The seven Dragon Balls pulsed gently in dimensional storage, but tonight his attention was on something far more personal.
A single silver window hovered in front of his eyes, private as always.
TRADE OFFER
Sacrifice: All Fiction (1 remaining use) - the ability to deny any one fact or phenomenon
Receive: 100 Senzu Beans (instant full recovery + stamina restoration)
Accept? [Y/N]
He had known this moment was coming the second the new passive POWER settled into his bones. All Fiction had saved him countless times, but it was a single trump card, a reality-breaking nuke he could only use once more.
POWER, on the other hand, was infinite. Every punch would make the next one stronger. Forever.
One last chance to erase something from existence, or a lifetime of guaranteed healing that could keep his entire class alive through whatever the League threw next.
Izuku's finger hovered.
He thought of Kota's tear-streaked face on the cliff.
He pressed [Y].
The window dissolved into silver dust that flowed into his chest like cold water. For a heartbeat the world felt... thinner, as if a single thread of impossibility had been snipped away.
All Fiction was gone.
In its place, a new weight settled in his pocket: a second burlap sack, smaller than the first, stuffed with exactly one hundred fresh senzu beans. Total now: 229.
Izuku exhaled, long and slow. No regret. Just the quiet certainty that he'd made the right trade a hero would make.
He stood, rolled his shoulders, and headed for the training gym.
10:12 p.m. - U.A. Indoor Training Field Beta
The gym was deserted at this hour, motion-sensor lights flickering on as he entered. Five reinforced combat dummies, each built to withstand All Might-level punishment, stood in a neat row against the far wall.
Izuku cracked his neck, slipped off his jacket, and rolled up the sleeves of his black compression shirt.
Time to test POWER.
He stepped up to the first dummy, planted his feet, and threw a straight right.
THUD.
The impact was solid, but ordinary. The dummy rocked slightly. No visible damage.
Izuku smirked. "One."
Second punch, same spot.
THUD-CRACK.
A hairline fracture spider-webbed across the reinforced plating.
"Two."
Third.
BOOM.
The dummy's torso caved inward, metal screeching.
"Three."
Fourth.
CRUNCH.
The entire upper half folded like cheap tin.
"Five."
Fifth punch, a full-power hook.
The dummy exploded. Metal fragments pinged off the walls; the reinforced torso launched across the gym and embedded itself in the far wall with a deafening clang.
Izuku stared at his fist. The skin was unmarked. No pain. Just a warm, thrumming heat that promised the next punch would be even stronger.
He moved to the second dummy.
By the tenth punch the second dummy was powder.
By the fifteenth the third was gone.
By the twentieth the fourth had been driven straight through the reinforced back wall and halfway into the next room.
The fifth dummy lasted twenty-seven punches. On the twenty-seventh, Izuku's fist blurred, air pressure alone shattered the remaining dummies into glittering confetti before contact was even made. The shockwave alone pulverized them.
He stood in the center of the ruined gym, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his chin. His arms felt like they were carved from vibrating steel. Every heartbeat sent another pulse of strength deeper into muscle and bone.
POWER had no ceiling.
He laughed, breathless, exhilarated, a little terrified, and completely alive.
Fatigue hit a second later. Human limits reasserting themselves: lactic acid, micro-tears, lungs burning.
He fished a single senzu bean from the new sack, popped it into his mouth, and crunched.
Instant.
The burn vanished. Bruises faded. Muscles felt brand-new, no, better than new.
The lingering ache from Muscular's punches disappeared like smoke. Izuku flexed his fingers, grinning at the ceiling.
229 - 1 = 228 senzu beans remaining.
Worth it.
He spent another twenty minutes cleaning up the debris (Momo could recreate the dummies tomorrow; she'd probably enjoy the challenge), then slipped back into the dorm.
11:03 p.m. - Common room, lights dimmed to sleepy gold
Most of the class had gone to bed. Only a few night owls remained: Kirishima sprawled asleep on a beanbag, Tsuyu reading with her tongue out, and, on the long couch, Mina and Momo.
They were waiting for him.
Mina lounged sideways, legs draped over the armrest, tail flicking lazily. Momo sat properly, knees together, a cup of tea cooling in her hands.
Both pairs of eyes locked on him the moment he stepped through the sliding door.
"Took you long enough, boss," Mina purred, stretching in a way that made her cropped tank ride up. "We were starting to think you didn't want your welcome-home kisses."
Momo's cheeks pinked, but her smile was soft, certain. "You look... radiant. Did something good happen?"
Izuku shut the door behind him, flicked the lock, and crossed the room in three quiet strides. The air smelled like vanilla and cinnamon, Mina's bubblegum shampoo, Momo's lavender soap, Midnight's lingering jasmine from earlier.
He didn't matter. Only these two, his, waiting.
He dropped to his knees in front of the couch, cupped Mina's face first, and kissed her like a man who'd just discovered he could punch the horizon apart.
She made a surprised, delighted sound and melted into it, arms looping around his neck, horns cool against his forehead.
Her tongue met his without hesitation, bold, teasing, tasting of strawberry Pocky and victory. Ten full seconds of deep, hungry kisses, her tail curling possessively around his waist, pulling him closer until he was half in her lap.
When he finally pulled back, Mina's golden eyes were glassy, lips swollen. "Wow, okay, someone's happy to be home."
Izuku didn't answer with words. He simply turned to Momo.
She set her tea down with careful hands, already leaning in. Their kiss was slower, softer at first, Momo's natural elegance giving way to the same devotion.
Her lips parted on a sigh, tongue shy for only a heartbeat before it slid against his with perfect trust. Izuku threaded fingers through her silky black hair, tilting her head to deepen the angle.
Twenty seconds, thirty, soft sounds escaping her throat, her hands fisting gently in his shirt.
When they broke apart, Momo's breath trembled against his cheek. "Welcome home, Izuku."
He rested his forehead against hers, then Mina's, the three of them breathing the same air for a quiet moment.
"Couldn't have done any of it without you two," he murmured. "Thank you, for covering for me today."
Mina nipped his earlobe. "Anytime, Master. Just say the word and we'll cause beautiful chaos."
Momo's fingers traced the faint scar on his shoulder where Muscular's blow had landed. "You're hurt," she whispered, worried.
"Not anymore." He lifted the empty senzu sack a fraction, let it drop back. "Two hundred twenty-eight left. I'm good."
They curled against him then, Mina on his left, head on his shoulder, tail draped across his lap; Momo on his right, fingers interlaced with his. The common room was warm, safe, warm, theirs.
Izuku closed his eyes and felt the new strength humming in his fists, the absence of All Fiction like a missing tooth he no longer needed, and the solid presence of two girls who would burn the world down if he asked.
Outside, U.A.'s barriers stood silent.
Inside, the dorm slept.
And Izuku Midoriya, human, master of twenty-one absolute servants, wielder of infinite punches and limitless wishes, let himself relax for the first time in weeks.
Tomorrow there would be training, questions, maybe even war.
Tonight there was only the quiet rhythm of three heartbeats and the certainty that every blow he threw from now on would shake the earth a little harder than the last.
He pressed one last gentle kiss to Mina's horn, then Momo's temple.
"Sleep," he whispered. "I've got the watch."
They obeyed without question, curling closer, trusting him with their dreams.
Izuku stayed awake until the moon set, fists resting on his knees, feeling them grow heavier with every heartbeat.
Ready.