned wider.

"Wow," he said, voice dripping with mock surprise, "you actually blocked that. I was starting to think you were all bark and no bite."

Stain growled low in his throat, twisting to slash at Izuku’s legs, but Izuku glitched again, vanishing, and reappearing just behind him. Stain lunged again, this time with a vicious upward strike that would’ve carved open Izuku’s side, if he had been there.

His body reappeared inches from Stain with deadly precision, staff drawn back like a baseball bat on a wind-up.

“Sorry,” Izuku grinned, his voice sharp and cocky, “I forgot to say thanks for the compliment—"

He swung.

The tip of the staff cracked against Stain’s sword, pushing the Hero Killer back two steps.

Izuku followed up immediately with a sweep toward Stain’s legs, forcing him to leap back to avoid the trip.

"—but I don’t need the approval of a walking edgy philosophy blog."

Stain snarled, twisting midair and landing low. “You talk too much.”

Izuku twirled the staff and lunged again. “Funny, people say that right before they get hit in the face.”

He feinted left, then glitched right.

Stain spun to parry, his sword slicing down the area he knew Izuku would pop up, only to catch the butt of Izuku’s staff slamming into his jaw. He grunted, staggering back.

“Hero society’s got problems, yeah,” Izuku said, flipping back and landing in a crouch, panting but still grinning wide. “But if your solution is murder, then congrats! You’re just another villain with delusions of grandeur!”

His body coiled, ready to spring forward for when Stain attacked again, but he only stared at Izuku, raising his sword to his lips. His abnormally long tongue snaked out and licked the blade. Izuku didn't have any time to feel disgusted before his entire body went numb. A cold wash started at his neck and poured down his spine, spreading like frost beneath his skin. His limbs felt heavy, distant, like they belonged to someone else.

He looked down.

There. Across his bicep. Barely a few centimeters long.

A shallow cut.

One he hadn’t even felt.

Stain stood across from him, panting faintly, blood-smeared blade in hand. His eyes flicked to the wound, then locked on Izuku’s face.

“Now you understand,” he said quietly, almost reverently. “Even a single drop… and your body is no longer your own.”

Izuku dropped to one knee, hand instinctively going to the cut. He could see his body reacting, but his muscles weren’t responding—not the way they should. The numbness was crawling now, up his shoulder, down his spine.

Behind him, Iida choked out a weak protest, but Izuku didn’t hear it.

His eyes were still on Stain.

Still grinning, even though his green eyes screamed that he was panicking. His arms gave out and he barely turned his head in time so that his chin didn't hit the pavement. 

“There are countless false Heroes around here who are all talk. But I think you’re worthy of staying alive, despite your annoying monologue." Stain mumbled under his breath. "You’re different from these two.”

“No…” Izuku croaked, his throat dry. His jaw moved sluggishly, teeth gritting together as he tried to force something, anything, to obey him.

He could hear Iida struggling to breathe behind him. Hear the soft rasp of his voice trying to protest, trying to move. But Iida was still paralyzed, just like him.

Stain’s boots echoed, each step toward Iida like the ticking of a bomb.

“No…move…please…” Izuku whispered, eyes stinging. He groaned through clenched teeth, trying to push himself up again, but his limbs only twitched uselessly beneath him. His jaw worked furiously, frustration boiling in his throat. His staff lay beside him, just out of reach.

“MOVE,” Izuku snarled through his teeth, sweat beading on his brow as he tried again to lift an arm. A finger. Anything.

His vision blurred. His heart pounded. The alley twisted around him, colors smeared, shapes distorted by pain and desperation.

Then everything went dark.

Not unconscious. Not fading.

Just…dark.

Sound disappeared. The alley, gone. But like some cruel joke, he could still see Stain walking towards his immobile friend. 

It was like he’d been pulled somewhere else. A place without color.

And then he felt it. Low and familiar, like something that had always been there, just waiting.

The demon was kneeling beside him.

Its presence pressed down like a weight on his shoulders, curling around him, familiar as a second skin. The static grew louder, like a broken frequency that only he could hear.

It didn’t speak with urgency. It didn’t need to.

It sounded patient. Eager. Hungry.

"̷̟̣̽̿A̴͈̓n̷͔͆ỳ̵̩̒ṫ̷͈̩͆h̴̫̉͋i̸̳̞͠n̸̛̗͙̊g̴̝͠?̸̻̾ͅ"̴̻͆͛

("Anything?")

The word lingered, curling in the air like smoke.

“̷̟̀Ỳ̸̫ọ̶͝ù̴͓ṟ̷̚ ̵̛̘a̴̤͘ȓ̶͚m̷̤̽s̶̪͂ ̸̫̕w̵̼̾ó̵̙n̸͖̅’̵̰̃t̶͖̐ ̴̡͋m̸̧̀ő̶͔v̵͓͊ę̵͌.̴͚̀ ̴̜̌Y̶̩̎o̴͉͆ṷ̴̊r̵͓͆ ̸̪̊l̷̪̍é̶̮g̷̡͊s̶̺̍ ̶̥́w̸̫͠o̴̘̍n̴̦̉’̴̤̄t̷̤̚ ̶̭͑l̶̨͌i̴̢̐s̵̙͋ț̷͑e̸̱͛n̴̟̄.̴̼͝ ̵͉͒Y̷͈͝ő̶̞u̵̎ͅr̸̚ͅ ̴̯̈́b̸̨͠ö̴̜́d̸̮̈y̷͚̐’̵̥̃š̵̺ ̷̛̞b̸̡̍e̵̜͠t̵̩̀r̵͈͒a̷̯̾y̸̫͂į̷̂n̴̬̂ģ̴̏ ̶̲͐y̸̗̕o̸̭̐ŭ̴͙.̴̡͗ ̸̤͛A̶̧̽g̵̜̑a̵͙̎i̷̛͉n̵͉͌.̷͈͝”̶̦̃

(“Your arms won’t move. Your legs won’t listen. Your body’s betraying you. Again.”)

It tilted its head as if feigning sympathy, but its smile never changed.

“̴̥̈Y̶̲̆ö̸̢́u̴̮͝’̴̹͋r̶̖̒ȩ̸̎ ̸̗́ẅ̶́͜á̷̮t̶̻̂ć̶̳h̸͚̽i̷̠̓n̶̬̔g̷̞͌ ̶̖̄ÿ̸̪́ȯ̶̝u̴̳̒r̷̂ͅ ̵̓͜ḟ̷̬ŕ̴̫ì̷̪e̷̩͝n̵̤͊d̵̝́ ̶̭͛d̷͙́i̸͖͑e̵̖͝.̷͇̏ ̴̫̉P̴͓͒ò̵̤w̴͖̉e̷͎͌r̶͔͐l̵͈͠ê̷͚s̸̤̚s̷͇͝.̸͇̉ ̶͉͌T̵̖̈́r̷̨̓á̴͍ṗ̴̳p̴̟̌è̸̩ď̵͎ ̶̼̒ì̷͈n̷̗̊ ̵͚̃ỳ̷̭ŏ̴̟ù̴̼r̶̻̚ ̷̹̀o̸̭͘ẅ̶̭́n̴̥̾ ̶̩́s̶̱̆k̶̨͗ḯ̷̤n̵̼͑.̶̹̈́ ̵̨͛J̵̙̀u̵͙̚s̷͕͑t̴̫̏ ̵͖̍l̷̳͊ì̴͈k̷͙̿é̶̺ ̴̥̕b̷͕͝e̷̺̓f̵͂ͅo̸̥̓r̵̦̀ẹ̵̚.̶̺͛”̵̟͆

(“You’re watching your friend die. Powerless. Trapped in your own skin. Just like before.”)

Izuku’s teeth clenched.

The demon reached out, not to hurt him, but to touch him—fingers trailing along his jaw with chilling familiarity.

“̵̮̀Ŷ̸͖ô̸̙u̶̞͋ ̷̟̈́k̶̙̈́n̷̝͆õ̶̰w̴̗͊ ̸̏ͅÌ̷̥ ̴͇̾c̴̈́͜a̶̹͛ṉ̸̕ ̷͉̽h̸̀͜ė̸̗l̵͓̈́p̴͉͐ ̷̗̋y̶̻̏ȍ̵̱u̸̖̾,̴͚̈"̶̝̈ it whispered, eyes narrowing. ̸̤̈́I̸̗͂ ̴̻͘c̸̯̿a̸̠͠n̶̘̑ ̷̹̌t̸͕͊ë̸̢́ă̶̤r̴͉̂ ̵̦̄h̸̻͘i̸͝ͅm̷͂͜ ̵̖͆a̸̟͆p̷̡̃a̸̢͝r̸̘͗t̸͇͒ ̷͎̀b̶̢̾ē̸͍f̷͎̋o̶̝͝ŗ̷͋e̸̩͐ ̸͖̆h̷̹̽e̵̠͠ ̵̹͗g̴͈͊e̸̜͘t̴̗̀s̵̮̾ ̷̣͝ā̷̹n̷̙̐o̷̧͑t̴̨͐h̴͖͐ẽ̷̲r̸̚ͅ ̸̤͝s̵̯̓ẗ̴̩é̸̜p̷̪͗ ̸̪͋c̸̠͝l̸͇͘o̸̰̓s̸̠͂ë̷̥́r̴̢̂.̶͎͆ ̵̙̂J̵̥͑ȕ̴̡s̶͍̒t̵̀͜ ̵̳͝s̶͖͂ä̸̩́y̶̢͆ ̶̩͌t̷̛̗h̷̯̽e̶͜͝ ̵̩͝w̸͕͒o̵͆ͅr̸͓̉d̶̦̂.̸̪̌ ̸̻͘S̵̠̎ṯ̴̆ö̴̳́p̸̮͗ ̶͍͌r̷̗͠ȅ̵̟s̷̱͆i̷̻͋s̵̟̃t̸̙͌į̵̅n̵̯̎g̸̦̓…̴̜͌a̸̧̽n̷͚̍d̷̨̃ ̸͓̂l̶͈͑ȅ̴̻t̵͍͝ ̴̣͑m̴͗ͅe̷̜̿ ̷͇̇d̸̲͠ó̸̪ ̷͙́w̷̨͒h̶̫̊a̷͓͊t̶̢̄ ̴̜̓y̷̱̔ó̷̡u̵͉̚’̵̱͐r̸͉̄é̶͜ ̴͍̓ț̵̈o̴̩͂o̷͍͌ ̴̛͚s̷͔̎c̸̲̒a̸̲̿r̴͚͝e̸̐͜d̴͖̀ ̸̺̃t̵̩̿ö̶̮́.̷̖̎”̶̹́

(“You know I can help you. I can tear him apart before he gets another step closer. Just say the word. Stop resisting…and let me do what you’re too scared to.”)

It leaned in, its mouth almost brushing his ear.

“̵̙̒Ĺ̸̢ę̸͠t̵̡̄ ̴̲̔m̷̢̓e̶̻̚ ̶͈̈́s̷̥̈ă̴̘v̵̱͘e̵͑ͅ ̴̼̑h̴̫͑i̶̧͠m̸̛̹.̴̙́”̸̒ͅ

(“Let me save him.”)

Izuku’s fingers scraped the concrete. Just barely.

And then he growled through his teeth, voice tight and shaking.

“And how do I know,” he spat, eyes burning, “that even if you do stop him…you won’t just turn around and kill them next?”

The demon—still lingering in that thick static-space behind his eyes—went still.

Then he sighed.

The sound was long, dramatic, almost theatrical.

Then he dropped down beside Izuku again with a huff, sitting like they were just two old friends on a park bench. One leg stretched out, the other bent lazily, his elbow resting on it like he had all the time in the world.

"̴̦͐A̵̹̿l̵̲̍r̸̝̓ĩ̷̘g̷̲̓h̶̼͝t̸̩̓,̷̜͠ ̵̗̽a̸̟͊l̵̰͝r̴̞͝ȉ̶̧g̸͛͜ḧ̸͙́t̸̺́.̴̳̌"̵̛̲ He muttered, eyes glowing faintly green from the depthless back around them. "̴̲̌L̸̪̃ê̸͈t̵͔̉'̸̝́s̸͓̎ ̷̤̇m̸̩̅a̷̙̔k̸̟̾ë̵̟ ̴͔̂ą̵̀ ̸͍͊d̷̖̀ê̸̗á̵̤l̶̯̅.̴̫͛"̵͂ͅ

("Alright, alright. Let's make a deal.")

“No.”

The demon blinked. “̶̘̚Ẏ̷̼o̸̰̕u̸̯̓ ̸̡̉d̸̺̃i̶͙̋d̴̘̆ņ̸̐’̴̧̅t̵̘̊ ̵̩͋e̷̳̒v̸͗͜e̶͎͗ǹ̷̰—̷̳́”̸̮̏

(“You didn’t even—”)

“No.”

There was no hesitation. No debate. Not even a pause. Just raw, stubborn refusal. The demon’s eyes twitched, just barely. And then he laughed. It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t amused. It was feral.

Loud and distorted, like it came from a broken radio, sharp and echoing around them, cutting through the haze like jagged glass.

“̴̥̽O̴͉̍f̶̱́ ̸͉́c̶̼̀ŏ̵͜ǔ̸͓r̴̗̀s̷̱̏ê̸͔,̷̙̐” he said through his laughter, wiping at one eye mockingly.  ̵̱̚“̷̈͜O̶̞͐ḟ̶̞ ̴̙̐c̴̲̋o̸̖͘u̵͉͒r̶̢͗s̶͈̎ẹ̶̓ ̷͓̓y̴̺̓ô̸ͅu̶̳̒’̵̖̓d̷̘̆ ̸̺̕s̸͉̕a̸̟̔y̸̮̓ ̶̭̈́t̸̢̎h̴̺͋a̸̭̾t̸̮̓.̶͔̽ ̸̦͌Y̶̗͑o̶̢̒u̴͇͂’̵̢͋d̵̜͝ ̵̠͋r̴̥̾ă̷͍t̴͔͝h̸̥̆e̵̦̾ŕ̸͙ ̴̞̀d̵̜͋r̸͕̐ą̸̐g̵̻̊ ̷͎̈́y̷̗̕o̴͊͜ú̶̼ŕ̵̠s̵͍͌é̵̟l̶̤͠ḟ̴̳ ̴̩͒a̶̘͠c̶̡̀r̸̗̂o̷͇̎s̴̲̒s̴̜̉ ̴̗̚b̷͍̍r̴͍̈́o̸̡͒k̵̪̈́e̷͖̐n̸͇̐ ̶̯̈g̸̻̐l̶̖͌a̶̬͗ś̵͕s̴̟̍ ̸͎̅t̴̠̓h̵̨͛a̷̺̋n̶͚͐ ̶̻͒l̷̘̑ȩ̶̾t̶͕̀ ̶̫͒m̷̼̅e̸̺͐ ̴̺͊h̵̩̕ĕ̴̹l̷̢͂p̸͓̉.̸͖̍"̴̦̃

(“Of course. Of course you’d say that. You’d rather drag yourself across broken glass than let me help.")

Izuku didn’t answer.

The demon dissolved into smoke, tendrils of blackened static and shadow curling through the air like creeping fog.

Izuku gasped.

He felt cold, clawing pressure on his shoulders. Like hands digging into him from behind, clutching tight enough to bruise, like the demon was trying to force his way in through sheer proximity.

The static-laced voice slithered back into his ear, impossibly close.

“̴̻͂Y̸͙͐o̵͍͌ü̵͉’̶̮̉r̴͒ͅḙ̸̀ ̷̪̚g̶̘͂o̵̖͝i̴̛̯n̸͔͆g̵͔̿ ̵̺͒t̷͇͑ò̵͜ ̸̟̍w̵̪̿a̶͝ͅṭ̸̀ċ̸̘h̵͇͛ ̴̭͐h̴̳̑i̸̹̒ḿ̵̨ ̵̫̕ď̵̟ị̴͠e̵̳͒.̷̜͝”̸̮̃

(“You’re going to watch him die.”)

Izuku flinched.

The demon’s grip tightened.

“̷̭̄Y̷̘̎ö̸̢́u̴͇̓’̷̯̇r̶̫͒e̶͚̕ ̵̓ͅs̶͎͘ǫ̴̅ ̶͇̒o̴̹̅b̶͙̈́s̶̩̋ē̷̩ś̸̻s̵̗̋e̵͚͘d̸̲̽ ̸̩͐w̴̪͆i̸̢̛t̷̯̅h̷͚̍ ̷̛͇c̷͓̅o̵͕͊n̸͑ͅt̶͉̽r̴̜͠ǒ̷̯ĺ̶̠,̶̙̔ ̷̹͗ṣ̷̅o̵̯̾ ̸̠͆s̵̫̽ṯ̵͌u̸̝͒b̶͙͒b̸͎̓o̸̡͂r̵̳͛ṋ̶́,̴͖̀ ̸̮́s̸͓͠o̵͝ͅ ̵͍̔p̴̠̈ṛ̴̈́i̸̙͐d̴̠͛è̸̤f̴̦̾ü̵̳l̶̺͠—̸̮̅y̷̙͊o̵̙̓u̵̖̓’̶̫͐d̴̜͝ ̵̱͗r̷̢̒ȧ̴͔t̷̠̓ḣ̴ͅȅ̷͍r̸̦͐ ̵͓͑f̶̱̑a̸̢̓i̶̡̛l̴͎͐ ̴̩͝t̵̜̒h̴̞͒a̴̳͝n̶̩͝ ̸̝̿c̵̲̎o̸͈̒m̸̝̎p̴̭͘r̸̤͐ô̷̢m̵͇̋ḭ̷̇s̴̙̔ë̷̪́.̶̯̎”̷͚͌

(“You’re so obsessed with control, so stubborn, so prideful—you’d rather fail than compromise.”)

Izuku’s breathing stuttered as the demon’s voice lowered, whispering with poison-drenched sweetness.

“̶͍͌L̸̢̕o̵͓̓o̵͎̎k̴̫̔.̸̡͊ ̶̖̒L̵̲̏ơ̷̳ȏ̶̝k̵͕͑ ̵̜̌a̶̭̿t̷̛̯ ̶̮̊h̴̺̍i̴̞͆ṃ̴̾.̶̺̇”̸̧̛

(“Look. Look at him.”)

And Izuku’s head moved, not on his own.

His vision was wrenched toward Iida, still paralyzed, still unmoving, his eyes wide and filled with terror, hate and rage as Stain stood over him, blade raised.

Izuku’s chest caved with dread. His whole body was screaming to move, to do something, but the numbness held him down like a coffin lid.

And the demon was still there, clutching him, whispering into his ear like a devil perched on his shoulder.

“̵̜͠T̸̳̿h̵̘̐ȉ̴̠s̶̳͆ ̵͚̊i̴̛̞s̸̨͑ ̷̫̉ŏ̶͖n̸̥̈ ̸̙̊y̵̩͑o̶̱͗ǔ̷̧.̵̦͘ ̵̞̔N̶͚̍ọ̷̀t̷͍̒ ̶̢̍m̵̪̕e̸͚̒.̸̘̈́ ̷̮͝Y̸͈̏o̴̳͛u̶̘̿ ̵͔̅h̵̭̀ǎ̸͍d̶̨͠ ̷̱̂a̶̻͛ ̷̗͠c̸̱̋h̸̟͝o̸̻̎ḯ̷͕c̶̡̅e̷̱͐.̴̝̑ ̸̜̿S̴̰͗t̵̏͜i̴̺̅l̵̦͠l̵͓̐ ̶̤͗d̸͓͛o̵̞̚.̶̜͘ ̴̱͘B̵͎̀ư̷̬ṭ̷̊ ̷͇̏y̵̟̚o̵̡͊ṵ̴̊r̷͇͑ ̵̘̀p̷̺̓r̴͇̒ĩ̸̫d̶̳́ȅ̵͖,̴͚̾ ̶̻̒y̶̯̔ô̴̤ȗ̷͖ŕ̷̨ ̷̡̍f̷̫͊e̷͙͒a̷̫̐r̴̘̋,̵̢͛ ̴̱̆y̵̪̒ö̷͍u̸̡̎r̶̗̐ ̴̱̿‘̶̡̎h̶͆e̴͕̅r̶̯̕o̵̦̿’̸͎̽s̴̪̀ ̶̺̓c̷̪̉ȏ̵̫d̴͔̾ḙ̷̛’̴̟̄—̷̟̓i̸̹̎t̶̻̾’̶̈́ͅŝ̵̜ ̸̂ͅg̴̫̈́o̴͎͑i̸̻͝n̷͓̎g̶͚͝ ̸̭̄t̵̪͐o̴̠͒ ̴̛̤ǵ̷̮ê̷͈t̴̙̊ ̸͓̀ț̷̿h̵͘ͅe̷̢͋m̷̹͂ ̶̙̀k̶͉͘i̶͍̓l̶͈̅l̸͎̂e̵̲͊d̶̠̂.̴̮̌”̷̼͂

(“This is on you. Not me. You had a choice. Still do. But your pride, your fear, your ‘Hero’s code’—it’s going to get them killed.”)

The whispers curved around his thoughts like smoke seeping through cracks, curling into every weakness, every doubt.

“̵̧̄A̸͕̔l̴̟̆l̵̰͂ ̷͓̔y̶̰͠o̶̧̓u̷͖̍ ̴͉́h̵̫̽ạ̷͑v̵̳̐e̵̠̚ ̸̹̊t̶̞̋ȏ̶͙ ̵̡̿ḓ̸͆o̴̢̓…̸̮͝ ̸̲̑i̷̳̇s̷͎͋ ̴̼̍l̵͌͜ȅ̶̟t̷̢͒ ̷̯̋g̴̡̅o̸̻̓.̶̺̈́ ̷̣͌L̷̼͐e̵̯͌t̴̰̓ ̷̞͆m̷͙̃e̴͉̐ ̶̧̓ị̵̀n̴͍̄.̷̰̚”̶̠͗

(“All you have to do…is let go. Let me in.”)

The blade glinted above Iida’s back.

Izuku’s vision shook with tears. He couldn’t fail him. He couldn’t. So, with a shaky inhale...

“…You swear,” he whispered hoarsely, and the demon stilled.

“I’ll do it—if you swear.”

The shadows surrounding him pulsed, thick with tension.

Izuku’s voice trembled. “You swear you won’t hurt them? That you’ll only protect them? That you won’t even kill Stain—just stop him? That you won’t…won’t turn your back on me once it’s over?”

For a moment, the smoke was silent.

Then the static burst with excitement.

The demon jumped upright in front of him, flickering wildly with energy, his grin spreading impossibly wide.

“̸̣̚O̵͚̚f̵̋ͅ ̸͇͠ĉ̴͔ô̸͎u̶̝͂r̴̟͝ṣ̶͛e̴͔̋!̵̨̽ ̷̟̇O̶͍̐f̴̙̅ ̶͓̉č̶̻ọ̴̽u̶̘͗r̵̞̀s̵̩̆e̴̻̅,̸̘͂!̶͉̈”̸̛̬ ̸̖̉ ̴̭̅ He laughed, joy crackling like thunder. “̷̜̌Ỉ̴̝’̸̙͗m̴̡̐ ̸̩̈́n̷͕͘o̵̼͊t̸̪̆ ̴̼̓s̴̲͋ò̵̼m̴͙̿ḙ̴̕ ̷̲͐m̷̓͜ȯ̸͓n̵̝̈s̷̟̕t̶̼̎é̵͚ŗ̸̎ ̶̺̃w̵̮̕i̴͕͝t̵̖̄h̶̝͗o̴̅͜ų̶͐t̷̗̏ ̴̣̀m̸̨̒ã̴̡n̷̳̽n̸̢̽ę̴̊r̶̺͛ṡ̷̝.̵̩̋”̵̂͜

(“Of course! Of course! I’m not some monster without manners.”)

He crouched in front of him again, eyes gleaming bright acid green, voice rushing out like wildfire.

“̴͕̿Y̶̯̆ö̷͎ù̷̳’̸̼̍l̶̙̽l̸͈̐ ̸̪͊s̷͜͝t̸̛̯i̸͈̅l̴̞̉l̴̋ͅ ̶̗̈́b̵̳̔e̶̗̐ ̷̞̍r̶̜̍i̸̹̊g̷̞̈́h̶̥̊t̵͈̋ ̴̳̿t̸̼́h̷̼͊ê̴͚r̵̼̕e̴̫̔,̴͍̀ ̸͉̾o̸̝̒n̶̬͂ ̷̠̽t̸̻͛ḧ̶̗́e̸̙̽ ̵͖͐e̴̊͜d̴͚̽g̸̟͐e̷̡̋ ̸̼̏o̷͇̓f̵̜̊ ̵̜̚c̴̞͝o̴̫̽n̶̡̍t̷̢͠ṙ̵̮ō̵̼l̷̡͑,̴̛͙”̴̬͝ ̷͋ͅ he promised. ̷̜͐“̴̜̋W̶͍̆a̵̱̒t̶̰͝c̶̫̀h̶̩͝į̴̍n̵̻̈g̴̥͆ ̴͕̌e̸̬͋v̸̙̊ȇ̵͎r̷̟͒y̴̛̥t̶̺̆h̴̢̔í̵͉n̶͚͠g̶̱̊.̵̹͘ ̴̟̋Y̶̪͘o̷̰̾ũ̵̞’̵͕̕l̴̻̀l̶̦̂ ̸͈͐b̶̻́e̵̞̐ ̵̨̽ḁ̶̉b̴͇̈́ľ̸̳ȩ̶̈ ̵̮͝t̷͕̄o̵̩̓ ̷̗̈́f̷̖͑ě̵̫e̵̛̳ļ̵̚ ̷̲͛ṁ̶̢e̶͙̕.̴̝̌ ̵͓̅Í̸͜f̸̺͝ ̶̱͊ś̶͇ő̴̜m̴̖̀e̸͙̚t̸̜́h̴͈́i̴̳͛n̸̙͗g̵̬̓ ̶͖͠ģ̶͝ò̴͈e̵̲͂ṣ̵͐ ̷̱̎ẉ̵̓r̸̢̕o̷̹̐n̶͚̄ǵ̷͖,̶̝̈ ̶̱̽i̷͎͒f̶̲͊ ̶̬͗y̶̺͘o̷̡͋ù̶̫ ̶͚͂d̴̦̀o̷̘̚n̴̯̎’̴̟̾t̴̮̅ ̶͚͝l̴͔̿i̴̞͆k̶̦̚e̸̢̕ ̷̪͠w̸̲̚h̴̗͒ä̵͙́ţ̶͆ ̵͎͝I̵͍͋’̵͕̽m̷̟̐ ̷͖͌d̸̰̈́õ̴̺i̸̜̇ñ̷͉g̵͉͠—̴̤̓”̷̫͒

(“You’ll still be right there, on the edge of control. Watching everything. You’ll be able to feel me. If something goes wrong, if you don’t like what I’m doing—”)

He tapped Izuku’s forehead.

“̴̝̇Y̴̦̍o̵͔͂ȕ̵͙ ̴̲̎p̴͚̊u̴̘̔l̶̙̑ḽ̷̀ ̶̬͌m̶̫̽e̴̦͒ ̷̬͘b̵̗͒a̸͓̓c̶͓̑k̶̡̎.̶̬́ ̴̠͝J̶̬̉ũ̴̗s̶̩̀t̶͉̾ ̵̡̀l̴̮͘ỉ̵̲k̸̫̾e̷̙͂ ̵͔̃t̵̐ͅh̴̢͒a̴͓͊t̷̮͘.̷̭̈́ ̶̺̇Ë̴͕á̵͇s̶͈͛y̴̟͊.̸̪́”̷̲̚

(“You pull me back. Just like that. Easy.”)

Izuku stared at him, eyes glassy.

“…Swear it.”

The demon held up one hand, glitching in and out like a broken projection.

“̴̠̅S̸̡̐w̶̥̾e̴̛̮a̸͙͋r̵̖͗ ̶̤̉o̶̙̾n̷͉͠ ̶͇͊ḛ̶͝v̵̖̌ĕ̸̘r̶͓̈́y̵̞͒ ̴̹͘ḋ̷̖r̸͕̉ŏ̶͈p̴̯̑ ̶̣̽ò̷̗f̸̺͗ ̶̮͆b̷̪̎l̷͇̈́o̶͚̅ǒ̴̘d̶̲̏ ̸̈́ͅw̴̡̍e̴̡̕ ̵͙͝ş̸͂h̸̢̔a̷̻̐r̷͔͑ĕ̴͖,̵̥̐”̵̦̏ ̷̮͗ he said with a crooked bow. ̴̣̊“̴͚̑Y̸̯̌ö̷͈ṵ̶͋’̶̏ͅr̶̩̽e̸̝͑ ̷͈͝s̸̥̈́t̶̗͠ì̴̲l̸̬͂l̴̛͜ ̴̼͒t̷̪̓h̴̢͋ë̸͍́ ̴̧͆d̵̰͝ř̸̺i̴̗̕v̷͇̍ë̷̝ŕ̷͜.̷̞̀ ̸̫͝I̸͊͜’̷̩͐l̶̺̃l̷̞̇ ̶̭̍j̶͎̏ȗ̷̺s̴̥͗ẗ̷̗…̴̢͊ ̴̘͌ḓ̷̎r̷̗͠i̶̞͂v̸̩͆e̴͇̚ ̵̘̂ă̵̺ ̴͇͂ḽ̴̔i̶̖͊t̶̨͑t̴̖̏l̸̬̽ē̷̬ ̶̥͒f̸̹̔å̵̞s̵̳͝ť̷̖e̷̱͋ř̵͍.̵̪̓

(“Swear on every drop of blood we share. You’re still the driver. I’ll just…drive a little faster.”)

Izuku hesitated one more breath.

"Deal."

Chapter Text

The moment the word left his lips, the air changed.

The demon’s eyes lit up, crackling, glowing.

The grin that spread across his face was ecstatic.

“̵̭̠̈́̌F̵̝̀ǐ̶̜̆n̴̯͉͑ȃ̵͖̪l̷͚̟̽l̴͇̓̈́ŷ̷̧̘͝.̶̧́́”̶͔͗̽

(“Finally.”)

Then he moved.

In a blink, the demon surged forward, his hands gripping Izuku’s face, forehead to forehead—his form pouring into Izuku like smoke into a broken vessel. Static burst through his veins like lightning, cold and hot and alive all at once, and the world reeled.

Izuku gasped as the paralysis shattered like glass and his body slumped to the ground. His fingers flexed once, twice, then curled into a tight fist. The air around him rippled with a pulse of distortion, like reality itself had hiccuped. His shoulders rolled back as he stood, spine straightening with mechanical ease, movement too smooth, too fluid, like something inside him had shifted the very mechanics of his body.

The grin on his face widened, not with joy or triumph, but with clarity. Insanity. The whites of his eyes turning black. But something was different this time. The gloves of his hero suit creaked slightly as the tips of his fingers shifted, joints cracking unnaturally, reshaping. The nails lengthened and curved, darkening into obsidian-colored claws, subtle at first…then sharper. Sleeker. Predatory.

A low, electric hum built around him, the faint crackle of static dancing over his skin like ghost-fire. His green eyes, glowing a bright acid green.

Stain thrust the sword down just as Izuku moved.

He snatched his staff from the ground and tore forward, the air fracturing around his body with every step, a trail of distorted light and sound breaking in his wake. In the blink of an eye, he was in front of Iida, his staff drawn in a fluid arc.

The blade met the staff with a thunderclap of impact, the sound echoing like an explosion in the narrow alley. Sparks flew in all directions, chunks of concrete lifting from the ground as the shockwave forced Stain to stumble back, wide-eyed.

Izuku stood tall in front of his friend, the staff humming low in his hand, the grin never leaving his face.

He didn’t speak right away. He let the silence breathe. Let Stain feel the shift in the atmosphere.

Then he tilted his head slowly, like he was studying a particularly disappointing insect.

“̴͎͖̔̊I̴̮̓̋ ̵̬̣̒s̵͍͛ḁ̸̆̚i̶͉̿̓d̵̡̗̋̾,̷̺͌”̸̲̊̈́ he said, voice layered, his voice underneath something deeper, static-laced, like an echo of his own tone from a corrupted speaker. "̶̗̘͑Y̴̧͔͑́õ̴͓ǘ̷̪͑’̷̦̼̿r̸̥͂e̸̻̔̓ ̴̙͇͂n̷̪͘o̷̠͓͂t̶̡̨̽ ̸̲̼͒̎t̷́̿͜o̶̻̙͑ú̷͍̘͑c̵̿̅͜ḧ̶̛ͅi̵̧͖͒n̷̠̚g̵̙̓ ̶͕͔̔h̴̬͋͐i̷̫̱̿͘m̸̰̕.̷̛̯͒”̶̛͓ ̴͍̭̆̈ 

(“I said, you’re not touching him.”)

Izuku took one slow step forward, boots cracking the pavement beneath him. The light from the fires danced over his face, casting sharp shadows that exaggerated the unnatural black of his eyes and the sickly green gleam of his irises.

The grin remained. But it wasn’t unhinged.

It was focused. Purposeful. Cold.

Like something that understood exactly what it was about to do.

“̷͇̍̔Y̷͍̚ò̷̯̩û̵ͅ ̸̲̖͑̽h̵́͘͜u̵͇̳̕r̴̨̭̅͒t̶̹̔ ̸̝̜͒̇h̵͕͆į̶̻͑m̸̫͇̽,̶̨͒͝ͅ”̸̤̘͆̚ the layered voice said again—Izuku’s voice, buried just beneath the growl of something else.

("You hurt him,")

Another step.

“̶͈̩̒̉Y̴̢̝̾͌o̷̘͗u̵̜͑̈ ̵͖͊͜t̴͕͎͝r̵̫̥̀i̵̦̿͆e̵̻͝d̸̹̋͠ ̷̰̣̌͒t̸͉̑o̴̎͒ͅ ̷̱̃̽k̴͍̈͜͝i̴̖̙͆ḷ̸̌l̶̟̹̾̍ ̴̬̝̂ȟ̸̬͔i̸̝̅͠m̸̤̅̓.̶͉̯̍”̷̨̖́͠

(“You tried to kill him.”)

The green static snapped again across his shoulders and arms, crawling over his skin like circuitry made of lightning. His claws flexed once, then slowly returned to a loose, controlled curl.

“̸̑͜Ȧ̴͙͇n̸͇̦̑d̸̐͜ ̶̼̌y̶̬͌͐o̷̥̲̓̉u̶̟̾͑ ̷̘̈́w̵̟̓͊ä̶͙́̂n̴̠̗̾t̶̤̓̏ ̷͓̆͐m̵̢͒e̶̬͓̊ ̷̰̎t̴̼͔̓̉o̶̰͎̓̎ ̵̪͕͑b̷̙͗e̸̱̖͛̌l̶̞͇̉͆ḯ̸̲e̵̱̍v̷̗̙́ë̴̤̐ ̴̜̙̒t̸̹̙̾̈́h̵̢͒͜a̸̡͚̎t̴̫̱͋̐ ̵̛̥͌ḿ̸̧̦̈ȁ̵̻̄k̴̙͔̄e̷͍̘̔̌ṩ̷̭ ̴̧̯̇ỹ̷̮͉ơ̴̩͐u̴̪͈̿ ̶̮̂r̵̨̅̊į̷̽̒g̸̡͛ḩ̸̞̑t̶̖̺̓e̴̫͑o̶̙͗u̵̟͇͑s̸̡͋̊͜?̶̺͔͊”̵̢́͝

(“And you want me to believe that makes you righteous?”)

Finally, Stain moved. He adjusted his footing, drawing himself into a ready stance. “You think power makes you right?” he said, tone still composed but wary. “That you can posture and protect people just because you’re angry?”

"̵̈́̇ͅṄ̵̡̠ò̷͔,̶̜̎"̷̘̗̎ Izuku answered, voice crackling.“̶̝́̒I̵̙͚͒ ̶̯̯͒t̴̻͙̉̿h̴̳̄i̶̹͂n̷̟̪͊͐k̵̡͝ ̴̤́p̷̞̥̅r̷̺̊̀o̴̻͉̓̾ẗ̴̞́e̶͕͊̓c̴͎͛̋t̷͚͂i̶̝̗͠n̸̟͑g̸͕͊ ̴̬̼̎͝p̴͕͊e̸̢͊ǒ̷̝̺p̸̀͜l̷̨̻̆e̶̼̊̕ ̵̱̳̈͋m̵̰̐͝a̵̛͓k̵͉͇̐́e̵̖̽̇s̷̥̀͘ ̶̡̬͐m̸̪̳͊e̵̙̔ ̷͈̜̄ŕ̸̥͔̊ĭ̴̠̭g̶͖̘̒h̵̛͓͎̉ţ̷̯̓.̵̦̰̚ ̵̲͌̽I̷̝͘ ̷̯̹̏̃t̴̞̃h̸̡̀į̸̲͊͌n̶̖̍̚ķ̸̇ ̷̹̓s̸̩̆t̴̮̊a̵̖̣̋͛n̶͖͆d̸͍͐͝i̵̪͌n̵̩̳̍g̸̮͍̊̆ ̴͖͂̍h̵̺̳̐é̸̝̓ṙ̷̯̱́ĕ̴͍,̶̲̣̃͝ ̸͍̌b̴͉͒͝ȩ̸̧̾ţ̷͓͂̀w̸̼͠ë̴̬͕́͛e̸͕͘ń̷̰ ̵̫̦͛͝ỹ̶̜͘͜o̴͓͂̏ū̶͎͠ ̸̱̓̂͜à̵̤ͅn̸̘̰̆̈d̴̥́ͅ ̸̰͈͝t̵͓̀̕͜ḩ̵̈e̵̤͊͊ ̵̹̆̉p̷͇̑̍e̸͇͚̎o̸̱̐̉p̵̺̼̀̃l̶̦̘̒e̵͉͋ ̴̪͑͆ý̴̦ò̶̮̈u̷̱̦͒ ̷̝̽c̴̛͖͒a̸͕̜̓l̵̡̽l̶͇̮͊ ̵͇̆̇‘̴͇̏w̴̯̃͜e̴̲͒ä̷̙̗͛k̵͍̇,̵̫̯̒’̵̪́͝ ̷̳̭͒͝m̶̤̀ä̶͇́̓k̸̪͋͝e̶̝͔̅́s̵̘̦̉̓ ̴̖̅̂m̸͇͛e̴͕̫͊̌ ̶͍̚r̸̞͑i̸̡̨͑ĝ̶͕̰h̵͍̗̒̐t̸̗͂̅.̶̨̩̑”̸͖̣̉

("No, I think protecting people makes me right. I think standing here, between you and the people you call ‘weak,’ makes me right.”)

Stain’s eyes narrowed, tension rippling in the air between them.

Izuku’s fingers twitched. The pavement beneath his boots vibrated slightly.

“̶̞̩͆A̴̗͊ǹ̸͎d̶̲̋ ̷̩̚I̸̦̟͐̄ ̷̨̺̎̅t̸̝̝͒̂h̵̝̾̊i̵͎̾n̶̪͍̎k̶̦̠̎,̴̮͖̎̋”̷̮̮͒̈́ he continued softly, “̶̧̓̾t̷̬̯͋̈ḣ̴̤̉ͅä̷̪́̀ṫ̸̯ ̷̯̦̓i̶̩̻͋͘f̸̻͘ ̸̨̰̕͠y̴̕͜o̴̼͖̍ú̵͖̃͜ ̷̟̤̅t̷̖̹͗͆a̴͇͕̚k̷̢͚͒̑ẹ̶̙̓͋ ̵̳̓o̵̘͌ͅņ̵̛̱e̴̟͓̾ ̷̩̥̕͝m̶̡͕̽o̸̢͙̎r̶͓̙̃̈́e̸̺͂ ̷̘̈́͝s̶̠͊t̸̯̽̓ë̷͇͜p̶͔̎̔ ̸̘̿͆t̶̲̘̎o̵͍̾̌ẅ̷̻́a̷̼͈̅̊r̷̰͐͘d̴̫͌ ̵͖̱̏h̵̻̋i̵̘̼̿͝m̵̛͍̏…̸̡͓̔”̶̡̻̊

(“And I think, that if you take one more step toward him…”)

The green light around him intensified. The glitching worsened.

“̷̦̓…̶̖͗̅ẙ̶̺̗̑o̵͔̘̓u̷̙͉̾’̴̙̟̈́̑l̵̟̀l̶̯̳̈́ ̸̱̓͗l̵̺͖͗e̴͓̓ã̸̢͉͒r̶̹̲̄͂n̵̳̎ ̶̩́̀t̴͎̔̃h̷͔̪͘e̵̝̓̑ ̶͙́d̸̺͠i̵͈͐ͅf̶̤́͆f̴̣̽̊e̷̢͘r̸̭͔̄͝ê̶̳̄n̵̫͌͝c̸̠̓̈́ȇ̸̮̻̀ ̵̤̒͠b̶̖̰͑͘ę̷̜̀͝t̷̺͋ẉ̴̅ͅe̵͛͜è̸͔̼͗n̷̤͌ ̶̠͉̀̌à̸͔ ̵̯̼̆͒ḧ̷̡́̚e̸͍̪̋̃r̵̞̭̆́o̴̹̩͐“̴̫̦͒̔ His body flickered forward an inch. “̴̫̦͒̔…̸̲͙̔a̸̺̓ņ̵̞̆d̸͍̋ ̴͉̎̈́a̸̪̍ ̶̮̀͘͜m̵̺̘̿̚o̶̱͊n̵̹͌́s̴͔͎̀t̴̠̳̓̓e̴̡̤̓̓r̴̢̞̒.̷̪̔”̸̗̃̅

(“…you’ll learn the difference between a hero…and a monster.”)

He vanished.

One flicker of static.

Gone.

Stain’s blade came up just in time as Izuku appeared in front of him, claws aiming for his weapon hand fast and controlled.

Steel shrieked against steel as Izuku's claws raked across Stain’s blade, the impact jarring enough to send a shockwave through the air. Sparks exploded between them, mingling with the ash and embers drifting through the ruined alley.

Izuku didn’t relent.

He pressed in with unnatural speed, his movements no longer bound by hesitation or fear. His body flickered—glitched—each strike coming from a fraction of a second ahead or behind, like he was existing just out of sync with reality.

Stain snarled and twisted, barely dodging a swipe aimed at his throat. He countered with a low sweep of his sword, but Izuku phased out of its reach, reappearing above and bringing his staff down like a bolt of judgment.

CLANG!

Stain caught the blow with the flat of his blade, but he stumbled, boots skidding against the broken pavement.

This wasn't the same boy he had pinned down just moments ago.

This was something else.

Something wearing Izuku’s grin.

“You’re faster than before,” Stain ground out, pushing back with a surge of power.

Izuku twisted midair, flipping back and landing lightly on his feet. His claws sparked faintly against the staff as he spun it once, casually, then he vanished again.

Stain pivoted just in time to catch Izuku's staff slamming into his ribs. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs and sent him flying into the side of a dumpster, denting the metal with a sickening crunch.

He staggered to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth.

Izuku stood calmly at the center of the alley, one hand resting on the staff, flexing his fingers and making a rhythmic 'ding' across the metal. His head tilted slightly like a curious animal.

"̵̛̹̚Y̸̨̛͔͠ô̶̲ú̸̦͋’̶̞̰̋r̸̢̈́ë̷̳͕́ ̶̨̟̌h̷̽̈́ͅe̵͓̼̐s̵̻͋̍i̷̢̝͗t̵͇̘̚a̶̛̙̝ṭ̷̆í̸̗̀n̶͖͊̽ḡ̴̯,̶̛̮”̵̦̖̇̓ Izuku said, his voice layered again, a corrupted harmony of something human and something not. “̷̞͂͑Ÿ̸̭͝ͅo̷̬̪̾̚ǘ̴̫̺͌’̷̠̓̇r̴̫̈è̶̲ ̶̯̤̎̔r̵͔̾ȇ̸̗͎̌ȃ̵̙̙͆l̷̆̑͜i̷̖̱̽z̵͈̋̋ͅi̵̻̐́n̸͕͊̽͜g̶͖̿ ̵̦͇̎̉ǹ̷̢̢̀ŏ̵͙ẅ̷͙̜̃…̵̢͙͑ ̵̨̎̑Ḭ̸̃’̵̝͋́m̴̛̬͒ ̵̥̔̔͜n̷͙̯͘o̸̲͎͆́ṯ̶̭̓ ̷̰͛̄l̸̛͚ĩ̸̮k̵͈͈̅́ĕ̶͎̲͠ ̸͉̾͌ṭ̶̂̓ͅḥ̴̜̂ḛ̸̋̈́ ̴͖̳̃̈́o̴̯͋t̷̫́͘h̸̥͘̕e̸̗̽̿r̷̺̈́s̴͇͓͒̉.̷̝̟͆”̴̺̜̀

("You’re hesitating, you’re realizing now… I’m not like the others.”

Stain gritted his teeth, chest heaving.

“̷̢̿̌Y̶̐ͅö̷͔́̅ú̸̢̂’̶͚͕̾r̶̳͛e̷̡̦̽̿ ̴̢̹̓u̷͕̽͆n̷̛̲̦̿s̴̡̆͠t̶̜͈͝à̴̳̒ḇ̷̯͗ĺ̴̗̣̄e̸͔̯͘.̶̢̒”̸͓͓͌̈́

(“You’re unstable.”)

̵̢̘͂͠“̸̥̓Í̴̥̎’̷̦͔̒ṃ̵̟̒̈́ ̶͔̎f̸̣́͜o̸̤̒ͅc̴̨̩͌͝u̸͓͕͆͗s̸̤̤̍̒ḛ̶̮̈́ď̶̪̉.̶͍̆”̷̩̥̇

(“I’m focused.”)

̵͙͎̊“̴͉̆̕͜Y̵̨̫̍o̸͖̯̓ǚ̵̢̝’̶͖̅ŗ̸̨͗̊e̷̻̓ ̴͖͑͌p̵͈͘o̶͓͂̕s̴̺̐́ś̷̤̺e̷͖͉̍̏s̶̨͐s̴͖̯̊e̷͙̙͆͊d̶̛̛͉.̷̠̽”̵̤̕

(“You’re possessed.”)

̶̫́“̶̝̄̃Ĭ̵̼̔’̴̡̯͑̀m̵̭̐ ̴͚̒̇i̴̖̽̕ń̴͕̕ ̴̙̈̃ć̷͕̲̇o̵̘̠̚n̸̟̰͋̚ẗ̴̻ȓ̸̲̃o̴̗͑l̷̼͎̋.̶͈̾”̵̠͛̍

("I'm in control.")

And he was. Barely.

Beneath the grin, beneath the glitching power, Izuku was still there. Still holding the line. Still clinging to the words he’d said, 'Don’t hurt them. Don’t kill him. Just protect.'

And the demon, true to its word so far, hadn’t tried to cross that line.

Not yet.

But Izuku could feel it, just at the edge of his consciousness. A push. A pulse. A hunger.

He had to end this fast.

Stain charged again, blade gleaming. He aimed for the kill. Izuku spun, staff in one hand, claws in the other.

Their weapons met with a crack, the shockwave blowing back the smoke in the alley. Izuku dropped his center of gravity, twisted, and slammed the full force of his elbow into Stain’s sternum.

The Hero Killer gasped, the air punched out of his lungs and Izuku, without hesitation, followed with a spinning kick to the side of the head, sending Stain crashing to the ground.

He didn’t get up.

The alley fell silent.

Izuku stood over Stain’s crumpled form, chest heaving, green light flickering faintly around him.

His grin twitched. His claws still pulsed. But he didn’t move. 

Then, ever so slowly, his head turned and he met Iidas, who was finally starting to gain movement back. The boy was trembling, propped weakly on one elbow, his other arm shaking as it twitched toward his fallen glasses.

But his gaze was locked on Izuku. Wide. Stunned. Terrified.

And the demon saw it.

He smiled wider.

Slowly, deliberately, he turned toward Iida, his boots crunching softly against broken pavement, moving with an unnatural grace—like someone who had all the time in the world.

He raised one hand, claws gleaming under the dim, flickering firelight. Not attacking. Not rushing.

Just reaching out.

“̷͖̟̚͘E̴̙͖̎͑à̵̗͔̾s̸̛̱y̷̥͚͊́ ̴̨̙̅n̸̨͙̾̈́ò̷̭̓w̸͈̃ͅ,̶̝͗̀”̴̠̩͊ ̸̳̩͛ the demon cooed, voice dripping with static and amusement. “̸̖͚̾̈́I̵̥͆͗ ̵̼͆̾j̴̼̾͝ù̸̖͐s̵̼̻͘ṫ̷͉̓ ̴̰̂w̶͈͛à̴̳̰̍n̷̥̲̄t̶̤̑͝ ̶̹͇̈́t̵̮̉o̷̘̔̄ ̵̯͔͝ť̷̡̟͐a̸̘̓̀l̶͓͚̚k̶̡̢̉̌—̴̰͂̔͜”̴̫̈͛

(“Easy now, I just want to talk—”)

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

The scream tore from Izuku’s throat like a gunshot.

And in an instant, the world snapped. His hand twitching midair, and then it began to shake. Not with fear. But with resistance.

“No,” Izuku hissed, his voice cutting through the corruption like a blade. “You don’t get to do that.”

The demon’s grin twitched. “̴̠͋͠C̷͙̓͛o̵̹̽m̶̭͗̈e̴̼̺͛ ̸̫͛ó̸͓͝n̶̥̈́,̸̟͝ ̴̬̿Ỉ̷̙̦̾ ̴̤͈̑̋w̶͙̩̎a̸̭̚s̵̮̙̐͘n̴̛̼̔’̸̱̕̚ẗ̵̢́̊ ̷̡̰̄̑g̸͈̈́ͅȍ̵͕̖ṇ̶̎n̷̢͙̽a̸͕̜͋ ̶̨͙͌h̴̺̪̀u̸̖̠̓r̵̗̼̐̆t̷̳̳̊ ̶̦̀͝h̵͓̀i̷̢͒̀m̷͍̈̆—̶̘̻̆”̸͕̦̃

(“Come on, I wasn’t gonna hurt him—”)

“NO!”

Izuku surged forward inside his own mind, ripping the reins back from the demon with a force of will that was painful, like peeling away a layer of himself that had sunken too deep and the dark presence willingly let him. Because that had been a part of the deal, despite the annoyance it left behind. 

The claws retracted, his fingers trembling as they morphed back into his own.

The black in his eyes faded, draining out like ink in water, until nothing remained but the familiar green, wide and glossy with emotion.

The glitching stopped and standing in the alley now, chest heaving, was just Izuku. The grin on his face softened, warping from something sinister into something recognizably his. The corner of his mouth trembled, unsure, trying to hold its shape and then the tears came.

Hot, heavy, and endless.

They spilled down his cheeks without warning, shoulders shaking as everything, the fear, the power, the loss of control, came crashing down all at once.

He dropped to his knees, hands shaking, face twisted into something halfway between relief and agony. And inside, deep in the back of his mind, the demon laughed.

Not cruelly. Not maniacally.

But like a child who had told a ghost story just to see you squirm.

“̴̖͕̓͛O̸̯͔̕h̴̲̉,̸̼̝̑ ̵͈̱͛r̷̡̡̂e̸͙̍́ľ̶̙͎à̷̟x̴̘̱̍,̶̝̝̍”̸̬̲͌ ̴͚̭͋ it whispered with a grin. ̷̙̎͑“̸͍̇̌ͅI̴̢̪͛͠ ̵̜̇̀d̸͖̽̉i̷̯̐͗d̵̠̩͗ņ̵̈́’̴̘͖̄t̵͊͜ ̷̼̩̈d̴̝̜͂͂ȏ̶͕ ̶̜͛ä̷̧́̓͜ṋ̴̨̽͆y̷͒̃ͅt̶͚͑h̶̬͎͝į̷̫̾n̵̖̪̆g̴̛̫.̵̝͒͂ ̶̯͑J̷̮̓͝u̶̹͕͒s̵̺̮̈́͠t̴̜̚ ̶̙̫͗w̴̧̿͠ͅa̴̳͌n̸̙͋̐t̴̛͕̺͝e̸͓̊͜͠d̶̛͎̓ͅ ̷̝͚͊t̸̞̚o̵̮̘̐ ̷͇̟͋͘s̶̱̎̇͜ḙ̷̏͝ê̶̢̩̎ ̴̼͆̽ͅi̴̯͔͌͒f̶͓͋͘ ̵̞̈̈́ỹ̶̧̨͝ȯ̷̜̬u̸̝͓͐’̷̡͖̿͗d̴̯̼͊̓ ̷̛̤͆f̷̡̤̆ĺ̶̦̝i̷̜͆ͅn̶̲͖̆́c̶͉̽h̷̟͈̓.̸̦̺̊́ ̶̰̈́Y̴͇̥̽ò̴͇̥ũ̸̮̺ ̴̟͐̕s̴͈̈́ḧ̵͙͚́o̴̝̚u̷̲̜̕ḷ̵͓͗̿d̶͈̏̈’̶͙̓́v̷̺̯͗e̷̩̫̐̄ ̸͕̞̽̏ś̴̢̼͘e̶̡̓e̷̺̽́n̶͉̊̀ ̶̜̕y̵̙̑o̶̪͠u̶̥̝̕r̴̨̛̮ ̴͎̃͜f̸̻͆â̵͍͝ć̴̝͊ē̸͚…̵͔͝”̴̼͍̈́̒

(“Oh, relax, I didn’t do anything. Just wanted to see if you’d flinch. You should’ve seen your face…”)

Izuku shuddered, wiping at his face with his sleeve as the laugh echoed through his skull.

That bastard.

It hadn’t needed to move toward Iida. It had done it just to scare him.

He was shaking.

Hard.

His hands clenched against the pavement like he didn’t know where he was anymore—like the world around him had folded in on itself. His vision blurred, not from tears, but from sheer shock, like his brain had short-circuited and left only raw instinct behind.

The demon’s laughter still echoed faintly in the back of his skull.

Still smug. Still there.

But it wasn’t in control anymore.

And yet…

It had tasted it.

And so had Izuku.

He didn’t hear the soft scuff of boots until they were close.

“Midoriya…are you…”

A pause.

“…Are you okay?”

The words broke something loose.

Izuku flinched at the touch—then froze, his body stiff under Iida’s hand. For a second, he didn’t know how to answer.

He wanted to say yes. That he was fine. That it was over. That he had it under control.

But the truth was—he wasn’t okay.

He wasn’t even close.

His mouth opened. His voice cracked.

“I—”

It caught in his throat.

His whole body shuddered again, and he screwed his eyes shut, teeth gritting hard enough to hurt as he sucked in a breath and sat up until he was sitting on his legs. He blinked the tears away and grinned at his friend. 

“I should be asking you that question!” He said, voice rough but light, like he could laugh if it didn’t hurt so damn much.

Iida didn’t laugh.

He looked at Izuku like he was looking through him—like he saw the cracks beneath the smile.

But he didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to.

Izuku’s grin twitched, and he let out a quiet, dry breath as he stood, his knees nearly giving out beneath him before he steadied himself.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, brushing the dust off his hands. “Hero work isn’t over just ’cause I had a small emotional breakdown. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

He turned toward the dumpster, stepping around debris with more control now, his body still heavy with fatigue, but his movements precise. Controlled.

As he reached the metal bin, he spotted what he was looking for. A length of dirty rope tangled with some discarded construction tools. It wasn’t ideal, but it would work.

With a grunt, he pulled it free, tested its strength with a few sharp tugs, then turned back to Stain, who still lay unconscious—or very good at faking it—against the wall.

“Okay, Mr. Murder Enthusiast,” Izuku muttered, crouching beside him. “Let’s see what you got.”

He started binding the man’s arms and legs, methodically and carefully. His fingers trembled a little, but he didn’t let them falter.

One by one, he reached into Stain’s coat, his belt, his boots, and disarmed him, pulling out every knife, every blade, even a few hidden darts. He tossed them aside into a broken trash bin, far out of reach.

“Seriously,” he muttered, raising a brow at the sheer amount of hidden weaponry. “Who are you, a villain or a walking knife store?”

Still no laughter from Iida. He had decided to listen to Izuku’s silent request and go over to the downed Hero who looked like he was starting to regain movement in his body.

The sarcasm helped. It gave him something to do. Something to focus on. Something that kept the fear at bay a little longer.

Because if he stopped, if he let himself think too hard he didn’t know if he’d be able to hold the smile everyone knew was actually his together.

As he finished tying Stain up, he remembered something. How long had he been here? Was the Nomu problem resolved? 

……..

Was Aizawa back at the train? Where he had specifically told Izuku to stay put? Where Izuku hadn’t even waited thirty seconds to disobey that order?

Izuku winced. 

‘Oh no…’

He decided to ignore that particular problem until it was screaming in his face and using a capture weapon to tie him to a lamppost.

Right now, he had a bigger job: securing the guy who’d tried to kill his friend.

Izuku gave the rope one last firm tug, double-checking every knot—wrist, ankles, chest, shoulder wrap—then found the strongest point of the binding and heaved.

Stain was heavier than he looked.

Dragging him felt like hauling a sack of concrete soaked in bad decisions and moral ambiguity.

The Hero Killer's head lolled slightly as Izuku pulled him toward the mouth of the alley, where Native was leaning against the wall, woozy and on his feet, and Iida stood unsteadily nearby, wiping at the blood on his cheek.

Iida turned at the sound of scraping, and the moment he saw Izuku dragging the bound man behind him, his jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists.

Izuku stopped a few feet away and dropped Stain with a grunt, breathing hard.

Iida stepped forward quickly, guilt written in every inch of him. “Let me help,” he said, voice rough and quiet. “I need to. It’s…I’m the one who—”

“Iida,” Izuku cut him off gently, meeting his eyes. Then his gaze dropped to the blood dripping down Iida’s forearms, the bruises beginning to blossom across his jaw and collarbone.

Izuku’s expression softened, his grin turning into something concerning and reassuringly. “You’re bleeding. A lot. And I’m pretty sure your arm’s not supposed to be looking like that.”

Iida opened his mouth again. Izuku held up a hand.

“You’re injured,” he said. “And I mean properly injured. I don’t want you tearing something worse than it already is. If you haven’t already. We’re not risking permanent damage just so you can carry the human embodiment of an edgelord samurai.”

Iida blinked. Then blinked again. “That’s… strangely specific.”

Izuku raised an eyebrow. “You’ve seen my speech patterns. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Despite everything—despite the blood, the pain, the weight of the night—Iida huffed out a breath. Not a laugh. But close.

He let the rope drop from his hand and stood still for a moment, his hands on his knees, body trembling slightly—not from exhaustion anymore, but from the adrenaline that still refused to fully let go.

His heart was pounding, racing against the memory of the demon’s grin, the weight of Stain’s blade, the look on Iida’s face.

Breathe.

He straightened up, eyes fluttering shut.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Another slow breath.

And another.

Just a little longer and the adrenaline would pass. The static in his blood would fade. The world would feel real again.

Something dropped in front of him.

Hard.

Heavy.

Izuku’s eyes snapped open just in time to see a dark shape slam into the pavement.

“AH—!”

He stumbled back with all the grace of a newborn deer, nearly tripping over the unconscious Hero Killer as he scrambled for space.

And then the figure stood up.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Aizawa.

His scarf whipped in the wind, black outfit dusted with ash and soot, blood staining the edge of his sleeve, but it was his eyes that froze Izuku in place.

Glowing red.

Aizawa’s face was unreadable, his hair floating slightly as the effect of his quirk activated—not on them, but ready. Watching.

Judging.

He looked at Izuku.

Then at Iida.

Back to Izuku.

Izuku’s blood ran cold.

He raised one shaky hand. “Okay. So. Before you say anything—”

Aizawa didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. Just stared.

Izuku cleared his throat, trying to hide the shriek that had just left his mouth thirty seconds ago.

“I may have…uh…followed my instincts. With some unapproved improvisation. That resulted in… moderate-to-severe felon apprehension.”

Silence.

He winced.

“...You’re mad.”

Still nothing.

Iida stepped forward slowly, his limp still pronounced, his voice unsure. “Mr. Aizawa, it was my fault. I—”

Aizawa's head snapped to Iida, who went as stiff as a board and said in a curt and firm, "I'll get to you next." Then he looked back at Izuku.

"I told you to wait in the train." His eyes narrowed. “I have been chasing Nomu across this city,” he said, “only to find out that my most mentally unstable, injury-prone student decided to take on the Hero Killer by himself.”

Aizawa finally turned back to Iida.

“And you.”

Iida straightened with the terror of a soldier awaiting court-martial.

"You knowingly went after a high-profile villain during your internship,” Aizawa said, voice even, yet each word struck like a hammer. “You ignored protocol. You pursued a personal vendetta. And in doing so, you nearly died.”

Iida opened his mouth, but Aizawa lifted a hand, and the older boy instantly clamped it shut.

“You’re a student,” Aizawa continued. “A first-year. Your job is to learn, to train, to make mistakes under supervision, not to launch an unsanctioned crusade because your emotions told you to.”

Each word twisted deeper, but Aizawa wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t angry just for the sake of anger.

He was frustrated.

Because he cared.

“You almost got yourself killed.” Aizawa’s tone dropped further, the edge in it replaced by something quieter. “And you would’ve taken Native down with you. You’re lucky Midoriya found you. You’re even luckier he managed to stay in control.”

Izuku turned his head away, biting his lip. 'Barely...'

Iidas head bowed, fists clenched at his sides.

“I know why you did it,” Aizawa said, and his voice finally softened, just a fraction. “And I know it’s hard to think clearly when someone you love is hurt. But vengeance isn’t justice. And if you forget that again, you won’t just get hurt, you’ll lose everything that makes you worthy of being a Hero.”

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with everything Iida couldn’t say.

“I understand,” Iida said at last, voice low. “I’m sorry.”

Aizawa stared at him for a long moment, then gave a short nod.

“Good.”

Then he pointed at Izuku again.

"You. Sit. Do not pass out, do not glitch into traffic, and do not unlock any more mysterious inner demons without explicit written approval."

Izuku, now pale and trying very hard not to make eye contact, nodded slowly. “...Yes, sir.”

Aizawa sighed like he had just aged a hundred years in five minutes. It wasn’t dramatic—it was the kind of weary, soul-deep sigh that only came from chasing monsters through a burning city and then finding your two disaster-prone students standing over the tied-up body of the most wanted villain in Japan.

He muttered something under his breath.

Izuku caught a few words. Something about “delinquent magnets” and “retirement by forty.”

He might’ve cracked a joke, something dry, something smart, but the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end.

The air around him shifted.

Turned cold.

Too cold.

And then he felt it. That presence. That awful, heavy pressure sliding up behind him like a shadow dripping with teeth.

Clawed hands rested gently on his shoulders. Not squeezing. Not hurting.

Just reminding him.

He didn’t hear breathing. He heard whispers through static.

“̷͍̀Y̵̞͆o̴̧͊û̸̢ ̶̹̌b̵̩͌ë̶̤́t̵̹́ẗ̴́ͅe̵̛͖r̴̹͐ ̷̳͠w̶̨̓ä̵̻́ṱ̵̅ć̶͕h̸͈͝ ̶̡͑o̸̟̓u̵̘̕ẗ̷̰,̵̰͌ ̵͖͒l̵̳̄ĭ̶̟t̸͎́t̵̫͠l̴̠̈́e̷̘̚ ̴͍͆h̶̥̕e̷̮͋r̸͇͌ơ̴̼.̵̯̈́”̶̤̕

(“You better watch out, little hero.”)

Izuku froze.

His mouth went dry.

That voice had been quiet since the fight ended, lingering in the back of his head like smoke—but now it was awake again.

Before Izuku could react, before he could turn, speak, warn Aizawa, he was yanked off the ground.

Hard.

A monstrous clap of air exploded around them as a massive shape dropped from the sky and snatched Izuku by the chest, claws digging into his flak vest.

He barely managed a choked scream before he was rising, the alley falling away beneath him, Iida shouting his name, Aizawa’s eyes snapping up, already glowing again.

The wind roared in Izuku’s ears as the Nomu launched skyward, dragging him higher and higher into the smoke-filled night. The city below became a blur of chaos and flame, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had tilted sideways—like gravity had given up on him.

Then the pain hit.

Its claws, thick, sharp, and unforgiving, dug past the fabric of his suit and sank deep into his flesh, gripping him like a ragdoll.

He felt them tear through muscle just beneath his ribs.

Felt the heat of his own blood as it spilled out, warm and wrong, down his side.

His mouth opened in a gasp and blood slipped past his lips, trailing out in a thin red arc as he coughed violently against the impact.

The static that had just barely calmed down surged again, reacting to the pain, to the threat, to the panic.

But Izuku couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

His body spasmed in the Nomu’s grip, every nerve screaming.

His hands reached up instinctively, trying to pry the thing off him.

The pain was blinding. Every beat of his heart pushed more blood from the deep wounds clawed into his side. His vision blurred, the city lights below spinning like shattered glass.

The Nomu’s grip only tightened, bone grinding against bone. Izuku’s body spasmed in its claws, glitching erratically, like his very existence was trying to tear itself free.

The demon’s voice was louder now, pressing in, whispering.

“̶̠͒̎Ý̷̥͎̈ò̷̤ṵ̶̉̆’̴͙̒̍r̸̢̾̇͜e̴̻͆̒ ̴̛́ͅs̵̰͙̐l̷͉̜͗͐i̴͍̳͑̀p̸̲͙̓p̸̧̟̏́i̵̙͊n̶̖̠̒g̸̘̈́ͅ.̷̰̝̇̆”̷̲̊

(“You’re slipping.”)

̸̜̓̇“̴̧͕̓̄Y̷͓͆o̸͚̥̓̆u̴̜͑̊’̵̰͆ȓ̶̦͈e̶̛̠̪ ̴̯̲͆̏g̶̨̛̈́ỏ̵̼̠͝ȋ̸͕̖n̴̛̜̹g̸̬̒͝ ̶̹̥͊t̷̥͚͛ŏ̵̘͕̈́ ̴̻͊p̴͚̱̾̌a̸̘̳͝s̵͓̞̔s̷͇̈́ ̷̼̮͆ȍ̸̫̦͝ǔ̸͈̈́t̷̠͊.̷͍̄͜”̵̱͊̿

(“You’re going to pass out.”)

̸͍͙̓“̴̘̊͊Ĺ̴̟̻͛e̸̢̛͚̒t̶̳͋.̸̛͜͠ ̸̼̬͒̌M̸͉̎e̸͕̣̚.̴̡͌ ̴̥͆I̴̻̰͐̿n̵̯͌.̵̘͘”̶͇̈́̚

(“Let. Me. In.”)

And this time…

He didn’t fight.

Not completely.

He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no.

He let just enough of that power bleed through, just enough to keep him alive.

Izuku’s body jerked, then vanished in a violent burst of static.

The Nomu’s claws grasped empty air.

Izuku reappeared on its back, arms trembling, eyes wide, blacked-out sclera glowing faint green.

The wind whipped around him, nearly tearing him off, but his claws, long, black, obsidian, snapped out from his fingertips with a sickening shhk.

His breathing was ragged. His voice low.

“Your turn.”

He dug them in. The claws sank through the soft tissue at the base of the Nomu’s skull, piercing past reinforced bone and into brain matter like a hot knife through butter.

The Nomu screamed, or tried to.

Its wings spasmed. Its body jerked mid-air, muscles convulsing in panic.

Izuku gritted his teeth as he held on, blood from his own wounds splattering across the Nomu’s back and shoulders. With a final, brutal shove, he drove the claws deeper.

The Nomu went limp.

Its wings faltered.

And they both began to plummet.

The air rushed past them, a howl of gravity and death. Izuku barely registered the fall, his fingers, soaked in blood, his and the Nomu’s, slid free from the creature’s back.

And for the briefest, most heart-stopping moment, he was weightless.

No longer clinging to the Nomu.

No longer in control of anything.

Just falling.

His arms flailed weakly, his limbs refusing to respond the way he wanted them to. Everything ached. Everything was numb.

He tried to glitch, to blink to safety, to do anything, but his body sputtered like a dying machine. Static flickered around him, unstable, erratic, shorting out mid-sequence.

He was too tired.

Too drained.

The power that had protected him before now flickered like a dying flame. His mind reached for it, begged it to cooperate, but there was only a low, dragging hum in his chest.

He couldn’t do it.

Not this time.

The sky spun above him.

And then he saw the ground rushing up—

Fast.

Too fast.

There was no time to scream. No time to even close his eyes.

Something caught him.

A sudden snap of movement. A rush of cloth.

A blur of black.

Izuku hit something solid, but it wasn’t the ground.

It was warm.

Moving.

Aizawa.

His arms wrapped around Izuku midair, the capture scarf coiling out behind him like a banner, latching to a nearby streetlamp and slowing their descent just enough to pivot their fall into a rough, skidding crash along a rooftop ledge.

They rolled, once, twice, and then came to a jarring stop, Aizawa crouched protectively over him, one arm still locked tightly around Izuku’s chest.

For a second, everything was silent.

Then Izuku coughed, wet and weak, blood flecking his lips.

Aizawa didn’t let go.

Didn’t speak.

He just held him, breathing hard, his eyes wide with something uncharacteristically raw beneath his tangled hair.

“You absolute little…” Aizawa breathed, voice shaking with something that sounded suspiciously like relief.

“…You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Izuku, barely conscious, blinked up at him.

And with the faintest ghost of a smile, he muttered, “Sorry…”

The word slipped from Izuku’s lips like a breath escaping a cracked window, soft and distant.

His eyes fluttered shut.

And for one horrifying second, Aizawa thought that was it.

But he wasn’t letting that happen.

Not after everything.

Not this kid.

“Hey—hey!”

Aizawa slapped his cheek—once, twice, hard enough to sting, not hard enough to hurt.

Izuku’s eyes snapped open with a jolt, glassy and unfocused.

“Stay awake, Midoriya,” Aizawa barked, his voice low and commanding, but tight, too tight. There was panic coiled under his calm, buried beneath years of control and exhaustion.

He shifted quickly, bunching part of his capture scarf into a thick wad and pressing it hard against the deep gouges in Izuku’s side, where the Nomu’s claws had raked through flesh and muscle like paper.

Izuku hissed in pain, but didn’t pull away. His body barely moved now, trembling with the kind of fatigue that came from spending everything and then some.

“Stay with me,” Aizawa muttered, voice lower now, more to himself as he reached into the pouch at his hip and pulled out a small med kit, one of many tucked away in his gear.

He tore the plastic wrapping off the gauze with his teeth, discarding it with a flick and moving with the kind of speed only experience and pure dread could bring.

Blood stained his hands. Stained his scarf. Stained the rooftop.

But it wasn’t pulsing anymore.

That was good.

That meant he was still in time.

“You’re not checking out now,” he said, more focused now, starting to wrap the gauze with tight, precise movements around Izuku’s torso. “You didn’t fight off a demon, down the Hero Killer, and rip a flying Nomu out of the sky just to bleed out on a rooftop.”

Izuku blinked slowly, a weak smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“...That sounded way cooler when you said it.” He said, his radio voice fading back into his normal tone. Aizawa blinked. He had never heard Izuku speak in a voice that wasn't radio tuned. 

“Not funny.”

Izuku let out a wet laugh that ended in a cough.

Aizawa exhaled sharply through his nose, reaching for another roll of gauze, a quick clotting agent, a disinfectant spray—his movements fast and efficient.

But his eyes never left Izuku’s face for long.

Because he’d already lost too many people.

And he wasn’t losing this one.

Chapter Text

The air inside the bar was tense.

Stagnant.

A heavy kind of silence draped over the place, interrupted only by the faint, mechanical clinking of arcade machines in sleep mode and the low hiss of a news report echoing from the dusty TV mounted in the corner.

Shigaraki sat hunched over the bar counter, fingers drumming rhythmically against the wood, one hand always lifted, pinkie raised just enough so he didn’t accidentally decay the entire countertop.

The screen above flickered with grainy footage, a news anchor standing beside the image of a snarling face under red filters, the headline in bold across the screen.

"Hero Killer Stain Captured in Hosu—Vigilante Justice Sparks Public Debate"

His face twisted. Not because of the news itself, he had expected the Hero Killer to get caught eventually.

No. It was where the headline was. The front page.The top.

Not the Nomu attack. Not the attack he orchestrated. Not the creatures he’d loosed on the city like hellhounds, designed to sow chaos, to force fear back into the minds of civilians, to remind the world that heroes aren’t invincible. The plan had been perfect. They’d attacked the infrastructure. Collapsed buildings. Blocked rescue routes. Cornered civilians and overwhelmed local pros. It should’ve dominated the headlines for weeks.

But no. 

Stain got the spotlight.

His decaying fingers twitched, scraping against the edge of the counter.

“Stupid, sanctimonious freak,” he muttered, glaring at the screen. “Self-righteous, self-sacrificing wannabe. He gets caught and they turn him into a legend.”

He felt the rage building, starting in his throat and curling down into his chest.

He hadn't even wanted the credit—Shigaraki didn’t need recognition. What he needed was fear.

What he needed was results.

And that kid…

That green-haired brat. That grinning little freak who stood on top of his Nomu like he was some kind of final boss. That child who glitched through the air and tore apart a beast with his bare hands, like it was a toy. 

Shigaraki had been watching through his binoculars, ready to relish the carnage.

But instead, he saw him.

Saw the smirk he would never forget, though the claws were new. Saw the Nomu drop like a ragdoll mid-flight, its brain carved open, spiraling through the sky like a dying star.

And then gone. Just like that. His creature, turned to a warning. Shigaraki’s fingers twitched again. One tap too close. A strip of the counter crumbled into dust. Kurogiri entered then, calm as ever, gliding into the room like mist, a tray of tea in hand. Shigaraki didn’t look up.

Didn’t move.

He just seethed.

“He made me look like a joke,” he whispered. “The brat made it look easy.” The screen above flickered again, images of Endeavor standing tall amid flames, taking the credit. Giving speeches. Posing for cameras.

Shigaraki’s laugh was hollow, raspy.

“Oh, he got the headline? Of course. Of course he did.”

But his rage wasn’t on Endeavor. It was on them. That kid. That face. That smile.

Kurogiri didn’t speak. He never did when Shigaraki got like this, when his voice dipped low and hollow, when the decay crept into the edges of everything he touched and his mind spiraled into the places even their Master rarely poked.

The bar was quiet again. Tense. Like it was holding its breath.

Shigaraki slowly stood from the stool, letting his hand trail off the counter as he paced in a slow, tight circle. He didn’t look at Kurogiri. He didn’t need to.

“They’re all too blind to see it,” he muttered, almost to himself. “The system’s still propping up its favorites. That damn flaming chicken gets a headline because the public needs a face to pin their hope on. Something easy. Something digestible.” His hands flexed again, fingers twitching in violent rhythm. “And that brat. They don’t even mention him. He ripped a Nomu out of the sky and they buried him in the footnotes.”

He stopped pacing. Stared at nothing. His shoulders were stiff, his fingers still clenched.

“That’s worse than being hated,” he said, voice low. “They didn’t ignore him. They buried him. Like he’s dangerous. Like they want him hidden.”

He turned then, slow and deliberate, facing Kurogiri at last.

“He’s not like the others.”

Kurogiri tilted his head, a rare flicker of interest behind the fog of his form.

Shigaraki’s mouth twitched. “There’s something in him. I saw it. Something that’s not human. Not just the way he fights, it’s the way he moves.”

He chuckled under his breath. It wasn’t amused. It was low. Like he’d stumbled on something he didn’t quite understand, but he wanted to.

“I’ve never seen a kid smile like that while bleeding.”

He turned, his bloodshot eyes gleaming under his hood as he began to pace.

“That kid… that thing inside him—” he paused, eyes narrowing with a manic gleam. “It wasn’t normal. That wasn’t a Quirk. It was something else.”

He could still see it. That moment when the Nomu stopped moving. When its body went slack midair like the life had been ripped out of it.

The kid’s body had glitched like reality had skipped a beat just to get out of his way.

He remembered the static. The smile. The claws. It hadn’t been just power. It had been possession. And for the first time, Shigaraki wasn’t just angry.

He was curious.

“Something’s living in him,” he murmured. “And it isn’t some second-rate hero training trick.”

He looked back toward the flickering TV screen, but this time he wasn’t looking at the headlines. He was picturing that face. That green-haired brat with too many teeth and a darkness in his eyes that didn’t belong to a hero.

“I want to see what happens when you push it. When you break past the mask.” He smiled again, sharp and slow.

“We don’t kill him, Kurogiri.”

Kurogiri tilted his head. “No?”

“No.”

Shigaraki’s fingers hovered over the decayed crack in the counter, tracing its edge. “We unleash him.” And for the first time, he wasn’t thinking about All Might. He was thinking about Midoriya Izuku. The little hero with something monstrous under his skin.

And what it might look like when it finally decided to stop pretending.

Izuku was laying on something hard.

His first thought, hazy and disoriented, was that it was the ground again.

Concrete? Metal?

Cold. Unforgiving.

His second thought was…nothing hurts.

That was wrong.

He remembered pain. Sharp, consuming pain—the feeling of claws tearing through his side, of blood choking in his throat, of the wind roaring in his ears as the ground rushed up to meet him.

He’d felt himself fall.

He remembered Aizawa catching him.

And then, nothing.

So why didn’t he hurt now?

Why did it feel like he was floating in that half-space between dreaming and waking, his mind sluggish but alert, his body suspended between awareness and emptiness?

Izuku groaned, trying to shift, but his limbs were slow, heavy, like they weren’t fully connected to him. He cracked open his eyes.

And saw darkness.

Not the kind of dark that existed in hospital rooms at night. Not the sterile, muted quiet of the infirmary, or the hum of medical equipment. This was dense, suffocating, almost velvety in its weight.

But there was light.

A faint greenish glow, humming like static, illuminating the air in a low, eerie haze. It didn’t come from any lamp or bulb he could see, just a floating brightness that outlined the space around him in shadows and unnatural gleam.

His breath caught.

This wasn’t the hospital.

This wasn’t even real.

He sat up, slowly, pushing himself off the ground and glancing around, dread sinking into his gut like ice water. The air didn’t move. It was still. Too still. Like time had hit pause.

A soft sound. Like footsteps.

Izuku turned toward it, heart already racing, and froze. A figure stood just ahead of him, perfectly still in the quiet glow. He was tall. Taller than Izuku remembered himself ever being. He wore black from throat to heel, a long coat fluttering in wind that didn’t exist, the ends curling like smoke around his boots. His hands were laced neatly behind his back, posture perfectly straight, his expression calm. His smile was closed. Sharp. Composed, but filled with the kind of knowing amusement that made Izuku’s skin crawl.

And his eyes, black and green, glowing faintly with the same static that filled the air danced with delight.

Izuku’s breath caught in his throat.

Because the man—no, the thing—standing in front of him…

Looked like him.

Like a version of himself that had grown up in shadows, fed on sharp edges and swallowed every terrible thing the world had to offer. His face was similar, but the lines were sharper, jaw more angular, his expression composed, calculating.

His presence was quiet power, pressed into human form.

And his voice, when he spoke, curled around Izuku’s mind like a velvet noose.

“̵̬̇W̷̟̿ē̵͉l̵̼͌ḻ̸̃,̶̧͝”̵ the demon said, in a voice layered with static and familiarity, ̴̻̠̎"̸͍̚Ś̵̲o̶͍̐m̶͔͝ë̸̫o̸̞͗n̴̪̄e̷̛͍ ̷̨͋i̴̧̇s̷̝̽ ̷̪͗f̸̝̓i̵̜̚n̶̫̈́a̷̼̓l̶̗͊l̸̮̄y̵̚͜ ̸̟̽a̵̮̿w̶͍͐ḁ̵͗k̵̲͌e̵̼͆.̷̞͑"̷̗̎

("Well, someone is finally awake.")

Izuku’s stomach dropped.

This wasn’t a dream.

This was the cold, endless space where this thing lived.

“…This is your place,” Izuku whispered, eyes wide.

The demon grinned wider, stepping forward ever so slightly.

“̶̜̂O̵̻͛ù̶͙r̷̳̐ ̷̮͠p̸̳̔l̸̲̀a̷̼͌c̴̬̅è̵̻,̸̣̇ ̶̺͂l̶͙̅ḭ̵̏t̷̻̏t̶̜͋l̸̘̾e̸̡̎ ̷̠͘h̵͇̒e̴̡̽r̵̩̀ǫ̴͋.̸̘̇”̶̣͒

(“Our place, little hero.”)

Izuku stared at the demon standing in front of him—taller, cleaner, eerily calm with his hands laced behind his back and that infuriating closed-mouth grin, and instead of fear, what bubbled up in his chest was…

Annoyance.

Deep. Petty. Righteous annoyance.

Because this wasn’t some terrifying, monstrous confrontation.

This wasn’t a final boss battle in the middle of a burning city. This was his brain. His mental space. And the demon was just…standing there. Like he was hosting a tea party in Izuku’s subconscious. Izuku let out a flat breath and ran a hand down his face, slapping his palm lightly against his cheek just to make sure this wasn’t some kind of weird morphine dream.

Nope.

Still here.

Still in the void.

Still with him.

He looked up again and scowled. “Really? You couldn’t just let me be unconscious in peace?”

The demon blinked slowly, grin unshifting. “̵̭̓Y̵̲̔o̸̡͊u̸͇̎’̸͇͘r̸̬͂e̵̙̕ ̸̝̈́w̶͈̽e̴͎̚l̴̢͂c̸̻̐o̶̠͠m̷̙̆e̶͓͒,̵͓̈ ̶̘̓b̸̙̈ỳ̴͙ ̵̜͆t̶̯̚ḫ̷͝ȩ̷̀ ̶̐ͅẃ̷̘ả̴͔ỳ̵̜.̸͇̀ ̴̯͛I̸̢̔n̶͎͛ ̵̤̀c̴̺̈ä̶͇́ṣ̵̋e̴͓̕ ̸̬͑ÿ̸͚́o̶̢̾u̴̥͆ ̷̳̈́f̵̥̾o̷̩͠r̶̠̾g̶̱̒ȯ̷̰ṫ̷̤,̷̡̍ ̶̤̒y̶̦͠o̴̹͘ȗ̵̪’̶̦̀d̷̰̔ ̵̢̅b̶̕ͅe̴͍͝ ̸̧̄d̸͇͂ḛ̸̆a̸̰͠d̷̰͊ ̶͇̽į̶̐f̸̖̔ ̶͙̔i̷͎̒t̷̞͌ ̸̹͝w̷̜͆ȅ̶̡ŕ̸̹e̶̲͗n̸̨̍’̸͈͛t̷̢͛ ̷̼͂f̵͎̄o̴͖͠r̷̤͑ ̸̮͊m̶̼̐e̶̓ͅ.̴̰̅”̵͚̉

(“You’re welcome, by the way. In case you forgot, you’d be dead if it weren’t for me.”)

“Uh-huh,” Izuku muttered, crossing his arms. “And I’m sure that totally justifies nearly giving Iida a heart attack.”

The demon took a slow, casual step forward. “̴̮͘O̸͍͂h̶͋ͅ ̶̖̐c̷͉͌o̸̥͝m̷̹̕e̷̺̓ ̶̥͌n̸̤͝o̶͉͊w̶͓̽,̴̫̓ ̵͍̽Í̵͈ ̷̡͝w̸̝͝ö̸͍u̷͕͆l̸̤̂d̶̦̒ń̷̤'̶͓̍t̷͉̄ ̵̹̉h̸̞͗a̴̹͝v̶̘̿ê̷̥ ̶̙͂ĥ̷̰û̴̘r̵̫̍t̸̩̀ ̶͇̈́h̴̦́i̵̭͒m̷̝̍.̵͙̌”̵̨͐

(“Oh come now, I wouldn't have hurt him him.”)

“Because I yanked control back before you could.”

"D̸̲͗ḙ̴͐t̸̠̊â̸̢i̴͙͋ĺ̷̻ś̸̭"

(“Details.”)

Izuku narrowed his eyes. “You were doing it on purpose, weren’t you? Moving toward him, just to scare me.”

The demon’s grin widened slightly—showing teeth...and pointed canines, still composed, but unmistakably smug.

“̷̝̋Ẏ̴̬o̶͔͊ủ̶͖’̶͕̈́r̷̻͋ȩ̷͊ ̷͍̃s̶͌͜u̸͇͠r̴͈͆p̸̝̀r̵͚͋i̶͉͝s̵̟̍i̶̩͗ņ̷̽ǵ̸̥l̶̑͜ỵ̶̂ ̵̗́e̴̦̅n̸̨͂t̷̞͠e̸̹͊r̶̨͆t̸͓̕a̶͙̋ȋ̵͙ṅ̷͙ȋ̸̳n̸͇̾ḡ̵̱ ̶̲̍w̴̝͒ḫ̶͂e̵͍̿n̵̜̓ ̴̉͜y̸̺̐o̶̖͛ǘ̸̝ ̵̣͐p̷̟͘a̷̛̜n̷̪͗i̴̘͝c̴̯̓,̸͉́"̶͕̎ he said smoothly. "̷̡̈́Ť̵̝h̴̰͌e̴̪͊ ̷̟͝ẘ̶͇á̴̮y̸͉̽ ̷̬͝y̴̡͆o̸̠͝ů̸͓r̶̰͐ ̷̜̽t̸͎̑h̴̛̠o̶̢̓u̶̩͛g̵̫͠h̸̲͐t̷̬͠s̶̙̿ ̴̭̈t̸͓͘r̵͇̃i̷̱̿ṕ̵̫ ̸̻͂o̵̙̓v̸͇̏e̷̖̋r̴̤̓ ̸̬͆ē̶͜a̶̐ͅc̸̗̒h̵͉̃ ̴͇̓ǒ̵̩ṯ̴̆h̶͚̕ḛ̶́r̷͇̕…̸̻͋ ̸͓͝d̸̦̎e̴̮̋ļ̸̀i̸̮͂c̸̨̑ḭ̶͌ô̸̝u̴̠͗s̸̭̃.̸̖͐”̷̭͊

(“You’re surprisingly entertaining when you panic, the way your thoughts trip over each other… delicious.”)

Izuku threw his arms up. “Great. I’m a walking reality show for my own personal demon.”

He started pacing, hands on his hips. “Let me guess, now you’re gonna monologue at me? Maybe threaten me a little? ‘Ooooh, I’m the dark side of your soul, beware’?”

The demon tilted his head, eyes dancing. “̸̫̂İ̵̡ ̵̩͋t̵͍̚h̵̟͠ȉ̶̢n̶̰̽k̴̯͒ ̵̗̀ỵ̷̿o̶͉͋u̴̹͛’̴̜̇v̷̦̄e̶̳̿ ̸͔̚g̷̼͝ó̵̻t̴͓̂ ̷̟̓m̵͍͝e̴͙͋ ̸̭̇c̸̛̝o̷̺̍n̷̩͂f̵̭͝ů̷͈s̶̞͝e̵͕͝d̸̜̀ ̸̟̚w̴͎̓i̴̼͛t̸̜̍h̴͖́ ̵͙̑ś̴̠ó̶͇m̴̛͇e̵̟͌õ̶̲n̸̡̊e̶̤̽ ̶̺̎t̶͚̂h̴̻̅ë̸̙́a̴̻͠t̶͎͝r̶̰̈́i̵͉̿c̸̮̓a̵͎̐l̵̆͜.̸̲́”̸̤͐

("I think you've got me confused with someone theatrical.")

“You look like you’re two seconds away from offering me a contract with a fountain pen made of blood.”

“̴̛̗O̸̼͗ṉ̷͝l̴͖̂y̶͇̌ ̶̥̓ỉ̵̡f̶̙̋ ̷̦̌i̴̖̎t̵̼̊ ̴̱̈g̶̝͗e̸̘̾t̸͙͌š̷̮ ̴̗̅m̴̲̉e̴͖̎ ̵̥̕b̵͙̄e̴̠̾t̴͓̅t̴͌ͅe̴̝̓ŕ̶̻ ̷̪̄r̷̰̈́è̴̱á̷͚l̴̛͉ ̵͖͠e̴̼̚š̴ͅt̵́͜ă̶̘t̴̥̊e̷͕̽ ̵̝̈i̸̭͗n̵̗̔ ̴̦̂t̶̨͘h̶̪̑i̴͙͌s̸͚͆ ̸͓̈́s̸̱͑p̴̥̉a̸̠͘c̷̘͝e̸̿ͅ,̵̤̎”̸͓̄ ̷̩̓ the demon quipped, glancing around at the void. ̴̳͒“̴͈̐Ḇ̵̍i̴͇̋t̸͇͂ ̶̠̅m̴̰͝i̵̜̓ń̸̞i̶̖̊m̸̤͗a̶̪̔l̷̞̄ĩ̴̥s̸̘̔t̴̝̔,̸͇́ ̸̣͆d̸̤͐ọ̶̆n̷͓͝’̴̦̆t̶͓̾ ̶̘̃y̸͕̿o̸͔͠u̴̖͗ ̵̢́t̷̗͗h̷̺̐ǐ̶̘n̴̹̿ḱ̵̙?̴̬͛”̴̧̽

("Only if it gets me better real estate in this space. Bit minimalist, don’t you think?”)

Izuku stopped pacing and let out a groan. “Unbelievable. I got impaled, fell from the sky, and instead of dying like a normal person, I get mentally harassed by the glitch version of myself.”

The demon just chuckled softly, stepping to the side, slowly circling Izuku now with his hands still behind his back.

“̷̩̏Y̸̹͆ó̸̲ǘ̸ͅ’̶̞̓r̵̩̉e̸̮̚ ̴̱̇n̷͇̾ó̴̼t̵̿ͅ ̷̏ͅd̵̗̋ê̴͓a̷̧̎d̸̦̾.̷̬̇ ̷͉͐A̸͎̍n̶̖̕d̷̖̃ ̸͖́y̶̮̅ō̷̩ú̶̹’̸̱̑ȓ̸̼e̵̤͒ ̶̪̀n̵̬͊o̶̰͋t̶͉̂ ̸̺̓d̶̢͌o̶̜͗n̴͕͊ê̸̢.̵͇͋”̸̞͊

(“You’re not dead. And you’re not done.”)

Izuku sighed. “Yeah. I figured.” He turned to face the demon fully now, planting his feet.

“So. What do you want? You already got your airtime. I let you out. You had your fun. We’re even.”

The demon’s grin didn’t fade.

"̵̛̥N̷̝͠ò̵͎,̴͉͝"̸͇̀ he said simply. ̴̠͗"̶̮̇W̷̭̆ë̴̤́'̵̢̌ȑ̵͙ė̸͜ ̷̨̈́ǰ̸̡ů̶̩s̶͈̾ẗ̷͓ ̸̫̀g̴̡̈́ë̷͕́t̴̖̅ṱ̶̒ĩ̶̼n̴̠̒ǵ̶̰ ̴̮͋s̶͈̊ț̵͑a̶̻͠ṟ̸͝t̸̫́e̶̖͑d̸͋͜.̴̡͐

("No, we're just getting started.")

Izuku blinked once. Slowly.

The demon leaned forward slightly, voice smooth. “̵͖́F̵̄͜ä̷̭́c̴̹̀ẹ̵͘ ̷͔͋i̵̎ͅt̸̫͘.̶̙̌ ̷͙͠Y̵̩̆o̶̘̓ū̵̦ ̷̣̊n̷̬̋ë̵̟è̶̲d̵͙̈́ ̷̼̄m̶̮͐e̸̻͌.̷͉̀”̶̜̃

(“Face it. You need me.”)

That did it.

Izuku’s eye twitched. His grin sharpening just slightly from irritation.

"I don't need you for shit."

"̶̐ͅT̸̻̀h̶̼̏ă̸̙ẗ̶̫́ṡ̴̞ ̶̳͒n̷͕͆ò̷͜t̵̮̀ ̸͙̉w̴̗͝ḣ̴̘a̴̹͆t̴̨̄ ̷͉̇y̸̠̍õ̸̟u̷̲̚ ̵̮̽w̸̳̉ë̸́ͅr̵̪̒e̷̗̅ ̴̹͝s̴͔̉ả̵̞ÿ̶̹́ì̶̭n̷̼̚g̴̫̈́ ̴͍̈́ẅ̷̜h̶̛͍ẻ̸͓ṋ̷̀ ̴̪͛ẏ̷̠o̶̥̓u̴͔̚r̸̉͜ ̷̬̀f̷̺̔r̵̰̊i̷͕̅e̵̮̔n̸̰͝d̷̡͘ ̷̤̊w̵͉͆å̸̦s̴͖͛ ̷̔ͅī̷̘ṇ̸̔ ̷̕͜d̶̨͌ā̵̠n̶̹̾g̵͖͠e̷͖͌r̸̦̄.̶̜̽ ̵̖̉Y̴͖̾o̷̩͆u̵͎͝ ̶͔̇h̴̭̒a̸͉͐n̵̝͑d̶͍̈́ę̴̈d̷̡̊ ̶͈̍m̶̘̅e̵̡̒ ̶̮̿t̷̳̉h̵̙͝e̶͔͛ ̶͎͊r̸̻̉e̷̙̔i̷̥͌ṇ̴́s̶͎͌ ̷̹̄s̷̝̉o̸̻͑ ̷̑͜e̷͍͗a̶̦̔s̴̨̊ȋ̸̖l̷͍̍ÿ̸̳ ̴̫̕i̷̝̓t̸̜̂ ̴̈ͅw̴̛̬a̵͔͂s̴͔̀ ̴̜̓h̸̲͒ō̷̳n̷͚͌ĕ̷̮s̶̻̏t̷̢̃ĺ̴̦y̶͓̏ ̴̢͠a̵͕͌m̶̛ͅȗ̸̪s̷͈͆i̶̠̓ń̴̮g̷̝̚.̶͔̉"̸͙́ The demon chuckled, shaking his head. 

("Thats not what you were saying when your friend was in danger. You handed me the reins so easily it was honestly amusing.")

Without warning, without a smart remark or a warning glance, Izuku punched the demon square in the face.

It landed with a sharp crack, knuckles slamming into a cheekbone with all the force he could muster. The demon’s head snapped sideways, and for a fraction of a second, he just stood there, eyes wide in complete disbelief.

Because he hadn’t seen it coming.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The demon slowly turned back to face him, the same grin still carved across his lips… but now it was twitching. Not in amusement.

In restraint.

"̷̡͌.̶̪̐.̴͙͆.̶̲͗W̴̼͊e̶͙͝ḽ̵̑l̸͔̋,̴̻̍"̴̪͘ he said softly, tilting his head as his neck cracked faintly. ̷̞̐“̷̮̏T̶̩͒h̸̼͌a̶̧̐t̵̝̑ ̸̭͐w̵̨͝a̵̬̒s̵͖̑n̶̬̕’̷̪̆t̸̗̑ ̶͔̓v̴̻̓e̸̥̒r̴̙͘ŷ̶̟ ̵̫̕p̴͓̈́ō̵͓ľ̸̗ï̷̺t̸̢͠ȩ̶̉.̶̯̈”̷̛̤

("...Well, that wasn’t very polite.”)

Izuku didn’t flinch. He stood his ground, fists clenched.

He expected a smartass reply. Maybe another smug quip.

He didn’t expect the hit back.

The demon’s fist came fast. It slammed into Izuku’s side, right where the Nomu’s claws had left their mark in the real world, and though this was a mental space, the pain translated. Izuku’s eyes widened as he staggered from the blow, breath ripped from his lungs, but before he could fall, the demon was on him.

A clawed hand shot out and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing.

Izuku’s feet kicked once, air caught in his lungs as the pressure clamped around his windpipe, not enough to crush, but enough to warn. The demon’s face was inches from his own now, smiling in the way that wasn't excited, or amused. It was a snarl disguised in a smile.

Not amused.

Not theatrical.

Just cold.

“̶͚̕Ÿ̷̪o̸̤͗ụ̸͂ ̴̅͜f̷̬̾o̸̝͑ŕ̴͍g̵̢͋e̸̹͐t̶̛̻,̵̱͝”̵̣̀ ̷͖̎ he said lowly, his voice dripping static like venom, ̵͐ͅ“̴̨͂j̴̮̉u̵̠̓s̶̬̉t̴̗̉ ̴̥͊ḅ̶́ḙ̵̈́c̴̖͝a̵̮͋ú̶̙s̴̘͝ḙ̵̽ ̷̱̄y̴̖̕o̷̟̍u̵̻͝’̵͑ͅr̶̗̃e̴̝͗ ̶͎̅u̸͙͘s̷̬͌ẻ̸̝d̷̦̐ ̷͖̑t̷̳̏ǫ̷͛ ̵̗̈́m̴̳̆ȇ̷̞…̷̡̾ ̴̥̊ḏ̵̎o̷͉̎e̴͉̚š̵̲n̴̪͝’̷̹̓t̵̝̉ ̸̲͛ṃ̷͠e̶̖͝ą̷̈́ñ̷̗ ̸̲́y̸̜͋o̶̫͆ų̸̔ ̷̣̔ģ̵̎ḛ̶̛t̸͕̑ ̶̺̾t̷̥͛ö̷͇́ ̸̼̍ď̷͉i̵̩̿s̴̜̎r̷̩̎e̸͇͂s̸̠̒p̶̢͗ě̶͉ĉ̸̖t̵̳̿ ̴̨̾m̵̻̌ḛ̸̐.̷͎̈́”̸̣̅

(“You forget, just because you’re used to me… doesn’t mean you get to disrespect me.”)

Izuku couldn’t speak. He could barely breathe.

The demon’s black-and-green eyes burned into his, unblinking.

“̷͉̕Y̶̨̌o̴͈͛u̶͒ͅ ̶͕̾ẗ̷͜ẖ̵̾i̸̥̅ñ̸̳k̴̖̀ ̸̰̓j̴̦͑u̴͌͜s̴̨͂ẗ̵͔́ ̷̡̑b̷͓͛ê̸̝c̴̖͒a̸̱͑u̴͚̓s̶̯͗e̷̖͝ ̸̭̅I̸̙͌ ̶͎̃d̶̮͌i̸͍͛d̷̘͐n̴͖̊’̴̗͊t̵̙̒ ̵̖̿ķ̴̃ḭ̴̇l̵̲̈l̶͉̄ ̷̪̎ȁ̷͇n̸̪̐y̶̤͋o̸͖̅ń̶̯ȩ̴̌…̸̮̑t̸̋ͅh̶̖́a̶̩͂ţ̶̈́ ̵̤̀Ĩ̴̝’̴͉̆m̶̳͝ ̴̰͌s̶̱̓á̸̩f̸͖́e̶̫͌ ̷̝̓n̴̤̉ọ̸̃w̴̪̕?̶͚͋ ̶̘̉Ț̸̾h̴̼̓a̸̩͌t̶͇͘ ̶̯͘Ḯ̴͓’̵͚͛m̸̉͜ ̴̯͝y̶̮͘o̵̜̾u̵̝͘r̷̳̈ ̶̖͆p̶͈̀ḙ̴͝t̴̹̉?̸̡̒ ̴̢̈T̷͙̈́ḫ̶̏a̷͔̓t̷͉͝ ̷̨͘y̴͇͑o̶̱͛ṳ̶͝ ̵̳̄c̵̫͝ã̸̪n̵̤̐ ̷̮̑p̶̙̓u̶͔̅n̵͍͆c̷͉̽ḧ̵̩́ ̷̗̀m̷̡̔e̵͉̚ ̸̝͆l̵͓͘ḯ̷̝ḳ̷̿e̸̝̊ ̵̃͜s̴̫̔o̶̙̚m̴̞͘e̸̘̕ ̸̪̊u̴̫͆n̴͍͆r̸̗̅ủ̷͜l̵̜̃ý̷̞ ̷̬͂c̴̺̽l̴̦͌à̴̟s̸̼̑s̴̡̒m̴͎̈́á̶͜t̶̹͋ę̴̐?̴̟̀”̶̝̅

(“You think just because I didn’t kill anyone…that I’m safe now? That I’m your pet? That you can punch me like some unruly classmate?”)

He leaned in closer, claws flexing.

“̷̻̀Ị̷͗’̸̖̃m̶̢͆ ̵̗̈́t̷͕̓h̴̭̋ẹ̸͒ ̶̟̌r̷͖̍e̶̟̒a̷͚̋s̸̠͝o̶̫̚n̵̫͋ ̵͇̃y̶͉̓o̴͕̽ǔ̸̙’̷̉͜ȑ̵̫ẽ̴̮ ̸͕̄a̴͙͂l̷̔͜i̸̡͒v̴̺̈e̸͔͝.̸̩͠ ̸̬̓Ḁ̴͑g̷͖̊a̵͎͝i̶̧͐n̶̤̒.̴̧̀ ̶͚̚Ÿ̶̥́ộ̸ù̸̗ ̴͕̎t̴͚̽h̴̹̒í̷̭ñ̶̪ḵ̵̈́ ̸̼̚t̷̪̅h̸̫͊a̸͓̚ť̸̮ ̸̣̈́ḿ̷̯ȇ̸͉ả̵̭ǹ̴̝s̵̡͋ ̸̧̒I̸͓̚ ̷̼͛b̴̢̂e̴̘͒l̵̠͂o̵̟͂n̶͓̓g̷̭̿ ̷͇͊ẗ̸̩́o̷̯̒ ̶̹̀ý̶̘ò̸̼u̶̠͆?̴͕̄”̴̥̔

(“I’m the reason you’re alive. Again. You think that means I belong to you?”)

He scoffed.

“̷̛̰Ŷ̸̫o̵̺̎u̸͇͒ ̷̜̇b̸̪͊ḛ̶̈́ĺ̶̮ơ̷͇n̶̤̑g̸̻͝ ̸̳̍ţ̷̄o̶̯̾ ̴͎̓m̵̱͘ë̸̖́,̵̫̌ ̴̦̓Ḭ̵̾z̸̨͑u̸̱͋k̷̡̔û̵͍.̶̭̿”̵̫͂

(“You belong to me, Izuku.”)

And for the first time in their warped relationship, the demon didn’t sound like a snide reflection. He sounded like a threat.

The demon’s grip didn’t loosen.

If anything, it tightened just enough to send a pulse of pressure down Izuku’s spine, a reminder that, even here, in the corners of his own mind, he was not the one holding the leash.

Not right now. Not anymore.

Izuku clawed at the wrist around his throat, but it was like trying to move iron with bare fingers. His legs dangled slightly above the black-glowing ground, his breath coming in tight gasps as the demon leaned in, eyes glowing brighter now, two sick green lanterns burning with restrained fury.

“̷̙̉W̵̮͠h̵̙͒o̴̼̕ ̶̣̚d̵̻̉o̴͙͛ ̶͙́y̵̡̾ȍ̸͓u̶̺̾ ̸̩̓t̷͙̚h̵͉́i̷̟̋n̴̟͒k̸̠͋ ̸͕̓g̵̱̽i̶̪̚v̷̦̂ȇ̴̩s̶̺̉ ̷̙̽y̸̩͝o̵̼̒ū̶͚ ̶̟̊y̵̰̍o̷͉̽u̵̦͗r̶̼̒ ̷͔͐p̴̺͌o̵̹̽w̵̦͗e̸̫̔r̵̜̔ ̸̟̎ī̶̝ṋ̶͛ ̴̢͂t̶̙̊ḣ̷̭ĕ̴͓ ̴̟̇f̶̼͛i̸̡͝r̷̹̎s̴͚̉ẗ̶̖ ̸̦͌p̸͇̓l̷̥̈́a̵͓͒c̸̰͆ë̶̤́?̵̟͑”̸̹̈ ̵̝͘ the demon hissed, voice coiled with static and venom. ̸̩̾“̶̘̕T̴̿ͅh̶̯̋a̸̖͗ț̸̈́ ̴̖̚l̸̞͝ǐ̸̩t̶͉̉t̵̪̅l̵͉͐ë̵̹́ ̷̙̄ǵ̸̻l̵͔̈́i̴̠͑t̶̠̆c̸̜̈́ẖ̸͆į̵̈́n̴͊ͅg̸͓̿ ̴̬̚ẗ̴̰́r̴̬̋i̶̥̎c̶͇̀k̶͔̆?̵͗͜ ̴͖͌T̶͚͆h̵̻̅a̵̩͝t̴̍͜ ̶̤̊i̴̤͐ṃ̴́p̷̢̏o̵̱͠s̵͖̃s̸̰̈́ỉ̵̧b̷̹͂l̷̬͐ȩ̶̈́ ̴͇͠s̷̀͜t̴̤̅r̶̯̈e̵̮̊n̵̛͚g̵͈̿t̸̡͒h̷͝ͅ ̷̲͂ẃ̶͎ĥ̸̟e̵̛̩n̷̟͝ ̶̗̀ý̷̬ǫ̶̈́ù̸̙ ̸̼̈s̸͍̓ḧ̵̭ǒ̴̢u̶͈̐l̵̢͠d̸̮̈ ̷̼̈́b̸̛̩e̶͈͘ ̶̩͆b̴̲͝r̷̟͐ọ̴̈́k̵̩͝e̷͗͜n̵̰̾?̸̜̆ ̶͈͑T̴͖̃h̴̟̑ë̷̟ ̴̲̋a̷̖͒ḇ̵̈́i̴͗͜l̶̕ͅi̴̦̔t̵̻̑y̴̘͆ ̷̤̍t̸̻̄o̴̞͆ ̴̪͛ṡ̷̘t̴̨̚r̵͍̂ë̶ͅt̷̢̋c̶̥̓h̶̺͋ ̸̟̔ŷ̷̭o̸̦͂u̵̢͗ŗ̵̚ ̵͓͐Q̸̖͝u̵͖͒i̵͖̓r̸͎͘k̴͖͠ ̶̫͌b̶̯͝e̶̦̽y̵̮͆ȯ̶̭n̷͍̋d̷̞̓ ̸̨̿t̵̤͌ḥ̷̾e̶̳̕ ̵̧͠l̵̲͗ỉ̸̥m̶̭̈i̷̖͐t̶̥͆s̶̡͗ ̷͖͐o̷̞̊f̵̝͐ ̸̢͠a̴̝̾ ̸̠̂h̴̻̊ǘ̵̦m̴̱̅a̸̦͋n̷̨̾ ̷̂͜ḿ̵̻i̴̲͆n̶͚̿d̷̎͜?̸̡̌”̴̻̓

(“Who do you think gives you your power in the first place? That little glitching trick? That impossible strength when you should be broken? The ability to stretch your Quirk beyond the limits of a human mind?”)

He chuckled, dark and bitter, his grin finally gone.

"̴̩̽M̷͖̚e̶͇͠.̸̜̂"̶̻̈́

("Me.")

He shoved Izuku back against the wall of their mindscape—a shifting, broken pillar of memory—and held him there, clawed hand still clamped tight.

“̵̥́Y̸̭͌o̶̡͛u̸̗̎’̵̢͒v̸͕͋e̶̖̓ ̵̖͛s̷͚̍ṗ̷̞ė̵̳n̷̦͌t̸̗͑ ̴̖̓y̶̮̎é̸̟â̶̖ŗ̶̕s̵̙̏ ̵͍̒p̷̜͗r̶̖̽e̵̟͝t̷͍̐e̵̫͝n̸̡̿d̷͇̄í̶͉n̷͖̆g̵̨̐ ̶̻̔I̷̤̿’̵͓̿m̷̰̓ ̷̳̈j̸̬̽u̶̮̐ś̶̘ṫ̷̫ ̷̻̇ș̸̋ơ̸̪m̴̫͑é̸͔ ̴̟̉ş̶͑i̶̮͑ď̶̜ȅ̸̬ ̶͔̃e̸̪͗f̴̣͐f̸͍͘e̵̤͋c̴̘̎t̴̙̃,̴̬̋”̴͎̍ ̸͖̓ ̸̖̈́ the demon snarled. ̵͚̄“̶̰͑S̸̺̍o̶͕͌ḿ̷͓e̵͘ͅ ̴͍̂t̵̼̽w̸̩̓i̴̳̾ṣ̴̈t̵̰̂e̴̞͂d̷͙̉ ̶̼́ç̵͗o̵͙̅n̸̲̒s̵̠̈́ḛ̶͒q̴͇̂ű̶͈e̷͙͗ṇ̴͆c̴͈̅ẻ̶̯ ̷͔̀o̴̪͝f̴͙͝ ̷͖͒t̷̮͘r̶̙̔a̸̠͝ȕ̷̯m̷̀͜a̸̩͠,̷͓̒ ̶̬̊o̶̬̓r̷̜͠ ̶̼͋a̸͎̿ ̷̬͋c̸̺͊u̸̪̍r̷͇̒s̸̯͘ë̷̖ ̷̨̍y̸̙͝ơ̴̭u̴̩͐’̸̼̎r̴̳̆e̶͂ͅ ̵͇̈́m̸̭̉a̷͍̾n̸̜͛a̸̾͜ḡ̸̦í̵̺n̶̖͝g̵̫͗.̴̰͒ ̸̻̂B̶̲̈ȗ̸̧t̵͈̄ ̷̤͑y̸̫̌o̷͖͌û̸̖’̸̬͑v̶̜͐e̷͇͋ ̴̰̊ṋ̶̑é̵̜v̴̳͒e̷̲̔ṛ̶̀ ̶̠̆ă̵̟s̵͖͑k̷̮̈́ẽ̶͔d̴̫̑ ̸̨̉w̵̛̗h̴̛̟y̸̟͑ ̵̣̕y̷̼̿ò̴͙ǘ̷͙ ̴͕̕c̷̞̀a̴̟̓n̶̢͛ ̷͉͑k̸̬̈́e̷͍̅ë̴̹́p̸͖̍ ̶̹̈́d̸̞͘ộ̷ị̷̔n̴͎͗g̵̺̀ ̷̭͝t̷̤͛h̴̡̆ḛ̵̃ ̴̦̉i̵̘̋m̶̞̐p̵͕̍ö̴͇́š̸͖s̴̯͒i̵̛̩b̸̗̾l̸̲̽ě̴̻.̶̜̒ ̸̥̿W̴̭͛h̷̼͘y̸͙͒ ̷͍̌y̷̰̆o̴̤̓ú̸̬ ̴͍̾s̴̜͑ů̵̬r̶̜̈v̵̤̎i̷̛̞v̵̈́ͅẹ̵͆ ̷̢̈́ṯ̷͛h̴͕̽i̸̢͝n̸͎̋g̴͚̕s̴̝͋ ̸̺͆n̵̲̈́o̷̧̒ ̷̯͆o̸̬͆ṅ̸̥e̵̯̓ ̶̙͝e̶͊ͅl̴̟̾s̵͎̏è̶͖ ̷̩̔c̷̮͌ò̶͎u̶͇͠l̴̮͛d̵̕ͅ.̴̝͂”̶̉͜

(“You’ve spent years pretending I’m just some side effect. Some twisted consequence of trauma, or a curse you’re managing. But you’ve never asked why you can keep doing the impossible. Why you survive things no one else could.”)

He leaned in closer, voice dipping into a cold, thunderous growl.

“̶͎̕Ḇ̴̂e̶̹͌c̶̼͝a̵̦͛u̴̞͋s̸̥̀e̸̩͆ ̴̟̆I̵̩͝ ̷̤͘l̷̫͠e̵̘͝t̴̫̎ ̸̠̆ý̴̙ȏ̸̖u̴͓͋.̸̻͑”̴͖̄

(“Because I let you.”)

Izuku’s eyes widened, the fight in his body freezing, just for a breath.

The demons smile widened, slow and cruel.

“̴̡̚T̴̙̑h̴͕̾á̷̘ẗ̷͕’̸̺̽s̴̺̊ ̸̝̊ṭ̷̄h̵̪͘e̶̻̚ ̴̫̓p̴͇̈́a̶̦͆r̸̹͋t̶̪̑ ̸̪̃ỵ̶͊o̸̥̚ṷ̵͘’̸̅͜v̵̥̎e̵̡̓ ̷͇̉ḅ̷̓e̷̜̔e̸̦͝n̵͉͌ ̷͓̉h̶͎̀i̷̤͛d̶̥͂i̵̮̊n̶̦͋g̴̮̐ ̷̫̔f̵̧͛ȓ̴̼ö̵̺m̷̮̒,̸͔̂ ̷̘̀i̵͇͝s̴̝͊ň̸̜’̴̼͌t̸̺͑ ̸̱͋i̸̚ͅt̷̙́?̵̭́”̵̥̓ he whispered. “̷̧͋T̶̥͠h̶̯̄ạ̶̍ť̵̳ ̴̨̔d̸̘̆e̴͜͝ẽ̸̹p̸̧̏ ̴̖̏d̶̤̋ó̷̭ẅ̶̝́n̶͈͌,̸̩̇ ̷͔̓y̴̝̐o̴͙͝u̶͍͆ ̸̯̒k̷͓̂n̶̲̈́o̸͕̒w̸̧͗ ̴̖͋t̴̨̚h̵̞́e̸̘͛ ̸̤́t̷͙͊r̶̼͋u̵͓̓t̸͚̏h̵̤̚.̴̦̚ ̴͎͊Y̴̪̚ȏ̷͚ú̸̳’̸̲̀ȑ̶ͅe̷̓ͅ ̵̺̀n̶͚̈́ȯ̵̬t̴͔͆ ̶̥̚ī̸̪ǹ̶̥ ̶͙̑c̷̻̿õ̶͎n̸̠͑ẗ̶͙r̷̜̓ô̶͔l̶̳͗ ̸̞̓ȍ̶̦f̶̝̚ ̷̬̀m̵̟̄ḛ̶́.̶̪̃ ̵̝͒Ń̵̖ő̵̧t̵́ͅ ̴̻̆ȑ̷̪e̷͙̽ȃ̶̺ļ̶̄l̸̢͝ý̴̯.̶̰̐”̵̩̈́

(“That’s the part you’ve been hiding from, isn’t it? That deep down, you know the truth. You’re not in control of me. Not really.”)

The static in the air buzzed louder, a heavy weight pressing on Izuku’s chest.

“̷̳̀I̶͖͂ ̴̞͑ć̴ͅȯ̵̲ų̷͌l̶̯͛d̸̫̋ ̵̭͑c̴͙͛o̸̘͝m̴̫͝e̶̘̔ ̷̫̕o̵̜̽u̵̘͌t̵̞̕ ̶̘̾ẁ̸̗ḩ̵̽ĕ̴̮ṇ̴̕ẹ̸̆v̶͚̕e̶̹̿ȓ̸͉ ̵̬̀Ị̶̕ ̴̜͠w̴̹̔a̵̧̐n̵̊ͅt̴̯͗ě̴̗d̴̖̈́,̶̢̅”̷̖͐ the demon murmured, claws twitching faintly. ̵̦̓“̵̬́I̷̱̕’̴̻̄v̴͎͌e̷̙̒ ̷̼̍a̷̬͌l̶̙̕w̶̪͆å̷ͅȳ̵̼s̸̩̃ ̶̨̓b̶̬̚e̷̦̽é̴̜n̵̡̄ ̴͚̋ả̴̰b̷̪̍l̶̜̋e̷̯͒ ̶̫̉t̵̺̊o̸̳͗.̵̣͋ ̷͔̇Ỹ̸̜o̴̳̓u̵̩͆’̶͙̚v̷̺̈é̵̝ ̶̳̓j̴͓̎u̸̼̿s̶̓͜t̷̰̓ ̴͇̆b̵̟̏e̷͙͒e̷̪̍n̷̲͗ ̵̲̚a̸͕̽m̵̩̐u̵͛ͅs̴̖̆i̸͙͗n̸̨̊ǵ̵̰ ̴̗̔é̵̝n̴͔̏õ̷ͅǔ̵͖g̷̝̔h̴̤̏ ̷̮̊t̸̻͊o̴̥͂ ̵͕̓ẃ̸̮a̴͙̒t̸̳̑c̵̹̉h̷̗̓.̸̳̈́”̴̮̑

(“I could come out whenever I wanted. I’ve always been able to. You’ve just been amusing enough to watch.”)

He tilted his head slowly, almost gently.

“̷̢͝S̴̙̓o̶̜͊ ̶͙̄Ĭ̵̖ ̵̼̕l̸͙̐e̶̘͆t̸̨̏ ̸͓̃ỳ̴̖o̶͇̐ȕ̷̳ ̷̦͝b̵͕̎e̸̟͌l̵̖̽i̵̺͛e̸̲̽v̴̢͝e̵͓̿ ̸̦̍y̴̭̏o̵̰͆ù̷͚ ̶̒ͅh̶͉̀a̶̻̎d̷͖̅ ̵̻͊c̴̻̓ơ̷̰n̶̩̈́ẗ̷̖r̴̫̽o̵̥̓l̶͕̀.̴̧̂”̵͍̕

(“So I let you believe you had control.”)

The silence that followed was deafening.

“̸̜̽Ä̴̰́n̶͖̿d̷̯̑ ̴͔̔n̷̞͌o̴̰̚w̸̬͘…̶͇̏”̷̻͘ ̴̍ the demon exhaled, his breath cold against Izuku’s cheek, ̶̫͘ ̸̩̏“̷̟̇Ĭ̵͜’̵͔̑m̵͇̈ ̷̞̈́n̸̄ͅo̸̥̍t̵͕̂ ̸̟͌s̵̡̈́o̵̠̕ ̵̻̈́s̴͕̓ù̴̮ŕ̷̳ë̷͕́ ̴̦̚I̵̖͝ ̵̜͋w̴͎͝a̶̮͊n̶̳̄ț̴̏ ̸͓͂t̵̬͂o̶̹̓ ̴̳̓k̵̻̍ẽ̸̖e̷̛ͅp̶̤̿ ̸̻̿p̶̥͠l̵̢̆ā̵̙y̵̦͝i̷̘̎n̸̳̈́g̴̱͋ ̷̮͗a̴̖͗l̷͈̆ọ̴̉ņ̷̿g̵̡̿.̵̼͆”̶̢̀

(“And now…I’m not so sure I want to keep playing along.”)

Izuku’s heart hammered against his ribs.

Then the demon’s expression shifted. The sharpness didn’t fade, but something behind it…twitched. Like a hairline crack in glass. He narrowed his eyes, jaw flexing ever so slightly.

“̸̳͒B̵̡̍ũ̴̬t̴̫̚.̸̢͗.̸̜̏.̵͓̀t̵̰͐h̷̢̓a̴͈̕t̸̙͘ ̶̭̽ḷ̴͊í̷͜t̶͍͌t̷̠͛l̶̫̆e̸͜͝ ̵̠̐t̶̛̼ṟ̷̚a̴͇̓ḯ̸͙n̵̮̈́i̸͙̐n̴̫͆ģ̶̒ ̴͓̏t̵̞͠r̴̖͘i̴̳̿c̶̜̑ḳ̷͂ ̴̯̽o̴̝̔f̵͍̀ ̴͖̉ẏ̴̯o̵̳̎u̸̘̿r̸̢̂s̷̱̀,̷̟͑ ̶̈́ͅt̵͈͘h̸͈̐o̶̮͐ù̶̬g̷̬̈́h̷͎̓,̸͕̂”̵̛̖ he muttered, almost like it pained him to admit it, ̶̹̿“̷͇̂ẖ̴̑ā̸͕ṡ̶̙ ̸͎̚b̸̈́͜e̶̫̅è̷̬n̵̺͗…̴͔̈́ ̸͇̓m̵̞̀ḁ̷̈k̵̏͜i̶͚͒n̸͙͗g̸̬͛ ̶͇̎t̶̲̒h̷̘͠į̴͛n̷̟͂g̴̬̕s̷̘͑ ̸̹́h̵̳̏a̴̙̚r̵̨̕d̵̘͐e̵͍̚r̸̘͑.̸̖̉”̷̫͛

(“But...that little training trick of yours, though, has been… making things harder.”)

Izuku’s eyes narrowed, his breath still shallow.

He didn’t need to ask what he meant.

The mental barriers. The emotional anchors. The discipline he’d been slowly building with Hound Dog, with Aizawa. The therapy. The simulated resistance.

The work.

“̸̺̏Y̶̺͊o̸̠͋u̷͕͝’̸̥̎v̸̮̏e̷͕̾ ̴̺̏b̵͉͐e̸̠͊ȩ̸̃ṋ̸̚…̴̬͗c̸̗̏l̵͔̾e̵͖͝ṿ̴̎ĕ̷͈r̸̬͝,̴̨͒”̷̳̌ he said, distaste heavy in his voice. ̸̳͗“̷̝̓C̷̓͜ẖ̷̐o̷̞͘k̶̨̀ĩ̸͔n̷̬̎ǵ̸̼ ̴̪͒m̴͚͂e̸̓ͅ ̵̙̀ȯ̴͔f̵͔͝f̸̯͐ ̴̻̓ẁ̸̰i̷̟͝t̴̟̕h̴̦͛ ̴̉ͅl̸̽ͅȍ̶̟g̴͙͋ȋ̴̖c̷͇̾.̷̖̀ ̷̧̕W̶̜͝r̷̡̈́a̶̧̚p̴͋͜p̴̙̉i̵̡͆n̶͉͑g̶̣̑ ̷̜̅m̴̜̿e̶̚͜ ̴̢͝i̵̳͐n̷͕̓ ̴̝̌r̸͎̎ỉ̷̟ẗ̶͍u̵̪͝ä̶̘́l̶͙̅s̵̩̾.̶̭͘ ̴̼͂N̵̼̽a̸̹̍m̷̫̈́ȉ̵̯n̷̙͠g̴̙̑ ̴̟̂ÿ̵́ͅo̶̥̊ù̴̯r̶̂ͅ ̸̦̃l̵̮̎i̴̖̎m̵̘̉i̴̅͜t̸̻͛s̴̘̏ ̵̟͌l̷̺͊i̴̤͋ḱ̸̞ḙ̵̄ ̴̻̓t̷̫̋h̴͝ͅe̶͓̋ý̴̲ ̸͈̑m̷̩̀e̶̥̓à̶͎n̶̤̾ţ̷͌ ̷̦̈́ś̵̯o̸͉͗ḿ̶̪ê̴͖t̸̻̾h̷̛̦i̶͍̾ṋ̴͊ğ̷̩.̶̲̕”̴̻̽

(“You’ve been…clever. Choking me off with logic. Wrapping me in rituals. Naming your limits like they meant something.”)

His grip loosened a fraction, and he leaned back just enough to really look Izuku in the eye.

"̷̫̕I̶͍̅t̵̮̿'̶̤̇s̵̛̗ ̷̧̎ĭ̴̭ṟ̸͂r̷̥̔i̵͍̽ẗ̸̨́a̵̮͂t̸̛͎ì̸͉n̵̮͋g̶̣̐.̵̬̍"̷͕̈́

("It's irritating.")

A pause.

"̷̡͠.̸̢̈́.̵̘̕.̷̗̕Í̸̗m̷̙͌p̷͖͗r̸̝̋ẹ̸̈́ṣ̶͌s̴̨̀i̵͉̓v̴̪̓ḛ̸́.̴̺̌"̶͖̆

("...Impressive")

He dropped Izuku without warning.

Izuku crumpled to his knees, gasping, hand flying to his throat. The air felt sharp, metallic. The static buzzed under his skin.

The demon stepped back, arms folding behind his back again with that same eerie composure.

“̶͓̄B̸̮̽ű̵̼t̸̜͘ ̵͔̚ḑ̶͐o̴̦͑ń̷̰’̸̧͂t̴͖̐ ̶̜̈́m̶͕̋i̸̺͆s̴͖̈́t̷̡̓a̷̠̓k̶͓̎e̴͙͋ ̷͚̔r̶̢̃ẻ̷̖s̵̙͋ḯ̸̬s̷̗̏t̴̙͝ä̶͈́n̶̟̅c̴͓͠é̷͕ ̷̼̈́f̵̭̀ǒ̷̱r̸̠̓ ̵̬͝c̷̼̈́ȯ̷ͅn̵̟̉t̶̯͠r̶̝̔o̷͈̍l̵̥̔,̷̢͝ ̶͆͜l̶̤̆ḯ̵̠t̷̉͜ț̷̇l̶̛͇ȇ̵̼ ̷̭́ḩ̸͊e̵̖̍ṟ̶̕o̷̭͐,̵̼̏”̸̬͒ ̵͔̍ he said calmly. ̶̻̅"̸̞̈Ỵ̴͊o̴̖͑ű̵͜’̴͎́r̷͔̋e̸̠̊ ̸͚͆g̴̤͌e̵͎͋t̷̪͝ṯ̴͌i̶͇̒n̸͚̚g̶̨͗ ̷̱̉ŝ̶̪t̴̖̑r̵͎̈́o̶̭͋ṉ̶̍g̴̐͜e̴͉͠r̶̛̟.̸̆͜ ̷̤͂Ĩ̷͓ ̸̲̍w̵̥̋o̷̲̓n̴̝̚’̴̲̽t̷̡̕ ̶̦̀ḏ̶̒e̵͙̒ņ̸̋y̴̞͒ ̷̝͗t̶͙̍h̷̘͒a̶͓͋t̷̗͋.̶̼̽”̸̖͒

(“But don’t mistake resistance for control, little hero. You’re getting stronger. I won’t deny that.”)

He turned, walking into the shifting dark, his voice echoing behind him.

“̷̲͝B̸̧̚ú̶͇t̴̺͘ ̴͓́d̵͍͂o̷̹̐n̴͓̂’̵̣̒t̵̨̔ ̸̫̌f̵̠̔ơ̴̳r̴̥̕ġ̶̫e̷̡͋t̸̼̊ ̴̝͊w̷̼͘h̵͍̾ó̴͔ ̷͍̑m̴̮̋a̸͍͠d̴̪̓é̵̯ ̴̩̐y̷̖̓ȏ̸̳u̸͚͑ ̶͎͑ș̵́t̸͖̀r̶͔͠õ̸̡n̴̫̈g̵͇̈́ ̶̠͂i̵̤̾n̸̯̓ ̵͍̑t̸͇̏h̴̼̊ë̸̲́ ̶͔̏f̸̭͝i̶̛̹ṛ̸͠s̵̹͊t̶̝͌ ̸̺͂p̶̨̋l̶̝̓a̸̮͝c̸̬̾ë̷̥́.̴̱͠”̵̧͌

(“But don’t forget who made you strong in the first place.”)

The demon turned away, his long black coat drifting behind him like smoke, hands calmly clasped behind his back again. His boots made no sound as he moved across the fragmented void, each step unnaturally smooth, like gravity itself was unsure around him.

Izuku remained on his knees, one hand still at his throat, sucking in slow, shuddering breaths, trying to calm the wild rhythm of his heart and the uncomfortable truth that now echoed in his bones.

But the demon didn’t look back. He already knew he’d won something tonight. And as he continued to walk into the shadows, he spoke, voice low, smooth, confident, curling back over his shoulder like smoke.

“̵̨͊Ẃ̵̙ě̷̯’̷̭̊l̵͎̈́l̷̯̋ ̸̛͜b̶͓̍ę̶̕ ̴̚ͅs̸̫̍ȅ̸͙ȇ̷͓i̵͚̇ǹ̷̩g̸̲̀ ̷̗̿a̵̜͑ ̶͕̊ľ̷ͅȯ̸̗t̷͖͝ ̷̪͋m̴̖͝o̶̹̓r̸̦͐e̸̥͌ ̵̰̌o̸̢̾f̵̲̔ ̸̞̏ë̸̯a̴̩̎c̸̖̎h̶̖́ ̶͉͌o̶̪͗t̴̯͌ḧ̵̤ȇ̸̝r̷͈̓…̴͎̏”̷̧͊ ̴̬̓ he said, a note of satisfaction in his tone. ̴̜͐“̴͍̌S̵̤͘o̴̠̔ ̷̞̊y̴̰̽o̷̻͊ǔ̴̥ ̸͔̀ṁ̶̙í̵̺ģ̵̀h̴̪͊t̵͉͑ ̷͕͝ä̶̭́s̷͇̈́ ̸̰̈́w̴̗͘e̴̠̓l̵͝ͅl̵̬͝ ̸͈́c̴̹̾a̵̪̋l̸͕̅l̵̠̉ ̵̣̂m̴̢̓ḛ̶͊ ̴̬̒b̸̨̂y̸̙͋ ̸̼̔m̷̤̕y̸̖̑ ̶͈̃p̴͙̈́r̵̨̊ö̸̬́p̷̖̿ẹ̴͛r̷͎͋ ̵̜̂ń̵͉a̴̜͆m̴͓̂e̵̗͊.̵̣͝”̵͙̒

(“We’ll be seeing a lot more of each other… So you might as well call me by my proper name.”)

Izuku’s eyes narrowed, still burning with defiance, even as he struggled to his feet.

His radio voice came out hoarse, half a snarl. “And what’s that?”

The demon paused. Just for a beat. Then, with the barest turn of his head, one glowing green and black eye peeking over his shoulder and his mouth curling back into that perfectly smug smirk, he answered.

"̴͕̀Â̸̺l̸͕̉a̶̹͋ś̴̱ţ̴̆o̵̳̕r̸͍̊.̸͇̏"̴̔͜

(“Alastor.”)

The shadows swallowed him again, and Izuku's stomach was somewhere above him as he started to fall.

Izuku snapped awake with a loud, choking gasp, his body jolting upright like someone had dropped ice water down his spine.

The hospital room was too bright, white, sterile, and humming faintly with the buzz of overhead lights. For a second, the light burned his eyes, and the sharp contrast from that suffocating void made everything feel unreal.

His hand flew to his neck.

Fingers clawed at skin that felt too whole, too smooth.

No bruises. No puncture wounds.

But he could still feel them.

The phantom press of claws digging into his throat. The weight of being lifted. The sharp sting where pain and humiliation had sunk in, bone-deep.

His chest heaved, breath ragged.

Something creaked in the room. Like someone was slipping off a bed and footsteps made him look up.

Wrapped head to toe in bandages, his arms stiffly locked in matching white casts, was Iida. He wore a loose hospital gown that draped over his broad frame like a blanket, IV lines trailing behind him like leashes, and his glasses were missing—replaced by an older, more worn pair that sat slightly crooked on his nose.

But his expression...

That was clear.

Concern. Relief. And…guilt. He walked carefully, almost too carefully, like every step felt like he was intruding. Izuku’s eyes softened, the phantom tension in his neck fading just a little and his grin relaxing.

Iida came to his bedside and stopped there, not sitting, just standing with that rigid posture he always carried, except now it sagged at the edges, the pain and exhaustion peeking through.

“You’re awake,” Iida said, voice a little hoarse. “Good.”

Izuku stared at him for a long moment.

“You look like shit.”

Iida blinked, then huffed, the closest thing to a laugh he could manage right now. “I was about to say the same thing.”

They both fell silent for a second.

Then Izuku shifted, forcing himself to sit up a little straighter despite the ache beginning to bloom in his ribs. “You shouldn’t be walking around.”

"I'll be fine. It was you I was worried about. We thought you wouldn't make it after being attacked by that Nomu." Another moment passed between them, words unsaid building in the space like pressure behind a dam. Finally, Iida looked down, his jaw tight. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For everything. For dragging you into that fight. For almost—”

“Don’t,” Izuku said, just as quiet. "Don't apologize. Trust me when I say I know exactly how you felt. I would have done the same thing in your shoes, though I'm not saying it was the right thing."

The door opened again, this time without hesitation. The soft shuffle of hospital slippers was replaced by the measured steps of boots—heavy, steady, and familiar.

Izuku and Iida both turned their heads toward the sound.

Aizawa stepped in first, clad in his usual black uniform and scarf, hair tied back but slightly more disheveled than normal. His eyes were sharp, unreadable, but there were deep shadows under them that hadn’t been there before.

Behind him came Manual. His presence was more relaxed, eyes gentler, but firm as they locked on his intern.

“Good,” Aizawa said, stepping inside and closing the door behind them. “You’re awake.”

He didn’t rush to the bedside. He didn’t make a fuss. He just came to stand at Izuku’s right, arms crossed, eyes sweeping over him like a scanner, assessing every little twitch and shadow on his face.

Manual, meanwhile, moved toward Iida, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Iida bowed his head immediately. “Manual—sir, I—”

“Later,” Manual said kindly, squeezing his shoulder. “Let’s not start with apologies before you’ve had time to heal.”

Iida looked like he wanted to protest, but swallowed it and nodded.

Aizawa didn’t speak right away. His eyes never left Izuku.

Izuku sat up a little straighter, biting down a grimace. “…I’m fine.”

Aizawa raised a brow. “You were dropped from a few stories in the air with a hole in your side.”

Izuku shrugged weakly. “Mostly fine.”

Aizawa sighed, finally stepping forward, grabbing the clipboard at the end of the bed and flipping through the notes with a practiced glance.

“No internal bleeding. Broken ribs. Minor shock. No head trauma. Stitches held.”

He lowered the board. “So. Mostly fine.”

Izuku tried not to look smug. It didn’t work.

Aizawa turned the clipboard over and smacked him lightly on the forehead with it.

“Ow— okay, deserved,” Izuku muttered.

Aizawa looked at him for a moment longer. Then, softer than expected, he said, “You scared the hell out of me, kid.”

Izuku froze.

Because Aizawa never said things like that.

He looked down. “I know.”

The room had begun to settle into something that almost resembled calm. Almost.

Izuku was starting to breathe evenly again, the warmth of sunlight casting soft golden rays over his blanket. Iida stood quietly beside his bed, Manual offering quiet reassurances, while Aizawa stayed near the window, his expression unreadable.

Then the door opened.

A man in a dark uniform entered with a slow, heavy stride—broad-shouldered, and a badge on his chest that identified him as the Hosu police chief. But that wasn't what caught Izuku's attention. It was his dog like head and hands, or paws he should say. And he was tall too.

Everyone tensed.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” the chief said evenly, voice gruff and formal. “But I’ve been asked to deliver some official statements following the events in Hosu.”

His eyes, dark and unreadable, settled on the two teenagers.

“The Commission has reviewed the case, and while your actions saved lives, the fact remains that your intern acted without proper authority, and engaged a high-risk target outside the scope of instruction. As a result…”

He paused.

“Manuals teaching license has been suspended, effective immediately.”

The words dropped like a hammer.

Manual nodded once, obvious that he has already had this talk. Iida’s face paled.

“What?” Iida asked, voice cracking as he stepped forward, restrained by the stiffness of his casts. “No, that’s—I was the one who disobeyed orders. Manual did everything—”

Manual raised a hand to stop him. “It’s all right. I knew there’d be consequences. Besides, it's just my teaching license, not my Hero license. And it's not like its forever, only six months.”

But Iida’s jaw tightened, guilt flooding every line of his face.

Izuku slowly turned his head to look at Aizawa, eyes wide, something like dread curling in his stomach.

Aizawa felt it—saw the way both of them were now looking at him, not just with concern, but panic.

Were they about to cost him his license, too? Was he no longer their teacher? 

Aizawa blinked, then let out a sigh, rolling his eyes in that casual, exhausted way that could only belong to a man who was constantly juggling disasters.

“I work under Nezu,” he said, almost bored. “The HPSC doesn’t have jurisdiction over me. It’s the principal’s decision if my license is suspended.”

He didn’t say anything more.

He didn’t need to.

Because all three of them thought the same thing in unison, Nezu would never do that.

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed a second later, and a familiar crackle shimmered across his gaze. His hair lifted slightly. His Quirk had activated. “But,” he said coldly, eyes snapping between the two boys, “don’t think that gets you out of a punishment.”

Iida immediately stiffened. Izuku flinched. Their minds raced to the worst.

Expulsion.

But Aizawa’s voice stayed calm, level, and utterly unforgiving as he moved to the window. “Once internships are over,” he continued, “you won’t be training with the others for three days.”

A beat.

“You’ll be in detention.”

Iida’s shoulders slumped—not from exhaustion this time, but disappointment and relief. Still, he nodded, accepting it with grace and a quiet, “Yes, Mr. Aizawa.”

But Izuku…didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

He just stared at the blanket bunched in his lap, fingers slowly curling into it.

Three days. Three days without training. Three days where he’d fall behind—yes—but that wasn’t what twisted like glass in his gut. If he couldn’t train…if he couldn’t keep pushing his limits…then Alastor would have more room. More leverage. More time.

Time to get stronger. Time to slip through. Time to take more. Time to decide he didn’t want to wait anymore. And Izuku, gripping the edge of the blanket, couldn’t stop thinking that three days might be all he needs.

Izuku didn't hear the Chiefs dismissal or the doctor coming in two minutes later to take Iida to a testing room and Manual going with him. But Izuku didn't wait even ten seconds after they left before looking at Aizawa. 

“I can’t miss training,” he said, barely above a whisper—but it carried like a crack across glass.

Aizawa didn’t turn from where he stood by the window, arms crossed. “Midoriya—”

“No, I mean it,” Izuku said louder now, pushing himself upright, fingers curling into the blanket. “You don’t understand. You can take anything else. Fail me, suspend me, give me ten hours of homework every night, I’ll do it.”

“Midoriya.”

“Just, not training. Please. I’ll redo the Sports Festival blindfolded, I’ll volunteer for cafeteria duty for a year, I’ll—”

“Stop—”

“I’ll scrub the gym floors with a toothbrush, I’ll—”

"Midoriya!" Aizawa snapped, his voice sharp, not angry, but serious. “Why is it so detrimental to miss three days of training when you've been holding back from the beginning?”

Izuku opened his mouth and exploded.

“Because Alastor just told me the only reason I’ve been in control is because he was letting me!”

The silence after was immediate.

And ice cold.

Izuku’s breath caught the moment the words left his mouth.

His entire body stiffened.

And Aizawa’s expression shifted, slowly, methodically.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

But his eyes, already narrow, sharpened like drawn wire.

“…Alastor?” Aizawa asked, his voice low.

Izuku’s hand was frozen halfway between clenched and trembling. His eyes widened just enough to betray that he hadn’t meant to say that.

Aizawa took one step closer.

“And who, exactly, is Alastor, Midoriya?”

Izuku licked his lips, throat dry, heart thundering in his chest.

He tried to recover. Lie. Backpedal. But the name, that name, hung heavy in the air now.

Aizawa stared at him, unblinking and then quietly repeated, “Just told you?” Izuku’s stomach dropped.

Aizawa caught it immediately. The tense present. The implication. Just told him. As in, recently. As in, within the last hour.

“You weren’t unconscious,” Aizawa said quietly, realization blooming like a blade in his tone. “You were with him.”

Izuku didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His silence said everything.

Aizawa crossed his arms. 

"Tell me every single detail."

Chapter Text

The clock ticked.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Each second scraped at the silence like nails across a rusted metal sheet.

Izuku didn’t blink. He just stared at his hands—bandaged, trembling slightly, even now. Underneath the gauze, he could still feel the phantom ache where his fingers had split and twisted. They hadn’t just broken during the fight with Stain. They had changed—curled inward, clawed, twitching with some other rhythm. Alastor's rhythm.

“You haven’t said anything,” came Hound Dog’s gravel-coated voice, gentle but strained with concern.

Still, Izuku smiled. Wide. Too wide.

“Izuku.”

The boy tilted his head, not quite like himself. Not quite like Alastor either. Somewhere in-between. His shoulders were relaxed, posture too calm for the storm behind his eyes. One of his fingers tapped against the chair’s armrest. Not fast. Just... steady. Like a ticking bomb.

Hound Dog narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, letting the pads of his fingers press together.

“You’re scared,” he said finally.

A breath escaped Izuku's mouth—not quite a laugh. More like static. Faint. Broken. He didn’t deny it, but he didn’t agree either.

“You let him in during the fight.”

That got something. Izuku’s smile twitched. Not wider. Just... tighter.

“I didn’t—” The words came out like a skipping record. “I didn’t let him. I needed him.”

Silence.

“Why?” Hound Dog asked, voice softer now.

Izuku slowly raised his eyes. They were brighter than usual—green ringed with something sickly gold, like the static was bleeding into his irises.

“Because he knew what to do.”

He flexed his hands, and for a split second, the claws flashed in his mind again—black, wicked, beautiful in their destruction.

“He wanted blood. And so did I.”

The words hung in the air like smoke. Hound Dog didn’t flinch, didn’t write anything down. Just nodded once.

“That’s the first honest thing you’ve said today.”

Izuku’s grin faltered.

“Here’s the truth, Midoriya,” the counselor continued. “You’re not afraid of Alastor. Not really.”

Izuku frowned. The corners of his mouth trembled, the smile threatening to collapse under something heavier.

“You’re afraid... you like him.”

That struck like a nail to the heart. Izuku jerked upright, and his eyes flaring.

“I don’t—!”

Hound Dog didn’t interrupt. He let the boy’s voice echo through the office. Izuku’s hands were clenched now, trembling again—not with fear. With restraint. With the effort it took to stay... Izuku.

“I don’t,” he repeated, lower now. “I can’t.”

"It was the first time," Hound Dog said, quieter now, gentler. "Wasn't it? The first time you gave him space. The first time Alastor didn't force his way out—you opened the door for him. You thought you needed him."

There was a flicker. Barely a twitch. Izuku's grin widened just slightly. And then...

"I made a deal with him. It was easy," he said. His voice was distorted. A soft buzz hung behind each syllable like static bleeding through a faulty speaker. "Too easy."

Hound Dog leaned forward, ears perked.

"Go on."

Izuku looked up finally, meeting Hound Dog's eyes. That smile, too wide, too clean, didn’t reach the rest of his face. "I hesitated. I mean, of course I did. I have this uncontrollable, unpredictable lunatic inside me but all I saw Iida, bleeding. He was taunting me. And everything he was saying made sense. I was frozen. I couldn't do anything. He was the only one that could stop him. And something in me just... stepped aside. I let him handle it."

Hound Dog scribbled something on the clipboard. "And what did he do? What did you do?"

Izuku blinked slowly. "He did what he said he would. He just stopped him from hurting him anymore. I was right there on the edge of control. I made him swear that as soon as he was done, I was to take back control." Izuku let out a incredulous laugh and bent over until his elbows rested on his knees and his fingers raked through his curls. "Can you believe that? I made a bargain with a demon. And he actually kept his word. Granted, I still had to take control myself when he even took a step towards Iida, but he didn't kill either of them like he said he would." There was a low, mechanical hum beneath his words now. The static of a forgotten frequency clawing at the edges of his throat. Izuku seemed unaware. Or maybe he didn’t care.

"And now?" Hound Dog asked. "You know he's not bound anymore. That he can come out whenever he wants. What does that mean for you?"

"It means..." Izuku flexed his fingers, and for the briefest moment, they shimmered, twitched, glitched. A flicker of static like an old VHS tape skipping. "It means I need control."

"Which is why you're still training," Hound Dog said, nodding. "You and Aizawa agreed. No breaks. No full stop. But there had to be consequences. You broke protocol. Endangered yourself and others."

Izuku chuckled. The sound was low, grainy, unnatural. "Lunch duty for a week."

"Three hours a day," Hound Dog confirmed. "No combat drills during that time. You serve food, clean up, and observe. You learn patience. Responsibility. Discipline. The kind that doesn't involve punching someone through a wall."

Izuku didn't respond. His gaze returned to his hands. "I don't care. As long as I can still train, I'd do it for the rest of the year, instead of a week."

Hound Dog stood, placing the clipboard on his chair. He moved slowly, deliberately, toward the window. "You're not a monster, Midoriya. But you have to understand something very clearly."

Izuku looked up.

"He wants to be one. And the more you rely on him, the more you'll forget where he ends and you begin."

Izuku's grin faltered for just a second. Then returned.

"I won't forget," he said quietly. "That's why I keep smiling."

Hound Dog turned, silhouetted in the fractured light. "Why's that?"

Izuku's voice buzzed softly, distorting around the edges. "Because he does, too. And if I stop, I won't know who's in control."

The session ended in silence, broken only by the soft creak of the door opening as Hound Dog stepped out. Izuku remained seated for several minutes more, staring at his hands.

They didn't look like claws anymore.

But he remembered how they felt.

The kitchen steamed with the smell of boiled rice, soy, and something that vaguely resembled burnt miso.

Izuku stood at the industrial sink, yellow gloves up to his elbows, sleeves rolled high, a stained apron reading “U.A. DINING STAFF: SERVING HEROES WITH A SMILE!” in blocky, cheerful letters. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Clink. Scrape. Scrub.

He cleaned plates like he fought villains—with precision, with intensity, with barely-restrained energy that made the poor dishes rattle in the drying rack.

Aizawa watched from the doorway, coffee in hand, eyes unreadable behind his usual tired expression.

“Fifth load today,” the homeroom teacher muttered to Lunch Rush, who was merrily dicing something bright orange nearby. “He’s treating the dish pit like it’s an exam.”

Lunch Rush just nodded. “Kid works harder than my knives. Not bad company, though. Just... unsettling.”

“He needs the routine,” Aizawa said. “Structure helps keep the demon back.”

“That’s the one with the voice, right?”

“Among other things.”

Back at the sink, Izuku was humming something. The sound wavered like a detuned radio—melodic, but off. Like a lullaby being played backwards through an old speaker.

He wasn't smiling because he was happy. He smiled because it was safer than screaming.

“Combat focus today,” Aizawa said flatly. “No Quirks. Pure technique.”

Izuku nodded.

“And Midoriya,” Aizawa added as the boy took his stance. “If you smile like that while sparring again, I will throw you into the wall.”

The grin didn’t fade, but it dulled.

“Understood, sir,” Izuku replied.

And the training began.

The first blow came fast.

Aizawa never went easy on him—not before, and definitely not now. Izuku barely dodged the low sweep of his teacher’s leg before rolling to the side and coming back up into a crouch. He didn’t reach for his Quirk. That was the point of the exercise. No enhancements. No glitches. No shortcuts. Just the body he was born with, the body he’d trained to push to its limits.

And yet, there was still that hum in his ears.

He moved to strike, feinting left before twisting to the right, aiming for Aizawa’s ribs. The man caught his wrist mid-swing and twisted. Pain shot up Izuku’s arm, but he rolled with it, pivoting with his momentum and using the leverage to kick backward. Aizawa grunted, stepping away just enough to loosen his grip. Izuku dropped low, hooked his foot behind Aizawa’s heel, and pulled.

Aizawa didn’t fall—but he stumbled.

And that should’ve made Izuku feel something. Satisfaction. Pride. Progress. But all he felt was that same buzz behind his eyes. That low crackle beneath his skin. Like something was watching. Waiting.

They continued for another thirty minutes. Blows exchanged. Dodges. Grapples. A few real hits landed—Izuku’s lip split, and Aizawa had the beginnings of a bruise forming just beneath his jaw. No one said anything. Not until Aizawa raised a hand and stepped back.

“Enough.”

Izuku stopped immediately, panting, but still smiling. His shirt clung to him, soaked with sweat, the fabric twitching subtly as if disturbed by something unseen.

“Your smile,” Aizawa muttered, reaching for a towel. “It’s different.”

Izuku tilted his head. “Is it bothering you?”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Izuku looked away.

“I can keep him in,” he said softly. “Even if he’s there. I can hold the line.”

“Until someone you care about bleeds again?”

Silence.

“Midoriya, you said yourself—Alastor doesn’t break through unless something cracks. That wasn’t just a power spike. It was a door opening. You opened it once. Now he’s looking for another excuse.”

“I know,” Izuku snapped. Then flinched. His hands curled into fists at his sides. “I know,” he repeated, quieter. “But what do you want me to do? Lock myself in a cell? I have to train. I have to stay sharp. If I don’t—he’s louder.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed.

“You’re not wrong. But you’re walking a line that’s not sustainable. You need better control. Not just over the quirk—over yourself.”

Izuku’s grin flickered up, not out of mockery, but fear.

“You think I don’t know that?”

The room felt colder suddenly. Not physically, but spiritually. A shift in air pressure. Like the walls were listening.

“I’m going to make a change,” Aizawa said, stepping forward, his eyes locked on Izuku’s. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll alternate training days. One day physical. One day focused mental discipline.”

Izuku didn’t respond yet, but his breathing had slowed. His fingers flexed at his sides, as if reaching for something invisible, something internal.

“You’ll train control like it’s a muscle,” Aizawa continued, his voice low but resolute. “And we’ll keep stress exposure minimal. Which means no more simulations.”

That part hit him harder than expected. No simulations? Those were where he learned the most—real scenarios, real pressure, real stakes. He opened his mouth to protest, but Aizawa raised a hand, cutting him off before the words could form.

“We’re not removing challenges. We’re redirecting them. Until you get your mental footing back, throwing you into adrenaline-heavy situations is reckless. You’ve been managing this—him—through sheer force of will, but that isn’t a long-term solution. It’s like sealing a leak with duct tape. Eventually, it bursts.”

A pause. A breath.

“We’ll do meditation techniques. Sensory control. Visualization training. Mindfulness exercises. Things meant to keep your mind steady and clear.”

Izuku blinked. He hadn’t heard Aizawa talk like this since their first few weeks at U.A.—not like a combat instructor, but a teacher. Someone who actually believed he could be saved. Someone who refused to give up.

“And if that doesn’t work,” Aizawa said, turning to gather his things, “then we’ll keep trying until we find something that does.”

For the first time in what felt like days, the smile on Izuku’s face faltered—not as if breaking apart, but as if something warmer was trying to press through. His lips parted, then slowly closed again, and he nodded.

“Understand?” Aizawa asked.

Izuku swallowed. His throat was dry, but his voice was clear when it came.

“Yes, sir.” A pause. Then, “Thank you.”

He said it so softly, so grateful, it caught Aizawa off guard—not because Midoriya didn’t say thank you, but because of how he said it. Not with the bright-eyed optimism he used to carry like a second skin, or the panicked desperation he’d worn so often since the Sports Festival. This was different. Quieter. Grounded. Like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, realizing someone had just handed him a rope.

Aizawa didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. He heard it in the tone, the weight. And that weight told him everything he needed to know.

Izuku was still in there. Beneath the smile, beneath the glitching hum of static that clung to him like a second shadow—he was still fighting. Still trying. 

When he did turn, Izuku looked more relaxed—more human—than Aizawa had seen him since the encounter with Stain.

That expression, the way the tension had finally started to slide from his shoulders, the way his face no longer looked like it was holding in a scream behind a smile—it put Aizawa at ease in a way he rarely allowed himself to acknowledge. He didn’t let emotion guide his instincts, not when it came to students with dangerous quirks and unpredictable outcomes. But moments like this? They reminded him why he was here in the first place.

Most of the time, teaching at U.A. felt like walking a tightrope over an open flame. Too many kids were burdened with powers they never asked for, trauma they never admitted to, and expectations that crushed them before they ever put on a hero costume. Aizawa had made peace with being the last stop. The teacher who dealt with the "problem children." The broken ones. The unstable ones. The ones no one else wanted to deal with.

But there were also moments like this.

Moments where the hard exterior cracked—not just in his students, but in himself. Where a kid like Midoriya, who had been teetering on the edge between brilliance and breakdown, looked back at him not with fear, or panic, or some hollow attempt to fake sanity—but with trust.

Aizawa had seen the mask. Had watched it form and settle and harden over the weeks—Izuku’s wide grin, the off-putting calm, the radio distortion in his voice, like his soul had started fraying. That smile had been a wall. And today, finally, it slipped. Not because of punishment. Not because of pressure. But because someone met him where he was and refused to let him fall alone.

That was the job.

It wasn’t just combat drills and debriefings. It was this. Helping them pull themselves out of the dark. Teaching them how to survive—not just villains, but themselves.

Aizawa watched Izuku walk away, heading toward the showers with that small flicker of calm still clinging to him. Not a full recovery. Not even close. But it was real.

He would keep him on this path. No matter how many times they had to reset. No matter how loud the static got.

Aizawa had offered to escort him when Izuku said he was going home, had said he could call if things felt off, but Izuku declined. He needed to go home. After everything—the hospital, the therapy sessions, the static in his head whispering with a smile that wasn’t his—he needed to feel something familiar. Something real.

He took the train. Kept his hood up. The other passengers barely noticed him, though a few stared longer than they should’ve. But they didn’t speak. And he didn’t look up.

When he stepped off the train, the early evening sun cast everything in gold. The light hit the pavement at just the right angle, warm and soft. He walked the last few blocks to his childhood home in silence, his steps slow but certain.

The moment he reached the door, it opened before he could even slip his key inside.

His mother stood there, small, soft, and already crying.

“Oh, Izuku—” she barely got his name out before wrapping her arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder. Her grip was tighter than he remembered. Desperate. Protective. Scared.

He didn’t speak. Just held her back, burying his nose into her hair. He felt her shaking. Felt the words she wasn’t saying press against his chest.

She pulled back after a moment, hands rising to cup his face, eyes scanning every inch of him. “You’re too thin,” she whispered. “You didn’t tell me how bad it was. Why didn’t you tell me?” Her thumbs brushed the edge of his cheek, just under his eyes.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he said.

His voice was his own.

She let out a breath and stepped aside, ushering him in. The apartment smelled like home—like miso soup, laundry detergent, and the faint hint of cinnamon she sometimes used in her tea. It was a small place. Always had been. But now, it felt like a sanctuary.

“I made dinner,” she said, voice trembling with practiced calm as she moved to the kitchen. “Your favorite. I kept it warm in the oven just in case.”

Izuku slipped off his shoes, his fingers lingering on the back of the entry bench for just a moment longer than they should have. 

Dinner was quiet at first. She ladled out katsudon while he sat at the table, hands folded in his lap. He stared at the food for a long moment when Inko placed it in front of him, then picked up his chopsticks and ate. It wasn't until after dinner when the table was cleared and his mother was cleaning did he finally speak. 

“Mom,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “there’s something I haven’t told you.”

Inko froze. She had just been wiping down the counter, trying to busy her hands, trying to pretend things were normal. But the way he said it—quiet, heavy, true—made her turn immediately.

Izuku sat at the kitchen table, shoulders hunched, eyes locked on the wood. He didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. Not yet.

She waited. Patient. Scared. But patient.

“I didn’t lie,” he began, “not really. I just… I didn’t say everything. About my Quirk.”

Her heart skipped. He’d had his quirk for almost two years now, and she'd lived with the terror of it every day since. The late-night training, the villains. But this? This sounded different.

He drew a breath. It shook in his chest.

“From the beginning, there was always something else inside it. Inside me." His throat worked around the next words like they were knives.

“I think… no. I know—that something came with it. Something that wasn’t just power. Something alive.”

Inko didn’t move. Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak. She watched her son tremble in his seat, hands clenched so tightly in his lap that his knuckles had gone white.

He continued.

“It’s not just the glitching, or the voice, or the static in my head. It’s him. He’s in there. Like a shadow that looks like me but isn’t. He calls himself Alastor.”

The name felt wrong in the room. Heavy. Not evil, not exactly, but unnatural.

“I didn’t know how real he was until recently. I thought he was just a hallucination, or some dark part of my mind I could ignore. But after what happened with Stain…” Izuku’s eyes finally lifted to hers. They shimmered—not with tears, but something older. “He came out. I let him in.”

Her hands were folded on the table, steady even as her heart pounded against her ribs. Izuku hadn’t stopped shaking. His fingers twitched restlessly in his lap, his shoulders drawn up like he was bracing for a punch. But it was his face that made her chest ache.

That grin. That damn grin.

It had been on his face for years—tight, too wide, stitched into place like a mask he couldn’t take off. But now it was cracking. His lips trembled around it, like the smile was fighting to hold itself together while everything else fell apart.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” he whispered, barely audible. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

His voice hitched.

“I thought if I just kept training, kept pretending it wasn’t there, it would go away. That I could bury it, like I always do. But I can’t—I can’t keep smiling like it’s okay. I can’t lie anymore.”

The grin faltered. His breath hitched again. And then—

He broke.

Tears spilled from his eyes in thick, silent streams, cutting down the curve of that too-wide smile like rain on glass. His whole body shook with it—shuddering sobs that escaped in stuttered, static-laced gasps.

“I’m so scared, Mom…” His voice cracked and warbled like a damaged recording, layered with that familiar glitch, that underlying wrongness. “God, I’m so scared.”

He laughed—a wet, broken sound that barely resembled laughter at all. “He’s in me. Watching. Waiting. And every time I get close to someone getting hurt—every time I feel something too strong—he slips closer.”

His fists clenched, fingernails digging into his palms.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to become some monster. But I can feel him, just under my skin. He’s calm when I’m not. Strong when I’m scared. And the worst part?” He looked up at her through the tears, through the twisted smile. “Sometimes I think he’s the only reason I’m still alive.”

Inko moved without thinking. She slid around the table and wrapped her arms around her son, pulled him in, held him tight against her chest. He collapsed into her as he sobbed against her shoulder.

“You’re not alone,” she murmured, over and over. “You’re not alone, Izuku. You never were.”

She stroked his hair like she did when he was little, rocking him slightly as his whole body shook. She didn’t care how old he was. Didn’t care how powerful, how dangerous, how strange his life had become. He was still her boy. Still the little boy who used to cry over hurt birds and listen to the radio for hours.

He clung to her like a lifeline, and for a few minutes, he let himself be a child again.

“I don’t want to lose myself,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You won’t,” she said fiercely. “We won’t let you. You have people, Izuku. You have me. And your friends. And Katsuki. You don’t have to fight him alone.”

He didn’t answer, but the shaking slowed. The sobs softened.

Eventually, she helped him to his feet and guided him to the couch, wrapping a blanket around him the way she had when he was small. He laid against her shoulder as she found them something to watch to distract him until he fell asleep. 

Chapter Text

The next morning arrived colder than it should’ve been for early summer. Gray clouds hung low over U.A., and the courtyard was quiet as Izuku made his way across the pavement, gym bag slung over one shoulder. His legs ached. Not from training, but from the crashing weight of everything that had spilled out the night before.

He hadn’t slept much. Maybe five hours, tops. Even wrapped in the safety of home, of his mother’s arms and quiet whispers, the demon had lingered just at the edge of his mind. Watching. Smiling.

But now he was back. Back at school. Back under Aizawa’s watch.

And today wasn’t physical training.

Today was mental.

He’d underestimated what that meant.

The training room Aizawa led him to wasn’t one of the standard gyms or open sparring areas—it was smaller, dimmer, built for isolation and focus. The lights were low, the walls padded, and in the center of the room sat a single cushion.

Aizawa gestured to it.

“Sit.”

Izuku obeyed, dropping into a cross-legged position, palms resting on his knees. He tried not to fidget, but his fingers twitched anyway. The hum was already in his ears, not loud, not disruptive. Just present. Like a pressure building behind his eyes.

“I know you think this will be easy,” Aizawa said, settling down across from him. “But keeping still is going to be harder for you than any sparring session.”

“I know,” Izuku replied.

“I don’t think you do.”

Aizawa clicked a small remote in his hand, and a slow, ambient tone filled the room, calm frequencies, designed to soothe the nervous system. It should have helped.

Instead, Izuku immediately felt his skin crawl.

“Close your eyes. Breathe. In through your nose, slow and deep. Hold. Then out through your mouth.”

Izuku did. Once. Twice. The third time, the buzz in his ears spiked.

It started with a flicker behind his eyes.

Darkness that moved.

His foot twitched. His shoulder jerked.

“Stay still,” Aizawa warned calmly. “You’re fine.”

Izuku clenched his jaw.

He breathed again.

The fourth breath, the static grew and his eyes snapped open.

“I—sorry,” he muttered.

“Back. Close your eyes. Try again.”

He did. The peace only lasted for two minutes before his hands clenched into fists on his knees from the fog that started to grow in his head.

Aizawa noticed.

“Izuku,” he said gently, “don’t fight the thoughts. Acknowledge them. Then let them pass.”

“They don’t pass,” Izuku bit out through gritted teeth. “He stays.”

“Then sit with him.”

That made his eyes open again.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Aizawa said. “If he’s not going to leave, you don’t run from him. You don’t shove him into a corner. You face him. You learn him. That’s how you take back control.”

Izuku’s lips trembled.

“I’m scared,” he admitted.

“I know. That’s why we’re starting slow.”

The next attempt lasted eight minutes.

Then came the twitching.

The uneven breathing.

The glitching.

Izuku’s hands phased slightly, the tips of his fingers flickering with static as the edges of his nails began to sharpen, reform. Not fully, but enough for Aizawa to press a button on the remote and flood the room with a sharp, grounding tone.

Izuku jerked upright, gasping like he’d been drowning.

“Again,” Aizawa said, unmoved. “Back down. We go again.”

They repeated it five times. The longest Izuku lasted was just under eleven minutes before his grin crept up wider, slicing across his face without permission. His eyes would glaze, his voice would begin to shift. But Aizawa always caught it, always stopped it before it could take hold.

By the end of the hour, Izuku was drenched in sweat, like he’d just run drills for hours straight.

“This is…” he panted, “so much harder than I thought it would be.”

Aizawa nodded. “Good. That means we’re on the right track.”

Izuku laughed weakly and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head hanging low.

“I feel like I’m failing.”

“You’re not.” Aizawa stood. “You’re learning. Learning hurts.”

Izuku looked up at him.

“What if I never get better?”

Aizawa met his gaze. “Then we keep going anyway.”

Izuku’s breathing slowed and he stood, wiped the sweat from his brow, and nodded.

“One more round?”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed, then, just barely, softened.

“You’ve got ten more minutes before lunch duty. Make it count.”

Izuku dropped back to the cushion, closed his eyes, and breathed.

The static welcomed him like an old friend.

The first day back arrived faster than Izuku expected. The classroom buzzed with energy. Chairs scraped across the floor, bags dropped to the ground, voices filled the room in waves—excited chatter about internships, wild stories of villain encounters, training drills, and awkward moments with pro heroes. A few students were already comparing notes on hero office styles, some were complaining about how grueling it was, and others, like Kaminari and Mineta, were exaggerating their experiences just enough to get a laugh.

The week of internships was over. The halls of U.A. were loud again, alive with footsteps, greetings, and exaggerated stories about sidekicks, villains, and awkward pro-hero encounters. After everything that had happened, it should’ve felt overwhelming. The noise. The motion. The normalcy of it all.

But Izuku sat quietly at his desk, chin resting on his palm, eyes drifting out the window to where the morning light hit the trees beyond the courtyard and his smirk lazy, but thoughtful. There was something nagging at him now that his Quirk had settled into a whisper beneath his skin. He could still feel the hum. Still hear the static faintly in the back of his head, like an old radio waiting to be tuned. But it wasn’t screaming. Wasn’t pushing.

“Deku!” Uraraka’s voice lit up from somewhere behind him. “You’re back! How are you feeling?”

He didn’t respond.

Not out of rudeness. Not because he didn’t hear her. He just…didn’t register it. Not fully. Not over the storm in his head.

What had Alastor said when he was in the hospital?

“You’ve spent years pretending I’m just some side effect. Some twisted consequence of trauma, or a curse you’re managing."

But isn't he? He is a side effect. He was made from fear, anger, and desperation. He was just a Quirk. Izuku's Quirk. 

His eyes trailed to Todoroki in the back of the room, who was scrolling through his phone beneath his desk. Why was he not taking his own advice when he had opened Todoroki's mind at the Sports Festival. It was his Quirk and his alone. Why was it so hard to apply those words to himself?

Was it because of the way Alastor grinned when he surfaced? Because of how easy it had felt to hurt someone, to smile while doing it?

He said he could come out whenever he wanted now. That he didn’t need an invitation.

But what if that had been a bluff?

What if he couldn’t come out without permission? What if all of this—the fear, the taunts, the hallucinations—was just one long con? A performance designed to scare him into giving up control?

Izuku’s heart thudded quietly beneath his ribs, steady but hard.

Because that was how Alastor operated, wasn’t it?

Smiles. Words. Fear.

He didn’t break in. He waited for the door to open.

And what if Izuku had been the one opening it all along?

The door slammed open.

“HAHAHAHA—I can’t—I CAN’T—look at him!” Sero’s voice rang out like a siren, breathless with laughter.

Kirishima stumbled in behind him, clutching his stomach, practically wheezing. “Bro, you look like you’re about to teach math class or murder someone in an alley—there is no in-between!”

Izuku blinked and turned toward the doorway.

And there he was.

Katsuki Bakugo, his best friend and eternal storm cloud, stood trembling with rage at the front of the class. His eyes were wide with fury, lips pressed into a snarl so tight it looked painful.

And his hair.

His usually wild, gravity-defying spikes of ash-blond chaos had been slicked back. Combed. Tamed. It gleamed slightly under the fluorescent lights, giving him the appearance of a furious, very angry businessman.

Izuku’s mouth dropped open slightly.

“Don’t say one damn word,” Bakugo growled, voice low and dangerous as a rumble of thunder as he stomped to his desk. 

Izuku's hands went up in mock surrender, his grin widening because there was no way in hell he wasn’t saying something. 

Sero was on the floor at this point, tears streaming from his eyes. “Who did this to you?!”

“My internship,” Bakugo growled, slamming his bag onto his desk with enough force to make the whole row jump. “Damn agency thought it looked ‘professional.’ Professional?!”

And then, under Izuku’s breath, low, but just loud enough for the desks nearby to catch it, he muttered:

“He looks like he’s about to offer us a loan with a 15% interest rate.”

Sero choked.

Kirishima slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in betrayal as he tried, and failed, to hold back a snort.

Katsuki’s head snapped toward them, his hair suddenly exploding back into spikes. The three of them lost it, either falling out of their chairs or banging the desk with their fists.

“I HEARD THAT, DEKU!”

Izuku wiped the tears from his lashes, straightening his back. “I didn’t say anything.”

Katsuki's teeth were grinding together as he glared daggers at him. But just as he opened his mouth to say something, the door slid open hard enough that the windowpanes rattled.

Aizawa stepped through without breaking stride, his scarf swaying slightly with the motion. His hair was already floating, his eyes half-lidded but sharp as glass. And as if an invisible switch had been flipped, the room snapped to attention.

The remaining standing students dropped into their seats in a panic of scraped legs and held breath.

And Aizawa, as always, didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to.

“Everyone should be in their seats and silent.”

The last syllable left his mouth just as he reached the front of the classroom.

The silence was immediate. Heavy. Complete.

He dropped a thick folder onto the desk with a soft thunk, then looked up, scanning the room with that signature deadpan stare that somehow managed to feel more dangerous than a villain’s threat.

He turned to the whiteboard and began writing in quick, sharp strokes. “We’re doing a performance assessment today to track progress from before internships. You’ll be in groups, randomized. No complaints. No switches.”

A few students exchanged nervous glances. No one spoke.

Aizawa turned back around.

“You’ve had your week in the real world. Now I want to see what stuck. Get to the locker rooms. Ten minutes. Anyone late runs laps until they forget what late feels like.”

Then he walked out. That was when everyone let out a breath at the same time and stood, grabbing their Hero cases from the wall.

“Did anyone else forget how scary he is?” Denki whispered.

“Dude, I thought I was dying,” Sero muttered.

Kirishima just laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, that was just a gentle reminder that we are very replaceable.”

The class stepped out onto Field Gamma, one of U.A.’s most densely packed training zones. Towering steel buildings loomed like skeletal giants, all interconnected with tight scaffolding, rusted stairwells, and thick pipelines that crisscrossed overhead. The place looked more like an abandoned industrial city than a training course, and that was exactly the point.

Izuku’s eyes scanned the field, his pulse already beginning to rise. This wasn’t just about strength, it was about strategy, speed, and adaptability in cluttered, unpredictable terrain.

Standing at the head of the field were two familiar figures.

“All Might?” Kaminari said, blinking as the rest of the class filed in. “You’re running this session?”

“That’s right!” All Might said with a booming voice, arms akimbo. “Today, I’ll be testing the progress you made during your internships! We’ll be focusing on practical application, mobility, and situational awareness under pressure.”

He turned and gestured behind him to where Aizawa stood, who looked like he hadn't slept in three days, which, knowing him, might actually be true. His scarf was already half-unraveled and his eyes were sunken but watchful, quietly tracking each student with that unreadable calm.

“Eraserhead will be observing along with me to monitor control and coordination,” All Might continued, “so do your best, not just to win, but to think. Now then, listen carefully for what’s in store. We’re gonna be deducting a little race! Take everything you’ve learned from your Internships and use it in this rescue training.”

Iida’s hand shot into the air. “If it’s rescue training, then shouldn’t we be at the USJ instead?”

“Ah, that facility specializes in disasters. As I said earlier, this is a race. So, prepare! You are about to step into Field Gamma! This is an area full of factories that form an intricate labyrinth, so good luck finding your way around. You will be competing in groups of five. Each person starts at a different location on the outskirts of the model city. I’ll send a distress signal and you do whatever it takes to rescue me! Whoever finds me first, wins! But try to keep the property damage to a bear minimum, please.” His raised finger slowly drops, pointing at their short tempered classmate. Katsuki sneered and looked away. 

“Why are you pointing at me?” 

Izuku covered his mouth to hide the cackle and Katsuki looked close to punching him in the face.

“Alright! First group, get to your places!” 

Izuku, Iida, Ojiro, Sero and Ashido separated to different parts of the steel labyrinth. When he was alone, he took a few minutes to stretch and breath. Now that there was no sound around to block out the humming, it started to come back, but he tampered it down. 'Not this time.'

A loud horn blared, echoing off the rusted buildings and steel supports, and Izuku took off.

No hesitation this time.

He hit the ground running, sprinting full-speed through the narrow pathway ahead. His heart pounded with adrenaline, but his mind stayed locked in, calculating, scanning, adjusting. He dodged a leaning barrel, vaulted over a waist-high pipe, ducked low beneath a sparking conduit. The industrial maze twisted like a coiled serpent, its cramped terrain pushing every move to the edge of possibility.

He gritted his teeth. Too tight down here.

The pipes were getting closer together, the walkways more broken. Ashido had taken the high ground early, and Sero was somewhere overhead, swinging through the air like it was a playground. Ojiro and Iida had split off far to the left.

And Izuku was stuck down here, boxed in, boxed low.

He crouched beneath another cross-pipe, landing hard on a grating that groaned beneath his weight.

Too slow.

He needed a new angle. A new path.

Get up. Move up.

He clenched his jaw, braced himself, and glitched.

It started at his fingertips. A low flicker of static across his arms. The edges of his body blurred, jittered, like a corrupted frame skipping in a video. Then, in one sharp burst of distortion, his form flickered up.

From the ground level to the rooftops in an instant, he snapped into place at the top of a rusted platform three stories above, momentum carrying him forward as he stumbled into a run.

The glitch left behind a faint, crackling hum in the air, like a radio tuning back into frequency.

He didn’t pause.

Didn’t look back.

He was running now across the upper scaffolding, leaping between pipes and narrow ledges with more speed than he’d managed below. The higher terrain gave him breathing room, visibility. A clean shot to the opposite side of the field.

He slid down the sloped roof of a shed, the metal groaning under his weight, sparks flying as his boots scraped the rusted surface. At the edge, he launched himself into the open air, body twisting mid-flight with instinctive precision.

His hand snapped out and caught a dangling chain, the impact jarring his shoulder, but he held tight. The chain creaked as it took his weight, swinging him wide across the open alley between two industrial towers. He gritted his teeth against the jolt, eyes scanning the lower level beneath him, searching for the narrow walkway where All Might was supposed to be standing.

He wasn’t there.

The walkway was empty.

His momentum was already carrying him forward, the chain swaying, and in the half-second before he lost his angle, he adjusted.

He released the chain.

Twisting in midair again, his fingers sparked with faint glitch energy, warping space just enough to carry him a few feet farther, just enough to grab a horizontal pipe sticking out from a building wall. His grip held, barely, and he swung himself up, landed in a sprint on the curved surface like it was solid ground.

The wind rushed past his ears as he ran along the pipeline, eyes darting. Every second counted now. Every corner could mean the difference between a top rank and a failed run. His heart thundered in his chest.

'Where are you?'

He passed over a collapsed scaffold, a bundle of loose cable, and a hanging sheet of industrial tarp that snapped in the wind like a flag. Somewhere behind him, he could hear Ashido shouting, Sero’s tape whipping through the air. They were close.

But Izuku didn’t slow.

Then, through the haze of heat and steel, he caught it, a flash of red, blue and yellow, just behind a vertical support pillar ahead. A gleam of a grin. A hand raised in greeting.

All Might.

Not on the walkway.

Higher.

Tucked into an overhead maintenance platform, half-hidden by the curve of a rusted exhaust vent.

Izuku smirked.

Clever.

Without breaking stride, he dove forward, dropped to a slide along the pipeline, then glitched—a sharp, flickering jump upward that left a shimmer of static where he’d been.

He reappeared on a vertical beam halfway up, then ran up its side using the narrow grip holds and a last burst of momentum to vault himself toward the maintenance platform.

The static buzzed louder.

It crawled into his ears, into his fingertips, into the space behind his eyes. His grip on the pipe faltered as his fingers twitched, spasming like marionette strings being tugged by the wrong hands. His vision distorted—just for a moment—but enough to make the world around him bend, the straight lines of steel and rusted scaffolding warping like heat ripples on a summer road.

A face.

Not just a vision. A flash. A grin. Sharp teeth. Black and green eyes that gleamed with delight and mockery.

Alastor.

He appeared, not physically, but in the glitch. Smirking in the flicker, his form half-sunken into static, like he was part of a corrupted image on a broken screen.

"T̷͉͂͘s̷̰̀k̶͓̓̉̔ ̷̜͖̇̽ṯ̴̜́s̸͖̭͆͐̓ķ̷̖͕̏," Alastor said, voice dripping with amusement, echoing from somewhere just behind Izuku’s ears. "S̶̡̥̘̾ô̸͖̫͙̕ ̵̛̭͚̈́̿c̶͉̀ľ̶̖̞͐ö̵͍̞̗̿s̶̤̞͎̀̀̇e̵̠̳̽.̸̢͑̕͠ ̴̘̇̓̉Ý̵̨̟̤o̸̱͕͔̍̈̾ų̵̡̙͛͆ ̵̨̨͙̌̏a̶͈͐l̶̡͎̠̈́m̴̮̲̓͛̚o̶̘̣͔͒̿s̴̛̜͈̙t̵̪͆͛ ̸̘̆̈̕m̴̩͋a̷̦̽͗̆d̵̝̾͝e̵̠̟̎̈́ ̷̩͕͙̐̔i̶̩̭̫͊t̶̨̝̀.̷̝̱̔̈́."

Izuku’s breath hitched. His concentration broke.

His boot slipped.

The pipe beneath him groaned, and then he fell.

Gravity seized him, yanking him down through layers of tangled pipe and scaffold. Metal whipped past him, his arms flailing out, trying to catch something, anything. For a moment, he saw All Might’s face from above, mouth opening in alarm, but it was already too late.

Izuku crashed onto a metal platform below with a sharp, jarring clang, the impact rattling through his spine and knocking the breath from his lungs. Pain spiked through his right side as he rolled, skidding to a stop near the edge.

For a moment, everything went quiet.

Not because the world had gone still, but because the static had.

Muted.

Then came the laughter.

Soft. Whispered. Mocking.

"O̷͕̿ơ̵̭̬̹̑p̵̙̹͎̉s̷̪̊̓̂."

Izuku groaned, pushing himself up on shaking elbows. His head pounded, and his arms felt like lead. The buzz wasn’t gone—but it had backed off, like a shadow returning to its corner. He blinked hard, clearing his vision, trying to anchor himself.

Above him, he heard Ashido’s voice shouting something. Sero’s tape whizzed through the air nearby.

But Izuku stayed on the ground for a second longer, jaw clenched, teeth grit. 

His vision was still flickering at the edges, the afterimage of that face, Alastor’s grin, carved from static and malice, still burned behind his eyes.

He hadn’t heard the others shouting. Hadn’t seen Ashido vault past overhead, hadn’t registered Sero swinging across the finish with a cheer for being first, or Ojiro landing in a smooth roll near All Might.

Because in that moment, the humiliation boiled over inside him.

The rage.

The violation.

He’d had control. He’d been winning. And that bastard, that thing inside him had stolen it with a single flicker. A smirk. A whisper.

Izuku clenched his jaw, the sharp taste of frustration bitter in the back of his throat.

“...Fucking parasite,” he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible over the hiss of the wind curling through the pipes and his smile strained from mostly anger. Izuku sat up slowly, one hand bracing his ribs, his breath ragged. He still didn’t notice the others gathering at the far side, or the concerned looks being cast his way. The only thing he noticed was the low static still lingering in his ears, faint, like a chuckle from behind a door he couldn’t close.

The scrape of metal echoed above.

Izuku barely flinched, just sat there on the grated platform, one knee bent, arm draped across it as he stared blankly at the wall in front of him. His breathing was steady now, the pain dulled to a background hum.

The static in his head had gone quiet again.

But that didn’t bring comfort. It brought anger.

A sharp swish of cloth and steel snapped him out of it, just enough to make him glance up.

Aizawa.

He dropped down from above, his scarf anchoring him from a high beam before he landed soundlessly on the platform with that familiar feline grace. His coat fluttered slightly as he straightened, boots scraping against the rusted metal.

He didn’t speak right away.

He didn’t need to.

Izuku met his gaze.

And even though Aizawa’s expression was the same unreadable one he always wore, tired eyes, flat mouth, no-nonsense posture, but there was a tiny crease in his brow. The faint stiffness in his shoulders. The way his eyes didn’t move, didn’t blink. Locked on Izuku like he was scanning for damage beyond the physical.

He was concerned.

Really concerned.

Aizawa crouched, elbows resting on his knees, eye-level now with the student sitting in front of him.

Izuku couldn’t hold the gaze for long. His shoulders slumped as he looked down at his lap, hands still clenched into fists, breath coming slower now, the adrenaline fading into raw fatigue.

“...Sorry,” he muttered, barely above a whisper. “I was doing fine. I had it. And then he—”

His voice cracked, just once. He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t have to.

Aizawa watched him in silence for a few more moments, eyes narrowing slightly, calculating something. Not disappointment. Not judgment.

Worry.

The kind of worry that teachers didn’t show often. Then he said, “You slipped. You fell. And that can happen to anyone. You’re in a maze made of metal and chaos, and you're fighting something most people couldn’t even comprehend, inside and out. I’m not grading you on perfection, Midoriya. I’m watching how you handle failure.”

Izuku let that sink in. His jaw clenched slightly. Aizawa stood and offered his hand. 

"Keep going Midoriya. I promise you that everything will be okay."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before reaching up and taking his hand. 

Chapter Text

The end of the year loomed like a storm cloud over Class 1-A.

Finals Week.

In a normal school, that meant desks, pencils, and the quiet hum of scribbling students stressing over history and math.

But this was U.A.

And Class 1-A didn’t get “normal.”

“Alright,” Aizawa said, voice flat and dry as sandpaper. “I’m assuming all of you know what week it is.”

Some groaned. Others nodded. Kaminari let his head fall to the desk with a thunk.

“Good. Then you know what’s expected. Written exams begin Thursday. Physical evaluations start the following Monday. You’ll be tested in pairs for strength, strategy, control, and situational adaptability. You’ll find out the format on test day, so don’t bother asking.”

A few people straightened in their seats at that. That usually meant surprises.

Aizawa continued, eyes scanning the room. “Your grades and evaluations over this last term, combined with your finals results, will directly affect your chances of joining the summer training camp.”

That made everyone freeze.

Izuku sat up slightly, attention snapping back into place.

Aizawa dropped a small file on the desk at the front. “Yes, that’s real. Summer training camp. Off-campus. Multi-day, intensive focus. Those who pass will be pushed harder than they’ve ever been pushed. Those who fail… might not be invited.”

Even Bakugo looked like he stopped breathing for a second.

“More details will be released after exams,” Aizawa added, voice as casual as if he were reading lunch options. “That gives you exactly one week to prove you’re not dead weight.”

Someone, likely Kaminari, choked in the back row.

“You’ve come a long way,” Aizawa said, his tone shifting slightly, just a touch of conviction under the dry monotone. “But none of that means anything if you stop improving. Hero work isn’t seasonal. It’s constant. So take this seriously.”

Aizawa walked out.

The door clicked shut.

Kaminari was in crisis mode. “I’VE BARELY EVEN TAKEN NOTES THIS SEMESTER! With the Sports Festival and Internships I didn’t have time to read the textbooks!”

“You didn’t make time,” Iida corrected sharply, adjusting his glasses with a disapproving glare. “A lack of personal responsibility is no excuse! It’s our duty as students to—”

“—You can borrow my notes,” Yaoyorozu offered, calm as ever, already flipping through one of her neatly tabbed binders. “Just don’t lose them.”

Kaminari dropped to his knees in gratitude. “I would die for you.”

“I would let you,” Bakugo muttered from the front of the room, arms crossed and glaring at his textbook.

“It’s true we haven’t had much free time lately,” Tokoyami said, his voice calm as always, arms crossed over his chest. “Between the Sports Festival, internships, and extra training, our studies have been…fragmented.” He stood near the back of the classroom, eyes shadowed, but his tone was thoughtful rather than grim. “The written portion may prove more difficult than before.”

“Yeah,” Sato added, rubbing the back of his neck. “The midterms didn’t feel too bad, but I think that’s 'cause we hadn’t been through much yet. This time... I dunno. Kinda feels like they’re gonna crank everything up.”

Mineta, who had been lounging far too comfortably in his chair for someone his size, smirked. “Well, some of us don’t need to worry. I was ranked ninth in the midterms, after all.”

The room collectively paused.

Ashido’s head snapped toward him. “Wait, WHAT? You were ranked ninth?!”

Her jaw dropped in betrayal. “I thought you were one of us, Mineta! One of the underdogs!”

Mineta winked, resting his chin on his hands like he was posing for a magazine shoot. “Even a genius can be adorable.”

Ashido pointed an accusatory finger at him. “No, no, no—creepy little weirdos only get away with being lovable if they’re kind of dumb! That’s the rule! Who’s going to root for you now?!”

Mineta’s eyes sparkled obnoxiously.

"Everyone." He muttered. "Trust me

There was a beat of silence.

Then, without looking up, Izuku said dryly, just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear:

“Pretty bold for someone who still uses booster seats in the cafeteria.”

A second of stunned silence, then the class exploded.

Sero nearly fell out of his chair laughing, Ashido clutched her stomach, and even Bakugo let out a sharp, involuntary snort from where he sat before he caught himself and glared at the wall like it had personally offended him.

Mineta’s cheeks reddened and his mouth flapped open and closed before he huffed and crossed his arms, turning away from him.

As the bell rang and the chatter shifted toward final preparations, the classroom quickly buzzed with plans for study groups. Almost everyone gravitated toward Yaoyorozu, whose meticulous notes and calm demeanor made her the obvious choice for a productive session.

Kirishima, clapped Bakugo on the shoulder and trailed after him, likely hoping to balance Bakugo’s blunt intensity with some of his own steady encouragement.

Izuku pulled out his notebook, but as the others dove into their piles of textbooks and flashcards, he found himself staring past the pages, his mind far from the written exams.

He didn’t need to study the theory.

He already knew the material. What kept circling through his thoughts was the practical exam, the real test.

The thought of Alastor flickered in his mind like a static glitch. Since Stain, he hadn’t fought anyone serious, only sparred and trained with Aizawa. But that was different.

This time, it would be just him.

Aizawa wouldn’t be in his corner.

Sure, he would probably still help if things went sideways, but Izuku knew the truth—he’d most likely fail. And he didn't want to rely on him forever. 

And failure was a luxury he couldn’t afford anymore.

He ran his fingers over the worn edges of his notebook, eyes fixed on the steel beams outside the classroom window. The looming maze of the practical course, the tension of combat, the unpredictable chaos that would push him to his limits, it all waited.

And somewhere deep inside, Alastor waited too.

Izuku swallowed hard, a cold knot tightening in his chest.

This was the moment he had to prove that he was in control.

Not the glitch.

Not the demon.

Him.

The written exams came and went in a blur of graphite, formulas, and stiff necks.

By Friday afternoon, the last answer sheet was flipped over, the final pencil set down, and the collective exhale from Class 1-A nearly blew the windows out. Sero let his head drop flat onto his desk. Kaminari slumped dramatically in his chair, mouthing "I'm free" to no one in particular. Even Bakugo didn’t explode anything, which, given the context, might’ve been the loudest statement of all. But the was something wrong with him. Izuku knew him well enough that there was something he was holding back. He had been pretty quiet since the internships. 

Izuku sat quietly at his desk, collecting his test supplies and sliding them back into his bag. There was no tension in his shoulders, no nervous foot tapping or rushed muttering of questions he thought he might have missed. Because for the first time in a while, he’d nailed it.

No skipped questions.
No second guessing.
No stalling out with panic or fog behind his eyes.

Just him and the answers. Clear. Sharp. Confident.

The moment the final bell rang and they were dismissed, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, not that wide, unnatural grin he wore when things were slipping—but something softer, lighter.

“Written exams are over,” he said finally, voice low and flat. “If you bombed them, it’s already too late. If you did well… good. That’s one hurdle down.”

He took a sip of coffee, then set it down on the desk with a clink.

“But the real test, the one that matters more than the grades, is Monday.”

Everyone shifted a little straighter in their seats.

Aizawa glanced around at them. “You all know what that means by now. Practical evaluation. We’ll be testing your combat ability, teamwork, strategy, and how well you’ve improved since the start of the year. This is more than just passing a class. Your performance Monday will directly impact whether or not you’re invited to the summer training camp.”

He paused to let that sink in.

“Some of you might think it’s a given,” he said. “It’s not. That camp is going to be intense, dangerous, even. If you can’t prove that you can hold your own under pressure now, you won’t make it through what’s waiting for you there.”

A few students exchanged nervous glances.

“But I’m not your enemy here,” Aizawa continued. “I want you all to make it. So here’s what I’m telling you: use this weekend wisely. Rest. Recharge. But don’t go soft. Keep training. Practice control, polish your weak spots, reinforce your strengths.”

His gaze landed on Izuku for half a second, just long enough to mean something, before sweeping over the rest of the class.

“Start with recovery. Take tonight off. Do something that relaxes you, clears your head. Eat real food. Sleep eight hours. Your bodies won’t work if your minds are burnt out. But after that, train like your place in this course depends on it.”

He picked up his coffee cup and took a drink. “That’s all. Class dismissed.”

The cafeteria was unusually loud for a post-exam Friday afternoon.

The entire hero course had poured into the lunchroom with a kind of buzzing, relieved energy, their brains still recovering from back-to-back days of intense written tests. Plates clattered, trays slid across tables, and the smell of curry, fried meat, and miso soup hung thick in the air.

Izuku sat at one of the longer tables near the window with Iida, Uraraka, Kirishima, Sero, and Asui. His meal sat mostly untouched in front of him, grilled fish, rice, and steamed vegetables. He was chewing, but his mind was still stuck on Monday. Training. Control. 

They had no more classes for the rest of the day, and most should’ve been thrilled. But the looming shadow of Monday’s practical exam had everyone eating a little slower, glancing around, or tapping their utensils against their trays in nervous rhythm.

“I mean… what if they throw us into a full-on battle simulation?” Sero asked, chewing thoughtfully on a rice ball. “Like the USJ stuff, but worse.”

“They wouldn’t do that right after the internships,” Ashido replied, her chopsticks waving dramatically. “Would they? That’s so much.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Aizawa,” Asui muttered, stabbing her tofu like it had personally offended her.

“I think I’d rather not know until it happens,” Iida said, trying to maintain composure but very clearly already mentally prepping formation strategies. “That way I don’t overthink it. Because I will overthink it.”

“Ugh,” Kaminari groaned, slumping in his seat. “I just know it’s gonna be some wild setup with tracking, traps, high-speed threats—”

Before anyone could respond, a familiar, smug voice cut through the chatter like nails on glass.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Class 1-A.” 

Their heads turned to a blond from Class 1-B, Izuku remembered him. He had been very irritating at the Sports Festival. Monoma had a shit eating grin on his face. “ I heard you guys stumbled across the Hero Killer. Just like in the Sports Festival, Class 1-A isn’t happy unless they're the center of attention. But you do realize that you're not in the spotlight because you’re good heroes, right? It’s just because you keep getting into so much trouble. Here's fruit for thought. Someday, the rest of us might get caught up in your mess, and then we’ll all become unwilling victims as well. What kind of horrible villains will you bring down upon us? What demon—” A hand chopped the back of his neck and he fell to the floor, Kendo, another from Class 1-B,  was holding him up by the collar. 

“That’s not funny, Monoma! You heard what happened to Iida. Chill out!” She smiled at the group. “I apologize for him, I’m pretty sure there's a hole where his heart should be.”

Izuku's grin twitched as he looked at the boy slumped on the ground, his food scattered around him. ‘I think he’s out.’ 

“So I was listening and I know that you’re all worried about what's going to be on the big final practical. I heard it’s going to be combat against the robots like the ones in the entrance exams.”

“What? Really?! How do you know that?”

“One of my friends who is a few grades up filled me in. I know, cheating, but oh well!” Then she left to find a table, dragging Monomas unconscious body behind her. 

Uraraka grinned. "Well if it's just robots, then it should be a piece of cake right? We've improved so much since the entrance exam that we should all be able to pass this no problem!"

 She was right.

They weren’t the same kids from the entrance exam anymore. They’d survived villains, real fights, the sports festival, internships, Stain. They’d grown. Learned. Pushed themselves harder than most adults ever had to.

This wasn’t a hopeful guess anymore.

It was a fact:

They were stronger.

Smarter.

More prepared.

And this time, when Izuku faced the practical exam… he wouldn’t just survive it.

He’d own it.

Monday came faster than any of them expected.

The weekend had been a whirlwind of last-minute training, mock battles, meditation, strategy discussions, and far too little sleep. Some students came in dragging their feet, others came in wired on adrenaline and sheer stubborn determination. Every one of them, though, came in with the same expectation:

Robots.

They reached the training grounds just after sunrise, the sky still a soft grey overhead, light creeping slowly over the horizon. The cool air buzzed with anticipation. Class 1-A stood in a tight group, all of them already changed into their hero costumes, visors adjusted, gloves tightened, belts stocked. They were ready.

Izuku adjusted the collar of his suit and took a deep breath behind his mask. His fingers flexed in his gloves.

The field stretched wide in front of them, familiar open terrain that could easily be transformed for different scenarios. At the far end stood a series of large transport crates and reinforced barriers, which only further cemented the robot theory.

Then Aizawa stepped out from one of the side buildings, scarf swaying behind him, his tired expression no different than usual, but the subtle tension in his posture was enough to make the class go quiet.

He stood in front of them and scanned the group.

“Everyone’s here. Good.”

“This year, the staff decided it’s time for something more... applicable. Realistic.”

Behind him, the sound of several heavy doors hissing open echoed across the field. From the shadows of the buildings stepped the teachers, Midnight, Present Mic, Cementoss, Ectoplasm, Thirteen, Snipe, even Principle Nezu...and All Might, who smiled wide and waved in that larger than life way that somehow still radiated intensity.

Gasps rippled through the class.

“You’ll be fighting us,” Aizawa said flatly. “In pairs.”

“What?!” came a collective outcry.

“These fights will test more than just strength,” Aizawa continued, his voice steady and sharp. “You’ll be graded on teamwork, creativity, control, and your ability to adapt under real pressure. Passing means either successfully escaping the arena or subduing your assigned teacher with these.” He held up a pair of thick, reinforced handcuffs, the cold metal glinting under the lights. “Those are your only two conditions. Fail to do either in the twenty minute time limit, and you fail the exam.”

He glanced around the room, eyes landing on the students one by one. “Your partners and opponents have already been chosen. These pairings were made at my discretion, taking into account your fighting styles, grades, and even interpersonal relationships.”

Aizawa tugged his scarf thoughtfully before continuing with a smirk. “First up, Yaoyorozu and Todoroki, you’ll be a team,” he said, locking eyes with both of them. “Your opponent: me.”

A murmur ran through the class as Aizawa turned to the next pairings until he reached the last of them and the more anxious Izuku became. Every teacher was being called off, slowly dwindling until only All Might was left uncalled. “Then, Midoriya, you’re paired with Bakugou. And the two of you will be battling All Might.”

The room fell completely silent. Izuku’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the announcement settling heavily on his shoulders. Aizawa continued like he hadn't just dropped the most challenging match up among them all. 

“This time, your exam will be very similar to a real battle. As strange as it is, please think of us as villains.”

“The sooner you come across your enemy, if you think you can win against them and fight. However,”

“In instances where you are unmatched, it would be smarter to run away and find help." His eyes bore into Iida and Izuku. 

“So we fight to win or run to win.”

“That's right! It’s a test of your decision making skills. But with these rules, you're probably thinking that your real choice is to flee. That’s why the Support Course made these super clever accessories for us!” All Might pulled out a metal cuff. 

“Behold! Ultra compressed weights!” Everyone pulled some out, strapping them to their wrists and ankles. 

“These babies will add about half our body weight to our physique.” All of the teachers attached a pair to their wrists and ankles. “It’s not much but they will eat up our stamina and make it harder for us to move around. We had a contest to come up with these designs and Hatsume ended up winning it!”

Katsuki sneered. “You think we need a handicap to win against you? We’ll think again.” He snarled and All Might laughed, but his blue eyes glowed at the challenge. 

“This’ll be fun.”

“Let’s begin. Each course has been prepared for you. Sato, Kirishima you’re up.” The teachers all walked towards the doors. “Those of you waiting to fight or can try to strategize together as a team. It’s your choice.”

The observation deck buzzed with energy as students clustered around the monitors, watching the first match play out, Kirishima and Sato going head-to-head against Cementoss. A few groups broke away, splitting off to discuss tactics with their partners, voices low but tense, minds already racing through possible outcomes.

But away from the others, behind the main structure near a rusted storage crate, Izuku and Katsuki were anything but focused.

“Are you even listening to yourself, nerd?” Katsuki snapped, his voice low but venom-laced. “Run? From All Might?! You think that’s the way we win?”

Izuku stood rigid, hands clenched at his sides. “I’m not saying it because I want to run. I’m saying it because it’s the only real option.”

Katsuki’s eyes were wild with frustration, nostrils flaring. “That’s loser talk.”

“It’s strategy,” Izuku hissed, stepping forward. “You think we’re going to bring down All Might with your explosions and my Quirk? You saw what he can really do when he isn’t holding back. We watched every single one of his fights since we were children. This is a test, yeah, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to pull every punch. We get one shot. If you get hurt—”

“Then I’ll keep fighting.”

“No, you won’t!” Izuku’s voice cracked, eyes wide. “Because if you go down and I, if he comes out again, I won’t be able to stop it. I can’t let that happen. Not here. Not with All Might watching. Not with you.”

"Then don't let him! What the hell has all of this training you have been going through done? Because it sure sounds like nothing!"

Izuku’s chest tightened, a flash of heat rising behind his eyes. “That’s not fair!” he shot back, voice shaking with the edge of anger. “You don’t get to say that when you haven’t seen what it’s cost me, what it still costs me!”

Katsuki laughed, but it was harsh and bitter. “Costs? You want to talk about costs? What about what I’ve had to deal with? You think I haven’t been through hell just trying to keep up? You think I’m scared of him?” He jabbed a finger at the ground, voice rising with every word. “You wanna run? Hide behind some damn excuse about ‘not being ready’? You’re acting like a kid who’s afraid to get his hands dirty!”

“Maybe I am scared,” Izuku admitted, voice barely above a whisper, but laced with an intensity that cut deeper than any shout. “Scared that if I lose control again, if Alastor comes out when you’re hurt, I’ll hurt the people I’m supposed to protect. You don’t understand what it feels like to have this thing inside me, always waiting to tear everything apart.”

The words hung between them like a storm, heavy and charged. Neither willing to back down, the heat in the air thickened, their breaths coming faster, voices rising as frustration morphed into rage.

“You’re weak!” Katsuki spat.

“You’re reckless!”

“You’re a coward, always trying to hide behind your ‘Quirk’ like it’s an excuse!”

“I’m the coward? Look at you! Throwing punches without thinking, dragging everyone else down with your ego!”

“Better to fight and fail than to sit and whimper about some ‘demon’ inside you!”

“Maybe if you listened for once, you wouldn’t be so damn alone!”

They were shouting now, words sharp as knives, tearing at the bond they’d built over the years.

Neither noticed the heavy footsteps approaching until a shadow fell over them both.

Aizawa’s tired eyes flickered between the two, taking in the wild fury on their faces and the tension so thick it could be cut with a blade.

“Enough.” His voice was low, calm, but with an edge that brooked no argument.

Both boys snapped their heads toward him, breathing hard, chests heaving.

Aizawa didn’t soften. “You’re not fighting each other right now. You’re supposed to be fighting All Might in five minutes. All Might. so you better come up with a plan you both like and fast otherwise I guarantee that you aren't going to last long in that fight."

He stepped closer, scarf curling around his neck as if ready to strike.

“I don’t care how pissed off you are, or how scared you feel. You’re here to work together. That’s the whole point.”

Izuku swallowed hard, his anger flickering, replaced by a knot of guilt.

Katsuki’s glare softened slightly, but only just.

Aizawa’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’ve got less than thirty seconds to get to your assigned field. Use the time to focus.”

The weight of his words settled in the silence that followed.

Slowly, reluctantly, the two stepped apart.

“Let’s go,” Katsuki muttered.

“Yeah,” Izuku agreed, voice steadier now.

Together, they moved toward the field where All Might was already waiting.

And when they stepped through the gates to fight the most unstoppable force in the world, they still didn't have a plan. And it scared both of them. 

"Team Midoriya and Bakugo. Ready..."

"GO."

Chapter Text

The mock city loomed around them, concrete streets, alleyways cluttered with debris, tall steel buildings casting long shadows across the training ground. It would’ve felt abandoned if not for the tension crackling in the air between them.

Izuku and Katsuki walked with uneven steps, side by side, though neither seemed particularly interested in keeping formation. They were too busy arguing.

“I’m telling you, Kacchan, we need to move quietly, stay mobile, and look for an opening!” Izuku said sharply, his hands twitching at his sides. “We can’t just throw ourselves at him, he’s All Might.”

“And I’m telling you that we need to go through him!” Katsuki snapped back, practically vibrating with frustration. “We take the fight to him before he takes it to us! I’m not gonna sit around like a coward waiting to get crushed!”

Izuku turned to him, face twisted in disbelief. “That’s not a strategy, that’s a death wish!”

“You think running’s a strategy?! You think that demon inside you is just gonna let you keep running forever?!”

Izuku stopped walking. “Shut up.”

“No,” Katsuki said, stepping closer, his voice rising. “You need to hear it. You keep acting like you're scared of the power you have. Like it’s not yours. But it is. And if you keep running from it—”

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

They stood in the middle of the artificial street now, noses inches apart, screaming over each other.

“You think I want this?! You think I asked for some demon to be stitched into my soul like a curse?! I’m doing my best to hold it back—”

“Then maybe your best isn’t good enough!”

It might’ve come to blows right then.

BOOOOOM

A deafening crack tore through the cityscape like a thunderclap. The ground trembled beneath their feet. Dust exploded down the street in a roaring wave, swallowing everything in its path.

Both boys turned just in time to see a massive cloud of debris and smoke barreling toward them.

“MOVE!” Izuku shouted, but there was no time.

The shockwave slammed into them before they could even blink.

They were flung through the air like ragdolls, limbs spiraling, ears ringing. Concrete cracked as they hit the ground hard, skidding across the pavement until they slammed back-first into the city gate meters away from where they’d started.

Silence.

Then the echoing ring of force fading into the wind.

Izuku coughed, white dust puffing from his chest as he forced himself to sit up, head spinning. He looked over, Katsuki was already groaning, dragging himself to his knees with gritted teeth.

Izuku’s stomach twisted into a knot so tight it was hard to breathe. All Might’s voice wasn’t just loud—it was commanding, heavy with finality. It hit like a quake in his chest, and the ringing in his ears from the blast was quickly drowned out by the pounding of his own heartbeat.

The dust slowly cleared, but the weight in the air stayed. 

“Who really cares if I destroy this city?” All Might's booming voice echoed all around them. He stood tall in the street like a living monument of power. His iconic smile was still there, but it wasn’t warm, not like it used to be. This grin was wide, sharp, a performance for the role he was playing. His whole body radiated force, every footstep pressing into the pavement with unnatural weight. Even just walking kicked up miniature gusts of wind, shoving trash and debris across the training field.

Then he stopped. A few feet ahead.

And he stared directly at them.

"If you think of this as an exam and not a real fight,” All Might said, voice dark and booming, “you’ll be sorry.”

Katsuki’s fists clenched. Izuku’s breathing caught.

“I’m a Villain now, Heroes,” he added, slowly raising one hand, cracking his knuckles. The sound was like concrete breaking. “Remember that.”

His eyes, normally so full of pride, of warmth, of hope, were cold. Not cruel, not malicious. Just... empty. Focused. The same look he’d worn when facing down Nomu. When he knew lives were on the line. He was in full combat mode.

“You better come at me with everything you’ve got.”

Then, voice dropping just enough to chill their bones:

“I won’t pull my punches.”

A beat of silence.

Izuku could feel the static starting to rise in his chest, crawling up the back of his neck, threatening to dig in. His body was trembling, not with fear exactly, but with the pressure of having to act, to think, to not let the wrong part of him take over. He could already sense the hunger in Alastor, scratching behind his eyes at the opportunity this presented.

Katsuki moved.

He shot forward, twin bursts of explosion propelling him through the smoke like a missile. His eyes narrowed. His body coiled. His arm cocked back.

“I’LL TAKE YOU DOWN MYSELF!”

“No!” Izuku screamed, but Katsuki was already airborne.

“You want everything I’ve got, All Might?!” Katsuki roared, voice shredding through the air like shrapnel. His body crackled with explosive energy, gauntlets gleaming. “Like that wasn’t my plan all along! I never—”

He never got to finish.

Because in the blink of an eye, All Might’s massive hand shot out and latched onto his face, fingers closing around his jaw and forehead like a vice.

“Hold back, dammit!” Katsuki snarled, muffled against the unyielding grip.

All Might didn’t flinch.

His expression had shifted, still smiling, yes, but it wasn’t the wide, stage-lit grin that inspired cities. It was the kind worn in the middle of a war, when power had to be exact, intentional. 

Katsuki’s hands snapped forward, and explosion after explosion erupted point-blank, a blinding flash bursting in All Might’s face, smoke and heat slamming outward like a shockwave. 

For a moment, Katsuki’s feet touched nothing but air.

Then, he felt resistance.

All Might hadn’t moved.

Smoke curled around his shoulders. Soot streaked across his jaw. But he was still holding Katsuki, the force of the explosions barely pushing him back an inch.

His blue eyes, sharp and steady, met Katsuki’s through the smoke.

Then All Might heard static above him,

The sound that cracked through the air was not human, it was like a warped radio signal mixed with a scream, unnatural, as Izuku dropped like a glitching meteor.

He swung his leg in a wide arc, his form flickering between frames of motion, body jerking slightly mid-move from the raw instability of his quirk.

His heel connected with the side of All Might’s temple in a blow that would’ve shattered concrete.

All Might staggered, not far, not down, but enough. Enough for Katsuki to wrench himself free, twisting midair and hitting the ground in a hard roll. He jumped back up in seconds. Still fighting. Still trying to push through.

Still being a stubborn, prideful idiot.

But he was Izuku's idiot.

His best friend.

Izuku didn’t let up.

He landed, and without pausing, launched forward again, blinking a few meters in a burst of static, then again, his body zigzagging toward All Might with twitching steps, each movement glitching like a scratched film reel.

He slashed his hand forward, not a punch, not quite. Izuku was too focused on distracting All Might that he didn't even realize that his fingers had sharpened into claws.

All Might caught his wrist. Izuku blinked and All Mights fist was punching him away. He flew and smacked right into Katsuki, sending both of them to the ground. They both groaned as they stumbled to their feet. 

Katsuki stared at him, eyes wide, chest rising and falling. His lips curled into a sneer.

“What the hell took you so long?”

Izuku wiped blood from his mouth and turned his grinning face to Katsuki.

“Figured I'd return the favor.”

Far ahead, All Might straightened his stance, cracking his knuckles once, steam rising off his arms.

“Now that’s more like it!” He bellowed.

Izuku rolled his shoulders, still sparking with fractured energy, the glitch static crawling like a pulse along the veins of his arms. His smile was crooked, wider than it should’ve been, but his this time. The white noise in his ears had quieted just enough for him to think straight.

All Might stood tall across the field, steam hissing from his arms, the grin on his face unfazed.

Katsuki wiped his mouth with the back of his glove, his voice rough. “We’re not done.”

Izuku flicked his eyes toward All Might, then back at Katsuki. “No,” he said with a breathless chuckle, “we’re just getting started.” 

All Might blinked before letting out another rich, thunderous laugh.

“I like the spirit!” he said, steam curling from his shoulders. “But talk’s cheap, young Midoriya.”

Izuku’s grin sharpened. “Then let me show you the receipt.”

And in a snap of distortion, Izuku was gone.

The air around where he’d been twisted and popped, warped like a broken screen and his fist slammed into the ground with explosive force, a burst of glitching energy rippling out from the point of impact in jagged, fractured waves. The concrete cracked like glass beneath him, spiderwebbing out into a crater. Dust shot into the air in a tight circle.

All Might had barely leapt back in time, flipping over a broken support beam as Izuku’s knuckles tore into the earth and landed lightly on a nearby rooftop, just for a moment, eyes narrowed in brief surprise.

But Izuku wasn’t done.

Before the dust had even settled, he blinked out of the crater again, disappearing into static with a warped buzz that echoed like radio interference.

And Katsuki was already moving.

He’d waited, timed it.

As soon as Izuku vanished, Katsuki launched forward with a roar, his palms igniting mid-sprint. He used the rising dust from Izuku’s strike as cover, charging in from the opposite angle.

All Might turned, sensing it, but not fast enough.

BOOM

Katsuki unleashed a concussive explosion at All Might’s feet, blasting him backward, right toward Izuku, who flickered back into existence behind him, arms spread and glitching violently.

“NOW!”

Without needing another word, Katsuki aimed his second blast downward, propelling himself straight over All Might’s head in a controlled arc.

Izuku reached up and caught him, barely, their hands locking for just a second and then spun, using the force of Katsuki’s weight to whip him down like a human missile.

“DON’T HOLD BACK!” They shouted at the same time.

All Might crossed his arms just in time as Katsuki came down like a meteor, both gauntlets firing mid-strike.

The impact shook the rooftop, blasting out a wave of heat and pressure that shattered windows and bent the steel supports beneath their feet.

But All Might was still standing.

He slid back this time, boots skidding over the concrete, smoke trailing from his arms and chest. A streak of ash lined his side.

“Now this…” All Might muttered, straightening with a wide grin, “this is what I’ve been waiting for.”

He crouched low, about to charge.

But they were gone.

Izuku and Katsuki dashed through the narrow alley two streets down, their footsteps echoing between the buildings. Pipes jutted from the walls, wires dangled overhead, and loose debris crunched beneath their boots. It was cramped, dark, but perfect cover.

They cut a sharp corner and ducked behind a stack of crates, pausing to catch their breath. Izuku crouched, fingers twitching, watching the entrance of the alley like a hawk. His vision flickered for half a second, glitching slightly, but he forced the buzz down, breathing slow and deep.

“If we keep going through the lower streets and loop around near Sector C,” he whispered, “we might reach the gate without a direct confrontation.”

Katsuki scoffed, still breathing hard as he leaned back against the alley wall, fingers twitching with leftover adrenaline. “You still think we should run?”

Izuku didn’t respond right away. He glanced at him with a dry look, the glitching static faint along his shoulders, fading now into a dull shimmer. Then, with a tired exhale, he rolled his eyes, not dramatically, just enough.

“We did it your way,” he said evenly, keeping his glitching voice low. “And look where it got us.”

Katsuki growled under his breath, but Izuku kept going, not letting the rising heat between them reignite the fight.

“We kept up with him, yeah,” Izuku admitted, “but that cost us everything we had in just a few minutes. You’re bleeding. I’m glitching like I skipped a frame. We’re both out of breath. If we kept going like that, we would’ve slowed down. We would've given him openings.”

Katsuki looked like he wanted to argue. His lip curled slightly, his hand tightening around the side of his grenade gauntlet.

Izuku stepped closer, green eyes sharp beneath his messy bangs, voice quiet but firm.

“Let’s do it my way now.”

A long silence passed between them. The only sound was the distant creak of steel and the low rumble of All Might's footsteps somewhere out in the maze of city ruins. Still searching.

Katsuki clenched his jaw, breathing through his nose. Then, finally, with a grunt and a muttered curse, he nodded once.

“Fine,” he growled. “But if this doesn’t work—”

“I know,” Izuku cut in, already turning down the next alley. “You’ll blow something up and scream at me.”

“Damn right I will.”

Katsuki crouched beside him, arms crossed tightly over his knees, face still taut with frustration. “You better have something smart, Deku.”

Izuku didn’t waste time. He was already sketching a quick map in the dust with his finger, his breathing finally starting to level out. His hand twitched once with residual static but steadied.

“This whole map’s a trap,” Izuku muttered, eyes scanning the edges of their surroundings. “There’s no alley that leads all the way to the escape gate. That was on purpose. It’s all open ground once we’re past the next four blocks.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “And All Might’s probably already circling back to cut us off. Figures.”

Izuku nodded. “Exactly. He knows we’ll try to reach the gate. He’s too smart not to. So we’re not just up against his power, we’re up against his experience. He’ll expect us to avoid open ground, but… we don’t have a choice.”

“Here’s where we started,” he said, marking a point on the ground. “And here’s the extraction gate.”

Katsuki glanced at the makeshift drawing. “We’re what, six blocks off? Maybe more if he’s boxed us in.”

“Exactly.” Izuku drew a rough zig-zag line. “We avoid the main roads. No tunnels, too tight, too many blind corners, and All Might could collapse one entrance and trap us.”

“No high ground either,” Katsuki muttered. “He’ll see us too easily. And I already know he’s watching from somewhere.”

“Right,” Izuku nodded. “So we stay between buildings. Move through narrow alleys and storefronts, broken ones, not locked up. We move quick, but not too fast. Keep low, use angles, cover our sound.”

“And if we run into him again?”

Izuku didn’t hesitate. “Then we separate. You lead him off, but only for a few seconds. I’ll loop back, glitch past him. We keep him spinning without knowing which one of us has the cuffs.”

Katsuki stared at him. “You have the cuffs?”

Izuku grinned, tired, crooked, but undeniably real. “Took ‘em off you after your suicide jump. You’re welcome.”

Katsuki muttered a curse under his breath, but didn’t argue. “Fine. You’ve got five minutes. If he gets too close, I’m dropping a blast big enough to knock us both out.”

Izuku smirked. “Deal.”

By some stroke of luck, divine intervention, dumb chance, or maybe just a glitch in timing, All Might wasn’t there.

The moment they burst from the farthest alleyway they could reach, breath ragged in their throats, the entire open expanse of the training zone yawned before them like a trap laid bare.

But the gate?

It was wide open. Unblocked.

Izuku nearly stumbled mid-sprint, eyes widening in disbelief as he scanned every rooftop, every shadow, every corridor behind them.

“Where is he?!” Katsuki barked, already pushing harder, racing across the cracked pavement. “He should’ve been waiting for us—!”

“I don’t know!” Izuku called back, glitching forward in short bursts, unstable but fast. “Maybe we beat him to it, just keep running!”

They tore across the open ground, wind rushing past them, dust trailing behind their feet. The silence felt wrong. Too still. Too easy.

But neither stopped.

Izuku’s heart pounded against his ribs, every instinct screaming that it was too good to be true, but the gate was getting closer.

Twenty meters.

Fifteen.

Ten.

Katsuki’s gauntlets hissed, ready to fire if needed, but even he wasn’t snarling anymore. He was focused. One goal.

Reach the gate.

“Don’t look back!” Izuku yelled, though he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder. 

And that’s when he saw it.

The shift in air pressure.

The brief distortion in the dust behind them.

A glimmer of gold.

“GET DOWN!” Izuku screamed, grabbing Katsuki’s shoulder mid-run and yanking him sideways with every ounce of strength he had.

A gust of wind like a freight train blasted through the area a second later, right where they would’ve been. The sheer force cracked the concrete and threw debris into the air like shrapnel.

Katsuki rolled to his feet in a snarl. “Shit!”

All Might landed with a thunderous crash right in front of the gate, crouched in a three-point stance, steam rising from his shoulders. His grin was still there, but tighter now. Focused. Determined.

They were so close. And it wasn't just getting through the gate or putting the cuffs on All Might. Their time was down to six minutes. They had to finish this quick. 

Before All Might could advance another step, Katsuki blasted off to the right, a concussive wave exploding beneath his feet as he rocketed up a crumbled slab of concrete and into the air, drawing All Might’s eyes away.

Izuku blinked out of sight the instant Katsuki took off, glitching sideways in a burst of distortion that sent flickers of green light spiraling across the ground.

All Might turned, toward the obvious threat, the one firing blasts and screaming from the rooftops.

“Ah,” he said, “I see! Divide and—!”

Izuku reappeared.

Not in front of All Might.

Not behind him.

But beside him, just off the blind spot in his periphery. The glitch shimmered away as Izuku sprinted low to the ground, weaving between debris with his breath locked tight in his lungs.

Don’t look at me. Don’t turn around. Just chase him.

Izuku repeated the thought like a mantra, each step glitching him forward in jagged bursts. The gate was right there, so close he could hear the wind rushing through its metal supports. Every beat of his heart timed itself to his footfalls. Almost there. Just a few more seconds.

All Might didn’t look at him.

But that didn’t matter.

Because he didn’t have to.

A massive hand snatched Izuku’s arm mid-glitch, no warning, no shift in posture, just pure instinct and precision, like he knew where Izuku would be before he got there. 

“Wha—!” Izuku gasped, the sound ripped from his throat as he was yanked backward, his body twisting mid-run.

He didn’t even see All Might move.

The world blurred.

Then came the throw.

Izuku’s stomach flipped as his feet left the ground, flung into the sky like a ragdoll. He barely had time to blink, to register what had just happened.

And that’s when he saw Katsuki, mid-air, right in his path.

“Oh no—!”

Katsuki’s eyes widened as he saw Izuku flying toward him, too fast, no time to brace, no space to dodge.

“SHIT—!”

They collided midair with a sickening impact, their momentum merging into one chaotic force as they were hurled sideways like a pair of missiles. Their limbs tangled, breath knocked from their lungs.

BOOM.

They slammed through the side of the nearby building, concrete and steel giving way under the sheer momentum of their collision. Chunks of wall exploded outward, glass and debris showering the street below as two bodies smashed through the upper floor and disappeared into the dust.

A haze settled in the ruined corridor where they landed, the building groaning under the stress of the impact. Dust clung to the air like smoke. Jagged rebar stuck out of the wall behind them. Pipes hissed, venting steam.

Katsuki landed hard on his back and immediately rolled to the side with a pained grunt, catching himself on his elbows, coughing through the grit in his throat. His vision blurred for a second, but he blinked it away, pushing up to his knees.

“Deku?” He rasped, turning his head.

Izuku wasn’t moving.

Izuku was crumpled a few feet away, half-buried in a pile of rubble, limbs splayed awkwardly. His chest rose, but shallowly. His face was turned away, and the usual twitch of glitch-static that lingered along his arms and back had gone completely still. The whiplash from All Might’s throw, combined with the mid-air collision and the crash through reinforced concrete, had knocked him cold.

When Izuku opened his eyes, he was no longer in the training field.

No longer in the building.

No longer in his body.

He was surrounded by darkness that was lit from some unknown source. His heart started to race. 

“…Damn it,” Izuku whispered, pushing himself upright. His voice echoed, not across the walls, because there were none, but inside his own skull, repeating back in a warped, almost laughing tone.

Damn it… damn it… daAAmn iT…

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Izuku froze.

The sound echoed across the emptiness, slow and deliberate, bouncing off invisible walls in a mocking rhythm.

He spun around, breath hitching.

And then he saw it.

A figure, distant but unmistakable, sitting on what looked like a throne carved from old radio parts, dials and knobs, speakers crackling faintly with static. The light didn’t reach the figure’s face, but it glinted off sharp teeth that were split into a face splitting grin. And with his all black clothing, he just looked like a floating head. 

He continued clapping, slow and sarcastic.

Alastor.

Chapter Text

“̷W̶e̸l̵l̷,̴ ̶w̶e̷l̶l̴,̶”̷ the demon crooned, voice layered with static and dripping with mockery. “S̸o̷m̵e̴o̶n̸e̷'̵s̸ ̸h̴a̷d̸ ̶a̵ ̷r̸o̴u̸g̷h̵ ̶d̷a̷y̵,̴ ̴h̶a̶v̵e̵n̴’̴t̶ ̴t̷h̶e̴y̶?̷”̶

The throne creaked as he leaned forward, fingers steepled, eyes glowing brighter now.

"̶D̶o̸n̸'̴t̷ ̶b̷e̶ ̶s̴h̵y̷,̶ ̵I̸z̴u̴k̷u̶.̵ ̵A̷f̷t̶e̶r̷ ̶a̴l̷l̴.̸.̷.̵y̵o̷u̴'̵r̷e̶ ̴t̸h̴e̵ ̵o̷n̴e̶ ̸w̵h̸o̷ ̴l̸e̶f̴t̷ ̴t̶h̷e̸ ̵d̷o̸o̶r̵ ̴o̸p̴e̵n̸.̵

Izuku’s throat felt dry.

He took a step back.

This wasn’t a dream.

This was his domain. Alastor’s space. That place just behind the veil of his quirk, where power hummed and whispered things he didn’t want to hear.

And he was alone with him. Again.

Alastor rose slowly from his throne, the sound of it creaking like warped wood and broken radios all at once. His steps were measured, almost theatrical—each one clicking crisply on the black marble floor as if he had all the time in the world. The static followed him like a cloak.

Izuku tensed, watching him approach.

“̸Y̶o̴u̸’̴v̴e̸ ̷b̷e̶e̷n̴ ̴b̷u̸s̷y̶,̶ ̶h̸a̸v̶e̸n̵’̶t̶ ̸y̶o̵u̷?̴”̷ Alastor said cheerfully, his grin too wide, too sharp. “̴D̶a̷s̵h̴i̶n̷g̴ ̴a̸c̴r̴o̸s̵s̶ ̴b̷u̵i̴l̷d̴i̴n̴g̸s̸,̴ ̸t̸o̶s̸s̸i̶n̴g̴ ̶y̴o̵u̸r̶s̵e̸l̶f̶ ̶a̸t̸ ̷g̴o̶d̵s̷,̶ ̵t̵e̶a̶m̶i̵n̸g̸ ̴u̶p̸ ̷w̸i̸t̷h̸ ̷t̴h̴a̴t̸ ̶l̷i̸t̵t̶l̵e̴ ̵f̸i̵r̶e̷c̸r̶a̷c̴k̴e̶r̶ ̴y̷o̵u̸ ̵c̴a̵l̷l̴ ̶a̸ ̸b̴e̸s̸t̷ ̴f̴r̴i̷e̶n̶d̸.̸ ̷Q̷u̴i̵t̶e̶ ̵t̴h̶e̸ ̷p̴e̷r̴f̸o̸r̷m̶a̸n̷c̸e̶!̶"̴

Izuku didn’t answer at first. He just stared, chest rising and falling with uneven breath.

Alastor’s smile didn’t falter. “̸N̴o̸ ̷s̷n̵a̶p̵p̴y̴ ̷c̸o̴m̴e̷b̷a̵c̵k̵?̶ ̸I̶’̸m̸ ̴d̴i̵s̸a̵p̸p̶o̵i̷n̸t̶e̴d̸,̸ ̵I̷z̷u̷k̵u̸.̸ ̶O̷r̴ ̸a̶r̵e̷ ̷y̸o̵u̴ ̶s̶t̸i̷l̷l̶ ̴t̴r̶y̷i̵n̵g̴ ̶t̸o̴ ̵p̸r̵e̶t̸e̶n̴d̸ ̵I̴’̸m̵ ̷n̵o̴t̸ ̸r̶e̷a̷l̴?̴”̷

“You’re not,” Izuku said finally, his voice low. “You’re not a person. You’re a part of my quirk.”

Alastor’s head tilted with mock curiosity. “A̵h̸,̵ ̶y̵e̴s̶.̶ ̸T̸h̴e̴ ̸c̴l̷a̸s̵s̵i̶c̶ ̷d̷e̶n̴i̵a̴l̷ ̵s̵p̴e̶e̸c̶h̵.̸ ̶Y̸o̶u̵ ̷a̷l̵w̴a̶y̴s̷ ̷f̵a̵l̴l̷ ̵b̵a̵c̸k̸ ̴o̵n̴ ̵t̵h̸a̷t̸.̶ ̵Y̸o̴u̵’̸r̷e̵ ̶j̷u̴s̴t̶ ̴a̵ ̴Q̵u̴i̶r̵k̷.̴ ̴Y̸o̵u̴’̸r̵e̶ ̷j̷u̷s̴t̴ ̵p̷o̵w̸e̸r̶.̸ ̵Y̵o̸u̶’̵r̴e̷ ̴j̴u̷s̷t̸ ̸s̴o̴m̵e̷t̸h̸i̴n̴g̵ ̷I̸ ̵d̵i̶d̷n̷’̴t̶ ̸a̴s̶k̵ ̷f̴o̴r̵,̷ ̷b̶l̵a̸h̵ ̸b̴l̶a̵h̷ ̸b̸l̶a̶h̷.̴"̵ He spread his arms. “̶͍͝Ă̷̪n̶͓͊d̶͈́ ̶͉̉y̴̞̽e̸̛͖t̴̘̽,̶̺̃ ̴̡͠h̶͉̃ē̷̤r̷̰̚e̷̼͗ ̷̮̾y̴̺̐o̷͉̔û̵̝ ̷̘͝á̴̙r̵̫̈e̴͙̐ ̴̙͝a̸̯̕g̷̠͗a̶̮͂i̷̼̿ñ̴̻.̵̧̈́”̴̮͝

Izuku clenched his fists. “Only because you keep dragging me in when I’m unconscious.”

Alastor chuckled. “̸U̵n̷c̵o̵n̸s̴c̵i̷o̵u̴s̵?̴ ̷Y̸o̶u̵’̸r̴e̶ ̸n̸e̶v̶e̶r̶ ̷r̸e̷a̷l̴l̵y̶ ̵u̸n̶c̸o̷n̸s̶c̵i̶o̷u̴s̸ ̵w̵i̷t̶h̶ ̵m̴e̵.̶ ̷Y̷o̷u̴’̵r̵e̷ ̷j̶u̴s̷t̶…̶q̴u̷i̶e̸t̷e̷r̵.̸ ̴E̸a̶s̴i̶e̴r̸ ̵t̵o̸ ̸r̴e̷a̶c̷h̷.̶"̵ ̴ He leaned forward, voice lowering to a playful whisper. ̶"̶I̴ ̸d̶o̴n̵’̶t̷ ̴p̴u̸l̷l̸ ̸y̵o̷u̵ ̶i̷n̵.̴ ̷Y̶o̷u̶ ̷f̴a̸l̷l̷.̵”̵

Izuku’s jaw tightened. “I’m not falling.”

"̵N̴o̵?̵"̴ ̴ Alastor took another step forward. “̸T̶h̶e̷n̷ ̷w̸h̸y̴ ̵d̶o̵ ̷y̶o̸u̷ ̶k̶e̸e̷p̸ ̴e̵n̷d̴i̵n̸g̷ ̷u̸p̷ ̶h̵e̴r̷e̵?̷ ̵W̵h̷y̷ ̶i̵s̴ ̶i̶t̷ ̵t̶h̷a̶t̶ ̵e̵v̶e̶r̸y̶ ̷t̶i̷m̵e̴ ̸y̷o̷u̵ ̶s̶t̸a̸r̴t̴ ̸t̴o̶ ̴s̶l̸i̸p̶,̶ ̷e̶v̴e̵r̵y̵ ̵t̷i̵m̷e̷ ̷y̵o̷u̶ ̵f̸e̴e̷l̵ ̶t̶h̸a̷t̶ ̷p̷a̴n̸i̴c̸ ̶c̵o̷m̵i̸n̴g̴ ̴o̵n̶…̵ ̷y̶o̶u̶ ̴g̵e̷t̴ ̴c̶l̸o̷s̸e̷r̴ ̶a̶n̶d̴ ̶c̸l̶o̶s̵e̶r̵ ̴t̸o̸ ̶m̷e̷?̵”̶

Izuku took a shaky breath. “Because I’m scared.”

That made Alastor pause.

Izuku lifted his head, eyes meeting the demon’s.

“I’m scared of you. Of what I become when I lose control. I’m scared of hurting people. I’m scared of what happens if I stop holding back. That doesn’t mean I want you. It means I’m trying to keep people safe.”

There was something Alastor's eyes now—something curious. Studious.

“̴H̵m̵m̸…̴ ̴N̷o̶b̸l̷e̸,̶”̵ ̴ he said, as if the word itself was foreign. ̴“̸B̸u̶t̷ ̵f̸o̸o̶l̸i̷s̵h̷.̷”̶ He turned away and paced slowly, hands behind his back. “̴Y̸o̸u̷ ̶k̸n̵o̵w̶,̶ ̸y̸o̷u̸ ̷a̵l̸w̷a̶y̴s̷ ̷p̸a̴i̵n̴t̵ ̶m̸e̶ ̷a̵s̸ ̵t̴h̴e̸ ̶v̴i̴l̵l̷a̶i̷n̵ ̸i̸n̶ ̸y̸o̶u̴r̵ ̶s̷t̷o̷r̸y̵.̸ ̴T̸h̶e̴ ̴d̴e̸v̸i̴l̷ ̴i̴n̷ ̵t̸h̶e̴ ̷w̵a̸l̸l̶s̷,̴ ̷w̸h̶i̷s̴p̴e̶r̵i̷n̷g̷ ̵s̵i̸n̶ ̸i̵n̶ ̴y̸o̸u̵r̷ ̵e̷a̶r̸s̵.̶ ̴B̴u̵t̴ ̷I̷’̴m̵ ̴j̸u̶s̷t̸ ̷a̵ ̵m̵i̵r̶r̸o̴r̵,̶ ̵I̷z̸u̴k̵u̴.̴ ̵I̵ ̴r̵e̶f̷l̸e̵c̵t̵ ̴w̷h̵a̷t̸’̶s̷ ̷a̸l̶r̴e̷a̴d̸y̸ ̸i̶n̶s̶i̵d̷e̶ ̶y̴o̷u̵.̴ ̷Y̶o̵u̶’̷r̵e̷ ̷t̵h̷e̸ ̷o̷n̷e̸ ̴w̴i̸t̷h̷ ̷t̵h̴e̵ ̸c̸l̷a̴w̷s̸.̷ ̴I̷’̸m̷ ̴j̸u̴s̴t̷ ̶t̵h̵e̸ ̷o̸n̶e̷ ̵w̵h̴o̸ ̴k̵n̴o̴w̵s̵ ̶h̶o̴w̸ ̷t̷o̸ ̵u̶s̷e̴ ̵t̸h̷e̸m̷.̸”̵

Izuku gritted his teeth. “That’s not how it works.”

“̷O̷h̴,̴ ̷b̸u̵t̴ ̴i̸t̵ ̶i̶s̴.̷”̵ Alastor stopped and turned, suddenly inches from him.̸“̷Y̴o̶u̶ ̵t̵h̷i̶n̸k̷ ̴y̸o̸u̵’̴r̶e̷ ̵a̴f̷r̴a̷i̵d̵ ̸o̸f̶ ̸m̸e̷.̶ ̶B̵u̸t̷ ̵y̸o̶u̶’̷r̸e̵ ̷a̸f̷r̴a̷i̴d̵ ̸o̵f̸ ̵y̴o̸u̸r̷s̴e̴l̴f̶.̵ ̴Y̴o̸u̵r̸ ̵a̷n̵g̷e̷r̶.̵ ̵Y̶o̸u̸r̸ ̶d̵e̸s̷p̸e̵r̶a̸t̸i̶o̶n̸.̸ ̷T̷h̶a̴t̵ ̶h̷u̶n̵g̴r̸y̴ ̶l̸i̸t̸t̷l̴e̶ ̶v̴o̸i̷c̶e̷ ̵i̴n̴s̷i̴d̸e̵ ̵t̶h̶a̶t̵ ̵s̸a̸y̷s̸,̴ ̷‘̸I̶ ̵c̷a̸n̵’̶t̷ ̸l̷e̴t̶ ̶t̶h̵e̶m̸ ̷g̶e̷t̴ ̴h̷u̴r̸t̸ ̴a̴g̸a̸i̷n̴.̸’̸ ̴T̸h̴a̵t̷’̸s̸ ̵n̸o̸t̵ ̴m̷e̴.̶ ̵T̶h̷a̶t̶’̴s̶ ̷y̴o̵u̶.̷”̵

Izuku could feel the static pulsing along his skin again, crawling like invisible fingers.

He whispered, “I won’t let you take control.”

Alastors smile widened. “̵Y̵o̸u̷ ̸n̸e̷v̶e̴r̷ ̷h̸a̸d̴ ̸t̸o̷ ̶l̸e̷t̶ ̷m̶e̷.̶ ̴Y̵o̸u̴ ̵b̸u̸i̴l̶t̵ ̵t̶h̴e̷ ̶d̴o̵o̶r̷,̷ ̴I̶z̵u̷k̸u̸.̶ ̶Y̵o̸u̵ ̷j̴u̷s̵t̵ ̷d̷o̴n̸’̴t̸ ̶l̴i̷k̷e̸ ̷t̸h̸a̵t̴ ̸I̵ ̵k̴n̷o̵w̴ ̵h̴o̸w̸ ̷t̴o̶ ̶o̴p̴e̷n̸ ̴i̷t̵.̵”̶

Izuku stepped back. “You don’t get to win.

“̷I̷ ̴d̷o̴n̴’̴t̴ ̵h̴a̷v̶e̶ ̵t̵o̷,̵” Alastor replied, grinning wider. “̷I̷ ̷j̶u̸s̷t̴ ̸h̷a̸v̴e̵ ̶t̸o̴ ̵w̴a̶i̸t̶.̶”̴

Izuku swallowed hard, fists clenched at his sides. “You’re not—”

“̶I̶’̷m̴ ̶n̸o̷t̷ ̵w̶h̴a̶t̴?̸”̸ Alastor interrupts. “̸R̷e̷a̶l̸?̶ ̶D̸a̴n̷g̷e̴r̵o̶u̸s̷?̸ ̵Y̶o̸u̷r̸s̴?̸ ̷O̴h̷,̷ ̸I̴z̷u̴k̶u̷…̸ ̵y̴o̵u̶’̷r̷e̸ ̷a̸ ̷t̷e̵r̵r̷i̸b̵l̴e̶ ̸l̶i̸a̷r̴.̸ ̷Y̶o̸u̵’̶v̶e̷ ̸u̴s̷e̴d̴ ̴m̷e̶.̵ ̴T̶i̵m̵e̶ ̸a̶n̸d̸ ̷t̷i̸m̸e̵ ̵a̶g̴a̸i̸n̴.̷ ̴E̴v̷e̴r̷y̷ ̶d̴e̶s̴p̶e̷r̸a̵t̵e̴ ̸m̶o̴m̷e̶n̴t̶,̴ ̵e̶v̷e̷r̴y̵ ̴s̸c̶r̷e̴a̵m̴,̶ ̴e̵v̷e̵r̷y̵ ̷o̷u̷n̵c̷e̷ ̸o̶f̸ ̶r̵a̵g̷e̷—̸y̸o̵u̷ ̵o̸p̷e̴n̸e̵d̵ ̷t̶h̶e̴ ̴d̸o̸o̵r̶ ̴a̷n̶d̷ ̷I̸ ̵c̸a̶m̴e̵ ̸r̷u̵n̴n̷i̵n̴g̵.̸”̴

Izuku’s nails dug into his palms. “Because I had to! Because you—”

̷“̷B̸e̷c̶a̷u̴s̵e̴ ̷I̴,̶”̴ ̵ Alastor’s voice rose like a crescendo on an old record, “̴a̸m̶ ̶t̷h̶e̵ ̸p̶a̴r̸t̶ ̶o̵f̸ ̸y̴o̷u̸ ̸t̷h̴a̷t̴ ̵w̵i̵n̴s̸.̸”̴ He leaned forward now, eyes bright as signal lights. ̸“̵A̸n̷d̷ ̸t̷h̵e̷ ̴s̸o̸o̸n̸e̸r̷ ̵y̸o̶u̷ ̵s̶t̴o̵p̴ ̸p̵r̷e̴t̴e̴n̴d̴i̸n̷g̸ ̷I̷’̵m̶ ̵s̷o̶m̴e̶ ̷i̴n̵t̸r̵u̷d̷e̷r̶,̴ ̸t̸h̶e̸ ̸s̵o̷o̸n̶e̶r̴ ̸w̵e̴ ̵c̸a̶n̷ ̵s̸t̸o̷p̷ ̷p̷l̴a̷y̴i̸n̵g̵ ̸t̶h̴e̷s̸e̵ ̵l̸i̶t̵t̸l̵e̶ ̷g̴a̷m̷e̶s̸ ̸o̷f̵ ̶h̷i̶d̶e̶-̴a̸n̵d̶-̴s̶e̷e̷k̵.̸”̴

The words hit something in Izuku’s chest. A pressure, a memory.

“So, let’s talk about ways to help you stay grounded when you’re outside of these sessions.” Hound Dog leaned back slightly, giving Izuku space to think. “I want to introduce you to something called anchoring techniques. They’re simple, but effective when your mind feels like it’s slipping.”

Izuku’s brows furrowed, interest piqued despite himself. “Anchoring…?”

“Exactly. It’s about keeping you tied to the present moment when everything inside you wants to spiral out of control. You find something that feels familiar, safe. Something, or someone, you can rely on when things get too loud up here.” He tapped his own head for emphasis. “That’s where someone like Bakugo might come in.”

Izuku blinked in surprise. “Wouldn't Kacchan just make my thoughts louder?"

The counselor barked a laugh. Actually barked. "You never know, maybe the louder it is, the more it'll stop whatever is trying to come out." Then Hound Dog’s expression sobered for a moment before he continued. “You two have an unshakable bond, and from what I can tell, he keeps you in the present. He’s loud, aggressive, in your face, but he also keeps you from getting lost in your thoughts too long. He’s an anchor, whether you realize it or not.”

"Ask yourself. What would Bakugo want you to do?"

“If he’s not going to leave, you don’t run from him. You don’t shove him into a corner. You face him. You learn him. That’s how you take back control.”

"Then don't let him! What the hell has all of this training you have been going through done? Because it sure sounds like nothing!"

"You keep acting like you're scared of the power you have. Like it’s not yours. But it is. And if you keep running from it."

“Control is a muscle, problem child. You train it. You own it. Don’t let it own you.” Aizawa’s voice, quiet and certain, cutting through the static like a wire through smoke.

“You can’t just ignore the ugly parts, kid,” Hound Dog said. “Face it. Or it’ll eat you alive.”

“You think I care if it’s scary?!” Katsuki’s voice, raw and furious. “Then use it! You use it! Don’t let it use you, Deku!”

Izuku’s fists trembled. But his breathing steadied.

“You’re right about one thing,” he said finally, voice low. “You are a part of me.”

Alastor’s grin sharpened.

“But you don’t get to control me. Not anymore.”

CLANG.

From the darkness behind him, chains of glowing green light erupted like striking serpents, snapping around Alastor’s wrists and ankles. Another coiled around his chest, then his throat, pulling him violently back.

He was yanked against a wall that hadn’t been there a moment before, smooth, black, endless. His grin faltered for the first time, eyes narrowing.

Izuku stepped forward, and the static in the air bent toward him now, not Alastor.

“You’re my quirk,” he said. “My power. Which means I decide how it’s used.”

The chains tightened, light flaring brighter, buzzing with the hum of raw energy. Alastor laughed softly, even as the bindings bit into him.

“̸O̸h̷o̷…̶s̵o̸ ̸y̷o̸u̵’̴v̸e̸ ̵f̷i̷n̸a̵l̶l̵y̶ ̵d̴e̶c̸i̴d̴e̸d̵ ̶t̵o̷ ̵s̵t̴o̵p̷ ̸r̸u̸n̴n̷i̵n̷g̵.̷”̶

Izuku’s grin, his own grin, flashed briefly.

“Yeah. I’m done being afraid of you.”

Katsuki’s lungs burned, every inhale scraping down his throat like sandpaper. His arms felt like lead, his shoulders screaming with each movement. The heat from his own explosions radiated back against his skin, suffocating him in his own exhaustion.

All Might loomed just ahead, barely winded, still grinning that unshakable grin. Katsuki launched forward again, but his blast was sluggish, his landing sloppy. He knew it. All Might knew it.

The man’s hand swung toward him like a falling building. Katsuki braced for the hit—

—and it never came.

Instead, a flicker of green static snapped into existence between them, followed by a sharp clack of impact. All Might’s arm was caught mid-swing, fingers curled around nothing but empty air.

Katsuki blinked, disoriented, and looked up.

It was Izuku.

But not like before, not like him.

His fingers ended in long, black claws, the nails sharp enough to catch the light. The whites of his eyes were gone, swallowed by black that made the green of his irises blaze unnaturally bright. Static hissed faintly in the air around him.

But his smile...it wasn’t that awful, splitting grin. It was his. Izuku’s. Small. Focused. Real.

And when he spoke, there was no static overlay, no warped double-voice.

“Move,” he said simply, pushing All Might away from Katsuki, who slumped to the ground to catch his breath. 

Izuku lunged, and the world blurred. His speed was surgical now, controlled in a way Katsuki had never seen. Each glitch-step was precise, each strike measured. The claws raked at All Might’s defenses, but didn’t linger or overextend. His strength came in bursts, perfectly timed to keep All Might reacting, not attacking.

It wasn’t wild. It wasn’t desperate.

He’d beaten Alastor.

The fight only lasted seconds. A rapid exchange, Izuku vanishing, reappearing, slashing low, before the loud, piercing alarm cut through the air.

The test was over.

They didn't escape in the required time. They failed. 

“Team Midoriya and Bakugo…PASS!”

Katsuki’s head snapped toward the sound, chest heaving. The words barely processed before the next hit him:

They hadn’t said failed.

They’d said passed.

Katsuki’s eyes darted to All Might, whose expression had shifted from battle-ready to…something else. Stiff. Caught off-guard. His gaze dropped to his ankle.

And there it was.

A thick training cuff, glowing faintly, locked in place.

Katsuki felt his jaw slacken.

Izuku just laughed, a light, almost relieved sound, and pointed down. “Guess I got you after all.”

All Might blinked, then let out a booming laugh of his own, shaking his head. “So you did.”

Katsuki stared at him.

Izuku walked toward him, the sound of his boots crunching over broken concrete steady and unhurried.

Katsuki was still catching his breath, watching him with that same mix of suspicion and awe, unsure whether to shove him away or just let himself collapse.

When Izuku reached him, he extended a hand.

Katsuki stared at it for a beat, then grabbed it. Izuku hauled him up in one smooth pull, his grip solid, no tremor in his fingers despite everything.

Katsuki swayed on his feet, legs threatening to give out. Izuku steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. And right before his eyes, those inky black sclera faded back to white, the sharp claws shrinking until they were just his normal hands again. The static in the air vanished like a switch had been flipped.

For a moment, they just…laughed.

Not the cocky kind, not the maniacal bark that came in the heat of a fight, just a low, exhausted laugh. Relief. The kind of release that came after thinking you might not make it.

Katsuki shook his head, smirking faintly. “Took you long enough.”

“Had to make an entrance,” Izuku said, voice still light.

Then their knees buckled, almost in sync.

The last thing Katsuki saw was Izuku starting to fall with him and the last thing Izuku felt was Katsuki’s shoulder bumping his as they both tipped sideways.

The world went black.

Ashido was already crying by the time they’d all settled into their seats the next morning. Her face was blotchy, her sniffles constant, and her voice cracked when she tried to talk.

“Everyone…” she hiccuped. “I look forward to hearing—” she sniffed, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, “—your stories about how fun camp was.”

Her voice faded into a quiet sob, and Izuku, leaning forward in his seat, his radio voice and grin turning into something comforting.

“Maybe they’ll end up letting you go,” he said gently. “There might be a last-minute twist or something.”

Across the row, Kaminari dropped his head onto his desk with a groan. “He said whoever failed the test can’t go to camp and will be stuck in summer school hell. We didn’t pass the practicals, so we’re doomed! Don’t you get it, Midoriya?!”

Before Izuku could answer, Kaminari shot up from his chair, fingers extended toward Izuku’s face in an exaggerated threat. “I’LL SHOCK THE BRAINS OUT OF YOU!”

Izuku didn’t even flinch, he just let his body flicker, the edges of his form glitching for a moment. Kaminari’s fingers passed right through his cheek like he wasn’t even there.

“Nice try,” Izuku said, his grin growing as he tried to suppress a cackle.

Kaminari collapsed back into his seat, groaning. “We’re done for…”

“Ease up, Kaminari,” Sero said. “I’m not sure I’ll get to go either. My team only passed thanks to Mineta. I got knocked out. And since we don’t know how they’re scoring stuff, I might flunk too.”

Kaminari’s eyes shimmered with sudden tears. “Then…then at least bring us back some camp souvenirs!”

Before Izuku could reply, the door slammed open.

Everyone was in their seats before Aizawa even stepped inside. He shut the door with a quiet thunk and surveyed them with his usual blank expression.

“Once the bell rings,” he said, “you should be in your seats.”

He walked to the front, hands buried in his pockets. “Morning. Unfortunately, there are a few of you who did not pass your final exam. So when it comes to the training camp in the woods…”

A pause. His lips curled into the faintest smile.

“…Everyone is going.”

Kirishima, Sato, Ashido, and Kaminari all froze for a second, then erupted in loud, unrestrained joy.

“IT’S A LAST-MINUTE TWIST!”

“Do we really get to go to camp?”

“Seriously?!”

Aizawa’s faint smile dropped away instantly, like it had never been there at all. “Yeah. The good news is that no one bombed the written exam. Five of you failed the practical, badly. Two full teams, and Sero.”

Sero groaned, dropping his head onto his desk.

“Allow me to explain,” Aizawa went on, his voice calm and even. “For the practical battles, the teachers made sure there was always a way for you to win. Otherwise, you never would have stood a chance. What we wanted to see was how you’d work together, and how you’d approach the task at hand under pressure.”

From the back, someone called, “But didn’t you say the teachers wouldn’t be holding back?”

“That was just to put you on edge,” Aizawa replied without a hint of shame. “Besides, the training camp will focus on building your strength. Those who failed need those lessons the most. We were never going to separate you.”

It was dawning on them now, this was all another one of Aizawa’s little twists. And just like every other time, the only time they saw him smile was when he was admitting he’d been messing with them from the start.

“That was just a logical deception we used,” he finished.

“A LOGICAL DECEPTION?!” Half the class chorused.

Iida was shaking in his seat. “He tricked us all! I should have expected this!” He shot to his feet, hand raised in outrage. “Mr. Aizawa, this is the second time you’ve lied to us! Aren’t you afraid we’ll lose faith in you?!”

Aizawa didn’t blink. “That’s a good point. I’ll look into it.” Then, as if he hadn’t just brushed off Iida’s outburst, he added, “But I wasn’t lying about everything. Failure is failure.”

The ones who had failed sat up straighter, the brief high from being told they were going to camp now tinged with uncertainty.

“We’ve prepared extra lessons for the five of you,” Aizawa continued. “Frankly, they’ll be far tougher than anything you’d face in summer school.”

Several students groaned at once.

Izuku, though, stayed quiet in his seat. He felt bad for his friends, really, he did, but the warm satisfaction curling in his chest was impossible to shake. The static in his head was gone. No whispers. No grin tugging without his permission. For the first time in a long time, he was alone in his own body. And that…that was worth more than any camp or extra lesson.

When the day was over, Class 1-A drifted into easy chatter about the training camp, what to bring, what they still needed. A whole week away in the woods felt huge, and the energy was infectious.

“Hey, I just had the best idea! Tomorrow’s free, let’s all go shopping together!”

Agreement rippled instantly through the room, and before long they’d settled on meeting at the mall.

The next day, the place was buzzing. They talked about gear, bug spray, sleeping bags, training weights, and occasionally got interrupted by strangers calling out encouragement, a few recognizing them from the Sports Festival. Eventually the group scattered, agreeing to meet back around three.

Izuku ended up with Uraraka.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now,” he said with a faint grin. “I’m looking for heavier wrist weights. Might as well make training harder before camp.”

She laughed. “I just need bug spray…and, uh, bathroom. Be right back!” She darted off.

Izuku exhaled slowly, scanning the crowd. The mall was noisy, but something about the moment felt…too still. We came here as a class. Now I’m standing here alone.

“Hey, UA kid!”

He turned to see a man walking toward him. There was nothing remarkable about his clothes, but the way his eyes tracked him, too intent, too sharp, made Izuku’s shoulders tense.

“Mind giving me an autograph?” The guy’s arm slid around Izuku’s shoulders like they were old friends. “You’re that glitchy Quirk kid from the Sports Festival, right?”

Izuku’s jaw tightened. “You sure know a lot."

The man’s smile didn’t move his eyes. “Didn’t you run into the Hero Killer in Hosu? That’s the stuff of headlines, kid. You’re practically famous.”

The first warning bell rang in his head.

“You’ve been keeping tabs,” Izuku said evenly.

“What can I say? I’m a big fan. Can’t believe I’m running into you again.”

The second bell was louder. His voice, raspy, deliberate, scratched at Izuku’s memory.

Then the man’s hand moved. Cold fingers brushed his throat, not squeezing yet, just there. “From your point of view, I guess this is our first meeting since the attack on UA…”

The third warning bell screamed, and everything clicked into place. Izuku’s head turned slowly, green eyes locking on the crimson ones beside him. That smirk, hungry, frayed at the edges, left no doubt.

Tomura Shigaraki.

Izuku didn’t flinch. Didn’t step back. He simply let his Quirk hum faintly under his skin, distortion crackling in the air between them. His voice was quiet, steady.

“You’ve got some nerve walking up to me here.”

Chapter Text

Shigaraki’s voice lowered into a hiss, almost conversational, though his finger ghosted across Izuku’s throat with deliberate weight.

“Relax. To everyone else, I’m just some friend catching up with you. That’s all. But you and I both know better. If you so much as twitch the wrong way—” his nail tapped lightly against Izuku’s skin, “—all it’ll take is five fingers. Your throat first. A handful of seconds later, you’re dust.”

Izuku’s eyes flicked sideways, his voice steady, cold. “If you do that here, with this many people around, a hero will show up before you can blink. You’d never get away.”

Shigaraki chuckled at that, a dry, rattling sound. His grip didn’t loosen.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. I’d be caught. But look around, Midoriya.” He gestured lazily with his free hand, to the bustling crowd. Families, kids with shopping bags, couples laughing. “Do you see them? Sheep. Every last one. Any one of them could decide to use their Quirk to kill right here, right now. And yet they don’t. They laugh, they shop, they pretend the rules keep them safe. They believe laws and heroes will protect them, because they assume everyone thinks like they do.”

His grin widened, eyes burning with a cruel delight.
“That’s their weakness. That blind trust. And all it would take is one little push—” his hand twitched faintly against Izuku’s neck, “—to remind them the world doesn’t care about their happy illusions.”

Shigaraki’s voice scraped out of his throat like broken glass as his hand pressed heavier on Izuku’s shoulder, fingers still a threat against his neck.

“After you, I could kill twenty. Thirty. Maybe more before a pro even showed up to stop me. You know that, right?”

Izuku’s jaw locked, teeth grinding as frustration and helpless rage swirled in his chest. His claws itched to come out, but he forced them back. He couldn’t risk it here. Couldn’t risk the crowd.

“I get it,” he said flatly. “Let’s talk.”

Shigaraki chuckled, low and dry, like he’d just been handed a gift. His weight sank harder onto Izuku’s shoulder, guiding him forward like they were just two old friends walking the mall.

“This is nice. A real moment. Just us. Let’s grab a seat, make ourselves comfortable, why don’t we?”

Izuku didn’t resist as they walked to the fountain at the mall’s center. Families bustled around them, the sound of laughing kids and excited teenagers masking the tremor of unease crawling up his spine. They sat, Shigaraki slouching lazily like he owned the space, while Izuku sat rigid, every nerve braced.

“When it comes down to it,” Shigaraki rasped, picking at his neck, “I basically hate everything. Everything and everyone. But right now? The Hero Killer pisses me off the most.”

Izukus eyes narrowed, his voice cutting sharp. “Isn’t he one of yours?”

“Not technically. But thanks to the media, that’s what it looks like.” Shigaraki’s hand twitched, restless. “And that’s the problem. That self-righteous freak hijacked the spotlight. My attack on U.A.? Forgotten. The Nomu I unleashed on Hosu? Overshadowed. Everyone is too busy drooling over this stupid Hero Killer.”

Izuku’s eyes narrowed, though inwardly he scoffed at the tone. Shigaraki sounded less like a mastermind and more like a petulant child complaining to a therapist.

“He upstaged everything. No one gives me a second thought. Why? Because he wrapped his delusions in some warped sense of justice. That’s all it took. Suddenly, people talk about him like he’s a symbol. A legend.” Shigaraki leaned forward, his crimson eyes glinting in the fountain’s light. “Despite what he preaches, all he really did was carve away things he didn’t like. He’s no different from me.”

Izuku held his stare, refusing to look away.

Shigaraki’s grin widened, sharp and hungry. He leaned closer, close enough that Izuku could smell the decay lingering on his breath. “So tell me, Midoriya. What’s the difference between us? Between me and him? Between him and you?”

Izuku didn’t flinch. Not when Shigaraki leaned in, not when those red eyes searched his face like a predator testing prey. He let the silence hang, heavy, until he finally spoke.

“You want to know the difference?” His voice was quiet but sharp, the kind of edge that didn’t need to be raised to cut. “You tear things down because it makes you feel powerful. You hate everything, so you want everything to rot with you. The Hero Killer, yeah, he was twisted, but at least he believed in something. He thought he was serving a purpose, even if it was warped. That’s why people remember him. That’s why he upstaged you. Because whether they agreed or not, they could see conviction in his eyes.”

Izuku leaned forward now, his stare unwavering. “You don’t stand for anything, Shigaraki. You whine. You sulk. You destroy. And when people look at you, they don’t see a symbol or a revolution. They see a tantrum. They see a scared little boy lashing out at the world because he doesn’t know what else to do.”

Shigaraki stiffened slightly, the twitch in his fingers betraying the hit. Izuku pressed on, his tone steady, controlled.

“At USJ, you remember what happened? I didn’t let you touch me. I didn’t let the Nomu tear me apart. I used everything I had to keep you off balance, and you hated it. You hated me because I wasn’t afraid to spit in your face even when I was bleeding. That’s the difference between us. You talk about hating everything, but the truth is, everything you do proves how desperate you are to be noticed. To matter. To not be invisible.”

Izuku’s smile curved, calm, but there was no warmth in it. Only certainty.

“Stain mattered because he had an idea, a voice that shook people even if they despised it. You? You’re just noise. Static. You destroy because it’s all you know how to do. And when you’re gone, people will forget you. They’ll sweep away the dust, rebuild, and keep moving forward. That’s what they do. That’s what heroes do. And that’s why you’ll never win.”

The fountain bubbled behind them, children’s laughter echoing faintly in the mall’s cavernous space. But between the two of them, the air was suffocating. Izuku sat tall, unyielding, while Shigaraki’s breath came rough and uneven through clenched teeth.

Shigaraki’s breath rasped louder, like claws dragging over glass. His lips twisted into something between a sneer and a grin.

“Cute speech, Midoriya. Real inspiring. But you forgot one tiny little thing.” He tapped his temple with two fingers, then pointed at Izuku with a slow, deliberate motion. “I’ve seen what’s inside you.”

Izuku’s stomach tightened, but his expression didn’t falter.

“That thing at USJ,” Shigaraki continued, leaning in close enough that Izuku could smell the faint, rotten scent of decay clinging to him. “When you thought you were cornered, your smile cracked. Your body glitched, your voice wasn’t yours anymore. Oh, I remember. I’ll never forget it. Because in that moment? You weren’t just some loudmouth brat standing in my way. You were something else. Something dangerous. Something… wrong.”

He chuckled, though there was no humor in it, just a kind of manic edge that made his words sharper.

“And then again, in Hosu. You think I didn’t notice? That shift? Your eyes, your movements. You can act like you’re in control now, but I know the truth. You’ve got a demon on a leash, and the leash is fraying. You’re no different than me, Midoriya. You’re not a Hero, you’re a time bomb. And when that thing finally comes out, everyone who smiles at you now… they’ll scream.”

Shigaraki tilted his head, like a child examining a broken toy. His fingers twitched dangerously close to Izuku’s neck.

“You want to talk about symbols? About being remembered? That thing inside you, that’s the only reason you’re special. The only reason you can stand here and talk to me like you’re better. Without it? You’re just a kid pretending to matter.”

His grin widened, red eyes burning with hatred.

“So tell me, Midoriya… when it whispers in your head, when it claws to get out, when it hungers, how long before you stop fighting it and admit you’re just like me?”

Izuku’s breath rasped in his throat as Shigaraki’s grip pressed harder, black seeping slowly into the whites of his eyes. His fingers twitched, claws sliding out with a faint crackle of static, the air around them bending and distorting. 

Shigaraki only smiled wider, delighted, tilting his head like a vulture savoring the scent of rot. His free hand was already buried in his sweater pocket, fingers flexing as if itching to spread decay.

“Um… Deku?”

The sound was small. Trembling. And yet it hit them both like a thunderclap.

Izuku froze. Shigaraki stilled. Slowly, like the world had turned underwater, they both turned their heads.

Uraraka stood a few feet away, hands clutched at her chest, eyes wide and nervous. She forced a shaky smile, though her voice wavered.
“Is… is he a friend of yours?”

Her gaze darted down, landing on the pale, skeletal hand curled around Izuku’s throat. All color drained from her face. “Hey… let him go.”

Shigaraki’s shoulders shook, was it laughter? His other hand shifted in his pocket, and Izuku’s gut turned to ice. No. He’s going to use it. He’s going to touch her. Panic thundered through him, static screaming in his head. 

But then, abruptly, the hand left his throat and it suddenly occurred to him that he had hardly been able to breath. He double over, raspy painful coughs rattling his chest.

Shigaraki leaned back, raising both arms in mock surrender, a sheepish grin plastered on his face. To Uraraka, he looked like nothing more than a scruffy, awkward young man caught in a misunderstanding. Without the hand-mask, he was just another face in the crowd.

“Oh, you’re here with a friend? I didn’t know,” he said, tone light, almost playful. “Sorry about that!”

He leaned in one last time, lips almost brushing Izuku’s ear as his whisper coiled like smoke.

“We’ll finish this conversation another time, Midoriya.” 

Before Izuku could do anything, Shigaraki was lost in the crowd.

The patrol car’s headlights washed briefly over the Midoriya apartment before pulling away into the night. Izuku stood at the door a moment, the faint ache in his throat still raw where Shigaraki’s fingers had been. His stomach churned with everything he couldn’t say, not to the police, not to the officers who’d asked him a hundred questions, and especially not to his mother.

He slid the door open.

“Mom… I’m home.”

Inko was waiting. She stood in the entryway, hands clenched together, tears brimming in her eyes. The television behind her was still on, casting soft light across the small living room, the muted news anchor’s voice lost under the sound of her trembling breath.

“Izuku…” Her voice cracked. She covered her mouth with one hand, eyes wide, scanning his face, his neck, his clothes. The tears broke loose, spilling down her cheeks. “The police called me, they said you were at the mall, and there was—” She stopped herself, shaking her head, unable to finish.

Izuku kicked off his shoes and stepped inside. He reached up and touched his throat instinctively, then lowered his hand quickly before she noticed.

“I’m okay,” he said softly. “Really, Mom. I’m okay.”

But the words didn’t stop her tears. She closed the distance between them and pulled him into a crushing hug, clinging so tightly it hurt his bruised ribs. He stood stiffly at first, then slowly let himself sink into her embrace, resting his chin on her shoulder.

For a moment, just a moment, the silence pressed heavier than Shigaraki’s grip ever had.

“Why does it keep happening?” Inko whispered, her voice muffled in his shoulder. “Why do people like that keep finding you?”

Izuku’s throat worked, the static deep inside him stirring faintly, reminding him of Shigaraki’s words.

'You’re not a Hero, you’re a time bomb.'

He closed his eyes, held his mother tighter, and whispered back, “Because I won’t stop standing in their way.”

The next morning, the bus ride to the training camp was anything but calm.

The large vehicle rocked slightly as it barreled down the road, filled wall to wall with the voices of Class 1-A. Students leaned over seats, shouting jokes back and forth, some standing in the aisle even though Aizawa had already told them to sit down twice. Kaminari and Mineta were arguing loudly about what camp would be like, Jirou was poking fun at them from three rows back, and Kirishima was hyping up half the boys into some kind of “manly camp challenge.”

Iida was halfway down the aisle, chopping the air with both arms, his glasses reflecting the morning sun. “Everyone, please! This is extremely unsafe behavior while the bus is in motion! If you continue to stand, I will take names!”

Of course, no one was listening.

Amidst the chaos, Izuku sat slouched against the window in the middle rows. His hands were weaved lazily behind his head, elbows jutting out, and his eyes were closed as though he might actually fall asleep through the racket.

Beside him, Katsuki had one elbow propped against the window ledge, his forehead resting against his palm, scowling like he wanted to blow the whole bus to pieces. His foot tapped an angry rhythm against the floor, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.

“Damn extras…” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for Izuku to hear but not for anyone else.

Izuku cracked one eye open at that, looking sideways at him without moving his head. “It’s a bus full of high schoolers going to camp, Kacchan. You really expect them to sit quietly?”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, but didn’t answer.

Izuku’s eye slid shut again, letting the motion of the bus rumble through him. For once, he didn’t feel like his chest was full of static. No whispers. No claws threatening to break skin. Just noise from his classmates, the kind of noise he didn’t mind.

Somewhere up front, Mina shouted, “ROAD TRIP!” and half the bus erupted into cheers.

One hour later, the bus shuddered to a stop on a flat stretch of land by the roadside. One by one, students spilled out, stretching, yawning, rubbing the stiffness from their legs. 

They barely noticed the car already parked there until the door opened.

“You don’t actually think we stopped so you could stretch, do you?” Aizawa’s voice cut through the chatter, hands deep in his pockets.

From the car stepped two women in matching feline-themed costumes, one pink, one blue. The one in pink grinned wide, placing a hand on her hip.

“Hey, Eraser. Been a while.”

Aizawa nodded. “Yeah. Long time.”

They struck matching poses, tails flicking.

“Your feline fantasy team has arrived, say meow!”

“Perfectly cute and deadly cat-like girls!”

“Together,” they chorused, “we’re the Wild, Wild Pussycats!”

The class blinked in unison. Somewhere behind them, Kaminari muttered, “…Are we supposed to clap or…?”

A small boy stepped out from behind the pair, glaring silently at the students.

“These pros,” Aizawa said, “are the ones you’ll be working under during the training camp.” He nodded to each of them, first gesturing to the woman in pink. "This is Mandalay and this," he turned to the woman in blue, "is Pixibob."

Mandalay pointed over the railing at the edge of the cliff. “See all that? That entire stretch of land, all the way to the mountain base? That’s our territory. Your camp’s down there.”

Everyone’s smiles froze.

“…Wait,” Kirishima said slowly, “why’d we stop here then?”

Ashido laughed nervously. “Haha, right? No way we’re walking that far. Back on the bus, everyone—”

“Good call. Let’s load up,” Sero agreed, already turning.

Mandalay's grin widened, fangs flashing. “Oh no, no, no. The current time is 9:30 a.m. If you hustle, you might make it to camp by noon.”

“HUH?!”

“And just so you know,” Pixibob cackled, crouching down with her palms pressed to the dirt, “kitties who don’t make it by 12:30… won’t get any lunch.” Her smirk grew as energy pulsed under her hands.

“Oh crap—”

The ground split and buckled beneath them, glowing for half a second before it gave way entirely. The class let out a collective scream as they slid, tumbled, and fell down the steep drop. Izuku laughed as they fell. 

Dust and fog swirled as they hit bottom, stumbling to their feet. A massive wall of twisted trees loomed in front of them, branches clawing at the gray sky, the underbrush alive with distant growls.

“The Beast’s Forest,” Pixibob announced from above, her voice carrying over the cliff’s edge. “Three hours. Quirks are fair game. Make it through alive, and you’ll reach camp.”

“THE BEAST’S FOREST?!”

The forest shuddered.

Branches rattled overhead, dirt shifted under their feet, and from the fog ahead, something stepped out.

At first, it looked like a bear, but the longer they stared, the less sense it made. Its body was a patchwork of earth and stone, mud dripping like saliva from its jagged maw. Its claws were crooked roots, its fur tangled moss, and its glowing eyes were nothing more than polished amber locked into sockets of dirt.

The thing growled, a sound that rumbled like shifting boulders.

“W-what the hell is that?!” Kaminari shouted, stumbling back.

None of them got the chance to wonder before it started lagging in place before it just... deformed. Sinking back into the earth. Everyone turned to stare at Izuku, who's hands were laced behind his back with his big grin and eyes bright with excitement. They all thought it was over, until three more of those monsters stepped out of the trees.

Nine hours later, all of them stumbled into camp grounds. Some of them barely made it out of the trees. The clearing was scattered with bodies, students sprawled out in the grass, gasping for air, sweat pouring down their faces.

Sero collapsed flat on his back, arms spread wide. “You said it would only take three hours!” he groaned, voice muffled against the dirt.

Mandalay crossed her arms and tilted her head, not looking the least bit sorry. “Oh, did we? I guess we timed it by how long it would take us. My bad.”

“That didn’t sound like an apology at all!” Mina wheezed, clutching her stomach. “I’m starving. This is hell!”

Before anyone could agree, a sing-song voice rang out from the other side of the clearing. “Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow!”

Pixibob bounded forward, her tail swishing in delight, eyes sparkling as she surveyed the battered class. “Honestly, I thought you kittens would take even longer! But you did sooo much better against my dirt monsters than I expected!”

The class gave her tired glares.

“Seriously, you guys were great! Especially the four of you!” She pointed dramatically at Katsuki, Izuku, Todoroki, and Iida. “You four stand out. It looks like you’ve been through quite a bit of experience already…”

Katsuki just scoffed and turned his head, but Izuku caught the way his chest puffed slightly despite himself.

Pixibob’s grin sharpened, and she licked her lips with exaggerated flourish. “I call dibs on these kittens! I’ll groom them myself!”

With a gleeful laugh, she lunged, circling the four of them like a cat stalking prey.

Izuku’s eyes had wandered past the chaos of his classmates and the wild theatrics of the Pussycats. At the edge of the clearing, standing near the building that must’ve been their base, was a boy. Six or seven at most. Small frame, dark hair, little blue cap pulled low over his face.

Izuku tilted his head and pointed. “Who’s that?”

Mandalay followed his gaze, then smiled warmly. “Oh! Him?” She beckoned with one hand. “That’s Kota. He’s my cousin’s son. He’s been living with us for a while now.”

Her tone softened, almost motherly, as she gestured toward him. “Don’t be shy, Kota. Come say hi to everyone.”

But the boy didn’t look shy.

Not even close.

He stood with his little fists stuffed deep into his pockets, shoulders stiff, jaw tight. His eyes flicked across the students like they were intruders trespassing on his space. His brows pinched low, his mouth pressed in a hard scowl, and when his eyes finally landed on Izuku, they lingered, cold and unwelcoming.

The rest of the class shifted awkwardly under his glare.

“…Wow,” Kaminari whispered, forcing a smile. “He’s, uh… real excited to meet us, huh?”

Kota didn’t respond. He didn’t wave. He didn’t even nod.

He just turned his head away, the smallest grunt escaping his throat, as if the idea of acknowledging them wasn’t worth the effort.

Izuku blinked once, then let out a slow exhale through his nose. His grin flickered faintly, not mocking, not hostile. More… curious.

He had a feeling that he was going to do a lot more than training for the next two weeks.

"All right, that's enough playing around. Get your stuff off the bus. Once your bags are in the rooms, we’ll have dinner in the cafeteria. After that, you ca n bathe and sleep. Tomorrow, your training starts in earnest. You better get a move on.”

The bathhouse was steam and warmth, the air thick with the scent of minerals and soap. Izuku leaned back against the smooth stone, every muscle in his body sighing in relief. After the hell Aizawa had put them through that day, the monsters, the falls, the forest itself, the hot water felt like salvation. 

He closed his eyes, sinking a little deeper into the water. 'This is the most relaxing place I’ve ever been,' he thought. His bones ached less, the sting of cuts dulled by the heat.

But, of course, the peace didn’t last.

“Well, frankly, food and stuff isn’t really that important. I’m hungry for something else.”

Izuku cracked one eye open, lifting his head lazily. His gaze drifted up until he spotted Mineta clinging to the wooden wall that separated the boys’ side from the girls’, hugging it like it was a lifeline.

Izuku’s eye twitched.

Mineta’s face was flushed, his little hands gripping the wood with desperate glee. “A few pieces of wood, and heaven is waiting on the other side,” he whispered, reverent. Then, louder. “A bath full of boobs and babes, ready to be seen by yours truly!”

Izuku stared at him. His lips curved into a slow, flat, unfriendly grin. “Of course. Out of all the near-death training we just survived, this is the wall you’re ready to die for.”

The other boys groaned, and Sero threw his washcloth at Mineta. “Dude, not again! Sit down before you get us all kicked out!”

Izuku just shook his head, leaning back against the stone again, but he kept one eye half-open. 'If he actually tries to climb that wall, I swear…'

Of course he tried to climb the wall.

Mineta’s fingers scrabbled noisily against the wood, little grunts escaping him as he tried to haul himself upward. His stubby arms trembled, his face beet red with exertion and excitement as he used his Quirk to climb.

“This is it! This is my destiny! The promised land awaits!”

The other boys immediately erupted.

“Get down, you idiot!” Ojiro shouted, tail flicking in agitation as he stomped toward him.

“You’ll get us all banned from the bathhouse!” Iida barked, chopping his hands in frantic rhythm.

Kaminari snickered nervously. “Honestly, if he actually makes it over, I kinda wanna see how long he survives before someone kills him.”

Izuku watched him, eyes half-closed. But now, as Mineta got closer and closer to the top, he exhaled slowly through his nose. His grin tightened in irritation and disgust.

The air around Izuku shimmered. His Quirk pulsed.

Mineta’s hand glitched. One second it was gripping wood, the next it phased straight through the plank as if it wasn’t there at all. He let out a squeaky yelp as his balance vanished.

SPLOOSH!

He vanished under the water, bubbles bursting frantically at the surface. Flailing limbs thrashed everywhere, a muffled, garbled scream lost in the hot spring.

A few seconds later, Mineta surfaced with a desperate gasp, sputtering, his round eyes wide and horrified. “W-what just happened?!”

Izuku leaned his head back against the stone.

“Guess it wasn’t meant to be,” he murmured, voice just loud enough to carry over the splashing.

The other boys burst out laughing, Sero clutching his stomach and Kaminari nearly slipping under the water from how hard he was shaking. Kirishima slapped the surface with a loud smack, his grin wide.

“Man, Midoriya. You didn’t even move and you shut him down!”

Mineta whirled towards Izuku. “WHAT THE HELL, MAN?!” he shrieked, kicking and splashing wildly. “YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME!”

Izuku’s grin widened faintly, his radio voice calm, amused, and just a little too even. “You should be grateful, Mineta. Better to drown a little than to die for real if one of the girls caught you climbing.”

Everyone howled with laughter while Minetas face turned beet red and he sunk into the water to hide it. 

Chapter Text

The next morning, the air above the training grounds was thick with heat, dust, and the echoes of exhaustion.

Class 1-A looked like they were collectively on the verge of death.

It wasn’t beast-monsters this time. No giant dirt constructs crashing through the trees. No sudden drop-offs into shadowed ravines. No clever ambushes orchestrated by Aizawa’s sadistic mind. This was worse.

This was endless repetition.

“More! Push harder!” Mandalay’s voice carried across the grounds, stern but not unkind. “You’ll never build stamina or control if you stop every five minutes!”

“Five minutes?!” Kaminari groaned, sparks sputtering pathetically from his fingertips. His knees shook as he tried to fire another bolt into the target board, but it fizzled out halfway. “I feel like it’s been five hours!”

“Less whining, more working,” Aizawa cut in from the sidelines, his deadpan voice like nails dragging across their nerves. “If you’ve got the energy to complain, you’ve got the energy to keep going.”

Izuku stood in his own section of the clearing, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead, his grin fixed in place despite the burn in his lungs. His hands buzzed faintly, claws forming and retracting, glitching in and out with every cycle. He raised his arm, focused, and his body flickered, then glitched ten meters ahead in a jagged burst of distortion. He landed on one knee, coughing hard, but he didn’t stop.

Again.

That was the mantra pounding in his skull. If he stopped, if he hesitated, Alastor might stir. He wouldn’t let that happen. Not now. Not ever.

Nearby, Katsuki was dunking his arms into boiling water and setting off explosions like the one he had used against Uraraka at the Sports Festival, explosions echoing like thunderclaps. His breathing was ragged, but his fury was untouched, fueling him forward. “DIE—DIE—DIE!” he roared, sweat flying off him with every detonation.

Sero groaned, slumping as his tape shot crookedly into the dirt. “We’re all going to die here. This is where it ends.”

“Get back up,” Aizawa ordered, scarf twitching.

Around the clearing, Todoroki was splitting the ground with fire and ice, Ashido burned through another vat of acid, Jirou was pushing her soundwaves until her eardrums shook, and even Mineta was trying (and failing) to peel his orbs faster.

It wasn’t flashy like the fights. It wasn’t dramatic like the beasts. It was worse, it was unrelenting, brutal, monotonous.

Quirks, quirks, quirks. Over and over until their bodies screamed.

The clearing looked like a warzone. Class 1-A was drenched in sweat, bruised, and running on fumes. Their voices cracked from screaming, their quirks sputtered from overuse, and more than a few were sprawled on the ground sucking in ragged breaths between drills.

Then came the sound of yawns.

“Ughhh, why so early…?”

Every head in Class 1-A turned sharply toward the tree line as Class 1-B shuffled out, led lazily by Vlad King. Half of them were still rubbing sleep from their eyes, others dragging their feet as if they’d just rolled out of bed.

Pony yawned so wide she nearly tripped. Tetsutetsu was scratching his head with bed hair that made him look like a steel hedgehog. Even Monoma, who normally had energy to spare, was sluggish, though he perked up fast when he saw Class 1-A’s state.

“Ohhh…” His voice rang out like he’d just stumbled upon buried treasure. “So that’s why Eraserhead’s class is so famous. It’s because you’re all training like you’re being tortured to death!” He laughed, arms flung wide. “What a pathetic sight! Red-faced, exhausted, sweat dripping everywhere, it’s like you’ve already lost before we even started!”

Kaminari collapsed face-first into the dirt. “Someone shut him up…”

Despite feeling like his body was about to collapse into a puddle of exhaustion, Izuku’s grin only widened. A little spark of mischief flickered in his chest.

He let himself glitch. One moment he was crouched on the ground, sweat dripping down his face; the next, he flickered forward, landing directly in front of Monoma.

The sudden appearance made Monoma jump back a full step, eyes wide. “W-what the—!?”

Izuku’s grin stretched just enough to show amusement rather than malice. His voice cracked faintly with static, low and cutting. “Did you wake up this morning, or did someone just drag you out of bed by your ego?”

The words hit like a perfectly aimed quip. Class 1-A burst into laughter, some clutching their sides, some slapping the ground in relief from the tension. Even the sleep-rubbed members of Class 1-B cracked smiles, though they were quickly scowling to hide it.

Monoma sputtered, face turning red. “Y-you—how—what—!” He flailed for a comeback but tripped slightly over his own foot, catching himself on the edge of the training platform.

Izuku just tilted his head, grin never fading. “Don’t worry, Monoma. I’d offer to teach you how to stay awake and smart at the same time… but I don’t think there’s enough time in the morning for miracles.”

The second Monoma’s face went crimson and Class 1-A’s laughter rang out, Izuku was already gone. His body blurred into static, glitching forward until he was nothing but afterimages darting down the training clearing.

By the time Aizawa finally called it, the sun was already bleeding orange and violet across the sky.

Class 1-A and 1-B stumbled back toward camp in a miserable, crooked line, bodies bent like their spines were about to snap in half. Sweat dripped, clothes clung, and every step felt like it might be the one that took them face-first into the dirt.

But the moment they saw smoke curling from the lodge chimneys and the faint glow of camp lanterns, hope flickered, maybe, just maybe, there’d be hot food waiting just like yesterday.

Nope.

Aizawa’s voice cut through their sluggish shuffling like a blade. “Don’t think you’re done. From here on out, you’ll be making your own meals. Heroes can’t count on others to take care of their basic needs. Adapt, or starve.”

Groans rose up from the group.

“You mean… we have to cook?” Kaminari’s voice cracked as though Aizawa had asked him to fight All Might.

“Whaaat?!” Mina practically fell to her knees. “We’re already dead! Just bury us here and save the trouble!”

Iida suddenly perked up. “I see. An important part of rescuing someone is providing for their physical needs as well as spiritual!” Iida smiled. “This is a great opportunity for us! Let's make the most delicious curry in the world, everyone!”

Everyone groaned out their acceptance and Iida marched to the outside grills. 

Katsuki glared at Izuku from the corner of his eye.

“I’ll make a better curry than yours,” he said flatly, like it wasn’t even up for debate.

Izuku, who’d been leaning against the railing with a crooked smile, snorted. “Do you have to make everything a competition?”

Katsuki snatched a knife from the table. “Damn right I do. What else is the point?”

Izuku raised a brow, pushing off the railing with a lazy roll of his shoulders. “The point is dinner, not your ego. You realize we’re all starving, right? No one cares if it’s your curry or mine.”

“Bullshit.” Katsuki didn’t even look up as he diced with rapid, violent precision. “The second they taste mine, they’ll care. Yours’ll taste like soggy school lunches.”

That got a chuckle out of Izuku, tired but genuine. “Oh, really? Then I guess you won’t mind if I add my own twist.”

Katsuki’s eyes snapped to him, the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Try it, nerd. I’ll blow your so-called ‘twist’ straight to hell.”

He started to reached for the bowl of vegetables when his hand suddenly phased through the bowl. Both him and Katsuki stared at it. 

"What's wrong with your hand?"

Izuku opened his mouth to respond, when his whole arm started to glitch without his consent, and then his body, and he was suddenly eating metal as he glitched to the same railing he had been leaning against seconds before. 

The impact rattled Izuku’s teeth and sent a burst of stars across his vision. He groaned, wiping blood from the corner of his lip, and blinked through the dizziness. His hands were trembling, not just from exhaustion, but from the quirk itself.

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, the fiery edge of his frustration sharpening into concern. “What the hell did you do now?” He barked, leaning closer. His voice wasn’t mocking, this time there was genuine alarm beneath the usual scowl.

Izuku tried to speak, but his words came out hoarse, almost drowned in static. His arm jittered again, lagging slightly behind the motion of his body, glitching unnaturally. His chest heaved as he struggled to stand upright, phasing in and out in small bursts.

“I… it’s fine,” he muttered, though the word sounded hollow even to himself. 

Katsuki didn’t move away this time. He grabbed Izuku’s shoulders and steadied him. But Izuku’s body flickered uncontrollably, glitching forward, backward, sideways, like a broken recording. His legs tangled, his arms flailed, and his head whipped from side to side as the phasing malfunctioned.

Finally, with a shuddering heave, he collapsed a few meters away in the clearing, dropping to his knees. A moment later, he vomited onto the dirt, the force wracking his entire body.

Izuku’s palms dug into the earth as he coughed and spat bile, his whole body trembling like the static hadn’t quite left his veins. His breath came in ragged gasps, fogging the cool evening air. He stared at the mess in front of him, chest heaving, unable to process what had just happened.

“Midoriya?!” Iida’s voice carried first, full of sharp concern.

“What the hell was that?!” Kaminari half-yelled.

Izuku wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand, staring at the sick staining the dirt in front of him. His pulse thundered in his ears. The world around him flickered like a bad signal, still trying to catch up to where his body should be.

Aizawa stopped in front of him, hands buried in his pockets. His gaze swept over Izuku once, then lingered.

“Maybe you pushed your quirk too far,” he said simply.

Izuku blinked up at him, still pale, still trying to get his stomach under control. “Too far…?”

Aizawa crouched, elbows resting loosely on his knees. “You’ve been running it nonstop since morning. Everyone’s at their limit, but you’ve been forcing your quirk harder than the rest. It’s not surprising your body hit a wall.”

Izuku frowned down at his trembling hands. “I… didn’t even think about it having one.” He's been using his quirk ever since it developed, even if it was illegal, and he hand never felt like it had a limit. Not even when he had been training with Aizawa. He had been exhausted sure, but to actually have a limit where he couldn't control it? He'd never had that before. Although, his training sessions with Aizawa were only five hours, and only a couple of those were quirk training, so maybe using it nonstop for 13 hours was a deal breaker. 

“Every quirk has a ceiling,” Aizawa replied. “Doesn’t matter if it’s simple or complicated. Push too hard, and you’ll burn yourself out. Right now, you just need to recharge.”

Izuku let out a shaky laugh, embarrassed. “So basically… I lagged because I overdid it?”

“That’s one way to put it.” Aizawa straightened, brushing dust from his scarf. “Take the rest of the night easy. Food, water, rest. You’ll bounce back.”

Katsuki snorted beside him, trying not to grin. “Tch. Figures you’d crash like a busted laptop.”

Izuku rolled his eyes but managed a small, tired smile.

Katsuki yanked him up with a rough tug, practically dragging him back toward the cooking stations.

“Now let’s go. I still have to show you how to properly cook a simple meal.”

Izuku stumbled a step before catching his balance, brushing dirt off his work out clothes. He raised a brow, grin tilting sharper. “Sure. If having your tastebuds burned off from the spices you put in counts as a simple meal.”

Katsuki’s eye twitched. “The hell did you just say?”

“You heard me.” Izuku chuckled, letting his hands lace behind his head as they walked. “Your cooking’s just like your quirk, loud, explosive, and trying way too hard to cover up the fact you don’t know how to pace yourself.”

“Say that again, nerd, and I’ll make you eat the whole damn spice rack.”

“Then it’ll finally taste like your curry normally does.”

Katsuki clicked his tongue, dragging Izuku along toward the grills. “Better than whatever bland crap you’d make. You probably think ‘seasoning’ means dumping salt on it.”

Izuku stumbled a little, still shaky, but his grin came easy. “At least you’ll taste mine, instead of crying over it.”

“Cry?” Katsuki barked a laugh, sharp and loud. “The only one crying tonight will be you when you see how goddamn perfect my curry is.”

“Guess we’ll see,” Izuku said, voice light, teasing. His body still ached, his head still felt heavy, but for the first time all day, it wasn’t dragging him down. Katsuki was steady at his side—gruff, competitive, unyielding—and it grounded him in a way he couldn’t explain.

When they reached the grills, the rest of Class 1-A was already setting up their ingredients. Iida was organizing stations like a general prepping an army, Todoroki was holding vegetables in one hand and freezing them absentmindedly, and Mineta was already whining about knife duty.

Katsuki shoved Izuku toward their spot. “Move it, nerd. I’m about to give the rest of the class a damn cooking lesson.”

Izuku smirked. “Or a fire hazard.”

Katsuki growled, and barely resisted throwing a bowl at his head.

Izuku swallowed the last bite of his curry, the spicy warmth still lingering in his mouth. Around him, the others were laughing, complaining, and shoveling food into their mouths like they hadn’t eaten in days. The campfire’s glow made everything feel cozy, a sharp contrast to the lingering ache in his muscles.

Then he noticed it. Small, hesitant footsteps slipping past the edge of the clearing and into the dark, looming forest. Kota.

Izuku hummed quietly, eyes narrowing as he considered his options. He could stay here, let someone else notice, or… he could go.

Finishing his food, he stood and grabbed another bowl, this one filled with curry that had probably lost some of its flavor in his absence, he’d been too distracted to measure properly, but that didn’t matter.

He adjusted the bowl in his hands, letting the steam rise into the night air, and started following the tiny footprints disappearing into the forest. Every step made the forest seem darker, the shadows longer, but he moved with calm precision, as if each step was a quiet assertion of control over the chaos around him.

The footsteps eventually led him outside of the forest and up the slope of a mountain. Interesting. He went up the stone and heard a stomach growling before Kota came into view, sitting at the edge of the mountain with his legs pulled up to his chest. He had a stubborn pout on his face. 

"Do you often ignore your stomach when you're hungry?" Izuku broke the silence and Kota startled so hard that he jumped to his feet, his wide eyes locking on him. Izuku really didn't mean to startle him, especially since he was so close to the edge. 

"How did you find my secret hideout?" Kota demanded with a scowl and Izuku pursed his grinning lips, resisting the urge to tell him that it wasn't very hard to find in the first place. That wasn't a good start to getting Kota to like him. 

Izuku tilted his head slightly, the bowl of curry balanced carefully in his hands. His grin stayed soft, teasing but calm.

“Your secret hideout, huh?” He said, letting the words stretch just long enough to make Kota tense. “I guess I just have a really good sense for these things.”

Kota’s eyes narrowed, suspicion written all over his small, flushed face. “That’s not fair! No one’s supposed to know about this place!”

“Hmm,” Izuku hummed, crouching slightly so he was closer to Kota’s eye level without looming over him. “I wouldn’t say no one knows. But I can keep a secret. As long as you share a little with me first.”

Kota’s frown deepened, but the twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed him. He crossed his arms tighter, trying to look unbothered.

Izuku held out the bowl toward him, steam curling up and carrying the faint, spicy aroma of the curry. “Start with something simple. Like eating. You’ve got to keep your strength up, even in a ‘secret hideout,’ right?”

The boy hesitated, glancing from the bowl to Izuku’s calm, steady eyes. There was no threat, no pressure, just a quiet insistence that made it hard to refuse. Slowly, Kota shuffled forward, letting Izuku place the bowl carefully in front of him on the stone.

Izuku sat back on his heels, watching Kota poke cautiously at the curry. The boy’s shoulders were stiff, and his little frown hadn’t left his face. After a moment, Kota looked up and pointed sharply at him.

“Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want you hanging around my hideout. Leave.”

Izuku blinked, tilting his head, the teasing grin still faint on his face. He could feel the insistence in Kota’s tone, the tiny, stubborn aura of ownership over this little space.

“Got it,” Izuku said softly, standing. He gave the boy a small nod, respectful but still lighthearted. “Your space, your rules.”

Kota’s frown deepened, as if saying, good, now leave, but Izuku didn’t argue. Instead, he let the corner of his mouth twitch up just enough to be playful. Then, with a faint buzz of static in the air, he used his quirk.

In an instant, he phased out of sight, leaving nothing but a slight shimmer in the air where he had been standing. Kota blinked a few times, jaw dropping, then looked around nervously as if expecting him to reappear immediately.

The truth was, Izuku probably shouldn’t have pushed his quirk this hard after a full day of training and the earlier exertion, but a small, unexplainable thrill ran through him. Just a little show-off moment. A reminder that he could control this, no matter how exhausted he was.

From the edge of the clearing, he reappeared silently, watching Kota for a heartbeat longer, letting the boy’s reaction linger, before slipping back into the shadows and quietly making his way down the slope.

Kota, still muttering under his breath, didn’t notice him leave entirely, but Izuku didn’t mind. He was satisfied with a small victory.

The bar was a flurry of noise, shouts, laughter, the clatter of weapons, the occasional high-pitched giggle, but Shigaraki barely noticed it. He sat in the corner, glass of whiskey in hand, swirling it lazily as the amber liquid caught the dim light. Normally he would have snapped at anyone making a sound too loud, would have erupted into chaos himself, but tonight was different.

Ever since that conversation with Midoriya, a strange calm had settled over him. Not the tense, restless kind of calm he sometimes feigned, this was… easy. He could think. He could sit. He could actually breathe.

Toga was bouncing between her knives and twice her energy, shrieking about something one moment and pouting the next, dragging everyone else into her chaos. Twice tried to mimic her antics, but his tone was rougher, more sarcastic. Neither of them phased him. Not tonight.

He didn’t speak to any of them, not a word, not even an insult. He ignored the new members entirely, let them squabble over positions and weapons as he considered… Midoriya.

The boy’s quirk. The way it manifested. How much raw potential it carried, and how terrifying it could be if pushed. The thought of it made Shigaraki grin faintly, swirling the whiskey in his glass. Midoriya was the perfect kind of member for someone like him, capable, chaotic, and yet… flawed. Vulnerable. When it came to people close to him,  especially Katsuki Bakugo, it brought out that demon. And yet, it didn't seem out of control like someone would be when they got too emotional. It wasn't predictable. 

His finger tapped the rim of the glass absentmindedly. That control. It fascinated him more than any power he’d encountered, more than any Villain in the hideout. For once, Shigaraki didn’t feel the need to crush something to amuse himself. He just watched, thought, planned.

Kurogiri refilled his glass, silently noting his stillness, the fact that he wasn’t barking orders, wasn’t pacing like a predator in need of release. 

Shigaraki took a slow sip, eyes dark, distant, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Midoriya’s quirk, his control, his temper… it all made sense now. And for once, the chaos around him, the screaming, the clashing, the tension, wasn’t his problem. It was theirs.

He leaned back, letting the whiskey warm his chest, and let his mind wander over possibilities, scenarios, strategies… and, always, that one quiet thought that kept resurfacing: how far can you push him before he breaks?

Shigaraki’s gaze flicked briefly to the empty space where he had considered including Izuku Midoriya in the plan. The thought lingered for a fraction of a second, then he dismissed it. No. Not now. Not necessary. Let the boy be.

“Remember your roles,” Shigaraki continued, voice even, chillingly precise. “Distractions, collection, extraction. Don’t mess it up. And for those of you with… violent tendencies, do what you want. I won’t stop you. But don’t get in my way. That’s all.”

The room was quiet for a moment, tension thick enough to touch, before the others murmured their agreement, the chaos of earlier replaced by a focused, predatory anticipation.

Shigaraki leaned back, watching, thinking, letting the quiet hum of planning and preparation fill the space. Katsuki Bakugo… that was their prize. And soon, they’d see if his fury could be turned into theirs.

He didn't even think about the true lengths Izuku Midoriya would go for his best friend.

Chapter Text

The campfire’s glow was fading, casting long shadows over the clearing as the Pussycats gathered the students around. Mandalay clapped her hands together, tail flicking behind her with visible excitement.

“Alright, kittens!” she announced, voice carrying over the last murmur of chatter. “We’re going to play a little game of courage tonight. Think of it as…an exercise in bravery and creativity.”

Class 1-A perked up, stretching stiff muscles from the day’s relentless training, while Class 1-B rubbed sleep from their eyes, still groaning from being forced awake for another activity.

“Here’s how it’s going to work,” Mandalay continued. “Class B will be the first scarers. You’ll use your quirks, your wits, anything to make Class A scream, jump, or, dare I say, lose control. No touching the players directly. This is about imagination, not brute force.”

Pixibob, tail flicking as she emphasized the rules. “Class A will leave in pairs every three minutes. You’ll walk through the forest trail. Along the way, you’ll find tags with your names on them in the middle of the route. Grab your tag and bring it back to the starting point. That’s your proof you survived.”

“Make sense?” Mandalay asked, pacing with energy that only seemed to grow. “The scarers can’t grab or hurt you, just scare you. Show us what you’ve got. The class that uses the most creativity, imagination, and…let’s say, sheer terrifying skill wins.”

Izuku’s grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He glanced at Katsuki, who was already rolling his shoulders, clearly itching for a chance to prove himself even in a ‘game.’

“Sounds like fun,” Izuku murmured to himself, feeling the familiar buzz of anticipation in his chest. Unlike some of the others, he didn’t need dummies or targets to practice on; this would be a real test of control, creativity, and fear management.

Katsuki leaned a little closer, the corners of his mouth twitching with that familiar, sharp smirk. He barely whispered, low enough that only Izuku could hear.

“Just imagine…you glitching all over the place, popping in and out of the shadows…people won’t know which way’s up. They’re going to freak so hard, it'll be hilarious.”

Izuku’s grin widened, the static buzzing faintly in his head as he let the image play out. “Oh…I am going to make them lose it. Maybe I’ll even phase through the trees mid-scream. Think about it, shrieking, panicking, and they won’t know where I’ll appear next!”

Katsuki’s cackle grew, low and vicious as his and Izukus hands slapped together and laughing under their breath. 

The other students murmured among themselves, excitement and nerves mixing as they started strategizing. Some were plotting routes, some whispered about which quirks to use, and some, well, some were already imagining what kind of chaos they could unleash.

Ashido was practically bursting at the seams with excitement with Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, Sato. "This is going to be a totally awesome test of courage!"

“Not so fast, it pains me to say this, but the remedial class will be having class with me instead.”

Ashido gasped like Aizawa just admitted he killed her dog. “YOU’RE KIDDING ME!” 

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry though as he wrapped his capture weapon around the five of them. “Your training during the day didn’t impress, so I have to use this time.”

“Give me a break! Let us be tested!” Aizawa ignored them as he dragged them back into the building.

“Now, you'll draw lots to determine your partners!”

Twelve minutes later, screams filled the air. Class 1-A’s courage was really dwindling by this second. Izuku leaned against a tree, waiting for his turn. He was the only one without a partner. It was a little disappointing, but he didn't mind that much. His brow furrowed as something that smelled an awful lot like smoke pass through his nostrils. Did someone forget to put one of the fires out after dinner? 

Izuku’s eyes flicked toward the haze curling through the trees, the faint glow hinting at flames just beyond the forest edge. His eyes narrowed, tilting his head. 'No…that can’t be right. The camp staff would’ve made sure everything was safe.'

The smell hit him again, acrid and sharp. Smoke always made him tense, made his quirk twitch in the back of his mind. He felt the static buzz lightly at the edges of his perception, almost like a warning. He pushed off the tree and walked farther into the clearing, looking around.

Izuku’s eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, the static in his head rising like a warning siren. The smell of smoke was sharp now, acrid, thick enough to make his throat itch. Something wasn’t right, this wasn’t part of the game.

A blue glow suddenly outlined Pixibob and she flailed as she was lifted into the air and disappeared into the bushes. Something slammed onto the ground before a low, chilling laugh rolled through the clearing. Two figures emerged, stepping from behind the trees like predators from the dark. One was a tall, imposing woman who had a thick beam of concrete. The other was a lizard-like humanoid, green scales glinting faintly in the fragmented light, eyes narrowing as if calculating the kill. “Take them down. The false brilliance of the title of hero. We, the Vanguard Action Squad of the League of Villains, will condemn them,” 

“These pet cats are in the way,” the woman said calmly, almost too calmly, as if they were discussing an inconvenience rather than preparing to attack. Pixibob remained frozen and bleeding under the beam of concrete

Izuku’s chest tightened. He took an involuntary step forward, the static in his head thrumming like a jackhammer. But then a thought overrode every other one.

'Kota... where is Kota?!'

The world seemed to slow for a heartbeat, as if the forest itself recognized the sudden spike in his focus. Shadows twisted unnaturally, light bending like water around him, but Izuku didn’t care. He didn’t see the villains anymore, didn’t hear the eerie hiss of the lizard person or the low hum of the woman’s dark energy. All that existed was Kota.

His quirk flared violently, the glitching in his body and voice escalating, pulling reality slightly off-kilter around him. He sprinted, not just ran, not just moved, but disappeared into a blur of shifting images, flickering like an old film reel. Trees bent and flickered in the corners of his vision, the forest doubling and redoubling with each step.

Leaves tore themselves from branches midair, twisting in impossible angles as if the world couldn’t keep up with him. Static hissed in his ears, loud enough to drown out everything else, but it carried a strange rhythm now, like a heartbeat syncing with his own.

He was running harder, faster than he ever had in training or in battle, every muscle screaming, claws unconsciously extending and retracting as the quirk struggled to maintain control.

His feet slid to a stop, the dirt beneath him parting from the force as he stared up the mountain top of Kotas secret hideout and saw another man in a cloak and Kota slowly walking backward, his eyes glistening and face pale. Then the man lunged, his arm reaching for the boy and his black cloak falling away. 

Oh. Hell. No.

Red began to crawl, seeping from the corners of his eyes like ink spreading through water. His pupils dilated, irises darkening until the green was swallowed by black. The grin that never left his face stretched wider, trembling at the edges as static rippled down his skin. The air warped around him, a halo of digital distortion making the world stutter.

The ground trembled. The static screamed.

He glitched.

One moment, he was halfway up the mountain path. The next, the forest and hillside tore apart in a blur of light and sound, the space he’d occupied bending inward before snapping back into place with a deafening crack. Izuku reappeared at the top, the world catching up a fraction of a second too late.

His arrival distorted the air, leaves and pebbles lifting and falling in slow motion around him. Kota’s terrified eyes darted toward him, recognition flashing just as a thunderous impact shook the mountaintop.

Izuku had buried his fist into the mountain of muscle and fury, his body smashing into the rock face. Stone exploded outward, chunks of debris flying in all directions. The mountain shuddered as dust and gravel rained down.

But Izuku didn’t flinch. The static pulsed outward from him like a shockwave, rippling the air. His grin widened, head tilting slightly as he looked down at the villain with that same unblinking, radio-tuned stare.

“Ah...” his voice crackled through a chorus of overlapping tones, cheerful and cold all at once as he flexed his wrist and clawed fingers. “Now that wasn’t very polite, was it?”

The villain snarled, wrenching his body free of the shattered stone. “What the hell are you?” he spat and Izuku got a good look at his face. He only had one eye. One real eye anyway. His left eye was a prosthetic.

Izuku’s form flickered again, splitting into afterimages that moved in and out of sync, each one grinning the same impossible grin. The forest hummed with interference; even the light seemed afraid to touch him. His body was starting to suffer the backlash of overloading his quirk. 

“I,” Izuku said, his tone softening into a bright, distorted tune, “am the one thing standing between you and that boy.” 

The villains right eye narrowed on Izuku before he grinned and something started crawling up his arms, torso, and legs. Muscle. 

"You're Midoriya, right?" the villain sneered, teeth bared in a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. "This is perfect. Shigaraki had pictures of you on the walls, full of tears from how many knives he threw at your face, and how much he despised you."

As he spoke, more muscle crawled up his arms, skin splitting and reforming as he grew larger, veins bulging with unnatural strength. The air around him vibrated from the sheer force radiating off his body. Dust drifted in lazy spirals through the fractured light.

Izuku froze for half a second, his mind cracking under the weight of that name.

Shigaraki.

The static roared in his head, so loud it drowned out everything else, the wind, the trembling ground, even Kota’s fearful breathing. It was as if his brain had turned into a radio caught between a thousand channels, every one of them screaming that name.

His blood boiled. Literally, his veins pulsed with heat, and red lines of glitching static spread under his skin like circuitry gone haywire. The corners of his vision pulsed crimson, his smile twitching wider, thinner, more feral.

“Shigaraki,” he echoed softly. The word came out fractured, half human, half static, repeating itself in the air like a broken broadcast. “Of course. He’s connected to everything… every disaster… every scream that follows us.”

He took a step forward. The ground beneath his foot warped and sank slightly, reality bending around his motion. The villain’s smirk faltered as the space between them began to shimmer, distorting like the surface of disturbed water.

“You know…” Izuku’s tone shifted, his words lilting with a strange sing-song rhythm and his hands folded behind his back, “it’s almost flattering.” He tilted his head, grin fixed and eyes blazing, that strange radio whine rising behind his words. “To be hated that much by someone so pathetic.”

A guttural roar tore out of the villains throat, shaking the air. His massive arms, thick with sinew and stone-like muscle, swelled even larger, veins bulging as they pulsed with adrenaline and malice. He charged forward, each step cracking the ground beneath him, the mountain echoing with his fury.

Izuku didn’t move. The world around him warped slightly, colors bleeding into one another as his quirk flickered through him in uneven bursts. The static built in his ears, rising and falling like a storm.

The villain’s massive fist came down, fast, brutal, enough to pulverize stone.

The impact never landed.

The moment before contact, Izuku glitched. His body shattered into fragments of light and static, vanishing with a sound like a dying radio signal. The villain’s blow smashed into the ground instead, sending a shockwave of dirt and debris upward.

Izuku’s voice floated from behind him, distorted and playful. “My, my. Such energy. You must really want to die tired.”

The villain spun, snarling, eyes wide with confusion. Izuku was standing a few meters away now, flickering in and out of existence, his form stuttering like a corrupted video feed. His grin hadn’t moved an inch.

“You talk too much,” the villain spat, charging again, his footsteps shaking loose boulders from the cliffs above.

“Mm. Maybe,” Izuku murmured, voice breaking into sharp bursts of static. “But at least when I speak, people listen.”

He vanished again then reappeared directly in front of the villain, face inches from his. The radio feedback screamed in both their ears, and for one disorienting second, the villain saw his own reflection inside Izuku’s black eyes.

A burst of distorted energy slammed into the villain’s chest, throwing him backward through the air. The sound wasn’t an explosion but a broken soundwave, a digital scream that split the silence and echoed down the mountain.

Izuku straightened, dust swirling around his feet, grin sharp and eyes burning. The static around him pulsed like a heartbeat.

“Let’s see,” he said softly, almost sweetly, “how much blood you’re willing to spill when it’s yours.”

The villain groaned, pushing himself up from the rubble, bits of stone crumbling off his shoulders. His breath came in sharp, angry bursts.

Izuku tilted his head, eyes gleaming through the haze. The grin never wavered, though a low static hum bled from the corners of his mouth. “You know, I like to understand the people trying to kill me,” he said, voice layered with that fractured, radio-filtered quality. “Makes it all a bit more personal, don’t you think?”

The villain spat into the dirt, wiping blood from his lip. “What the hell are you babbling about?”

“Oh, just a little curiosity.” Izuku replied, pleasant in a way that didn’t fit the burning forest or the ringing in the villain’s ears. He took a slow step forward, and the air glitched again, his image flickering, one frame here, one frame there, never quite matching up.

“Let me guess…” His head tilted the other way, eyes darting over the man like he was reading him line by line. “Big muscles, short temper, vocabulary of a brick. Hm. Maybe something… beastly?” He snapped his fingers, and the sound echoed three times, like a skipping record. “Ah! I’ve got it. Brutus? Crusher? Mister Smashy-Fists?”

“Shut up!” the villain bellowed, lunging forward, rock dust spiraling off his growing arms.

Izuku laughed, the sound warped and overlapping. “No, no—don’t tell me. I want to guess!” He sidestepped the swing in a glitching blur, the world jerking like a broken film reel. “Maybe… Muscular?”

The villain froze, just for a second.

“Ohhh,” Izuku cooed, eyes brightening with recognition and a cruel sort of delight. “That’s it, isn’t it? Muscular. So creative. Almost sounds like you named yourself after your own therapy session.”

Izuku glitched back into place, the air tearing with the sound of a warped transmission. One moment he wasn’t there. The next he stood between Kota and the incoming strike, his body flickering like a broken projection.

Musculars arm whooshed past where the boy had been a heartbeat ago, smashing through rock instead. Chunks of stone exploded outward, tumbling down the cliffside.

Kota stumbled back, tiny hands covering his head, shoulders shaking. The sound of his crying cut through the static in Izuku’s mind, sharp and small. Izuku took a deep breath and didn't look at him, didn't curl his claws behind his back where he could see them.

“I’m sorry, Kota,” he said softly.

His voice came out uneven, crackling faintly around the edges, like an old radio trying to tune itself to the right station. But beneath the static, there was warmth, fragile, human warmth. “I don’t mean to scare you.”

The boy hiccupped, still trembling. Izuku could feel the sound resonate somewhere deep in his chest, where the static didn’t reach. It hurt, in a way the glitching never did.

“Kota,” he murmured, calm but firm. “Keep your head down. Whatever happens next… don’t look.”

Muscular straightened and the muscle around his body retracted back into himself. Weird.... The nerdy side of Izuku really wanted to know how he was able to do that. But of course, now wasn't the time. 

"Tell me, Muscular. Why are you here? Sure, you want to kill people, but there has to be something else." His head tilted. "Shigaraki isn't here is he? So why did he send his band of misguided losers?" 

Muscular’s right eye twitched, but he flexed his shoulders, the muscle fiber along his arms swelling grotesquely, writhing like living cables under his skin. He loomed over them both, a mountain of flesh and rage, his grin stretching wider as dust and pebbles tumbled down the shaking cliffside.

Izuku stood his ground, boots planted firmly between the villain and Kota. The static buzzed faintly beneath his skin, whispering at the edges of his mind.

He tried his best to keep his grin from widening, to hold it at that unnerving midpoint between polite and predatory. Because he knew this type loud, arrogant, too drunk on their own strength to see the knife until it was in their back.

People like him always talked too much.

They loved to brag.

They believed they’d already won.

And Izuku had learned something valuable about people like that: you didn’t need to interrupt. You just had to listen.

Muscular snorted, rolling his neck until it cracked. “Well, I suppose it’s fair since you won’t get very far,” he said, voice dripping smug confidence. “I’m looking for a kid named Bakugo. Blond hair. Loud. Thinks he's hot stuff.”

At the name, Izuku’s static flared like a live wire. A flicker of red flashed across his eyes, brief but violent, his grin tightening in place. Izuku blinked once, slowly, and then let out a low hum that warbled through the static in his throat. “Bakugo…” he echoed, the syllables twisting, breaking apart into faint echoes that didn’t quite sound human. “Funny. You villains sure like making things personal lately. But if you want him, you're going to have to get through me.”

Muscular took another step forward, muscles coiling to strike. “Then come on, hero. Let’s see you stop me.” Muscle shot out and wrapped completely around Muscular. Izuku cracked his knuckles and glanced over his shoulder. Kota was watching them. His face drenched in tears. His wide red eyes shot to him and Izuku turned back to Muscular as he started running for them. 

"Close your eyes Kota."

10 Minutes Earlier

Shouta Aizawa walked through the forest with the weary patience of a man who had seen too much teenage nonsense for one lifetime.

The night air was cool and damp, the faint smell of smoke still hanging low between the trees. Behind him trailed five students, all bound together by his capture scarf in a neat, practiced loop.

Ashido was pouting the loudest, which wasn’t surprising. “We wanted the chance to face off with the others!”

"I thought Pixi-Bob said we'd be getting a reward!"

"This is more like torture! We want our treat Mr. Aizawa!

“No.” Aizawa’s reply was flat, clipped, and absolute. He didn’t even look back.

When they got inside the camp building, Aizawa released them. "For tonight's lesson, you'll be learning about how to behave in an emergency. If you don't become more aware that you're falling behind from your classmates, then the gap will keep growing. In the broad sense, this knowledge is your reward. How's that for a treat?" 

They all groaned as they approached the door to the classroom. Aizawa slid it open and Monoma was already in there with Vlad King. Guess he failed the practical exam too. Aizawa ignored them and went to Vlad. 

"Why don't we start with some practice maneuvers?"

Aizawa tensed at the sharp ring that lasted only a millisecond before Mandalays echoing voice was in his head. 

"Everyone! Two villains attacked us, its possible there are more coming. Everyone return to camp immediately! We're regrouping. Do not engage any enemies!" Then it was gone. Aizawa didnt waste any time. 

"I'll look after the other students. You protect them!" He told Vlad as he ran out the door and into the courtyard, where blue flames and black smoke were growing. 

“Looks like your concern has you distracted, Eraser.” Aizawas head snapped to the side as a man with patchwork swung a blue flamed hand in his direction and the flames enveloped Aizawa. Or would have if he hadn't activated his quirk and wrapped his scarf around the buildings rooftop to escape from the flames

The villain with the patchwork face grinned. “Nice move.” He attacked again, but nothing but embers came out of his hand. 

“Not so fast!” Aizawas capture weapon snapped out and latched onto the villain. He grunted as he was pulled into the air and Aizawa grabbed his head and kneed him under the chin before spinning him around and holding him to the ground. He took hold of his arm. 

“What do you want and where are your friends hiding?” Aizawa demanded and patchwork snarled. “My what?” Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. “Your right arm is next.” He pulled and something snapped, making him groan. “Be logical about this. At least save your legs. It would be a real pain to have to carry you off to jail without them.”

“You can take your time, Eraser Head.” The teacher was fast to activate his quirk again when he saw a flicker of the blue flames in his hand. He looked up when the fire in the distance seemed to rumble. “What’s that?” Then his head snapped to a mountain above the trees where a huge cloud of dust bloomed. 

'What is going on out here?'

“Mr. Aizawa!” He looked at four of his students coming through the forest. “Stay back!” He demanded and patchwork bucked him off and stood.

“That’s exactly the performance I would expect from a teacher at UA. Tell me, hero…” Aizawa pulled on his scarf to bring him back, but went through his body instead. “You worried for your students?”

Aizawas eyes widened. ‘The fire that he shot earlier wasn’t his quirk?’

Patchwork grinned at him. “I wonder if you can save them in the end. See you soon.”

He sank. His whole body melted into the dirt, sliding into the ground like oil into water, until there was nothing left but the soft hiss of cooling ash.

Mineta screamed, “What was that?! Did he just melt?!”

Aizawa was already on his feet, scanning the trees, his heart hammering. His scarf flared again, defensive, the firelight reflecting in his tired, furious eyes.

He turned to the students, his tone clipped, urgent. “Report. Now.”

Iida straightened instantly despite the tremor in his hands. “Sir! We were waiting for our turn to play the game when Pixi-Bob was attacked! Then Midoriya suddenly took off—”

Mineta interrupted, voice cracking. “T-There were villains! They came out of nowhere! We tried to warn everyone, but—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Aizawa cut in sharply, turning to Iida. “What do you mean Midoriya took off? Where did he go?”

The four exchanged a quick, uneasy glance. Ojiro swallowed hard. “We don't know. We just looked back and he was gone.”

Aizawa’s blood ran cold.

Of all the students to lose, that one. The one who never knew when to stop, the one who pushed himself past reason every time.

He closed his eyes for a brief second, forcing the flicker of dread down. He ran past the four of them and into the forest. 

"Get inside! I'll be back!"

Izuku stood over Muscular’s body, chest heaving, the static in his ears settling into a low, vibrating hum. Muscular wasn’t dead, but he was unconscious, sprawled across the rocks like a discarded doll. Bones weren’t broken beyond repair, but he’d been thoroughly reminded that nothing about this boy was ordinary.

He crouched slightly, checking his pulse. Weak, but still there. 

Good enough. 

Kota’s soft sniffles reached him from behind. Izuku blinked, and calmed his racing heart. His claws shrunk back into his fingers and the inky black in his eyes bled away. His grin softened as he turned to him.

Kotas eyes were squeezed shut and his hands fisted over his ears. 

“It’s… it’s okay,” Izuku murmured, voice gentler now, the faint hum of static still beneath the words but no longer overwhelming. “I’m… right here. You’re safe. I promise.”

Kota didn’t open his eyes. He just shook his head slightly, whimpering, and Izuku’s chest tightened.

He crouched down slowly, careful to keep his movement smooth, calm. “Look at me,” he said softly, holding out one hand just enough for Kota to see without threatening him. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kota’s hands trembled as they slowly lowered, and finally, he peeked one eye open, then the other. His gaze met Izuku’s.

Izuku’s grin shifted again, this time gentler but still carrying that faintly unsettling quality. “See? Nothing to be afraid of,” he said quietly. “Just stay close to me.”

Kotas head tuned towards Muscular, but Izuku quickly blocked him. He didn't need to see the body. Or the blood. Or the destroyed mountain that used to be his hideout.

"Come on. Lets get back to camp." Izuku picked him up and jumped off the mountain. Kota didn't have time to scream before Izuku glitched and they were on the ground.

Izuku took off through the forest, his eyes darkening. 

“I’m looking for a kid named Bakugo. Blond hair. Loud. Thinks he's hot stuff.”

'Where are you Kacchan?'

A blur of motion cut across his vision. Instinct kicked in before thought; his body glitched sideways, dragging Kota behind him just as something shot from the darkness.

His hands were up, quickly setting Kota on the ground behind him, his claws half-formed, before the voice stopped him cold.

“Midoriya.”

Izuku froze.

Aizawa stood a few meters ahead, capture scarf coiled loosely around his shoulders, eyes glowing faintly red in the dim light. His hair was floating, ready, but his expression was taut with something caught between relief and concern.

“Mr. Aizawa?” Izuku breathed, the static hitching in his throat.

Aizawa’s gaze flicked over him: the blood on his uniform, the raw scrapes, the flicker in his movements like a broken reel of film. And behind him, Kota, clutching at his sleeve, wide-eyed but unharmed.

Aizawa exhaled through his nose, tension bleeding out of his shoulders just slightly. “You’re both alive.” 

Izuku blinked once, twice. The static flickered, and for a second, his grin faltered. “Yeah, uh...there was a villain.” he said, tone clipped but wavering faintly. “He was after Kota. I—uh—handled it.” His voice carried that faint radio crackle again, like interference bleeding through his words.

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. “Handled it,” he echoed. “You’re hurt.”

Izuku glanced down at his arm, which was trembling slightly, veins still pulsing with leftover energy. He hadn’t even noticed. “Oh. Yeah. Guess I am.”

“And you overused your quirk again, didn’t you?” Aizawa’s voice cut through the haze, calm but edged with that stern undercurrent Izuku knew too well. “I’ve never seen you look like this before.”

Izuku blinked. Once. Twice. The motion lagged, like a frame skip in a video.

He gave a shrug a second too late, shoulders jerking unnaturally before settling back into place. “M-Maybe a little,” he said, his voice breaking with a brief burst of static. “Got… carried away.”

The words stuttered out of him, glitching in pitch, half his normal tone, half an old radio transmission.

Aizawa watched in silence. The faint blue glow from the distant fires played across Izuku’s face, highlighting the unnatural sheen of sweat on his skin and the twitch at the corner of his grin. His eyes flickered in and out of focus, the green bleeding to black and back again.

Kota peeked at him nervously from where he clung to Izuku’s sleeve. “M-Mr. Aizawa, is he… okay?”

Aizawa didn’t answer immediately. He stepped closer, cautious, observant. “Midoriya,” he said, his tone softer now, “you need to turn it off. Whatever it is you’re doing to keep that power stable, it’s eating at you.”

Izuku opened his mouth, closed it again, then gave a strained laugh. The sound came out layered, half static, half human. “You make it sound so easy, Mr. Aizawa.” His grin flickered again, glitching between too-wide and perfectly normal. “It’s not… really an off switch. More like…” He paused, eyes unfocusing for a heartbeat. “More like… it hums.”

“Hums,” Aizawa repeated flatly, one eyebrow lifting.

Izuku nodded, delayed again. “Yeah. In the back of my skull. Like—like it’s alive.”

That admission hung in the air like smoke. Even Kota went still, his small fingers tightening around Izuku’s sleeve.

Aizawa’s eyes softened for just a moment, the tired, protective look of a man who’d seen too many gifted kids break themselves trying to be more than human. “You’re pushing yourself past your limits again.”

Izuku laughed under his breath, quiet, glitched, tired. “You say that like it’s new.”

Aizawa sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You really are a headache sometimes.” He looked back toward the faint orange glow over the trees. “We’ll deal with this later. For now, stay close. Both of you.”

Izuku shook his head hard, the motion stuttering mid-turn before snapping back into place like a corrupted frame. “No,” he said, voice glitching around the edges, layered with faint radio static. “I can’t.”

Aizawa frowned. “Midoriya—”

“Muscular said they were here for Kacchan.” Izuku’s tone sharpened, cracking halfway between urgency and something darker. “If they’re after him, he’s in danger. I need to find him first.”

He turned to Kota and, with a surprising gentleness that contrasted the frantic tremor in his movements, pushed the boy toward Aizawa. His hands shook faintly, the tips of his fingers flickering in and out like a bad signal. “You go with him,” he said softly, voice distorting, but the intent clear. “He’ll keep you safe.”

Aizawa’s jaw tightened. He saw it in Izuku’s eyes: that same reckless spark that had driven him from the start. The same one that always made him terrified for this kid.

“Midoriya.” His tone hard. Worried. “You’re glitching worse every second. If you go out there like this, you’re going to crash. And then no one gets saved.”

Izuku’s head twitched to the side, his outline flickering. “I can’t just stand still when I can hear it,” he whispered, one hand pressing to his temple. “The static, it’s pulling me toward something. I know it’s him.”

Aizawa’s scarf shifted, ready to stop him, but Izuku moved first. The air around him warped, sound distorting into a low, rising hum. For a heartbeat, he flickered like a broken light, then vanished in a burst of static.

Kota flinched, clutching at Aizawa’s sleeve. The afterimage of green hung in the air, crackling faintly before fading into nothing.

Aizawa exhaled through his teeth, frustrated but not surprised. “Dammit, kid,” he muttered, scanning the treeline where Izuku had disappeared. “You’re going to kill yourself one of these days.”

Aizawa looked down at Kota, the boy’s face streaked with dirt and tears, his small fists trembling as he stared in the direction Izuku had vanished.

He looked down at Kota, whose small hands were balled into trembling fists.

“Come on,” Aizawa said, his voice low but firm. “Let’s get you back to camp.”

Kota’s lip trembled. “But… but we can’t leave him!” he burst out, eyes wide and wet. “You said—you said he wouldn’t last much longer!”

Aizawa froze for half a second. The words hit harder than he expected.

He hadn’t meant for Kota to hear that assessment, it had been an observation, a truth muttered under his breath after seeing Izuku’s condition. But now, coming from the boy’s mouth, it felt heavier. More final.

Aizawa’s jaw tightened, the familiar tension setting into his shoulders. He didn’t want Midoriya out there, not like this. The kid had pushed his quirk so hard today during training that Aizawa had already planned to sideline him tomorrow. And then, despite the warning he and Iida had drilled into all the students after the Hosu incident, Izuku had fought a villain anyway.

And of course, Midoriya didn’t hesitate.

No one embodied the phrase "Plus Ultra" more seriously than him. Always pushing past limits, past reason, past danger, all for someone else.

But the person that was the villains top priority was Bakugo. He's seen what Izuku was capable of when someone he loved got hurt. But Katsuki Bakugo? If something happened to him, well... Aizawa was more concerned for the villains who were responsible for it than he was for the most unstable problem child of his career. 

Chapter Text

The camp was chaos. Flames licked at the trees, smoke curling into the night sky, and the forest echoed with shouts, crashes, and the crackle of quirks colliding.

Aizawa broke through the treeline, boots pounding against the dirt. His capture scarf whipped behind him, ash clinging to the fabric. In his arms, Kota clung tightly, face buried against his shoulder.

Mandalay turned at the sound, her eyes widening in pure relief. “Kota!” she gasped, momentarily letting her guard drop before she ducked under a swipe from Spinner’s weird weapon that was just a bunch of knifes and swords tied together with belts. 

“You—!” Spinner growled, but Mandalay slammed her fist against his gut, throwing him off balance.

Aizawa didn’t slow down. He was breathing hard, but his focus was razor sharp. “Mandalay!” he shouted over the noise, voice carrying with the unmistakable weight of command. “Send a message to the students!”

She barely managed to block another hit, her arm trembling from the impact. “What message?!”

“Tell them that I grant them permission to engage in combat with the villains!”

Mandalay’s eyes widened, understanding hitting just as Spinner lunged again. “Got it!”

“One more thing!” Aizawa barked over the chaos, voice sharp and cutting through the clamor of flames and clashing quirks. “They’re after Bakugo. Tell him to get his ass back to camp!”

He didn’t wait for her reply. Every second counted. He kicked the door open, boots clanging against the floor, and scanned the building.

Bakugo had a habit of ignoring warnings, of throwing himself headfirst into danger when the thrill of the fight was there. Villains in the mix? He would be even more reckless, even more tempted to prove himself.

But Aizawa knew Bakugo. Knew that buried under the pride, the fire, and the explosions, he understood the unspoken rules of stakes and loyalty. And he knew that he was the target the villains were here for, then there would be no stopping Midoriya. He would throw himself into the fray, heedless of his own safety, until he had his friend back. Bakugo has seen what Midoriya was like when someone he cared about was hurt. Had front row seats to it. He needed to understand what Midoriya would do and be rational if he wanted to protect Izuku too. 

So of all the times Bakugo might have listened, this had to be the one.

He didn’t have time to worry about whether Bakugo would obey or not. He only had time to move, to keep those who were still in camp safe, and to make sure someone was watching the trail Izuku had taken.

Because he knew Midoriya would stop at nothing.

And right now, that was the only thing keeping Aizawa from panicking.

Bakugo’s eyes were blazing red, chest heaving as he squared off against the villain in front of him. The man’s quirk was grotesque, teeth elongating into jagged blades, snapping and slicing through the air with each movement. Every time he lunged, Katsuki had to leap or explode his way out of reach.

“Damn it!” Bakugo growled, voice rough, teeth clenched. He lunged forward, detonating his hands just enough to send a blast toward the villain’s side, forcing him to stagger back.

“You’re not going anywhere!” the villain hissed, mouth opening unnaturally wide as rows of sharpened teeth glinted under the firelight.

A sudden ripple of voices echoed faintly in Katsuki mind, a telepathic message he barely registered.

“Everyone in Class A and B, in the name of pro hero Eraserhead, you are granted permission to defend yourselves from the villains! And we've discovered one of the villains targets. Katsuki Bakugo, you need to get back to camp right now!”

Katsuki froze for a fraction of a second, scowling, but only for a heartbeat. The heat of the fight coursed through him. The villain was fast, unpredictable, and deadly, and Katsuki's pride wouldn’t let him retreat, not yet. He ran for the villain, his hands sparking and ready to light someone on fire.

“Tch. I don’t need anyone telling me what to do,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ll kill this bastard first.”

The villains teeth blades shot towards him so fast that he wouldn't have time to dodge. Then Todoroki was beside him, ice forming instantly as the villain’s razor-sharp teeth swung too close. A sleek wall of frost deflected a lethal strike, then another, giving Katsuki the space to reposition.

“Don’t rush into this fight carelessly!” Todoroki said. “Weren't you listening to Mandalay? They’re after you!” 

“Telling us not to engage and then changing their minds? I don't know how, but I think Deku is behind this!” He was so irritated with anything and everyone as he ran around the ice barrier. “Well I don’t care what everyone else says!” 

The blades snapped out again, cutting through the air with a shrill whistle. Todoroki barely had a second to react, ice erupted from his palm, forming another barrier that cracked under the impact but held firm.

Katsuki snarled in frustration, palms sparking, the light from his explosions flickering across the frost like wildfire desperate to break free.

Todoroki shifted, adjusting the unconscious Class B student on his back before stepping closer, his voice sharp and even. “We can’t start any fires! Not with the forest like this, you’ll light up the whole damn mountain and take everyone with it! Do you understand me?!”

Katsuki scoffed, shaking his hands to release the heat gathering in his palms. “Yeah, I know that! Just shut up already!”

Todoroki turned his head sharply, one heterochromatic eye narrowing. “Then think for once!”

Bakugo blinked, taken aback by the sudden edge in Todoroki’s tone.

“Think about Midoriya,” Todoroki pressed on, voice low but fierce, his words cutting sharper than the villain’s teeth. “We now know that you’re the target. If they catch you, if they hurt you, Midoriya is going to lose control. You’ve seen what he’s like when someone he cares about is in danger. He’ll tear the whole forest apart trying to get you back.”

Bakugo said nothing, staring past the frost, his fists trembling, not from fear, but from the conflict warring inside him.

“Do you really want that on his conscience?” Todoroki’s tone softened slightly, but his gaze didn’t waver. “Because you know as well as I do… if he kills someone, even a villain, he won’t be able to live with it.”

The air fell still between them for a moment, save for the faint hum of the villain gnashing his jagged teeth beyond the ice wall.

Katsuki’s hair shadowed his eyes, shoulders tense. He wanted to argue, to curse, to explode, to burn something until it stopped hurting, but Todoroki was right. Damn him, he was right.

He could picture it all too clearly. Izuku’s static-filled grin splitting into something monstrous, his voice glitching into madness as he lost control. The thought made his gut twist.

Izuku had always been his rival, his best friend, and the last person Katsuki ever wanted to see break.

He clicked his tongue, jaw tight. “Tch… damn nerd,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone.

Todoroki exhaled, tension easing just slightly. “Good. Then we’re leaving. Now.”

Katsuki lifted his head, eyes blazing again, not with rage this time, but with resolve. “Fine. But if that freak with the teeth comes after us again, I am blasting him into next week.”

Todoroki gave a short nod. “That’s fine. Just make sure the forest stays standing.”

The villain’s screech tore through the trees again, and together, they turned, Todoroki raising his ice, Bakugo flexing his palms, both moving in sync for once.

Because for all their differences, they shared one unspoken truth. If Izuku Midoriya was coming for Bakugo, nothing in this forest would survive his wrath.

The forest warped around him in fragments of light and sound. Leaves shimmered like broken glass, their edges flickering in and out of focus. Every step Izuku took left faint static trails that bled into the air before vanishing.

The static in his head rose and fell in rhythm with his heartbeat, crackling at the edges of his hearing like a half-tuned radio. Sometimes, the forest went silent altogether, no wind, no insects, no sound. Then, without warning, a burst of distorted noise would slam back in, making him wince.

“Ghh—too loud…” he muttered, pressing his hands to the sides of his head. His voice came out layered, glitching in and out. “Come on, focus… focus, focus…”

He forced himself forward, eyes glowing faintly under the dark canopy. The glitch made the trees ripple, bending like static lines on a broken screen. He could barely tell what was real anymore. 

It was so disorienting that Izuku didn’t see it until it was too late.

Something moved, fast and heavy. A shadow swung out of the dark, and for one frozen second, his eyes widened, pupils shrinking.

The blow never hit.

It phased through him.

The shadow’s arm tore through the space where his chest should’ve been and collided instead with the tree behind him, splintering it clean in half. Bark exploded outward, shards flying like shrapnel. Izuku stumbled, his body flickering out of sync for a heartbeat before stabilizing again.

Guess there were perks to his quirk malfunctioning after all. 

Then something grabbed him. A firm hand clamped onto his arm, yanking him hard into the underbrush. The world blurred, his glitch reacting violently to the sudden contact, but the voice that followed was unmistakable.

“Midoriya…”

Izuku blinked, his vision flickering as it refocused just enough to make out Shoji crouched in front of him, six arms poised protectively, each muscle tensed. He looked every bit as exhausted as Izuku felt, a sheen of sweat mixing with the dirt and grime on his uniform. One of his dupli-arms hung limp and bleeding, the dark red staining the forest floor beneath him.

“S-Shoji! You’re hurt—”

“Keep it down.” Shoji’s voice was low, clipped, urgent. His gaze darted over the bush they were hiding behind, and Izuku followed.

His eyes widened.

A familiar shadow moved across the broken forest floor, but it was different. Darker. Larger.

Tokoyami.

Inside the maw of Dark Shadow, Tokoyami was completely wrapped in shadow, but it looked like he was still himself. He just couldn't get a grasp of control on his quirk. He was crying, panicking. Was it hurting him?

“Shoji… what happened?” Izuku’s voice carried that static undercurrent, glitching slightly as he tried to make sense of the sight.

Shoji exhaled harshly, one hand gripping his bleeding arm. “After Mandalay told us not to engage, we were on high alert. But the villain still got the drop on us. I hid in the bushes and tried to cover Tokoyami, but one of my arms…” He gestured at the torn dupli-arm. “…was cut off. Looks bad, but it’s not gone forever. My quirk duplicates the arms. But he couldn’t stand seeing me injured. The quirk he’s been suppressing just… took over.”

Well didn't that sound familiar? 

Dark Shadow arched its back with a guttural roar that rattled the leaves. Its eyes glowed in the shadowy maw, following every sound, every twitch of movement. 

“The darker it is, the less control Tokoyami has,” Shoji continued, voice tense. “I had no idea his quirk could explode like this.” He snapped a small twig underfoot. Dark Shadow reacted instantly, swiping its massive, shadowed arm toward the source of the sound.

Izuku’s idea snapped into place like a fuse lighting. “Shoji, if Dark Shadow reacts to sound, then make duplicate arms to bait him so he’ll follow us without attacking our bodies, yeah?” His words came out breathless, overlapping with the static in his head; he could feel the idea pounding in time with the glitch.

Shoji’s mask tilted, studying him for a beat. Blood still stained the cloth where his dupli-arm had been severed; one of the remaining arms hung limp. “That’s… risky,” he said finally, voice rough with strain. “If I make duplicates and they start moving, Dark Shadow could latch onto them and go berserk. He’s already snapping at anything that twitches.”

“That’s the point,” Izuku snapped, urgency sharpening his voice despite the static’s tremor. “If he’s focused on the arms, he won’t be swinging blindly at people. He’ll track the bait instead of anyone else we get close to. Then maybe we can lead him to Todoroki and Kacchan. They were partners during the game so they have to be together. They can use their quirks to calm Dark Shadow down."

Shoji glanced back at Tokoyami, whose massive form was coiled tensely, muscles twitching beneath the dark, writhing shadows of his quirk. Even through the chaos, Shoji’s calm presence radiated control, or as much as could be had in a forest teetering on the edge of complete disorder. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, centering himself.

“Okay. Let’s do this,” he whispered, voice low but steady.

The two of them waited, breaths synchronized, eyes flicking to Dark Shadow. A bird burst suddenly from the canopy above, wings flapping and claws tearing at the bark as it shot into the sky. Dark Shadow’s head snapped toward it, teeth bared, black tendrils lashing reflexively.

That was their opening.

Izuku flinched at the static surging in his head, but forced his body to obey the rhythm he’d set. He darted forward, body flickering in quick, jagged bursts like a broken transmission. Shoji stretched his remaining arms and the duplicates as far as they could go, sinew pulling taut, and shoved them ahead.

Dark Shadow’s head whipped toward the arms instantly. The black quivering mass lunged, snapping at the flesh that wasn’t there, claws raking through thin air and underbrush.

“Go! Now!” Shoji yelled.

They ran, feet slapping against the uneven forest floor. Izuku’s vision staggered in glitching bursts, every second leaving afterimages that lingered just long enough to disorient him—but not enough to stop him. Shoji’s arms twisted and spun, striking at trees, snapping twigs, and making noise anywhere the shadow might reach.

The roar that followed Dark Shadow sounded like a thunderclap, shaking the very ground beneath them. Branches splintered, leaves rained down, and the hum in Izuku’s skull surged, static layering over the natural chaos like an electrical storm.

It was working.

Dark Shadow was focused entirely on Shoji’s arms, slashing, snapping, and tearing through the duplicates. Its massive form twisted and lunged at the wrong targets repeatedly.

Izuku’s fingers itched, claws briefly flickering out before retracting. His eyes flared faintly, green and red mixing with the overlay of static. The plan was holding, but there was no time to rest.

Shoji’s voice reached him above the roar. “Good! Keep moving! We have to find Bakugo and Tokoyami while he’s distracted!”

Izuku’s grin sharpened, cutting through the fog of fatigue. “Right. Let’s finish this,” he said, his voice overlapping with the glitching hum in his head.

Izuku’s pulse quickened. The plan was working. Shoji’s bait was holding. Now all they had to do was find Katsuki and Todoroki.

And it didn’t take long.

Through the haze of smoke and the flickering orange glow of small fires, Izuku caught flashes of movement, ice glinting in the half-light, explosions rumbling like cannon fire.

“There they are!” he shouted, the static in his voice flaring with excitement.

Both Todoroki and Katsuki spun toward the sound, eyes widening. Shoji’s voice cut through the chaos next, hoarse and urgent: “Bakugo! Todoroki! Hurry, we need light!”

The words had barely registered before the forest shook.

Dark Shadow came crashing through the trees, a tidal wave of black smoke and fury, its roar tearing through the clearing like thunder. The air pressure alone nearly knocked Izuku and Shoji off their feet. It lunged, massive claws slicing through the earth where they’d just stood, dirt and splinters exploding into the air.

Todoroki moved first, dropping the unconscious student from his back, raising his left hand. 

“Wait!” Katsuki barked, yanking him back by the shoulder. 

Dark Shadow’s momentum carried it forward, and straight into the villain they’d been fighting.

The creature didn’t even have time to scream. Dark Shadow ripped through him, claws slashing, teeth snapping, tearing through the villain’s elongated, blade-like teeth and shredding the body beneath.

“Now!” Katsuki roared.

He and Todoroki lunged forward together, an unspoken rhythm guiding them. Fire burst from Bakugo’s palms, bright and fierce, colliding with the blaze that flared from Todoroki’s left side. The combined inferno engulfed Dark Shadow in searing light.

The creature screamed, an unholy, animalistic sound that rattled the bones and made Izuku’s static spike like feedback in his skull. For a few seconds, it fought the light, thrashing violently, clawing at the air as its form wavered.

Then, slowly, agonizingly, it began to shrink. The hulking shape compressed inward, the edges of its form blurring, losing definition. The light burned away the blackness until only Tokoyami remained, trembling as he fell to his hands and knees, the villain unconscious next to him. 

Silence fell over the clearing, broken only by the ragged sound of breathing.

Shoji let out a shaky exhale and fell to one knee, clutching the stump of his dupli-arm. Katsuki was still braced in front of Todoroki, smoke curling from his palms. 

Izuku stood a few paces away, his grin trembling, part relief, part disbelief. The static in his head fizzled, quieter now but still there, lingering like the fading echo of a radio station just barely in range.

He blinked, taking in the scene, Tokoyami breathing, Shoji alive, Todoroki steady, Bakugo furious and brilliant and still standing.

“Okay,” Izuku said, voice still carrying that faint radio buzz beneath the words, “I don’t know if you’ve all heard Mandalay, but I found out the villains are after Kacchan.”

Tokoyami blinked, the color slowly returning to his face as he pushed himself upright. “Bakugo?” His tone was sharp but confused. “Are they trying to kill him? Why?”

Izuku shook his head, green eyes flickering faintly with static. “I’m not sure. But we should get back to camp, it’s the safest place right now. If Mr. Aizawa and Vlad King have regrouped there, we’ll have backup.”

Tokoyami nodded, brushing dirt from his uniform. “I understand. So our mission, is to serve as Bakugo’s protectors.”

Katsuki's head snapped toward him instantly. “Excuse me?”

Izuku nodded. “It’s possible the Pussycats are still fighting in the clearing. If so, they’ll draw attention from us. But it’s a longer route. Cutting straight across the forest gets us there faster, if we’re careful.”

Shoji nodded, flexing his arms experimentally. “We don’t know how many villains are out here. We could run into some by chance.”

Izuku hummed, thinking quickly. The static in his head buzzed like distant radio chatter, half a dozen plans whispering through it. “We can’t know for sure,” he said finally. “But we can be smart about it. Shoji’s dupli-arms can scan the area ahead. Todoroki can make ice walls if we get ambushed. And...” He glanced at Tokoyami. “If you’re okay with it, we could use Dark Shadow again. Controlled this time.”

Tokoyami straightened. “Yes. I have regained control. I will not let the darkness overcome me again.”

Izuku’s grin sharpened, that eerie flicker of enthusiasm returning to his voice. “Good. Because honestly, with a group like this, we could probably even go up against All Might.”

Katsuki bristled so hard it looked like his hair spiked higher. “The hell did you just say? Group?!”

Izuku tilted his head, grin never fading. “Yeah. You know, teamwork. Surrounding you, protecting the target—”

“I’d be fine by myself!” Katsuki barked, sparks snapping in his palms.

“We’ll surround you as we walk,” Todoroki said dryly, already stepping forward.

“I don’t need any of your protection, dammit!” Katsuki's face went red with indignation as he stormed after them anyway, grumbling under his breath.

Shoji and Tokoyami exchanged a quick glance, but neither commented.

“Let’s go,” Izuku said, his voice glitching slightly on the last word.

“Don’t ignore me!” Katsuki shouted, stomping after them.

Izuku just laughed softly, that strange hum under his breath as he glanced over his shoulder. “Just try to keep up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Katsuki snapped, shoving past him, explosions crackling faintly from his hands. “Arg!”

Shoji sighed. “This is going to be a long walk.”

Todoroki muttered, “You have no idea.”

They had barely gone a few minutes when Shoji’s dupli-arm twitched, signaling movement ahead.

“Something’s close,” Shoji murmured, his extra eyes flicking in multiple directions.

Izuku’s grin dimmed slightly, focus sharpening. The static in his head rose again, faintly, like a warning tone. “Friend or foe?”

“Not sure yet,” Shoji replied. “Hold on—”

They broke the tree line and Izuku blinked in disbelief. Ochako was kneeling in a patch of dirt, one hand pressed to the back of a woman in what looked like a school uniform. And behind her, pinned against a tree by her dark green hair was Asui.

Uraraka looked up at them, relief flashing across her face. “You guys! You’re—”

Before she could finish, the woman beneath her twisted sharply, moving with snake like speed. Something glinted in her hand. A small dagger, swinging for Uraraka at blinding speed and insane flexibility.

“Uraraka, look out!”

The villain slashed upward, forcing Uraraka to leap back, her body flipping once before she landed unsteadily. The knife nicked the air where she’d just been, slicing clean through the loose ends of her hair.

The villain giggled softly, standing to her full height, her motions graceful and eerie. Her eyes gleamed with amusement as she tilted her head. “Ohhh… more cute little heroes? How wonderful!”

Uraraka’s breath hitched, and she stumbled a few steps back until she was next to Asui again. The moment she saw the others emerging from the shadows, she backed up now realizing that she was way outnumbered. 

Her gaze slid over them, landing on Izuku, and that smile widened. “You… you look interesting.”

Izuku’s grin twitched, half discomfort, half instinctive challenge. “You’ve got a funny way of saying hello. Who are you?” he asked, voice dropping into a distorted crackle.

The woman twirled the needle between her fingers, smiling sweetly. “Me? Oh… you can call me Toga.” She looked Izuku up and down before blushing a bit with a insane giggle and disappeared in the dark forest. 

They all froze. The forest had gone eerily quiet again, even the buzzing in Izuku’s head dulled for a second.

Toga was gone. The rustle of her departure still echoed faintly through the trees, but no one went after her. They didn’t have the time.

Izuku exhaled slowly, his hand trembling just a little as he let the static fade from his fingertips. “Are you guys okay?”

Asui and Uraraka both nodded as Uraraka yanked the needle that had been keeping Asui pinned to the tree out of her hair.

“We should be the ones asking you that,” Uraraka said, frowning as she turned back to him. “What’s going on with your quirk, Deku? You look—”

“I just overused it when I fought a villain earlier.” Izuku’s voice came out clipped, mechanical. He waved off their concern before they could press him. “No time to explain. Come on, join our group. We’re protecting Kacchan and heading back to camp.”

Asui tilted her head, finger tapping her chin thoughtfully. “If you’re protecting Bakugo, then shouldn’t he be with you guys?”

Izuku blinked. “Huh? What are you talking about? He’s right—”

He turned.

Katsuki was gone. So was Tokoyami.

For a split second, his mind blanked. His pulse crashed in his ears like static thunder.

“Nice trick, eh?”

The voice drifted down from above them, playful and taunting.

They snapped their heads up. A man perched on a thick branch, dressed like something out of a warped stage play, long yellow coat, black top hat, and a porcelain mask of black and white split down the center. Blue marbles glittered in his gloved hand, faintly glowing in the moonlight.

Izuku’s breath caught when he saw the reflection inside them, two faint shapes trapped in the glassy surface.

Katsuki and Tokoyami.

“I took the lad you’re talking about with my magic,” the masked man said cheerfully, rolling the marbles between his fingers. “A talent like his would be wasted as a mere hero. We’ll give him a grander stage. One where he can truly shine.”

The static roared back in Izuku’s skull. His vision trembled at the edges, colors fracturing like glass.

“Give them back.”

The man tilted his head. “Hmm?”

“Give them back,” Izuku repeated, voice glitching, distorted. His eyes flickered black around the edges, and his finger tips sharpening.

The villain chuckled, leaping lightly from branch to branch until he was standing on a higher limb, just out of reach. “Oh, no no no, my boy. You don’t get to make demands.”

He tossed one marble lazily into the air, caught it, and smiled behind his mask. “You should feel honored. Few get to be hand picked by the League.”

Shoji shifted into a defensive stance beside Izuku. “Midoriya. What do we do?”

Izuku’s body glitched, once, then again, his frame stuttering like broken footage. His grin widened, sharp and wrong and filled with static as the whites of his eyes bled to black.

“What do we do?” he echoed softly, voice skipping like a warped radio transmission. “We get them back.”

The last word fractured into a low, crackling hum that made the air itself shiver.

Before anyone could speak, a thunderous crack split the ground. Todoroki’s left foot slammed down, and an enormous slab of ice erupted forward, tearing through trees in a jagged path toward the masked villain.

The villain laughed, high and theatrical, and leapt aside in a blur of yellow and black fabric. Ice splintered against the trunks where he’d stood a heartbeat ago, sending shards cascading through the forest.

“Impressive teamwork!” The villain called mockingly as he disappeared behind the ice for a second and reappeared again with the hand that had held Katsuki and Tokoyami in the marbles in his pocket. “But you’ll have to try much harder if you want your friends back!” He landed on a flat piece of ice.

Todoroki bared his teeth. "If you're monologuing because you think you've won, you're mistaken!"

The villain shrugged, "A bad habit. I used to be an entertainer, you know. Taking the bird boy was a bit of improve on my part. When I saw him destroying everything in sight, I decided he should join out troop."

Izuku snarled, the glitching getting worse every second. "You bastard! You're not taking them!"

He jumped away again when Izuku disappeared and reappeared where the villain was once standing, a clawed hand slashing through the air. "Apologies! But slight at hand and escapology are my specialties. Not combat. I'm not foolish enough to fight hero students from UA." His gloved hand lifted his ear where a com might have been. "Vanguard Action Squad, I've acquired the target. The main show has officially come to a close. Meet me at the retrieval point in the next five minutes for the final bow." Then, impossibly fast, he leapt backward, vaulting over the tree line like a shadow merging with the night.

"NO, THE FUCK YOU DON'T!"

Izuku disappeared before his classmates could call out his name.

Izuku’s body burned with pure fury, mad, livid, apocalyptic. There was no word in any language that could describe the storm inside him. Every pulse of static in his skull screamed his intent. Retrieve Bakugo and Tokoyami, by any means necessary. Any. Means. Necessary.

He followed the villain through the tangle of trees, barely noticing the broken underbrush or the way branches scraped at his uniform. Then, with a sound that was part roar, part static laced scream, he glitched into a blur above the villain.

The world fractured for a heartbeat. Leaves hung suspended, light warped around him, and his body snapped forward like a broken film reel.

He landed on the villain with a brutal, bone crunching force, slamming him hard into the dirt. The impact sprayed dust and splinters across the clearing. The villain let out a startled grunt, marbles scattering across the earth in gleaming arcs.

Izuku’s eyes, black around the edges, glowed green through the static, claws digging into the soil, teeth bared. He barely noticed the three other villains in the clearing that spun around when they crashed into the ground.

All that existed for him was the one who had dared to take his friends. He raised his hands, claws flexing, intent crystal clear. He would not let this one escape.

A stream of blue fire shot toward him. The heat roared against his skin, making the air shimmer in waves. Izuku barely twisted to the side, phasing through the edge of the flames, his quirk spiking as his body flickered between realities like broken static.

The villain under him scrambled, startled by the sudden attack. Izuku’s heart hammered, pulse quickening as adrenaline and static intertwined into something almost sentient. He twisted again, landing lightly on the balls of his feet, the glitching making him seem like several figures moving in unison.

Shoji and Todoroki dropped from the sky beside him. Izuku didn’t care how they got there. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were here, and together, they could bring this fight to the villains.

No time to plan. No time to hesitate.

The battle erupted.

Knives whistled through the air, slicing the smoky space between trees. Blue fire streaked like lightning, scorching leaves and splintering branches. The third villain, a man with a twisted, contorted grin and constant contradictions in his words, darted around unpredictably, swinging limbs, and shouting one thing before immediately saying the opposite, taunting them, throwing off timing and focus. It was like fighting two people in one body.

Todoroki’s ice surged, slamming into the forest floor, cutting off paths, forcing the villains into narrow angles. 

Izuku moved like broken light, phasing in and out of visibility. His claws sliced through the air, teeth bared in that twisted grin, eyes flashing black and green as static pulsed from him. Each glitch made him unpredictable, he struck from angles no human could anticipate, disappearing through trunks and reappearing on the backs of branches, landing blows on the villain who had their friends.

The blue flames hissed toward him again, but Izuku barely phased aside, claws scoring the earth where the fire had passed. The villain with the patchwork face came up besides the one who had their friends. 

"Compress, did you get Bakugo?"

Compress scoffed beneath his mask, reaching into his pocket. "Of course I-" He went stiff. 

“Midoriya, Todoroki! We’re done.” Shoji’s voice cut through the chaos. “He gave away his best trick. I’m not sure what your quirk is, but it has to do with those little marbles, right?”

Shoji lifted his hand, revealing two shiny blue spheres glowing faintly in the dim light. “So I’m guessing these are Bakugo and Tokoyami, right?”

Izuku’s body went slack with relief, glitching beside them. “You rescued them…” His voice trembled with static laced emotion.

Shoji nodded. “Just as I thought. Let’s go.”

“Oh-ho-ho!” Compress’s laugh rang out, smooth and mocking. “Well, color me impressed! Just what I’d expect from someone with so many hands.”

Before they could react further, Compress and the two other villains turned and sprinted back into the forest, their movements unnaturally fast, almost playful.

The villain with blue flames growled behind them, hand lifting to unleash another torrent of fire, but Compress raised a hand sharply. “No.”

The three froze.

From the trees, a grotesque figure emerged, a Nomu, mutated and horrifying, dozens of weapons protruding from its body. But there was no time to deal with it. They turned to escape, only to be stopped.

A mass of purple shimmered in the air ahead of them, cutting off their path.

“The warp villain! He was at the USJ!” Todoroki said, eyes narrowing as he prepared for the next fight.

Kurogiri’s calm voice rang out over the chaos. “It’s been five minutes since the signal. Let’s go, Dabi.”

Dabi’s lips curled. “We’re not leaving without the kid.”

“Don’t worry,” Compress said smugly, tilting his head. “They were so proud of themselves for rooting through my pockets that I thought I’d let them gloat.”

A hard shiver ran through Izuku’s glitching body as Compress pulled his top hat off and nudged his mask slightly aside. “If I’m flaunting something shiny,” he said, smirking, “it’s because there’s something else I don’t want you to see.”

His tongue slipped out, revealing two more marbles, but those clearly contained the silhouettes of Katsuki and Tokoyami. The ones Shoji had grabbed were fakes.

Compress snapped his fingers. The marbles in Shoji’s hands instantly turned into large chunks of ice.

Todoroki’s eyes went wide. “Is that… my ice?!”

“That’s right,” Compress said smoothly. “During the freezing attack, I prepared dummies and slipped them into my right pocket.”

“NO!” Izuku roared, glitching forward, claws flashing.

Before he could reach him, a blue, glittering laser streaked through the air, striking directly in front of him. He twisted back, narrowly avoiding it, while it hit Compress, who choked, the marbles slipping from his mouth.

Shoji and Todoroki surged past Izuku, reaching for the real marbles. Shojis fist closed around one of them and Todoroki reached for the other. His hand closed around it, but Dabi was faster. A grin curled across his face as he yanked the marble away. “Well, isn’t that a shame. Poor little Shoto Todoroki.”

Todoroki stumbled, momentum carrying him over his feet and rolling across the ground. Dabi turned toward Compress, who readjusted his mask and pushed his hat back down, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his expression.

“Confirm it. Release them,” Dabi said, voice low and sharp.

Compress frowned. “That laser ruined my finale!”

With a snap of his fingers, he vanished into the warp gate. Tokoyami shot out of Shoji’s hand as if expelled from a cannon, landing hard on the forest floor.

Katsuki appeared from the marble in Dabi's hand, who clamped it around Katsuki's neck as his sharp blue eyes locking on Izuku. A grin stretched across his face, smug and challenging.

“Heh. Checkmate,” Dabi taunted, his form flickering and disappearing into the warp gate.

Izuku glitched forward in a heartbeat, every nerve screaming, every pulse of static in his skull spiking like a live wire. “NO!” he roared, voice cracking through the smoke filled forest.

His hand shot out for Katsuki, stretching for the familiar shape of his best friend. Katsuki Reached his arm out. Stretching as much as he could around the hot hand the threatened to burn his throat. 

Izuku’s hand phased through Katsuki’s wrist, passing through as though his best friend was nothing more than a ghost. His quirk betrayed him.

Their eyes met. Wide. Horrified. Both frozen in the moment, understanding what had just happened. The warp gate slammed shut, leaving only the echo of Dabi’s laughter, fading into the smoky forest. Heat from scorched trees and lingering flames wrapped around them like a suffocating blanket.

Bakugo was gone.

The four of them stood alone, hearts hammering, breaths ragged. Silence pressed down, broken only by the distant crack of burning wood.

Izuku’s chest heaved. His quirk flickered, the static surging like a live wire under his skin. He’d almost had him. Almost.

Shoji’s eyes darted between him and Todoroki. “Midoriya… your quirk… you okay?”

Izuku stared at his hands. “I… I almost—” His words faltered, static whispering over the edge of his voice. "He was..."

This quirk. This fucking quirk...

A scream tore from Izuku’s throat, raw and ragged, echoing through the burnt forest. He doubled over his knees, hands clenching the dirt as the static surged violently under his skin, coiling and snapping like live wires.

The forest itself seemed to shiver in response. Trees warped and bent, leaves and splinters hanging suspended midair. The ground beneath him cracked, fissures radiating outward in jagged, chaotic patterns. The air buzzed, thick with electricity and the low hum of broken signal.

Shoji staggered back, his dupli-arms trembling as he tried to keep his distance. Todoroki’s eyes widened, ice erupting uncontrollably from his fingertips to form jagged shields, only half controlled as the quirk’s raw energy flared.

Izuku’s scream pitched higher, and the world around him fractured further. His body glitched violently, blinking in and out of sync with reality. Limbs elongated unnaturally, claws flickering in and out, teeth sharp as razors. Black seeped into the whites of his eyes, and green light stuttered from his pupils, pulsing in waves like a malfunctioning screen.

Then it all stopped.

The static vanished. The pulses of green light in his eyes died out. The world, fractured and twitching only moments ago, hung still, eerily silent. Izuku’s scream cut off midair, leaving only the ringing in his ears and the faint scent of scorched earth.

It was as if someone had poured ice cold water over him. His body went slack, and gravity took hold. He started to fall, eyes half shut, heart hammering with exhaustion and lingering adrenaline.

And then, through the haze at the edges of his vision, he saw him.

Aizawa. Rushing into the clearing, scarf unfurled, eyes sharp and unyielding, moving with that familiar lethal calm. Shoji, Todoroki, and Tokoyami knelt, around him. 

Izuku’s limbs felt like lead, but even as he hit the dirt, his pulse slowed slightly, grounding him. His eyes closed as he fell into the cold unforgivable darkness.

Two days later, the sun hung low over the Musutafu hosptial, casting long, warm shadows across the courtyard. Class A was gathered outside Izuku’s hospital room, a mix of concern, curiosity, and barely suppressed worry etched on their faces.

Except for Yaoyorozu, Jiro, and Hagakure, who were still recovering from their own injuries, the rest of the class leaned against walls, sat on benches, or fidgeted in place, unable to do anything but wait.

Kirishima bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. “He’s gotta be okay… right?”

Shoji crossed his arms, looking unusually grim. “He was in bad shape… that thing he did with his quirk… it wasn’t just overuse. That was…” He trailed off, shivering slightly at the memory.

Todoroki stood silently at the edge of the group, one hand tucked into his sleeve. His gaze occasionally flicked toward the hospital room’s door, brows furrowed. He hadn’t spoken much since the incident. He blamed himself for not getting Katsuki when he had been right there.

Mineta whispered, voice almost inaudible, “Do you think he remembers… everything?”

Kaminari scratched the back of his neck. “I… dunno. Is he even awake?" 

Uraraka stood up from the bench she was on. She couldn't take it anymore. Before any of them could do anything. She slid the hospital door open. Izuku was awake. And sitting up. Staring outside the window. 

He sat upright in the hospital bed, bandages wrapping his arms and chest, his green hair a disheveled mess. His face was pale, and there were faint traces of dark static scars that spidered across his neck and jaw. Remnants of a quirk that had burned itself raw.

“...Deku?” she said softly. Everyone inched into the room as he tensed and turned his head to look at them. 

“Hey, guys.”

Everyone was silent, not because of his condition. But because of his expression. It was calm. His grin was still there, happy and mischievous. Like it was just another day. Like he was fine. Like...Katsuki was never kidnapped. Maybe he didn't remember after all. None of them dared to mention it if that was the case. 

Uraraka forced a smile and stepped closer. "You're awake! How are you feeling?"

Izuku took a deep breath and flexed his bandaged arms. 

"Pretty good. The doctors said that I suffered from burnout though and that I shouldn't use my quirk for a couple weeks to let it recharge safely."

His radio voice was the same tone as always. And his eyes were clear. They all looked at each other in slight concern and relief.  

Ashido took a small step closer, smiling gently. “Well, that’s good. We’re all glad you’re okay.”

Izuku’s grin softened, almost warm this time, and his voice hummed with faint static. “Thanks. I’m glad too. And… I’m glad you’re all here.” 

His eyes drooped slightly and he yawned. 

Iida took that as a sign to herd everyone out. "C'mon guys. Lets let him rest."

Kirishima looked at Izuku again with a small smile. "Good to see you awake man. We'll come see you again later."

Izuku gave a small, almost lazy wave, still smiling faintly. “Thanks… I’ll be here.”

Uraraka lingered a moment, her hand brushing against the edge of the bed. “Rest up, okay? Don’t overdo it.”

He chuckled softly, the static humming faintly under his words. “Don’t worry… I know my limits… mostly.”

Shoji, Todoroki, and Tokoyami exchanged glances, relief and lingering caution in their eyes. Todoroki gave a small nod. “We’ll check in again soon.”

Iida slid the door shut behind them, the soft click echoing down the hospital hallway. Class A began walking toward Yaoyorozu’s room, their chatter light but subdued—mostly relief that Izuku was awake, mostly reassurance that he hadn’t remembered anything from the forest.

Mineta practically bounced in place, whispering to anyone who would listen, “See! He doesn’t remember! Nothing scary! Everything’s fine!” His words tumbled over themselves in his relief, and most of the class just gave tired, half-amused nods.

But Uraraka felt… off.

That moment with Izuku, the faint smile, the soft voice, the way his eyes had lingered just a little too long outside the window, hadn’t felt like the Izuku she knew. Not entirely. There was a flicker in him, subtle but sharp, like a shadow of the storm they’d all witnessed in the forest.

She lagged behind the group, arms crossed loosely, eyes still fixed on the door. The others were already a few steps ahead, their conversation turning toward Yaoyorozu and her recovery.

“Uraraka?” Ashido's voice broke her out of her thoughts. “Are you coming?”

Uraraka blinked, and then slowly nodded, but her gaze couldn’t leave the hospital door. “I… yeah. Just… thinking.”

Mineta waved dismissively, still rattling off his assurances. “Don’t worry about him! He’s fine! Totally fine! Nothing to be scared of!”

But Uraraka’s stomach twisted. "It's just... something about the way he looked at them, and looking out the window… It was… calculating. Focused. Too calm."

Kirishima frowned, running a hand through his hair. “Calculating? You mean… like he’s… thinking about fights or something?”

Ashido tilted her head, unease flickering across her features. “But he smiled, right? He seemed… happy?”

"But he always smiles like that." Kaminari said with a frown. "He can't stop smiling."

“Yeah,” Uraraka said quickly. “But it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t the same smile. It felt… different. It looked forced.”

The words hung in the hallway, heavy and tense. The space around them seemed to close in as each of them replayed their memory of Izuku’s expression, so calm, so focused, so different.

“What's going on?”

Everyone spun around at once. Aizawa walked up to them. His presence alone seemed to drain some of the nervous energy from the group, but it didn’t erase it.

The students hesitated, glancing at each other before Uraraka took a deep breath and stepped forward. “It’s… Deku. He’s awake now. But something about him feels… off. His smile, his calm. Different. 

Aizawa’s dark eyes swept over the group, lingering on each of their faces as if reading their thoughts. He didn’t speak at first. Then, finally, his voice came, low and measured.

“Different how?”

Shoji spoke up, carefully. “It’s hard to explain, sir. He’s calm, but… focused in a way we haven’t seen before. Even after what happened with his quirk, even after Bakugo was kidnapped. It was like it never happened."

Aizawa’s expression remained unreadable, but his gaze flicked down the hallway toward Izuku’s room. He didn’t move, didn’t blink for a long moment, just studied the closed door. Then his face went a shade lighter before he strode toward Izuku’s hospital room and slammed the door open.

His eyes went wide. He yanked his phone from his pocket. “Shit…fuck!”

He smashed the phone to his ear and began running down the hallway without another word.

The rest of the class froze, panic spreading through them like wildfire. 

“Wait—what’s happening?!” Ashido yelled, but no one answered, their attention was drawn forward, instinctively.

Seconds later, they all rushed back into Izuku’s room, hearts hammering, only to stop dead at the sight before them. 

The bed was empty. 

The window was wide open, curtain fluttering with the breeze. 

Izuku was gone.