He cracked his knuckles, the sound like distant gunfire, and smiled back-small, feral, promising.
"Let's make it memorable, senpai," Izuku said, voice steady as bedrock.
Mirio's laugh boomed across the field. "That's the spirit! No holding back-show me the fire All Might raves about!"
Aizawa's scarf twitched. "Begin."
Mirio exploded forward.
It wasn't a charge; it was a detonation. Gearshift twisted the air into a vortex, propelling him at Mach speeds, Permeation flickering on and off in micro-bursts to phase through his own shockwave.
He was a golden blur, fist cocked for a Fa Jin-charged haymaker that could level buildings. Danger Sense prickled in Izuku's skin-not his own, but the echo through Ocean's web, a warning borrowed from the tide.
He didn't dodge with quirks. He moved with human precision, honed in vampire crypts and titan shadows: a half-step left, hips twisting like a reed in gale, the punch whistling past his ear close enough to singe hair.
The class gasped. Bakugou barked, "The hell-?!"
Mirio pivoted mid-miss, Float kicking in to arrest his momentum, Blackwhip lashing from his free hand like living midnight.
Tendrils snaked through the air, seeking to coil Izuku's limbs, Smokescreen blooming from his pores in a purple fog that choked visibility.
The field vanished in haze; Nejire whooped from the sidelines, "Ooh, tricky!" Tamaki muttered, "Don't get cocky..."
Izuku breathed through it, eyes watering but unblinking. Ocean mapped the whips' paths-faint blood pulses in the energy constructs guiding his sway.
He lunged low, through the fog, fist arcing in a straight jab. It connected-Mirio's shoulder, solidifying just in time for the impact.
CRACK.
The hit landed clean, Power igniting like dry tinder. Mirio staggered, eyes widening in shock, Blackwhip faltering mid-coil. "What the-? Solid!"
Izuku didn't gloat. He pressed: a left hook to the ribs, feinted high, then drove a knee into Mirio's thigh as the senior Permeated to evade.
The knee grazed-flesh made solid in panic-and Power scaled again. Mirio grunted, Float carrying him backward in a hasty retreat, Smokescreen thickening to buy space.
"Fifty-two," Izuku whispered to himself, circling. The class leaned forward; Ochaco clutched Tsuyu's arm. "He's... matching him?"
Mirio recovered in a heartbeat, grin fiercer. "Not bad, greenie! Let's amp it!" Gearshift surged-time dilated around him, his form blurring into afterimages as he circled Izuku at impossible speeds.
Punches rained: Fa Jin bursts, each one a sonic boom that cratered the ground where Izuku stood a fraction before.
Permeation let him phase through his own momentum, reappearing for elbow strikes, knee lifts, a whirlwind of golden fury. Blackwhip whipped from multiple angles, seeking to lasso and yank.
Izuku danced through hell. No quirks, no summons-just footwork etched in blood and bone. He weaved under a haymaker, the wind shear slicing his cheek; sidestepped a Blackwhip snare, the tendril whistling past to embed in concrete; ducked a Gearshift knee that pulverized a lamppost behind him.
Each evasion was a hair's breadth, human limits screaming, but Ocean's subtle tide whispered trajectories, turning instinct to prophecy.
Then he countered.
A straight right to Mirio's midsection as the senior solidified for a grab, BOOM. The impact echoed like artillery, Power at fifty-three, folding Mirio's abs inward.
Air whooshed from his lungs; Float stuttered, dropping him a meter. Izuku followed with an uppercut that grazed the jaw-fifty-four-snapping Mirio's head back.
Blackwhip lashed wildly in response, coiling Izuku's ankle, yanking him off-balance.
Mirio capitalized: Smokescreen exploded point-blank, blinding Izuku as Gearshift propelled a Fa Jin uppercut straight to the chin.
It connected, CRUNCH, Izuku's world spun, blood filling his mouth, body launching backward into a chain-link fence that buckled like foil.
Pain bloomed, ribs protesting the old Muscular scars, but he rolled with it, coming up spitting crimson.
The class roared: "Deku!" from Ochaco, a snarled "Get up, nerd!" from Bakugou.
Izuku grinned through bloody teeth. "That all, senpai?"
Mirio hovered, rubbing his jaw, eyes alight. "You're full of surprises! Let's go full throttle!"
What followed was apocalypse in miniature.
Mirio unleashed: Gearshift at maximum, turning the battlefield into a relativistic nightmare-punches at light-speed bursts, afterimages layering like ghosts.
Float wove him through the air in erratic spirals, Blackwhip forming a web of thorny vines that carpeted the ground, Smokescreen billowing in choking walls.
Danger Sense made him untouchable, every feint predicted, every trap sprung with surgical grace. Fa Jin stored from the chaos, releasing in shockwaves that uprooted debris, hurling it like shrapnel storms.
Izuku became the eye of the hurricane. He took hits-glancing blows that bruised bone, a Blackwhip lash that split his shirt and skin across the back-but each evasion scaled his resolve.
He closed distances in bursts of raw athleticism: a dive-roll under a Gearshift kick, exploding upward with a punch to Mirio's floating flank-THUD-fifty-five, the impact rippling through the senior's costume like a depth charge.
Mirio twisted mid-air, Float adjusting, but Izuku was there-hook to the ribs, CRACK, fifty-six, cracking a floating rib.
Blackwhip retaliated, coiling Izuku's arm; he twisted with it, using the pull to swing into an elbow that grazed Mirio's temple-fifty-seven-drawing first blood, a thin red line across the blonde's brow.
The class was on its feet now, Aizawa's eyes wide beneath his goggles.
Nejire bounced, "He's keeping up! How?!" Tamaki's tentacles flexed unconsciously, "That's... impossible."
Mirio laughed through the sting, wiping blood with his thumb. "You're not using a quirk! Just... power? Let's see how much you've got!"
He dove, Gearshift warping space around his fist-a Fa Jin Detroit Smash compressed to point-blank. The air ignited, shockwave alone shattering windows in the mock buildings.
Izuku met it head-on.
He planted his feet, channeled every ounce of human might-trained in dungeons, scaled by Power-and threw a counter-punch. Fist met fist in a cataclysm: KABOOM.
The collision birthed a crater ten meters wide, concrete vaporizing to dust. Mirio's arm buckled, Fa Jin stores detonating prematurely in a backfire that hurled him skyward.
Izuku skidded back five meters, boots smoking, arm numb to the shoulder-fifty-eight, the scaling hit absorbing the recoil like a sponge.
Mirio caught himself with Float, Blackwhip anchoring to a distant spire, but Izuku was airborne-leaping with a burst of leg strength, mid-air hook connecting to the senior's jaw-SNAP-fifty-nine, head whipping sideways, golden hair matted with sweat and blood.
They crashed together, a tangle of limbs and fury. Mirio Permeated to escape a clinch, re-solidifying for a knee to Izuku's gut-OOF-driving air from lungs, but Izuku absorbed it, twisting into a point-blank uppercut that clipped Mirio's chin-sixty-sending teeth clicking.
The senior reeled, Smokescreen bursting instinctively, but Izuku punched through the fog-left straight to the solar plexus, THUMP, sixty-one, folding Mirio double.
Float faltered; they plummeted, Izuku twisting mid-fall to land atop, driving an elbow into the sternum-sixty-two-cracking bone.
Mirio coughed blood, grin unbroken. "One more... trick." Gearshift at extreme: time slowed to molasses for Izuku, Mirio's fist accelerating to relativistic speeds, Fa Jin unleashing in a point-blank nuke.
Izuku's world crawled, Danger Sense's echo through Ocean screaming trajectories.
He moved in the frozen second: head snap left, the punch grazing ear with hurricane force, concrete exploding behind him. Counter: right cross, Power at sixty-three, connecting clean to Mirio's temple.
BOOM.
The Gearshift shattered. Mirio's eyes rolled back; Float cut out. They hit the ground in a plume of dust, Izuku pinning him, fist raised for the finisher-but Mirio tapped the mat, grinning through swollen lips. "Yield... kid. You're a monster."
Izuku rolled off, chest heaving, body a tapestry of bruises and shallow cuts. The class exploded in cheers-Bakugou's "Tch, not bad," Ochaco's squeal, even Aizawa's rare nod.
Mirio sat up, laughing, clapping Izuku's shoulder. "All Might was underselling you. That power... it's not a quirk, is it?"
Izuku helped him up, wiping blood from his lip. "Just hard work, senpai."
Nejire Hado was next, bounding forward with a squeal. "My turn! You're so strong-let's see how you handle waves!" Her quirk ignited: Wave Motion, spirals of spiraling energy launching from her palms like azure tsunamis, curving mid-air to arc toward Izuku.
He met her onslaught with raw force. Ducking the first wave, he charged through the second-Power at sixty-four on a glancing block that numbed his arm but parted the energy like a ship through surf.
Nejire twirled, hair whipping, unleashing a barrage: spirals homing like missiles, each one a concussive blast that cratered the earth.
Izuku weaved, human agility turning him to smoke-dive under one, leap over another, fist clipping her extended arm on the upswing-sixty-five-staggering her spin.
She recovered with a laugh, "Whee! Fast!" Waves multiplied, forming a vortex that sucked debris into a maelstrom.
He plunged in. Punches scaled with every graze: sixty-six shattering a tendril of energy, sixty-seven cracking her guard as he closed, sixty-eight-a hook to the midsection that folded her gasp.
Nejire floated back on her own waves, blasting point-blank spirals that scorched his shirt, but Izuku tanked it, countering with a straight that grazed her shoulder-sixty-nine-sending her tumbling.
She rose giggling, bruised but beaming. "One more!" A colossal wave built, coiling like a serpent to swallow him whole.
Izuku roared, channeling Power's crescendo-seventy on the charge, fist igniting air pressure alone. He punched the wave's heart: EXPLOSION.
Energy shattered like glass, shards raining harmless. Nejire yelped, momentum hurling her back; Izuku was there, gentle palm to her back guiding her to the mat.
"Yield?" he panted.
She beamed up. "Yield! You're amazing!"
Tamaki Amajiki was last, slinking forward like a shadow given form. "I-I don't want to... but..." His quirk, Manifest, bloomed: octopus tentacles from lunch coiling like pythons, takoyaki shells hardening into armor, ink clouds billowing.
Clams snapped from his shoulders, shells like shields; sea urchin spines protruded from knuckles, venom-tipped.
Izuku advanced, no mercy but no cruelty. Tentacles lashed-whip-cracks that split air; he dodged, fist grazing one-seventy-one-severing it in a spray of ichor.
Tamaki paled, "H-How?!" Ink blinded; Izuku punched through darkness-seventy-two on a shell, cracking it like eggshell.
Urchin spines thrust like lances; Izuku parried with forearms, taking shallow stings that burned, countering with a knee to the thigh-seventy-three-buckling the senior.
Clams clamped; he shattered one with an elbow-seventy-four-shell fragments flying.
Tamaki manifested a final surge: full octopus form, tentacles a writhing cage. Izuku charged the maw, punches escalating-seventy-five severing arms, seventy-six cracking the core, seventy-seven-a uppercut that launched Tamaki skyward, ink raining like black snow.
He caught the senior mid-fall, setting him down gently. "It's over."
Tamaki curled, blushing furiously. "Y-You win... monster."
The field fell silent, then erupted. The Big 3 exchanged glances-Nejire's awe, Tamaki's mortification, Mirio's thunderous applause. Aizawa stared, scarf limp. "Midoriya... report to my office. Now."
Izuku bowed, body screaming but soul alight. But today, Class 1-A saw their green-haired underdog eclipse legends.
And in the quiet of his mind, Izuku whispered: This is just the warm-up.