The city glittered beneath a thin layer of winter frost, neon reflecting off wet pavement like scattered jewels.
Izuku Midoriya walked the sidewalk in his freshly issued provisional hero costume: forest-green tactical suit with reinforced plating, black combat boots, fingerless gloves, and the half-cape All Might had gifted him months ago fluttering slightly in the cold wind.
The provisional license badge glinted on his chest, official, hard-earned, and still a little surreal.
At his side strode Mirio Togata, Lemillion in full golden glory, cape billowing like a banner. The senior's grin hadn't dimmed since the exhibition fight; if anything, it had grown brighter, tempered by genuine respect.
Every few minutes he'd bump Izuku's shoulder and laugh, "Still can't believe you beat me with just your fists, Midoriya! All Might's gonna cry when I tell him."
Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pink from more than the cold. "It was close. You're insane, senpai."
"Ha! Flattery won't save you next time."
They moved in comfortable silence after that, eyes scanning alleyways and rooftops.
Most of Class 1-A had been granted provisional licenses in the wake of the training-camp incident and the Big 3 exhibition; tonight the streets were dotted with green-and-white figures on their first official patrols.
Bakugou's explosions lit the skyline two districts over, Todoroki's ice glimmered on a distant rooftop, Uraraka's silhouette floated above a convenience-store robbery in progress. The city felt alive with young heroes.
Izuku's patrol with Mirio was supposed to be routine: low-crime commercial zone, mostly foot traffic and late-night shoppers.
A chance to log hours, practice coordination, and let the public see U.A.'s next generation in action.
That was when the quest window appeared.
It didn't flare dramatically this time. No crimson urgency, no emerald triumph. Just a soft, almost nostalgic silver that hovered in the corner of Izuku's vision while he and Mirio paused at a crosswalk.
SYSTEM NOTICE – FINAL MESSAGE
You have exceeded all parameters.
You no longer require external guidance.
The ledger is balanced. The game is yours.
LAST ADJUSTMENT TO ABILITY: POWER
Scaling now resets to baseline after every individual battle/opponent.
You will begin each new fight at normal human strength.
Escalation remains infinite during combat, but never carries over.
This is mercy. Unlimited growth in single encounters would unmake reality within weeks.
Thank you for playing.
Goodbye, Izuku Midoriya.
The window dissolved into motes of light that sank into his chest like warm snow.
Izuku stopped walking.
Mirio glanced back. "Everything okay?"
Izuku flexed his fingers. The familiar thrum of Power was still there, but muted, reset.
He threw a casual jab at the air—solid, strong, but no longer the earth-shattering force that had toppled Mirio two days ago. He'd have to earn it again, punch by punch, fight by fight.
A slow, almost sad smile curved his lips.
"Yeah," he said softly. "Everything's perfect."
Mirio tilted his head, sensing the shift but not pressing. "Cool. Because we've got company."
Three blocks ahead, a side street exploded into chaos.
A villain—massive, skin like cracked concrete, veins glowing molten orange—had just uprooted a streetlamp and hurled it through a storefront.
Civilians screamed, scattering. Two rookie pros were already down, one pinned under debris, the other coughing blood.
Izuku's smile vanished. He and Mirio moved at the same time.
They hit the scene like twin thunderbolts.
Mirio phased through the flying debris, Permeation letting him slip straight into the villain's guard.
Blackwhip lashed out, coiling the monster's arms, Float lifting him off-balance.
"Lemillion, on scene!"
Izuku followed a half-second behind, boots skidding across shattered glass. His first punch landed on the villain's exposed flank—normal strength, human strength. The concrete skin barely dented.
The villain roared, swinging a fist the size of a wrecking ball. Izuku ducked, felt the wind shear slice the air above his head, and countered with a sharp jab to the ribs.
Crack.
The second hit landed harder.
Crack.
Third, fourth, fifth—each one heavier, faster, the scaling igniting like a match struck in darkness.
By the tenth punch the villain was staggering. By the fifteenth Izuku's fists were blurring, shockwaves rippling outward with every impact.
Concrete skin spider-webbed, then shattered entirely. The twentieth punch lifted the eight-foot brute off his feet and sent him crashing through a parked delivery truck.
Mirio whooped mid-air, Blackwhip yanking civilians clear. "There it is! That's the Midoriya I know!"
Izuku didn't stop. Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven—each blow a detonation, the street cracking beneath the villain's collapsing body.
On the thirtieth punch the villain's quirk core shattered; molten veins cooled to lifeless gray. He hit the ground unconscious, cratered asphalt smoking around him.
Silence fell, broken only by distant sirens and civilian cheers.
Mirio landed beside Izuku, clapping him on the back hard enough to stagger a lesser man. "Thirty seconds! New personal record?"
Izuku exhaled, fists still steaming. The scaling warmth faded the instant the fight ended—reset, exactly as promised. He was back to peak human, bruises already forming on his knuckles.
He looked up at the night sky where the silver motes had vanished and whispered, so low only the wind heard:
"Thank you. For everything."
Then he turned to the rescued civilians, the injured pros, the wide-eyed onlookers filming on their phones, and slipped seamlessly into the role the world expected of him.
Provisional Hero: Deku.
The system was gone.
The crutches were gone.
The training wheels were gone.
All that remained was a boy with green eyes, a heart that refused to break, and fists that could still reach the sky—one punch at a time.
Mirio slung an arm around his shoulders as they walked toward the arriving police vans, sirens painting the night red and blue.
"Welcome to the big leagues, Midoriya," the senior said, voice warm with pride. "From here on out, it's all you."
Izuku smiled, small and fierce and finally, truly free.
"Yeah," he answered. "I know."