Izuku groaned as he lay his head on his desk.
"…Nothing."
A full week.
Seven nights of patrols that weren't patrols. Interventions that weren't dramatic. Ten criminals stopped. Petty thefts. Assaults. One guy with a knife who folded the moment Izuku didn't.
And not a single shimmer.
Not a single ticket.
Well, at least not after the last ability he got from helping Himiko.
[Blackout]
|Uncommon Ability|
Allows you to banish all light from an area, making it nigh impossible to see through mundane means. The larger the area, the more energy is needed.
The classroom buzzed faintly around him. Chairs scraping. Conversations overlapping. The smell of chalk and disinfectant.
He lifted his head just enough to stare blankly at the hero analysis notebook lying open in front of him.
10 criminals neutralized.
0 tickets.
"That's not fair," he muttered under his breath.
Then he stopped himself.
"No," he corrected quietly. "It's consistent."
His fingers tightened around his pen.
The system had never said crime equaled tickets.
It said Feats.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the ceiling as he replayed the past week.
None of them had been hard.
None of them had pushed him.
None of them had scared him.
He'd stepped in early.
Used intimidation.
Used regeneration as a safety net.
Ended things quickly.
Effective.
Safe.
Boring.
"…I've been farming," he realized.
Not risking.
Not growing.
Just repeating the same level over and over, hoping for drops.
The system wasn't impressed.
A chill ran through him—not fear, but understanding.
'It's not about winning,' he whispered. "It's about stakes."
[False, Repeating an action will give a ticket after certain milestones, i.e., 50 criminals. However, great Feats will net a better ticket.]
He exhaled slowly.
That… made sense. Uncomfortably so.
"And well, Bakugou... It seems that Izuku is applying for UA as well," The teacher spoke with incredulity, breaking Izuku out of his thoughts.
Bakugou's eyes snapped toward him, red and sharp, disbelief twisting instantly into fury.
"…You?" Bakugou said, voice low and dangerous.
Then he was there.
Bakugou grabbed Izuku by the front of his shirt and yanked him halfway out of his seat, desk legs screeching against the floor.
"You think this is funny?!" Bakugou snarled. "You think you can just decide to be a hero now?!"
Gasps rippled through the class.
"Bakugou!" the teacher barked. "Let go of him—"
Izuku didn't flinch.
That alone made Bakugou's grip tighten.
Izuku's hands came up—not to strike, not to shove—but to grip Bakugou's wrist firmly, grounding himself the way Takeda had drilled into him.
Feet planted.
Shoulders relaxed.
Breathing steady.
"I'm applying," Izuku said calmly.
The calm was worse than fear.
Bakugou's teeth bared. "You don't have a Quirk, you damn extra!"
"I know. I wasn't finished." Izuku replied.
He met Bakugou's eyes,
"-What I've learned."
Bakugou scoffed and shoved forward.
That was the mistake.
Izuku moved.
Not fast.
Not flashy.
Correct.
He stepped into Bakugou's space instead of away from it, pivoting on his lead foot. One hand slid up Bakugou's wrist, the other braced against his elbow. His hips turned, center of gravity dropping exactly like Takeda had drilled into him a dozen times.
Then—
Fwoom.
Bakugou's world inverted.
The explosive kid was lifted clean off his feet and flipped over Izuku's back, slammed into the floor with a bone-rattling THUD. Desks rattled. Papers flew.
The entire class screamed.
Izuku followed him down, never letting go of his arm. He dropped to one knee, twisting Bakugou's wrist and pinning his shoulder with controlled, practiced pressure.
Not enough to break anything.
Enough to end it.
Bakugou sucked in a sharp breath, shock plastered across his face.
"W–what—?!"
Izuku leaned in just enough for Bakugou to hear him over the chaos.
"This," Izuku said quietly, voice shaking only the tiniest bit, "is why I'm applying."
Bakugou struggled.
Nothing happened.
Izuku's grip was iron. His balance is unmovable. His breathing is still steady.
The teacher finally reacted.
"M–MIDORIYA! LET GO! NOW!"
Izuku released instantly, backing off and standing upright, hands raised.
Bakugou scrambled to his feet, face red with rage and disbelief, arm clutched to his chest.
"You—! YOU—!"
The teacher stepped between them, voice cracking as he shouted for order.
"That's enough! Both of you! Office! Now!"
The class was dead silent.
Izuku adjusted his collar, heart hammering in his chest.
His legs felt solid.
His stance felt natural.
For the first time in his life, he hadn't frozen.
Bakugou stared at him like he was seeing a ghost.
Not because Izuku had won.
But because Izuku had moved as he belonged in a fight.
As Izuku turned to follow the teacher, something shimmered quietly at the edge of his vision.
No fireworks.
Just a single line of text.
[Congratulations! You've earned a silver ticket for defeating your childhood bully!]
[The user has gained:
* [Refined Heart-Shaped Herb]
|Elite Item|
Marvel - A mystical herb from Wakanda blessed by the goddess Bast. This harvest has been refined to filter out any harmful side effects and mystical strings attached, making it completely safe to consume. Consuming it grants enhanced strength, speed, stamina, durability, reflexes, agility, and instincts. Restock Timer: 240 Hours]
Izuku's jaw dropped as he froze mid-step.
…What?
The teacher was still talking. Bakugou was still yelling. The classroom was still a mess.
But Izuku barely registered any of it.
The text didn't vanish.
It stayed there, stark and impossible.
A… herb?
Izuku blinked rapidly, rereading the description, his mind racing.
"Mystical… blessed… refined…" he thought, heart pounding. "Enhanced strength, speed, stamina, durability, reflexes, agility, instincts…"
That wasn't a supplement.
That wasn't equipment.
That was a full-body enhancement.
And then his eyes caught on the most important part.
Refined to filter out any harmful side effects and mystical strings attached.
Completely safe to consume.
Izuku swallowed hard.
"…No backlash," he whispered internally. "No personality changes. No loss of control."
The system had given him abilities before.
This was different.
This wasn't a tool.
This was something that would change his baseline.
Then he noticed the timer.
Restock Timer: 240 Hours
"…So I only get one," he realized. "And then I have to wait."
Ten days.
Not spammable.
Not abusable.
Carefully limited. But still abusable in the long run...
His chest tightened.
"Midoriya!" the teacher barked again. "Are you paying attention?!"
Izuku flinched and bowed quickly. "Y–Yes, sir. I understand."
Bakugou was staring at him.
Not furious this time.
Uncertain.
Because something had shifted.
Izuku followed the teacher out into the hall, his mind working at full speed now—not excitement, but strategy.
I can't use it yet, he decided immediately.
...
The lecture had been brutal.
Detentions. Warnings. A long speech about "appropriate conduct" and "setting examples." By the time they were released, the halls were mostly empty, the after-school quiet settling in.
They walked side by side down the corridor.
Not because they wanted to.
Because neither of them was willing to be the first to turn away.
Izuku broke the silence.
"You ever think about why you're so angry all the time, Katsuki?"
Bakugou scoffed, hands shoved into his pockets. "Yeah. Of course I do. It's my Quirk."
He said it like it was obvious. Like it was settled science.
Izuku nodded once. Slowly.
"Good."
Bakugou shot him a sharp look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I just wanted to be sure," Izuku replied evenly, eyes forward. "That you know it's affecting you. That you know it's not just 'how you are.'"
Bakugou clicked his tongue. "So what? You gonna psychoanalyze me now?"
"No," Izuku said. "I'm just confirming something."
He stopped walking.
Bakugou took two more steps before realizing, then turned, irritation flaring. "Confirming what?"
Izuku finally looked at him.
Really looked at him.
"Confirming that this is your choice," Izuku said quietly. "To not deal with it. Not to try. To let the side effects hurt everyone around you."
Bakugou's jaw tightened. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"I do," Izuku said. "Because I know someone who's suffering worse than you."
That made Bakugou blink.
"And even she," Izuku continued, voice steady, "had the guts to ask for help."
The words landed heavier than shouting ever could.
Bakugou's hands curled into fists.
Izuku took a step closer—not threatening, not backing down either.
"So from here on out," he said, calm and final, "everything that happens is on you. I won't feel sorry anymore."
Bakugou's glare burned.
"Just don't get in my way, Katsuki."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The hallway felt smaller somehow.
Bakugou's expression twisted—anger, pride, something wounded underneath—but he didn't explode. Didn't shout.
"…Tch," he muttered, turning away sharply. "Don't act like you're better than me."
Izuku watched him go.
"I'm not," he said quietly, though Bakugou might not have heard.
"I'm just done pretending."
Bakugou disappeared around the corner, boots echoing away.
Izuku stood there for a moment longer, heart beating steadily, then adjusted his bag and headed the other direction.
No ticket appeared.
No system message followed.
This wasn't a Feat.
This was a line drawn.
And for the first time in his life, Izuku didn't wonder if he'd crossed it too far.
He knew exactly where he stood.
.....
On his way home, Izuku felt as if a part of him had changed. Not overtly. But there was definitely something different.
The tunnel lights hummed overhead as he entered the underpass, concrete walls damp and echoing. His phone buzzed once in his pocket.
A message from Himiko, no doubt.
He smiled faintly.
Right on time.
Then—
shlorp.
The sound was wrong.
Wet. Elastic. Too organic for metal.
Izuku's smile stiffened.
He stopped.
From the drainage grate along the wall, something began to ooze out—translucent, quivering, the consistency of half-melted jelly. It bulged, then stretched, pulling itself free in slow, unnatural motions.
Izuku jumped back just as a gelatinous tendril whipped toward where his head had been.
It slapped against the wall with a splat, leaving behind a sticky residue that hissed faintly against the concrete.
"…Okay," Izuku breathed, heart spiking. "That's new."
The creature finished emerging, coalescing into a roughly humanoid shape—no clear face, just shifting mass, bubbles rising and popping beneath its surface. A low, gurgling sound came from somewhere inside it.
A villain.
Not a mugger.
Not a scared civilian.
This was an actual Quirk criminal.
Izuku's body moved before panic could take over.
Feet slid into a stance. Knees bent. Hands up.
Assess.
* Gelatinous body: blunt force probably useless.
* Tendrils: mid-range threat.
* Tunnel environment: narrow, enclosed, bad for dodging.
* Civilians: none in sight. Good.
Another tendril lashed out.
Izuku ducked, the tip grazing his shoulder and leaving a burning, tingling sensation where it touched.
"Acidic," he muttered. "Or adhesive."
The creature surged forward, mass sloshing as it tried to engulf him.
Izuku reacted.
"No more of that," Izuku sighed as he waved his hand.
The air boomed.
Ice didn't form in pieces this time.
It formed as a single structure.
A thick, translucent hemispherical dome erupted up and over the gelatinous villain, sealing it inside in one decisive motion.
WHUMPF.
The creature slammed into the inside of the dome, tendrils splattering uselessly against the curved surface. It gurgled, mass spreading outward, trying to find an edge.
There wasn't one.
The ice groaned as pressure built, cracks spiderwebbing along the surface—but the dome held. The cold bit deep, the gelatin slowing as its movements became sluggish, unfocused.
Izuku staggered back a step, eyes locked on the dome.
'One more layer for good luck,' He thought as he conjured a second layer above it.
He turned and sprinted out of the underpass, shoes slapping against concrete as he burst into the open street.
"Help!" he shouted, waving his arms. "There's a villain trapped under the bridge—gel-type! It's contained, but you need a pro hero!"
Heads turned. People froze, then scrambled. Someone already had their phone out.
Moments later, the familiar roar of engines cut through the air as a patrol car screeched to a stop nearby. A pair of pro heroes followed close behind, leaping down into the underpass.
They took one look at the double-layered ice dome and stopped dead.
"…You did this?" one of them asked.
Izuku nodded, breathing hard. "Yes, sir. It came up through the grate. Acidic tendrils. The dome should hold, but I added a second layer to be safe."
The hero stared at him for a long second—then let out a low whistle.
"…That was the right call," he said. "Textbook containment. I'll write it off as self-defense."
Izuku finally allowed himself to relax, just a little.
As the heroes moved in to secure the area, reinforce the ice, and begin extraction procedures, Izuku stepped back toward the street, heart still racing—but steady.
He pulled out his phone again.
Sorry, I'm late, he typed to Himiko. Ran into something unexpected. I'm safe, though.
He slipped the phone away and glanced back one last time at the underpass before he had a bunch of questions to answer.
....
[Congratulations on defeating your first villain! You have gained 1x gold ticket!]
'Roll it.'
[Congratulations, the user has gained:
* [High Capacity]
|Epic Trait|
You have an extra ability slot.]
I smiled.
For a gold, that was what I was expecting.
"Hey."
Izuku blinked and looked up.
Himiko was standing a few steps away, hands tucked into her sleeves, head tilted slightly as she studied him. The streetlight caught the red in her eyes, softer now than it had been a week ago.
"What's got you smiling like that?" she asked.
Izuku hesitated for half a second—habit more than fear—then shrugged lightly.
"I guess… something went right," he said. "In a way I was hoping for."
Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "You sound like you just solved a really hard puzzle."
"…Yeah," he admitted. "That's a good way to put it."
She stepped closer, stopping at a comfortable distance, eyes flicking over him.
"You're not hurt," she said. Not a question.
"No," Izuku replied. "And no one else was either."
That seemed to please her more than anything else.
"Good," she said quietly.
They stood there for a moment, the tension of the night finally easing.
Himiko glanced up at him again, curiosity sparking. "So?" she asked. "Hero stuff?"
Izuku smiled faintly.
"Learning stuff," he corrected. "About myself."
She hummed, rocking slightly on her heels.
"…I like this version of you," she said after a beat. "The one who smiles like he knows what he's doing."
Izuku felt that quiet warmth again—the same one he'd noticed earlier, subtle but real.
"I'm still figuring it out," he said honestly.
Himiko's smile sharpened just a little.
"Aren't we all?"
Izuku nodded before they both walked down an alley together.
....
Izuku rolled his sleeves down as they walked out of the alley, the motion casual, practiced by now. He glanced sideways at her.
"So," he said, keeping his tone light, "how was your day?"
Himiko hummed, rocking on her heels as she walked. "Mmm… boring. School stuff. People pretending everything's normal." She scrunched her nose. "I don't like pretending."
Izuku smiled faintly. "Yeah. I figured."
She shot him a look, amused. "Hey."
"I meant that in a good way," he added quickly. "You're… honest. About how you feel."
Her steps slowed for half a second, then evened out again.
"…Thanks," she said, quieter than before.
They walked a few more paces before she spoke again.
"What about you, Midoriya-kun?" she asked. "You look like you ran into trouble again."
Izuku let out a small breath. "Yeah. Ran into… something big. But it worked out."
"Hero big, or scary big?" she asked, eyes flicking to his arms.
"Both," he admitted. "But nobody got hurt. That part mattered."
Himiko smiled at that, softer this time. "I like that you care about that."
Izuku hesitated, then asked, "What about tonight? Any plans after we… talk?"
She shrugged lightly. "Same as usual. Go home. Try not to think too hard." A pause. Then, more quietly, "Tomorrow's easier when today doesn't hurt."
Izuku nodded, understanding more than he said.
"You know what? You should come and have dinner with my mom and me tomorrow," He said.
Himiko blinked.
"…Dinner?"
"Yeah," Izuku replied, scratching the back of his neck in a way that was very, unmistakably him. "It's nothing fancy. She cooks too much anyway. And she's… nice. Really nice."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, not suspicious—processing.
"Your parents don't notice you're out until after eleven, right?" he added gently, not accusing, just stating what he already knew.
She nodded slowly.
"…They don't," she said. "Not usually."
Silence stretched between them.
Himiko looked away first, gaze drifting to the brick wall beside them. Her fingers twisted in her sleeves.
"…I've never done that," she admitted. "Gone to someone's house. For dinner."
Izuku's chest tightened, but he didn't let it show.
"Then it can just be dinner," he said simply. "No expectations. If you're uncomfortable, you can leave whenever you want. I'll walk you home."
She glanced back at him, eyes searching his face for something—pressure, pity, a catch.
There wasn't one.
"…Your mom won't ask weird questions?" she asked.
Izuku smiled faintly. "She'll ask questions. But not weird ones. And if she gets too much, I'll handle it."
That earned him a small, surprised laugh.
"…You really thought this through."
"I'm trying to," he said.
Himiko was quiet for a long moment.
Then she nodded again—this time more firmly.
"…Okay," she said. "I'll come."
Izuku felt something warm settle in his chest.
"Great," he replied, trying not to sound too relieved. "I'll text you the time."
She smiled—soft, genuine, a little unsure.
"…Midoriya-kun?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks," she said. "For… inviting me."
He shook his head. "You don't have to thank me. It's just dinner."
....
Getting back home a bit late, Izuku slowed the moment he saw the light on.
Inko stood in the doorway, arms folded, slipper tapping softly against the floor.
"And what time do you call this, Izuku?" she asked, trying for stern and landing somewhere between worry and relief.
Izuku winced. "…Late."
Her eyes narrowed. "That's not an answer."
He stepped inside, slipping off his shoes properly before turning to face her. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to worry you."
Inko's expression softened immediately. "You didn't text. I thought something happened." Her eyes scanned him from head to toe. "Are you hurt?"
"No," Izuku said quickly. "I'm okay. I promise."
She let out a breath, then frowned. "Then where were you?"
Izuku hesitated for half a second, then chose the truth he could give.
"I was out," he said. "Training a bit. And… helping a friend."
Inko's worry returned. "Helping someone? Izuku—"
"I know," he said quickly, holding up his hands. "I didn't do anything dangerous. I was careful."
She studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "You're going to give me grey hairs."
"I'm sorry," Izuku said, genuinely.
He shifted his bag strap, then added before she could start another lecture:
"Um… also, Mom? I wanted to ask you something."
Inko blinked. "What is it?"
Izuku rubbed the back of his neck. "I… was wondering if a friend could come over for dinner tomorrow. If that's okay."
Inko's eyes widened.
"A friend?" she echoed, surprise quickly turning into something warm and excited. "Izuku, that's wonderful!"
His cheeks flushed. "Y-Yeah. She's… going through a tough time, so I thought maybe eating with us could help."
Inko's expression softened into full mom-mode. "Of course it's okay. What's her name? Does she have any allergies? Should I make something special? Oh! We should tidy up the living room—"
"Mom," Izuku said, half-laughing, half-pleading, "it's just dinner."
Inko clasped her hands together anyway. "It's not 'just dinner' if it's your first time inviting a friend over in ages."
Izuku looked away, embarrassed. "…Fair."
Inko stepped closer and gently squeezed his arm. "I'm glad you're making friends, sweetie. Really."
Izuku nodded, relief easing the knot in his chest.
"I told her to come in the evening," he added. "She'll come around seven."
"Perfect," Inko said, already mentally planning. Then, her tone shifted back to gentle-serious. "But Izuku… next time you're late, you text me first. Promise?"
Izuku nodded immediately. "Promise."
Inko finally stepped aside. "Alright. Go eat. I kept food warm."
"Thanks, Mom."
As he headed to the kitchen, he felt lighter.
.....
Sitting in his room, Izuku was scribbling away at his journal. The room was quiet except for the soft scratch of graphite.
Hero Analysis / Ideas – Mobility:
'If I can create ice constructs, I could technically fly…'
He paused, chewing on the pencil.
"…No," he muttered, then crossed out fly and wrote stay airborne instead.
'Super Jump gives initial velocity.
Ice gives temporary structure.'
He sketched a crude stick figure launching upward, a flat slab of ice appearing beneath it.
Jump → platform → jump again.
"Like stairs," he whispered. "In the air."
He added arrows. Then more arrows. Then a messy spiral.
Problem: timing.
Problem: balance.
Problem: ice durability.
He flipped to the next page.
Alternate idea: glide.
A rough wing shape appeared on the paper. Not feathers. Flat planes.
"If I angle it right… lift instead of falling," he murmured. "I don't need control if the shape does the work."
He scribbled ICE GLIDER? in the margin, then circled it, then immediately added a question mark.
Issues:
– steering
– wind
– visibility
He tapped the pencil against the page.
"…But I don't take fall damage," he realized.
That earned a slow underline.
Meaning failure isn't lethal.
Meaning I can test safely.
Another page.
He drew a boot kicking backward, a small ice block forming behind it.
"…What if I refresh momentum?" he thought. "Like jumping off nothing."
He frowned, erasing part of the drawing.
"No, that's dumb. There's nothing to push against unless I make something."
He scribbled again.
Create ice behind → kick → dispel → glide.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"…That sounds exhausting."
He flipped back through the pages, eyes darting between sketches and notes. None of it was clean. None of it was elegant.
But it wasn't impossible either.
"That's the problem," Izuku muttered. "Too many ways it might work."
He closed the notebook slowly, resting a hand on the cover.
He tapped the pencil against the desk, then turned to a fresh page and wrote a single word at the top:
INVENTORY.
He underlined it twice.
"…I've been thinking of it like a backpack, not even using it since it's too conspicuous," he said quietly. "But it's not."
He wrote again.
Capacity: ~100 tons.
Stasis.
Instant retrieval within 1 meter.
His grip tightened slightly.
"If I can store that much mass…" he whispered, "…then ice isn't just something I create. It's something I prepare."
A rough diagram followed: a shaded box labeled Inventory, packed with rectangular blocks.
Pre-conjured ice → stored → deployed.
He circled pre-conjured.
"That means no reaction delay," he reasoned. "No energy spike in the moment. Just… placement."
He frowned and added another note.
Placement risk.
"If I mess this up," he muttered, "I could break something I don't mean to. Or someone."
He drew a thick line beneath it.
Rules required.
Izuku leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment before leaning forward again.
"Okay," he said quietly. "What's the safe use case?"
He flipped back to the page with the ice dome sketch.
"Containment," he said immediately. "Always containment first."
He drew a dome again—but this time with an arrow pointing downward.
Pre-made dome halves.
Deploy around the target.
Seal instantly.
His pencil paused.
"…Or above," he murmured.
He shook his head, crossing it out.
He flipped pages again, stopping on the mobility sketches.
"If I store ramps…" he said, sketching quickly, "…I don't have to shape them mid-air."
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"That actually solves half the control problem."
He added a final section at the bottom of the page:
Testing required ASAP.
Closing his notebook, he thought about the herb that he had drawn from the gacha.
"It's about time I use that..."
He sat up straight in his chair and focused inward. Willing it into existence, the herb appeared in his hand, surprisingly light. It didn't glow. It didn't hum. It didn't feel mystical.
It just… existed.
Izuku turned it over once, twice, committing every detail to memory as he did with everything important.
"This isn't a shortcut," he reminded himself. "It's a foundation."
Then, without further hesitation, he ate it.
Nothing happened.
For half a heartbeat, Izuku thought maybe he'd done something wrong.
Then—
His breath caught.
Not painfully. Not sharply. Just… deeper. Fuller. Like his lungs had suddenly remembered they were capable of more.
Warmth spread outward from his chest, not burning, not electric—steady. Structural. As if his body were quietly reinforcing itself from the inside out.
His heartbeat slowed.
Then strengthened.
Izuku gripped the edge of the desk as sensation flooded in.
His senses sharpened—not painfully, not overwhelmingly—but with clarity. The hum of electricity in the walls separated into layers. The air pressure in the room became noticeable. His own balance felt… perfect. Centered.
"…Whoa," he whispered.
He stood.
The motion was effortless.
Too effortless.
He froze, immediately alert.
"Okay," he said softly. "Careful."
He flexed his fingers.
They didn't feel heavier.
They felt capable.
He took one step forward, then another, hyper-aware of every micro-adjustment his body made automatically. Muscles cooperated without conscious command. Reflexes aligned before he finished thinking about movement.
"This is…" He swallowed. "This is a lot."
But not chaotic.
Not overwhelming.
Controlled.
Izuku crouched slightly, testing his balance.
His instincts fired—not panic, not fear—but spatial awareness. Where his weight was. Where it should go. How far could he push before losing stability?
"…So this is what enhancement feels like," he murmured.
No voice whispered in his head.
No urge pushed him toward violence.
No hunger or aggression surfaced.
Just… readiness.
He straightened slowly, hands shaking just a little now—not from fear, but from the realization of responsibility settling in.
Abruptly, he placed a finger down on the floor and pushed himself up.
'Holy shit,' he thought, 'I'm actually doing a one-finger hand-stand.'
Izuku held it for a few seconds longer, then pushed off and landed lightly on his feet.
No stumble.
No strain.
"…Huh."
He rolled his wrist once, twice, feeling the way his joints settled perfectly back into place. The movement felt natural, like his body had always known how to do that and had simply been waiting for permission.
"That answers that," he muttered.
He stepped back from the desk and did it again—this time deliberately. Finger down. Push. Balance.
Up.
He stayed there for a full five seconds before dropping back down.
'Strength, balance, reflexes,' he thought, cataloguing rather than panicking. 'All boosted. Instincts too.'
He glanced at the desk, then at the floor.
"No tremor," he noted. "No loss of control."
Good.
He stood upright and stretched his shoulders once, testing the range of motion. Everything responded instantly. No lag. No overshoot.
"…Baseline upgraded," he concluded before glancing at his window, "time to go and test it."
'System activate Super-Jump into my new ability slot.'
[confirmed.]
'So super-jump, Conjure ice and Super Regeneration...' Izuku thought as he changed into his vigilante outfit.
Not theory anymore.
Application.
He grabbed the edge of the windowsill and pulled himself up, cool night air rushing in as he leaned out and looked skyward. The city lights stretched out below him, distant and quiet.
A grin tugged at his lips.
"Here goes nothing…"
Fwoom!
He launched.
The ground dropped away instantly as Super Jump hurled him upward, legs extending with explosive force. Wind tore past his ears, his body arcing cleanly into the air.
'I'm jumping higher! The new baseline boosted my super-jump!"
Gravity caught him at the peak.
Izuku didn't panic.
He didn't hesitate.
"Conjure Ice."
A flat, solid platform snapped into existence beneath him just as he began to fall. His foot hit it—
Crack!
—and he kicked off hard, shattering the ice and converting the impact straight back into momentum.
He shot upward again.
Izuku laughed, breath sharp with exhilaration.
"It actually works!"
He did it again.
Jump → platform → kick.
Each cycle was smoother than the last. His instincts adjusted automatically, body angling itself mid-air, knees tucking and extending with perfect timing. Ice formed exactly where he needed it—no wasted mass, no hesitation.
He wasn't flying.
He was climbing the air.
The rooftops slid past beneath him as he crossed the gap between buildings, landing briefly on a roof edge before launching again, ice forming and breaking in controlled bursts behind him like stepping stones that existed only for a heartbeat.
Wind roared in his ears.
The city spread out below.
Izuku landed lightly on the rooftop of a tall building and straightened, chest rising once as he looked back at the path he'd taken.
"…Yeah," he said, grin widening. "That's viable."
No fear.
No second-guessing.
"Time for the second idea," Izuku said lightly as he walked to the edge of the rooftop.
The city stretched out below him, lights scattered like constellations. Wind tugged at his clothes, cool and steady. He rolled his shoulders once, more out of habit than necessity, then leaned forward.
"Alright," he murmured. "Let's see if this holds."
Ratatat.
Ice formed in sharp, rapid bursts—clean, deliberate. Plates snapped into place along his back and sides, extending outward into sleek, angled wings. Not feathers. Not decorative.
Functional.
Aerodynamic.
The structure locked together with a final crack as a narrow stabilizer formed behind him.
Izuku kicked off.
The rooftop vanished beneath his feet as he launched forward and down, gravity pulling hard for a split second—
Then the glider caught the air.
The drop smoothed out instantly, his descent flattening into a fast, controlled glide. Wind rushed past his face, louder now, pressing against the ice wings as lift built naturally.
"…Oh," Izuku said, eyes widening just a fraction. "That's better."
He adjusted his posture instinctively, shifting his weight. The glider responded—not sharply, but predictably—banking into a wide arc over the street below. Buildings slid past beneath him, not falling away this time, but flowing.
Speed built.
Not violently.
Comfortably.
He dipped slightly, then angled up, trading velocity for height. The wings hummed faintly as ice flexed under load, holding firm.
"So it really is just physics," he muttered, grinning. "Good shape, enough speed… the rest takes care of itself."
A gust hit him from the side.
Izuku reacted without thinking, twisting his torso and extending one leg. The glider corrected, stabilizer biting into the airflow and straightening him out.
"No fine control," he noted calmly. "But stable enough."
He glanced down at the street rushing by beneath him.
Cars looked slow.
People looked small.
Izuku laughed—short, sharp, exhilarated.
"I'm not flying," he said. "I'm gliding."
And that was perfect.
He angled toward the next rooftop, let himself descend, then dismissed the glider a heartbeat before landing. Ice shattered away behind him as his feet touched down lightly, momentum bleeding off cleanly.
Izuku straightened and looked back at the empty air where he'd been moments before.
"…Yeah," he said, satisfied. "That definitely works."
Two ideas tested.
Both viable.
He turned toward the edge again, eyes bright, mind already iterating.
"Alright," Izuku said quietly. "Now let's see how far I can take it."
He kicked once.
A small ice plate formed behind his foot and shattered as he pushed off it, injecting another burst of momentum straight into the glide.
The effect was brutal.
The wind slammed into him harder, pressing him back as his forward velocity jumped again.
"…Yeah," Izuku breathed, grin widening. "There it is."
He held it.
Didn't force it.
Didn't fight it.
He let the glider do the work while he stayed streamlined, body low, movements economical. Wide arcs only—no sharp turns, no wasted energy.
Cars below crawled.
Intersections vanished in seconds.
That's over a hundred, he thought calmly. One-twenty at least.
And the important part—
He could still think.
His reflexes were ahead of his thoughts, feeding him balance and pressure data faster than conscious analysis ever could. Every correction came naturally, as his body had always known how to move like this.
His eyes narrowed as he heard a scream from an alleyway below.
A rooftop rushed up ahead.
Izuku angled upward, trading speed for lift, letting the glider bleed velocity smoothly. At the apex, he dismissed the ice—
—and landed lightly, momentum rolling off him in a controlled step.
Silence rushed back in.
Izuku straightened, chest rising once, then laughed under his breath.
"…Yeah," he said, utterly certain now. "That's it. Now it's time to see what's going on."
The alley below was narrow and poorly lit, dumpsters pushed aside to make space. A group of kids—five, maybe six—were being herded forward roughly, hands held tight together, fear obvious even from this height.
Three men.
Two with visible mutant quirks:
One tall and broad with a wolf's head and digitigrade legs, fur bristling as he barked orders.
Another thick-skinned and hunched, scales catching the light—some kind of lizard-type.
The third… normal. Too normal.
No visible quirk at all.
But he was the one doing the talking.
Izuku's eyes narrowed.
'Two muscle quirks, one handler,' he thought. 'Organization. Control. And kids…'
His jaw set.
'Trafficking?' The thought came sharp and cold. 'What has this world come to?'
He didn't hesitate.
Izuku stepped off the roof.
Gravity grabbed him immediately, wind roaring up to meet him as he dropped straight down toward the alley.
The wolf mutant looked up just in time to widen his eyes—
"Ice," Izuku thought calmly.
His legs coated instantly, thick ice forming around his boots and calves, shaping into heavy, reinforced shoes.
He hit like a meteor.
CRACK—THUD.
The impact drove the wolf mutant straight into the pavement, ice shattering outward in a spiderweb as the ground cratered beneath him. The force knocked the air from the man's lungs in a strangled wheeze. Dust kicked up.
Izuku walked out of the settling dust calmly, ice already melting away from his legs. His posture was relaxed. His breathing steady. The dim light caught his eyes, green reflecting sharply in the dark.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" the lizard mutant screamed, claws scraping against the concrete as he backed toward the kids. "Do you know who you're messing with?!"
Izuku stopped a few meters away.
He didn't raise his voice.
"What do you think you're doing?" Izuku asked evenly.
The handler recovered first, shoving one of the kids forward as a shield. "Back off! You take one more step and—"
Ice snapped into existence at his feet.
Not a wall.
Not a spike.
A ring.
It locked his ankles in place instantly, freezing him mid-motion. He yelped, stumbling, the kid slipping free and scrambling back toward the others.
Izuku didn't even look at him.
His eyes were on the lizard.
"You chose an alley," Izuku continued, conversational. "Late at night. Multiple minors. Two muscle quirks and a handler."
He tilted his head slightly.
"That's not a mugging."
The lizard snarled and rushed him, tail whipping forward—
Izuku stepped into the attack.
Ice formed along his forearm as he caught the tail mid-swing, boots grinding against the pavement as he redirected the momentum. He pivoted, twisted, and slammed the lizard face-first into the alley wall. Cracks spiderwebbed along the bricks.
CRACK.
Not bone.
Concrete.
The lizard dropped, dazed, sliding down the wall in a heap.
Silence fell.
Izuku straightened and finally looked at the handler, who was now pale and shaking, trapped from the knees down.
"You're done," Izuku said simply. "Heroes are already on the way."
The man swallowed. "You— you're not a hero."
Izuku glanced back at the kids huddled together behind him, eyes wide but unharmed.
"…Maybe not yet," he replied.
He turned his back on the traffickers completely and crouched down in front of the children again, lowering himself to their level.
"You did well," he said gently as he led them out of the alley, grabbing the phone of one of the kidnappers, "Just stay together, follow me. Help's almost here."
Dialling the police, he reported the kidnapping and stayed with them until he heard sirens on their way.
Turning to the oldest one there, he ruffled his hair and smiled at him.
"The police are on their way," he said calmly. "See? I told you it was always going to be okay."
The boy nodded hard, clutching the hands of the younger kids like he'd been doing it for hours.
Izuku straightened, then paused.
He crouched back down so he was at eye level with them again.
"Oh—wait," he said. "What's your name?"
The boy told him. Izuku nodded, committing it to memory without comment.
"And you?" one of the younger kids asked suddenly, eyes wide. "Are you a hero?"
Izuku hesitated for exactly one second.
Then he smiled.
"…Just call me Winter."
The name felt right the moment he said it.
Cold when it needed to be.
Quiet.
Unavoidable.
Sirens were close now—real ones, not distant echoes.
Izuku stood, stepped back, and gave them one last nod.
"It's handled," he said simply.
Before anyone could ask another question—
Fwoom!
He kicked off the pavement, ice flashing beneath his feet as he rocketed upward, glider forming mid-ascent. Wind swallowed him as he rapidly gained altitude, the alley shrinking to nothing beneath him.
From below, the kids stared up at the empty sky with wonder in their eyes.
....
[Congratulations on dismantling a kidnapping operation! You have gained a silver ticket!]
[You have gained:
* [Iron Mind]
|Rare Trait|
Your mind is made of iron, and your body will obey. Even if you are exhausted and starving, the effect it has on your performance is minimal. Regardless of your suffering, your performance will be optimal. Also increases resistance against all Negative Mental Ailments.]
Izuku smiled,
"That's going to be brilliant against any mind-manipulation quirks..."
He turned the words over as he glided, instincts keeping his course steady without conscious effort.
"Fatigue resistance. Pain tolerance. Mental interference reduction," he catalogued automatically. "So fear, confusion, panic, emotional pressure… less effective."
That paired perfectly with everything else he had.
Regeneration handled the body.
Stamina handled endurance.
Now his mind wouldn't buckle when things got ugly.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "That fills a gap."
Below him, police lights flooded the alley he'd left behind. Officers moved in. Medics checked the kids. Everything proceeded exactly as it should when things went right.
Izuku angled upward, trading speed for height, then leveled out again, letting the glider carry him across rooftops back towards his house.
.....
The next evening, the small apartment was warm and lively in a way it usually wasn't. The table was set neatly, steam rising from bowls of food, the quiet hum of domestic comfort filling the space.
Himiko sat a little stiffly at first, hands folded in her lap, eyes darting around as if she expected the moment to vanish if she relaxed too much.
Inko noticed.
She smiled gently and set a bowl down in front of her before sitting as well.
"So, dear," Inko said conversationally, her tone light but sincere, "what do you want to do after you finish high school?"
Himiko blinked.
The question clearly wasn't one she was used to being asked.
"…After?" she echoed.
"Yes," Inko nodded. "There's no wrong answer. I'm just curious."
Himiko looked down at the table, fingers fidgeting with her sleeves. For a moment, Izuku thought she might dodge it.
Then she shrugged lightly.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "I've never really… thought that far."
Inko didn't push. She just waited.
Himiko glanced sideways at Izuku, then back at Inko.
"I guess…" she hesitated, then smiled faintly, "…I want to be somewhere I don't have to pretend all the time."
Inko's expression softened immediately.
"That sounds like a very good goal," she said warmly.
Himiko seemed surprised by that.
"…It does?"
"Of course," Inko replied. "Being yourself isn't a small thing. It's actually quite brave."
Himiko went quiet at that, cheeks coloring just a little.
Izuku watched the exchange without interrupting, something tight in his chest easing.
After a second, Himiko added, more thoughtfully, "Maybe… I want to help people. In my own way. Like Izuku does."
Izuku blinked. "H-Hey—"
Inko smiled wider.
"That's wonderful," she said. "The world always needs more people who want to help."
Himiko nodded slowly, as if testing the idea, then looked down at her food again.
"…This is really good," she said abruptly.
Inko laughed softly. "I'm glad you like it. You're welcome anytime, you know."
Himiko looked up, eyes wide for just a moment.
"…Really?"
"Really," Inko said without hesitation.
Himiko smiled.
Not sharp.
Not guarded.
Just… real.
And sitting there at the table, surrounded by warmth and simple conversation, Izuku realized this might be the most important rescue he'd done all week—
One that didn't involve ice, speed, or strength at all.
....
A few months later,
"Did you see the video on Quirktube?" a man said excitedly, phone shoved in his friend's face. "The guy demolished three villains in under a minute!"
"Yeah, but he's a vigilante, man," the friend replied, frowning. "Come on, with a quirk like that, why wouldn't he just go get a hero license?"
"You kidding? Did you see how clean it was?" a woman cut in from behind them. "No collateral. No civilians hurt. He put a dome over the whole street without damaging a single storefront."
"He didn't even stick around," someone else added. "Just said something, dropped the villains, and vanished."
"What did he say again?"
"…'I've got this,' I think."
"No way. That's cold."
"Fitting, though."
Screens scrolled endlessly with clipped footage:
A white-blue blur dropping from above.
Ice sealing escape routes in seconds.
Villains pinned, disarmed, unconscious before they even realized they were losing.
Comment sections were worse.
Debates raged everywhere.
Hero forums.
News panels.
Late-night talk shows.
Vigilante or not, one thing was clear—
Winter didn't escalate situations.
Izuku Midoriya walked down a familiar street, gym bag slung over his shoulder, the hum of the city washing over him. A TV in a shop window was replaying a shaky video of ice flooding an intersection.
He didn't stop walking.
A pair of students passed him, talking animatedly.
"Dude, Winter's insane. Did you see the way he moved?"
"Yeah, no hesitation. Like he already knew how it'd end."
Izuku's lips twitched.
He turned the corner, the dojo coming into view. The sign creaked gently in the evening breeze, just like always. Same place. Same mats. Same discipline.
Grounded.
As he reached the door, Izuku adjusted the strap on his bag and allowed himself a small, private smile.
Not pride.
Not arrogance.
Just quiet satisfaction.
'Three weeks left until the UA University entrance exam,' he noted, 'And have I got a performance to show...'
He thought about the rolls he'd gained in the last couple of months,
[ The user has gained:
* [Jaw]
|Common Ability|
Allow you to turn your teeth into very sharp and durable fangs.
* [Four Arms]
|Common Ability|
Allows you to manifest another set of arms in addition to your current ones. The second set of arms is as easy to control as the first pair.
* [Slime]
|Uncommon Familiar|
A classic RPG slime, amorphous, large blue blob that is immune to physical damage, can spit out globs of acid and corrode things with its body. The more you feed this slime biological matter, the larger and stronger it will grow. It can even evolve if fed special foods.
* [Light Step]
|Rare Ability|
You can step and walk on anything, water, air, space, you can even treat nothing as a solid surface to walk on.
* [Combo]
|Rare Ability|
Every time you connect a physical hit within a 3-second time frame, your next hit is 10% stronger, as long you hit an opponent at least once every 3 seconds you will maintain the combo and the multiplier will keep increasing like 10%, 20%, 30%... if you cannot land an attack in 3 seconds, the combo is reset. The maximum multiplier for the combo is 1000%.
* [Holy Light]
|Rare Ability|
Holy Light allows you to conjure and shape Holy Light, often used by Angels. Allowing you to unleash it as balls of light, energy blasts or blades of light, when used against Infernal, Unholy, or Necrotic targets, the Holy Light will set them alight with holy flames, but against targets outside of that range, it does significantly less damage. (A/N: Holy Light is NOT light speed despite the name).
Izuku now had two different loadouts mentally prepped,
Movement: Light Step, Conjure Ice, Super Jump, and Super Regeneration.
Combat: Four Arms, Combo, Super Regeneration, and Holy Light/Conjure Ice.
However, Winter only ever used the Conjure Ice ability. He'd only ever used it to contain the slime villain.
He now also had a pet... Slime? It was interesting. He'd been feeding it the heart-shaped herb every time it restocked. The slime now took on a feline shape. He kept it in the familiar storage until he needed it. Unfortunately, it'd been spotted with Winter, so taking it with him would cause a shitstorm to brew.
...
"There's nothing more for me to teach you, Izuku," Takeda said, voice solemn as he stood at the edge of the mats.
For a heartbeat, the words hung heavy in the air.
Then Takeda's expression cracked into a grin.
"So," he continued, folding his arms, "why not just take on the champion of the gym?"
He pointed toward the far corner.
A massive man sat there, wrapped hands resting on his knees, muscles stacked on muscles like they'd been carved instead of grown. His hair was wild, his grin wider still.
"Rappa!" Takeda called. "Wanna take on the newbie?"
Rappa looked up.
He took one look at Izuku.
Then he shrugged, standing up in one smooth, heavy motion. The floor creaked under the shift of his weight.
"Sure," Rappa said casually. "Been a while since someone lasted more than a minute."
A few of the other fighters stopped what they were doing. Conversations died. Eyes turned.
Izuku stepped onto the mat, calm as ever, slipping his bag off and setting it aside. He rolled his shoulders once, then looked at Rappa with polite focus.
"Rules?" Izuku asked.
Takeda raised a finger. "No killing. No permanent injuries. Tap or unconscious ends it. Quirks allowed."
Rappa cracked his neck. "Try not to break your hands, kid."
Izuku smiled faintly.
"Same to you."
Takeda clapped once, sharp and loud.
'Activate Combo, Super Regen, Jaws, and Four Arms.'
[Confirmed]
Fwoom. Abruptly, another pair of arms appeared below Izuku's main ones.
Rappa's grin widened.
"Oh hell yeah."
He lunged.
Not fast.
Violent.
Rappa's fist came in like a cannonball, air popping from the sheer force behind it. Izuku didn't retreat.
He slid.
Light Step wasn't active, but footwork was. Izuku dipped inside the punch, shoulder brushing past Rappa's ribs, and struck.
Four hits landed in rapid succession.
Ribs.
Solar plexus.
Jaw.
Thigh.
Clean. Efficient.
Combo: 40%.
Rappa staggered half a step—then laughed, loud and delighted.
"HA! You hit!"
He swung again, wider this time, both arms coming down like hammers.
Izuku stepped into the space between them.
His lower arms caught and redirected one punch while the upper pair struck—one to the side of the neck, the other to the sternum.
Combo: 60%.
Rappa grunted, boots scraping across the mat as he slid back.
"Oho?" he said, eyes shining. "That's new."
Izuku didn't answer.
He pressed.
A sharp inhale—and his teeth elongated into hardened, razor-edged fangs as Rappa charged again, head lowered.
Izuku ducked, twisted.
Rappa roared, more thrilled than angry, spinning and throwing a backhand that connected this time—
—and Izuku took it.
The punch slammed into his side, ribs cracking audibly as he skidded across the mat.
Gasps went up from the onlookers.
Izuku rolled once and stood immediately, ribs knitting back together in seconds.
He brushed dust from his sleeve.
Combo Reset.
Rappa stared.
"…Did you just heal?" he asked, awe creeping into his voice.
Izuku raised his hands again, four arms settling into stance.
"Still your turn," Izuku said calmly.
Rappa laughed—pure, unfiltered joy.
"HELL YES."
He charged again, faster this time.
And Izuku met him head-on.
The mat shook as fists collided, strikes stacking, momentum building. Every hit Izuku landed fed the rhythm—short, sharp, relentless.
40%.
50%.
60%.
Takeda's smile vanished—replaced by something sharper.
Interest.
Rappa's grin split wider as Izuku kept landing hits.
"Alright," Rappa said, rolling his shoulders once. "My turn."
His shoulders rotated.
Not figuratively.
They blurred.
WHRRRRRRR—
The air detonated as Rappa's quirk activated, his arms vanishing into afterimages. A storm of punches flooded the space between them, each blow carrying concussive force, striking faster than a normal eye could track.
"STRONGARM!"
The mat cratered.
Izuku's four arms snapped up instantly.
Upper arms blocked.
Lower arms redirected.
Teeth clenched.
Impact after impact after impact—
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
The barrage smashed him backward, feet skidding, ribs fracturing again under the sheer volume of force. The sound wasn't punches anymore.
It was artillery.
Observers shouted. Someone swore.
Takeda leaned forward.
Izuku didn't panic.
He counted.
One second.
Two.
Rappa's punches were relentless—but Izuku noticed the tell.
The micro-hitch in the shoulders.
The way Rappa's stance strained.
Short duration, Izuku thought calmly. All offense. No control.
He let the last punch hit him square in the chest.
BOOM
Izuku slid back, shoes digging grooves into the mat—
—and then the barrage stopped.
Rappa's shoulders slowed.
Steam rose from his skin.
"…Hah," Rappa breathed, still smiling. "You're still standing?"
Izuku straightened.
Cracks sealed. Breath steady.
Four arms settled into stance.
Combo Reset.
Rappa's eyes widened.
"…No way."
Izuku moved.
Not rushing.
Pressing.
He stepped inside Rappa's recovery window.
First hit—sternum.
Second—floating ribs.
Third—jaw.
Fourth—thigh.
40%.
Rappa grunted, knees buckling half an inch.
Izuku didn't let up.
Short strikes. Tight arcs. No wasted motion.
90%.
100%.
Rappa swung wildly, Strongarm trying to spin up again—
Izuku was already there.
He locked both of Rappa's shoulders with his lower arms.
Upper arms struck.
Once.
Twice.
Third hit landed cleanly on Rappa's solar plexus—
Combo: 150%.
The impact lifted Rappa off his feet.
THUD.
The gym went silent as Rappa hit the mat flat on his back, air exploding out of his lungs in a single violent cough.
Izuku stepped back immediately, releasing his grip.
Rappa lay there for a second.
Then he laughed.
"Hah… hahahaha…" He rolled onto his side, still grinning despite the pain. "Damn. You're the real deal, kid."
Takeda stepped onto the mat, eyes sharp.
"That's enough," he said. "Winner—Izuku."
Rappa pushed himself up to a seated position, looking up at Izuku with pure respect.
"You didn't try to out-punch me," Rappa said. "You out-waited me."
Izuku nodded.
"Your quirk is explosive," he said calmly. "Mine's consistent."
Rappa grinned wider.
"…You're gonna be scary."
Izuku deactivated his abilities, extra arms fading smoothly as he bowed slightly.
"Thanks for the match."
As murmurs erupted around the gym, Takeda watched Izuku with quiet certainty.
UA wasn't about to get a hopeful applicant.
They were about to gain a problem.
[Congratulations on defeating a combat champion! You have gained 1x Gold Ticket.]
[The user has gained:
* [Burden Breaker]
|Epic Ability|
Calamity Mod - "More speed." When Burden Breaker is active, your speed is completely unbound by such frivolous things as physics; you ignore air resistance, gravity, and friction. In addition, you will continue gaining momentum until Burden Breaker is deactivated, making you gain speed indefinitely, which is incredibly uncontrollable and may cause you to end up at the edge of the universe with misuse.]
Izuku's jaw dropped mentally.
'Combo, Burden Breaker, Four Arms, and Super Regeneration would make an unkillable speed demon...'
He had to go test it.
....
That night after meeting Himiko,
[Active Abilities: Super Regeneration, Burden Breaker, Light Step, Conjure Ice.]
"If this works how I think it does…" he murmured, eyes lifting toward the open sky, "…I can run on air."
Not glide.
Not hop.
Run.
He stepped forward and placed one foot off the edge of the roof.
Instead of falling—
His foot met resistance.
Invisible. Solid.
Light Step activated seamlessly, the empty space beneath him treated like firm ground. He leaned into it, testing weight distribution.
No wobble.
"…Okay," he said quietly. "That's step one."
He took another step.
Then another.
Each footfall landed on nothing, yet felt as real as concrete. Burden Breaker kicked in subtly, stripping away unnecessary weight and resistance, his body feeling lighter, more efficient, like gravity had loosened its grip just for him.
Izuku broke into a jog.
The city dropped away beneath him as he moved forward, not down, each stride landing on air that behaved like a perfectly tuned track.
Wind rushed past his face.
"…Holy FUUUCK!," he breathed, a grin spreading despite himself.
He pushed harder.
His jog became a sprint.
BOOM!
Musutafu became a dot behind him within the next few minutes.
'Stop!' He thought, deactivating Burden Breaker.
BOOM!
The sound cracked through the night like thunder.
Musutafu shrank behind him in seconds—then in moments—until it was nothing more than a distant cluster of lights swallowed by the curve of the horizon.
Wind screamed past him, pressure building, air tearing—
'Stop!' he thought sharply, cutting Burden Breaker.
BANG!
A sonic boom detonated outward as Izuku came to an abrupt halt, shockwaves rippling through the clouds around him. The sudden stillness felt surreal, like the world had slammed on the brakes while everything else kept moving.
He hovered there, standing on nothing.
Silence returned in pieces.
Izuku slowly looked around.
This… wasn't Musutafu.
The city below was unfamiliar—larger, denser, arranged differently. Towers clustered tighter together. A river cut through the city at an angle that definitely wasn't right.
"…Okay," Izuku said carefully.
He looked down again.
Then up.
Then slowly turned in a full circle.
"…Where the fuck am I?" he muttered.
Izuku exhaled once, steady, mind already shifting into problem-solving mode instead of panic.
"Alright," he said to himself calmly. "I didn't teleport. I ran."
Which meant—
He glanced back the way he'd come. Just sky. Miles and miles of it.
"…I overshot," he concluded.
By a lot.
He floated down slowly, Light Step keeping him suspended as he descended toward a rooftop near the edge of the city. He landed lightly, crouching, and immediately scanned his surroundings.
Different architecture.
Different traffic sounds.
Different feel.
This wasn't just another district.
Izuku rubbed his face once, then laughed quietly.
"…Okay. That's on me."
He straightened, eyes sharp again, already adjusting plans.
"Rule update," he muttered. "No full-speed air sprints without a destination."
He looked out over the unfamiliar skyline, night breeze tugging at his jacket.
"…Guess I'm doing reconnaissance," Izuku said.
Somewhere far behind him, Musutafu slept peacefully.
And Winter had just learned that his mobility had officially crossed from impressive into strategic liability.
But as he took a step forward on air, calm as ever, one thing was certain:
Wherever he was—
He could handle it.
...
"Naruhata? I'm in Tokyo?" Izuku spoke aloud with an incredulous expression, "…Mom's going to kill me if I'm not back by morning."
He glanced at the sky. Still dark. Late, but not that late.
Options began lining up in his head automatically.
* Run back at controlled speed.
* Find a train station and blend in
Then his eyes drifted downward.
Naruhata was quiet.
Too quiet.
Not peaceful—suppressed.
The streets below weren't empty, but the people moved fast, heads down. Windows were barred more often than not. There was a tension in the air he recognized instantly.
Low-pro hero coverage.
High crime density.
Informal power structures.
"…This place," Izuku murmured, "…doesn't feel okay."
He straightened.
Winter wasn't on patrol tonight.
But Izuku Midoriya wasn't blind either.
"I'll head back soon," he decided. "After a quick look."
He stepped off the rooftop and walked down the air itself, descending between buildings without a sound. As his feet touched the pavement, he let his posture soften, his abilities dialed back just enough to disappear into the background.
No ice.
No flash.
No name.
Just another kid in a hoodie, walking through Naruhata at night.
A/N: so... we're getting the ball rolling now. If you wanna support me, head over to the "site" Patr- yeah imma stop there. /Djini is the account :) You'll get access to 2 extra chapters rn so around 15-18k words.