Boom!
Izuku's eyes glanced towards a large flaming figure in the distance.
"…What the hell is that," he muttered.
This wasn't a villain with a plan.
This was something out of control.
His eyes sharpened.
High-output emitter.
No restraint.
Urban environment.
Bad.
With a thought, he activated Burden Breaker.
The world compressed.
Izuku vanished in a shockwave, ripping across the sky toward the chaos, sound lagging seconds behind him. The city rushed up fast—
—and he arrived in the middle of hell.
Fire everywhere.
A man-shaped blaze stood laughing amid the destruction, flames whipping violently with every movement. The heat was oppressive, suffocating.
Across the street, several figures were already fighting.
One clung to walls and lampposts, darting in and out with frantic speed.
A broad man moved like a tank, brutal and relentless despite the odds.
Vigilantes, Izuku realized instantly. Naruhata's.
They were coordinated.
They were brave.
They were getting overwhelmed.
Izuku hovered above the street for half a second, taking everything in.
Fire output exceeding safe limits.
Psychological instability.
Civilians still in range.
That was all he needed.
He dropped.
Ice detonated outward as he hit the ground between the flaming man and the fleeing crowd, a massive curved wall forming instantly. Flames slammed into it and hissed violently, steam blasting skyward.
The fire-user froze.
"…Huh?" he said, tilting his head.
Izuku straightened slowly, ice mist curling around him, posture calm and grounded. Four arms unfolded smoothly.
Behind him, the vigilantes stared.
Crawler blinked. "Who—?"
Izuku didn't look back.
He took one step forward.
"I've got this." he said evenly.
The fire-user grinned wider. "You think you can—"
Izuku moved.
A sonic crack split the street as he crossed the distance instantly.
Combo: 10%.
The fire-user flew backward, skidding across molten pavement.
Izuku didn't stop.
He followed, ice snapping into place around the man's limbs, forcing the flames inward instead of outward. Heat scorched his skin—
—and healed just as fast.
100%.
200%.
The fire-user roared, flames surging violently, uncontrolled—
Izuku stepped into it, four arms striking in relentless rhythm, never breaking pace, never giving space.
This wasn't a duel.
This was suppression.
Crawler watched, stunned. "…He's not fighting him."
Knuckleduster's eyes narrowed. "…He's containing him."
Izuku drove the flaming man back, step by step, pressure stacking, combo climbing.
No speeches.
No theatrics.
Just inevitability.
Not heavy swings.
Not reckless blows.
Short, precise impacts. Sternum. Shoulder. Jaw. Hip. Each hit landed inside the three-second window, the rhythm never breaking.
250%.
300%.
The fire-user tried to push back, to flood the space with heat, but every surge was met with ice reshaping, redirecting, denying spread. The flames began to flicker—not weaker, but unstable.
Izuku adjusted instantly.
A low sweep shattered the man's balance.
An upper strike snapped his head back.
A downward blow drove him to one knee.
350%.
The street shook.
Crawler stared, eyes wide. "…He's overwhelming him."
Knuckleduster shook his head slowly. "…No. He's outlasting him."
The fire-user roared again, one last desperate flare erupting outward—
Izuku took it head-on.
Four arms crossed, ice now reinforcing his guard as the heat washed over him. Skin blistered, then reformed in seconds. His stance never shifted.
Then he kept striking.
Before long, he aimed one clean, controlled hit to the solar plexus.
800%.
Then—
BOOOOOOM—!
The impact detonated like a cannon fired point-blank.
The street vanished beneath the blow, concrete pulverizing outward in a perfect circular shockwave. Windows for blocks around imploded simultaneously, glass raining down as a column of compressed air screamed skyward.
The flames didn't just sputter.
They were ripped inward, crushed by the pressure of the strike, folding violently around the fire-user's body as if gravity itself had inverted. His eyes went wide, breath ripped from his lungs as his body was launched straight up, a human projectile hurled into the sky.
The shockwave didn't stop at street level.
It climbed.
The air split above Naruhata like a blade had been dragged through the heavens. Clouds overhead were cleaved apart, parting cleanly down the middle as the pressure column punched through them, leaving a massive, unmistakable gap that stretched for miles.
Silence followed.
Then the delayed thunder rolled back in—
KRAAASH—as debris settled and distant alarms screamed to life.
Crawler stared upward, mouth hanging open. "…That—"
Knuckleduster didn't blink. "…That was All Might-class."
High above, the fire-user's body lost momentum, flames completely extinguished now, before gravity reclaimed him. He fell—
—and was caught.
Ice surged upward, forming a broad, reinforced platform that absorbed the fall and gently lowered him back to the shattered street, unconscious and utterly spent.
Izuku stood at the center of the impact zone, steam rising off his jacket, four arms lowering slowly as the combo dissipated.
He looked up once at the split clouds.
Then back on the street.
"…I told you, I'd got this..." he said quietly.
No cheering.
No posing.
Just the undeniable aftermath of power applied correctly.
As sirens closed in from every direction and the vigilantes stood frozen in awe, one truth settled heavily over Naruhata:
Winter hadn't just ended the fight.
He'd announced himself to the world.
And somewhere far away, beneath parted clouds, people were about to start asking a very uncomfortable question:
Who is Winter?
Boom!
He took off with Super Jump and began speeding away across the sky.
.....
A couple of days before the UA entrance exam,
Izuku was out with Himiko,
"So what do you want to do, then, Midoriya-kun?" Himiko asked.
He smiled back at her,
Izuku glanced at her, then smiled.
"I'm applying for UA."
She stopped.
Turned.
"…For real?" she asked, eyes wide—not disbelieving, just surprised.
"For real," he replied calmly. "Written exam. Practical. All of it."
Himiko stared at him for a second longer—then her smile spread, sharp and genuine.
"That's amazing," she said. "I mean… I knew you were strong, but still. UA's UA."
Izuku chuckled softly. "Yeah. That's why I want to go."
She tilted her head, studying him. "You're not nervous."
"I am," he said honestly. "Just not scared."
That seemed to please her.
She stepped closer as they resumed walking. "You're going to do great," Himiko said. "I don't know how the exam works, but… if anyone can handle it, it's you."
Izuku glanced at her. "Thanks."
She smiled, then added casually, "So… when you get in, don't forget about me, okay?"
He stopped this time.
"Himiko," he said gently, "that's not how this works."
She blinked.
"I'm not going somewhere else," he continued. "I'm just taking the next step. You're coming next year as well."
"…What?" she asked, genuinely caught off guard.
Izuku turned to face her fully, hands in his pockets, expression steady in that way she'd come to recognize as serious Izuku.
"You're smart," he said simply. "You learn fast. And once you actually have support instead of people telling you to hide who you are, you'll do fine."
She stared at him.
"I—I never said I wanted to go to UA," she said, a little defensive, a little uncertain.
Izuku shrugged lightly. "You didn't have to."
That made her falter.
He went on, not pressing, not pushing—just stating facts the way he always did.
"You want a place where you don't have to pretend. UA isn't perfect, but it's closer than most places. And if you want help learning to control your quirk without it hurting you or anyone else… they can give you that."
Himiko's fingers curled into her sleeves.
"…You really think I could?" she asked quietly.
Izuku smiled. Not wide. Not dramatic.
"Yeah," he said. "I do."
For a long moment, she didn't say anything. Her eyes dropped to the pavement, then lifted again, glistening just a little under the streetlights.
"…You're unfair, you know that?" she muttered. "You say things like that so casually."
He tilted his head. "Is that bad?"
She shook her head quickly. "…No. It's just—"
She took a breath.
"No one's ever talked about my future like it was… normal," she finished.
Izuku's expression softened.
"Well," he said gently, "it is."
She laughed then—soft, shaky, but real—and stepped closer, bumping her shoulder lightly into his.
"Fine," she said. "Next year. I'll try."
He nodded, as if that had been the plan all along.
"Good," Izuku replied. "I won't just be waiting, I'll make sure of it."
"What do you mean?" Himiko tilted her head again. Izuku sighed,
I guess it's time to tell her a bit more, right?
"Come back for dinner and... I'll explain things a bit better."
She nodded, intrigued by the mystery.
.....
Sitting in his room, Izuku took a deep breath as he faced Himiko,
"So...My quirk isn't just Super Regeneration..."
Himiko tilted her head slightly. "I figured," she said. "You do way too many weird things for it to be just that."
He huffed a quiet laugh. "Fair."
He straightened, posture settling into something more deliberate. This wasn't a confession born of panic. It was a choice.
"It's called Evolution," he said.
She blinked. "…Evolution?"
"My body adapts under pressure and intent," Izuku explained calmly. "When I'm pushed hard enough, it develops new traits. Sometimes physical, sometimes… stranger. I don't get to pick exactly what shows up, but it's always something that helps me overcome whatever's in front of me."
He watched her closely as he spoke, ready to stop if she pulled back.
She didn't.
"So that's why you keep getting stronger," Himiko said slowly. "Why you move differently now."
Izuku nodded. "Yeah. And why I'm careful about who I tell."
She smiled faintly. "I feel special."
"You are," he replied without thinking.
That earned him a look, but she didn't argue.
There was a brief pause; her cheeks reddened. Then Izuku reached inward.
The heart-shaped herb appeared in his hand, dark and unassuming, resting against his palm.
Himiko's gaze snapped to it instantly.
"…That feels important," she said.
"It is," Izuku replied. "It's something I got because of my quirk. It strengthens the body. Makes it more resilient. More… aligned."
He held it out to her.
"I've been using it to test my own limits," he continued. "And I think it could help you, too. With the things you struggle with. With control."
She didn't take it right away.
Instead, she asked quietly, "Is it safe?"
"Yes," Izuku said immediately. "I wouldn't offer it otherwise."
"…And you're not asking for anything back?" she added.
He shook his head. "No strings. No debts. Just help."
Himiko studied him for a long moment, eyes searching his face like she was trying to catch him in a lie.
She didn't find one.
"…You're really serious about me going to UA someday, aren't you?" she asked softly.
Izuku smiled. "Yeah. I am."
Finally, she reached out and took the herb, fingers closing around it carefully.
"…Okay," she said. "Then I'll trust you."
Not blindly.
Not foolishly.
But honestly.
Izuku felt something settle in his chest at that.
"We'll take it slow," he added. "No rushing. We'll see how you feel, step by step."
Himiko nodded, still looking at the herb, then glanced back up at him with a sharp little smile.
"You know," she said, "most people would've kept something like this all to themselves."
Izuku shrugged lightly. "Most people aren't planning for the future. I am."
She laughed softly, the sound warm and real.
"…I'm glad it's you," Himiko said.
Izuku didn't respond right away.
He didn't need to.
...
Izuku watched her closely, posture relaxed but eyes attentive.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
Himiko rolled her shoulders once, then stood, pacing the room in a loose circle like she was testing her balance.
"Better," she said first, then paused, considering. "Stronger. Faster. My senses are more intense."
She stopped near the window, flexing her fingers, watching the way her nails caught the light.
"It's like… everything's sharper," she continued. "I can hear the building creak. I can smell dinner from the kitchen. And my body feels… right. Like it's not fighting me anymore."
Izuku nodded slowly. "Any pain? Nausea? Headache?"
She shook her head. "No. None of that." Then she glanced at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "If this is supposed to be scary, you're doing a bad job."
He let out a small breath of relief. "Good. Happy Birthday, Himiko...."
She took a few quick steps, then leapt lightly—far higher than she should've been able to. She landed without effort, laughing softly.
"…Wow," she said. "I don't feel fragile. Thank you, Izuku! This is the best birthday present ever!"
Before Izuku could respond, she moved again—closing the distance in a heartbeat.
She didn't tackle him.
She hugged him.
Hard.
Izuku stumbled back half a step, arms instinctively coming up as she buried her face against his chest, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt like she was afraid he'd disappear if she let go.
"Himiko—?" he started.
"I've never felt like this," she said quickly, voice muffled but intense. "Not strong like this. Not… okay like this."
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes bright, almost overwhelming in their honesty.
"You didn't just give me power," she said. "You made it stop hurting. You made me stop hurting."
Izuku froze.
"I— I just wanted to help," he said quietly.
"I know," she replied immediately. "That's why it matters."
She took a breath, steadying herself, then said it—no teasing, no masks.
"I like you, Izuku. Not because you're strong. Because you see me. I really, really like you."
The room went very still.
Izuku's heart hammered, but his voice stayed calm when he answered.
"…I'm glad you're here," he said. "And I'm not going anywhere. But I don't know what to say in response..."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
"I like you too, Himiko. But we're both still young... I don't know if I can do a real relationship right now-"
Then she smiled—soft, real—and leaned in.
Their lips met before she pulled away.
"That's enough for me. If we both like each other...I can wait..."
Izuku's brain short-circuited for a second before he mentally steeled himself,
"It's not that," he said, meeting her eyes. "I don't know if I can commit myself to only one person. My life's… complicated. And it's going to get more complicated."
He didn't rush the words. He didn't soften them into a lie.
"All I can promise," he continued, "is that if you want to keep this going, I'll always treat you right. No games. No pretending. No taking advantage."
Silence settled again—but this time, it wasn't fragile.
Himiko studied him, really looked at him, as if weighing the shape of the future he was offering.
Then she laughed softly.
"…You're weirdly honest," she said. "Most people would've lied."
"I don't like lying to you," Izuku replied simply.
She hummed, thinking, then stepped back half a pace, hands clasped behind her back.
"That's fine," Himiko said at last. "I'm not asking for ownership. I just don't want to be invisible."
She looked up at him, eyes sharp but not hurt.
"And you won't make me feel like that," she added. "So I'm okay with it. I know you're going to keep helping people... and they're unfortunately going to fall for you as well."
Izuku blinked. "…You are? Even if I want you all to myself?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I like you. Just you."
A quiet relief settled in his chest—not because things were simple, but because they were clear.
"Then," Izuku said, a small smile forming, "we're on the same page."
Himiko grinned. "Good."
She turned toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance back over her shoulder.
"Don't overthink it, Midoriya-kun," she said lightly. "You'll figure it out as you go."
And for once, Izuku didn't feel the need to plan ten steps ahead.
Some things didn't need solving yet.
He smiled and leaned into Himiko.
Their lips met again, and he spun her round, laying her on his bed.
Lemon Starts Here.
He lay on top of her, his hands roaming down her body.
"Izuku-" She panted as she placed her hand on his cheek. He stopped,
"Are you okay?"
She nodded.
"You're sure?" he murmured, his voice low, an anchor in the quiet of the room.
Himiko's answer was to pull him down, sealing his lips with hers again. It was a kiss full of feeling—gratitude, trust, and a fierce, blooming want. Her fingers slid into his hair, tugging gently.
"I'm sure," she breathed against his mouth. "I've never been more sure of anything."
Izuku's control, usually a fortress, began to melt at the edges. He kissed her back, deeper this time, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other continued its exploration. He could feel the enhanced resilience of her body beneath his palms, the vibrant life thrumming under her skin. It was intoxicating.
His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then down the column of her throat. Himiko gasped, arching into him, her own hands slipping under his shirt to feel the solid planes of his back. The scars there were faint, faded by his regeneration, but she traced them anyway, learning the history written on his skin.
"Izuku," she whispered, the name a prayer and a plea.
He answered by sitting back on his heels, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. The sight of him—lean, powerful, marked by countless battles won—stole the air from her lungs. Then his hands were at the hem of her top, and she lifted her arms, letting him peel the fabric away.
The cool air of the room was a shock, quickly replaced by the heat of his skin as he leaned down again. His mouth found the hollow of her collarbone, then lower, his tongue tracing a slow, maddening path. Himiko's thoughts scattered, reduced to sensation—the scrape of his teeth, the calloused roughness of his fingers against her ribs, the overwhelming sense of being seen, wanted, cherished.
He took his time, as he did with everything. Unbuttoning her jeans with a focus that made her burn, sliding them down her legs, his hands smoothing over every inch of newly revealed skin. When she was finally bare before him, he paused, his emerald eyes drinking her in with an intensity that was almost tangible.
"Beautiful," he said, the word simple and devastatingly sincere.
Himiko felt a blush spread across her chest, but she held his gaze, refusing to hide. "Your turn," she managed, her voice husky.
He obliged, shedding the rest of his clothes. There was no awkwardness, only a quiet understanding. When he settled over her again, skin to skin, the feeling was electric. It wasn't just physical; it felt like a circuit completing, a connection snapping into place.
"It's...big..." She muttered as her body ached in anticipation.
He entered her slowly, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. There was none—only a widening of her golden eyes, a sharp intake of breath, a little blood on his shaft, and then a slow, dazed smile.
"Okay?" he whispered, his forehead resting against hers.
"More than okay," she breathed, wrapping her legs around his hips to pull him closer, deeper.
What followed was not frantic, but profound. A rhythm built between them, not of conquest, but of discovery. Each thrust was a conversation, each gasp a shared secret. Izuku moved with a controlled power that made her feel utterly safe and wildly desired all at once. Himiko met him thrust for thrust, her enhanced strength allowing her to match his pace, to pull him closer, to drown in the feeling of him.
The world outside—the upcoming exam, the parted clouds over Naruhata, the uncertain future—faded into a distant hum. There was only this room, this bed, the sound of their breathing mingling, the feel of her nails scoring his shoulders, the sight of her head thrown back in pleasure.
He felt her tighten around him, causing him to grunt. He placed a hand around her throat, gently tightening,
"Izuku-Izuku...I'm so close..."
He grunted,
"Good girl, come for me...Go on, Himiko, come for me..." He grunted with each thrust.
Her climax hit not like a crashing wave, but like a deep, resonant chord that had been building in her core from the first touch.
"Aaaaah," She cried as Izuku's shaft became drenched in her juices. It wasn't a sharp peak, but a powerful, unraveling warmth that spread through every limb, pulling a long, shuddering moan from her throat. Her back arched off the bed, not away from him, but into him, as every muscle tightened and then melted.
Izuku felt it—the exquisite, rhythmic tightening around him, the way her entire body sang with release. The sight of her, lost in pure sensation, her golden eyes glazed and unseeing, her sharp teeth bared in a silent gasp, was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed. It shattered his own control.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his own breath coming in ragged gusts against her damp skin. "Himiko," he gasped, her name a prayer and an anchor.
His own release followed, a grounding, inevitable tide that pulled him under. It was less an explosion and more a profound surrender, a letting go of every tension, every thought, into the warmth and safety of her. He trembled with the force of it, his arms wrapping tightly around her as if she were the only solid thing in a dissolving world.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their harsh, mingling breaths slowing in the dim room, the feel of sweat-slick skin, the frantic beating of two hearts pressed together, gradually finding a single, slower rhythm.
Slowly, carefully, he shifted his weight, but she made a soft noise of protest, her legs still locked around him, her arms clinging to his back. He understood. He didn't pull away, but settled more fully upon her, their bodies still joined, his head resting on her chest where he could hear the strong, steady beat of her heart.
.....
END OF LEMON.
A day before the entrance exam,
Izuku walked up to the gates of UA with a serious look on his face. Mentally checking over his status page, he nodded,
Abilities: Inventory, Super Regeneration, Super Jump, Conjure Ice, Blackout, Jaw, Four Arms, Light Step, Combo, Holy Light, Burden Breaker
Traits: Boundless Stamina, Healthy, High Capacity, Iron Mind, Senju, What's monogamy
Familiars: Slime
Items: Refined Heart-Shaped Herb
He'd gained a trait from the platinum ticket, Senju.
[Senju]
|Legendary Trait|
Naruto - You are a direct descendant of Hashirama Senju, granting you greatly increased lifeforce and energy reserves as well as martial prowess. In addition, you possess a natural Wood Release and have increased Nature Affinity.(Does not give Chakra)
Izuku didn't know who this Hashirama Senju was, or what Naruto was, but he concluded he must've been a strong individual from what the trait gave him.
[Whats monogamy]
|Rare Trait|
Your potential partners are very accepting of any delusions of a harem or a woman loving you, you might have. They tend not to question the logistics or logic of having multiple people as lovers.
Izuku knew that this was what allowed him to be honest with Himiko. He'd gotten it from his nightly activities as Winter since defeating that flaming villain.
Why was he nervous?
Izuku had gotten a letter from the principal of UA for a meeting to 'understand his intentions.'
Izuku concluded that the principal knew.
....
"Welcome to UA, Izuku Midoriya," the short, mouse-like creature said pleasantly as he gestured Izuku inside his office, "I'm the principal, Nezu."
Nezu closed the door behind them with a soft click and hopped up onto his chair, folding his paws together atop the desk. His smile was small, polite—and entirely unreadable.
Izuku sat when indicated, posture straight, expression calm. Internally, he ran one last check.
Stay honest. Stay measured.
Nezu tilted his head. "You seem remarkably composed for someone who received a personal summons from the principal before the entrance exam."
Izuku met his gaze. "I assumed this wasn't disciplinary," he replied evenly. "The wording suggested curiosity."
Nezu's eyes gleamed.
"Oh, very good. Yes, curiosity is exactly the word." He tapped a claw lightly on the desk. "You see, Midoriya-kun, UA receives many applications every year. Talented ones. Promising ones. Occasionally… alarming ones."
Izuku didn't react.
"And then," Nezu continued, "there are anomalies."
He pressed a button on his desk.
A holographic display flickered to life, showing paused video frames—grainy, distant, unmistakable.
Ice flooding a street.
A pressure wave splitting clouds.
A silhouette standing at the center of devastation.
Nezu looked back at Izuku.
"Winter," he said lightly.
The silence stretched.
Izuku exhaled once, slowly.
"I suspected you knew," he said.
Nezu chuckled. "Of course I do. The real question is what you believe I know."
Izuku considered that carefully before answering.
"That I operate without a license," he said, "That I intervene selectively. That I prioritize containment and civilian safety. And that my quirk—Evolution—has developed far beyond what's typical for someone my age."
Nezu's smile widened. "Excellent summary. Although you're missing one crucial explanation. You talked about your Quirk, but... You don't have one."
Izuku's eyebrows tensed, Nezu continued,
"See, the teacher who brought you to my office is the underground hero, Eraserhead and he had some interesting... observations," Nezu spoke as he spoke for eraserhead to walk in.
"Midoriya-kun," he began, "you've listed your quirk as Evolution, correct?"
"Yes, sir," Izuku replied evenly.
Nezu nodded. "A highly adaptive quirk. Broad-spectrum manifestation. Very convenient."
Aizawa sighed softly.
"Problem is," Aizawa said, eyes lifting to meet Izuku's, "I erased you."
Izuku didn't flinch.
"I looked straight at you," Aizawa continued. "Focused. Maintained line of sight. Same as I would with any student. Same as I would with any pro hero."
He paused.
"Nothing shut off."
The room went very still.
Nezu smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
"You see," Nezu said lightly, "Eraserhead's quirk doesn't care about names. It doesn't care about how a quirk is categorized, or how unusual it is. If there is an active quirk factor, it suppresses it."
Izuku listened. He didn't interrupt.
"And yet," Nezu continued, "when Aizawa looked at you, there was nothing to suppress. No quirk factor spiking. No active ability to lock down."
Aizawa pushed off the wall and took a step forward.
"You still moved the same," he said. "Breathing didn't change. Heart rate didn't dip. No loss of ability."
His eyes narrowed.
"That means one of two things."
Izuku met his gaze calmly.
"Either your quirk is completely passive, a mutant quirk," Aizawa said, "which doesn't line up with what we've seen."
Nezu picked up smoothly.
"Or," he said, "you don't have a quirk at all."
Silence.
Izuku exhaled once, slow and controlled.
"…I figured you'd notice," he said.
Nezu's ears twitched in interest.
"Oh?" he asked. "You're not denying it."
"No," Izuku replied. "I'm adjusting."
Aizawa's jaw tightened. "Adjusting what, exactly?"
Izuku thought carefully. This was the line. Not just UA's trust—his future.
"My abilities don't originate from a quirk factor," he said. "They don't respond to erasure because there's no quirk factor for Eraserhead to suppress."
Nezu leaned forward.
"Then what are they?" he asked softly.
Izuku chose his words with precision.
"They're internal, yes," he said. "And conditional. It responds to effort, risk, and outcome. I don't generate them the way quirk users do—I acquire them. but they all take energy to activate."
Aizawa stared.
"…That's not how anything in this world works," he said flatly.
Izuku nodded. "I know. That's why I didn't advertise it. Also, do you think people from before quirk existence wouldn't have thought about quirks the same?"
Nezu tapped a claw against the desk, eyes gleaming.
"Fascinating," he murmured. "An individual with no quirk factor, yet operating at a level that rivals high-tier heroes."
He looked directly at Izuku.
"You understand," Nezu said, "that this places you outside every existing regulatory framework."
"Yes," Izuku replied immediately. "Which is why I want UA."
Aizawa scoffed quietly. "You've been operating as a vigilante."
"I've been preventing harm," Izuku corrected. "There's a difference."
Nezu chuckled. "Ah. Semantics. Heroes love those."
He sat back, studying Izuku anew—not as an applicant, but as a problem.
"Tell me, Midoriya-kun," Nezu said, voice calm but razor-sharp,
"if you truly have no quirk… then why do you want to enter a school designed to train quirk users?"
Izuku didn't hesitate.
"Because UA isn't a place to train quirk users... It's a place to train heroes," he said. "And with my superpowers, I'll aim to become a superhero."
Aizawa was silent.
Nezu smiled slowly.
"Superpowers... Interesting name. Attend the entrance exam tomorrow," Nezu said at last. "Do not hold back. Do not exaggerate. Simply be yourself. However, do not use the Ice ability that Winter is known for."
Izuku stood.
"And after?" he asked.
Nezu's smile widened just a fraction.
"After," he said, "we will decide whether UA is willing to become the first institution to educate something that technically… shouldn't exist."
Izuku bowed deeply.
"Thank you for the opportunity."
As he turned to leave, Aizawa spoke once more.
"Midoriya."
Izuku paused.
Aizawa's eyes were sharp, tired, and assessing.
"If you're lying," he said, "I'll know."
Izuku met his gaze calmly.
"If I were lying," he replied, "I wouldn't be here."
The door closed behind him.
Nezu watched it for a long moment.
"…Well," he said softly, "this year just became interesting."
Aizawa pulled his scarf tighter around his neck.
"Or a disaster," he muttered.
"At least he has no relation to All For One," Nezu thought, "That would've been a true disaster in the making."
Aizawa nodded,
"But something new can also be absolutely terrifying as well. Are we still recording Evolution as his quirk?"
Nezu nodded.
.....
The next day,
Izuku stood among a sea of applicants, the air buzzing with nervous energy, bravado, and poorly hidden fear. Some stretched. Some bragged. Some stared at the massive gates ahead like they were already judging them.
Izuku didn't look at any of them.
His eyes were fixed on the high tower.
Present Mic leaned over the railing, grin wide, voice booming across the testing ground.
"LISTEN UP, YOU FUTURE PROSPECTS! THIS IS THE PRACTICAL EXAM! THERE'S NO TIMER IN A REAL FIGHT, SO DON'T WASTE TIME WAITING FOR ONE!"
Izuku rolled his shoulders once and exhaled.
Movement first. Control second. Momentum third.
The massive doors ahead of them slammed open.
Metal clanked. Gears whirred.
Izuku dropped instantly into a crouch.
[Active Abilities: Combo, Burden Breaker, Light Step, Super Jump.]
Fwoom!
He was gone.
The ground cratered where he'd been standing as Izuku launched forward in a blur, clearing the first block in a single bound. The wind roared past him as Burden Breaker stripped away drag and inertia, his body cutting through the air like a projectile.
A robot rounded the corner—
Izuku hit it mid-sprint.
He stepped on the air itself, pivoted, and drove a kick straight through its sensor cluster.
Combo: 10%.
The machine folded inward and detonated behind him.
Izuku didn't look back.
He landed, took two steps, and jumped again—this time up, running briefly along nothing as he adjusted trajectory. Another robot fired.
He twisted midair, the blast missing by inches, and dropped straight down.
Boom.
His fist caved through armor plating, metal screaming as the machine collapsed.
20%.
Izuku was already moving.
He didn't stop to destroy everything in sight. He threaded the field—striking only when it wouldn't break his rhythm, chaining impacts just close enough to keep the combo alive.
Jump.
Step.
Strike.
Move.
Robots fell in his wake like obstacles instead of enemies.
From the observation room, Present Mic blinked.
"…YO—IS THAT KID RUNNING ON AIR?!"
In the observation room, several screens snapped to follow Izuku's movement.
Aizawa's eyes narrowed. "He's not wasting a single motion."
Nezu leaned forward slightly, tail flicking.
"…Remarkable efficiency."
Back on the field, a larger robot emerged, blocking a street intersection, weapons spinning up.
Izuku didn't slow.
He angled upward, ran three steps on empty air, then came down hard—straight through the robot's head.
+3 points.
30%.
The machine collapsed, sparks flying.
Izuku landed, rolled once to bleed momentum, and sprang back to his feet without pause.
Maintain flow, he thought calmly. Don't stall. Don't pose.
Around him, other applicants were fighting.
Izuku was clearing.
As he vaulted onto a rooftop and kicked off again, Present Mic's voice echoed in the observation room,
"We might have to give the others in that field a boost in points..."
Izuku was already gone.
And for the first time that day, several examinees stopped fighting robots—
Just to stare at the streak of green and white tearing across the battlefield like the exam itself was struggling to keep up.
He inhaled once.
Then—
BOOM!
The ground shook violently.
Metal screamed as something massive moved.
Izuku's eyes snapped up.
A colossal robot rose above the buildings, casting a shadow that swallowed entire streets. Its single eye burned red as it locked onto the testing ground.
The Zero Pointer.
Izuku smiled faintly.
"…There it is."
He scanned the area quickly—and spotted her.
A girl with chestnut hair stood frozen in the street below, eyes wide, body locked in place as rubble blocked her escape.
Found you.
Izuku kicked off without hesitation, air detonating beneath his feet. He scooped her up in one smooth motion and vaulted away, landing a safe distance back and setting her down gently.
"Stay there," he said calmly. "You're good."
She stared up at him, stunned. "…Th-thank you—"
BOOM!
The Zero Pointer's hand slammed down exactly where they'd been seconds earlier, concrete erupting into dust and shrapnel.
Izuku straightened and turned back toward the machine.
No rush.
No panic.
Just certainty.
He raised a single finger and pointed at the towering robot.
"Bloom," Izuku said evenly.
"A world of trees."
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then—
CRRRRACK—!
The ground beneath the Zero Pointer exploded upward.
Massive wooden spikes erupted through the concrete like spears, thicker than cars, tougher than steel. Roots tore through asphalt and building foundations alike, surging upward in violent, unstoppable growth.
The Zero Pointer staggered as wood impaled its legs, locking them in place.
Izuku stepped forward, power flowing cleanly.
Wood didn't just pierce.
It wrapped.
Enormous trunks spiraled upward, coiling around the robot's limbs and torso, crushing metal plating with deep, grinding shrieks. Branches lashed out, anchoring into nearby buildings, turning the entire intersection into a living snare.
The Zero Pointer tried to move.
It couldn't.
Izuku jumped—running up the air itself—and landed on the robot's shoulder as wood continued to surge and reinforce beneath him.
He crouched, placed his palm against its head.
"Down."
The wood answered.
A titanic trunk burst upward from below, slamming into the Zero Pointer's core and lifting the entire machine off the ground before crushing inward.
KRRRSHHHH—!
The robot collapsed in a storm of splintered metal and roaring growth, its eye flickering wildly before going dark.
Silence fell.
Wood stood where concrete once had.
From the observation tower, Present Mic was screaming incoherently.
"THAT— THAT'S NOT EVEN A QUIRK TYPE— WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?!"
In the control room, Aizawa stared at the screen, eyes wide despite himself.
"…That wasn't brute force," he said slowly. "That was control."
Nezu's smile was razor-thin.
"…And foresight."
Back on the field, Izuku hopped down lightly from the wreckage as the wood receded, leaving behind a battlefield frozen in awe.
He glanced back once—just to make sure the girl was safe.
She was.
Good.
As sirens signaled the end of the practical exam, one thing was already certain:
The Zero Pointer hadn't tested Izuku Midoriya.
Izuku Midoriya had tested the Zero Pointer.
Later on, as Izuku was walking home, he decided to open the ticket he got from dominating the entrance exam.
[Congratulations, the user has gained:
* [Observation Haki]
|Epic Ability|
One Piece - Allows you to expand an imaginary sensory field that allows you to sense movements and objects inside. At higher levels of mastery, you can accurately distinguish between targets, energy and even emotions.]
"Sweet," Izuku murmured.
....
"So what do we think of him?"
The control room was still replaying footage frame by frame. Cracked streets. Twisted metal. A forest where concrete had been.
"The kid who just casually demolished an entire testing field to the point we had to boost other test-takers' scores?" Present Mic said, rubbing his temples before letting out a long sigh. "Honestly? Give him the license already."
A few instructors snorted. One actually nodded.
All Might gave a light chuckle, arms crossed, eyes never leaving the screen.
"Hoho… he certainly has spirit," he said. "And restraint."
That earned him a look.
"Restraint?" Midnight echoed.
All Might nodded. "Yes. He could have destroyed the Zero Pointer outright with brute force. Instead, he immobilized it, neutralized the threat, and ensured no further danger to examinees."
Aizawa leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"He also prioritized rescue before engagement," he added. "Didn't hesitate. Didn't posture. Grabbed the girl and moved her out first."
Nezu's tail flicked lazily as he watched Izuku's final movements on-screen.
"And," Nezu said pleasantly, "he used an ability he had not previously displayed. Which tells me he was holding back until it was necessary."
The room went quiet.
"That wasn't panic," Nezu continued. "That was judgment."
Present Mic glanced at another screen showing Izuku standing amid the receding wood, calm as ever.
"Still doesn't explain what he is," Mic muttered.
Aizawa answered flatly. "Someone who's set a new record for the entrance exam, beating all previous examinees."
Silence again.
All Might's expression softened, something thoughtful settling in his eyes.
"…There was a time," he said slowly, "when the world needed symbols because it didn't understand its own limits."
He looked at Nezu.
"And now?"
Nezu smiled.
"Now," he said, "That same thing might be happening as we speak."
He tapped a button, closing the footage.
"Midoriya Izuku will pass," Nezu said calmly. "With distinction."
No one argued.
Outside, on the ruined testing field, Izuku Midoriya stood quietly among the other applicants, unaware of the weight of the discussion happening above him.
He'd come to UA to learn.
UA, it seemed, was about to learn something too.
....
A week later,
"Izuku, a letter's come for you!" Inko called from downstairs.
"Coming!" Izuku replied.
He gave Himiko a quick, absent pat on the head as he passed her—earning an indignant little noise from her in return—before heading down the stairs two at a time.
Inko stood by the table, holding a thick, cream-colored envelope with the unmistakable UA crest stamped in gold across the front.
She smiled nervously. "It looks important."
Izuku took it carefully. For all his composure during the exam, this—this—made his heartbeat tick up just a little.
"…Thanks, Mom."
He broke the seal.
The envelope shimmered faintly.
Izuku barely had time to register that before—
POOF.
A familiar burst of light exploded outward, filling the living room.
"HELLO, YOUNG MIDORIYA!" a booming voice declared.
Inko yelped. "A-A-All Might?!"
All Might stood there in full hero form, hands on his hips, grin radiant as ever—projected in three dimensions from the letter itself.
"I AM HERE! To deliver your results personally!"
Izuku blinked.
"…Figures," he muttered.
All Might laughed. "Now then! You may have noticed that your entrance exam results were… unusual."
The projection shifted, showing footage—robot takedowns, air-running, the Zero Pointer being swallowed by wood.
"You earned rescue points. You earned combat points. And then," All Might said, eyes twinkling, "you earned something we don't normally measure."
The image froze on Izuku carrying Ochako to safety.
"Judgment."
All Might straightened.
"UA is not merely a school for the powerful," he continued. "It is a place for those who understand why power exists."
He smiled wider.
"Which is why—Izuku Midoriya—YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED INTO U.A. UNIVERSITY AS THE TOP SCORER!"
Confetti erupted from the projection.
Inko covered her mouth, tears springing instantly to her eyes. "Izuku…!"
Izuku stood very still.
Then he exhaled.
"…I made it," he said softly.
From the stairs, Himiko leaned over the railing, eyes bright, grin sharp and proud.
"Told you," she said.
The projection faded, the light dimming back into an ordinary letter.
For a moment, the house was quiet.
Then Inko hugged him so tightly he nearly lost his balance.
"I'm so proud of you," she whispered.
Izuku smiled, returning the hug.
Upstairs, Himiko watched it all, something warm and dangerous and hopeful settling in her chest.
.....
'Ughh... First Days always feel strange,' Izuku sighed. Thankfully, he's living at home, so he wouldn't incur any accommodation costs.
It only takes me five minutes to make it back home anyway.
He slid the classroom door open.
Students were already inside.
Talking.
Laughing.
Sizing each other up.
Izuku paused.
…I'm late.
He let out a small breath and stepped fully into the room—only for a voice to cut in sharply from his left.
"So how the fuck did you make it into this class?"
Izuku turned.
Bakugou Katsuki sat sprawled in his chair, boots kicked up on the desk like he owned the place, red eyes locked onto him with naked hostility.
The room went quiet almost instantly.
Izuku met his gaze calmly.
"I applied," he replied. "Same as everyone else."
Bakugou's lip curled. "Don't give me that shit. You're quirkless."
A few students stiffened. Others leaned in, curious.
Izuku didn't raise his voice.
"Incorrect, it was simply an inert quirk, didn't show its potential until much later," he said evenly. "UA evaluated me and decided I met the criteria."
Bakugou slammed his feet down, standing abruptly, chair screeching against the floor.
"You think you can just waltz in here?" he snarled. "After everything—"
"I don't give a shit, Bakugou," Izuku cut in calmly.
The room went dead silent.
"If you keep screaming at me," Izuku continued, voice flat and controlled, "I will make sure you spend the rest of the day in the infirmary."
Not loud.
Not threatening in tone.
Just a statement.
Bakugou froze, teeth grinding, red eyes locked onto Izuku's. For a split second, instinct flared - the old dynamic, the familiar explosion waiting to happen.
Then he hesitated.
Because Izuku wasn't backing down.
No shaking.
No fear.
No anger.
Just certainty.
Before Bakugou could respond, a tired voice drifted from the front of the room.
"Bakugou," Aizawa said without looking up, "sit. Down."
Bakugou twitched.
"I said," Aizawa continued, eyes lifting just enough for the weight of his gaze to land, "sit down."
Bakugou clicked his tongue hard, fists clenched, then dropped back into his chair with barely contained rage.
"Tch."
Aizawa finally looked at Izuku.
"You too," he said. "Seat. Now."
Izuku nodded and moved without comment, taking an empty desk near the middle of the room. He sat, posture relaxed, eyes forward.
Whispers rippled through the class.
"Did that guy just—"
"Bakugou backed off…"
"Who is that guy?"
Aizawa faced the class fully now.
"Day one," he said flatly. "And we're already wasting time."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar device.
"Change of plans. We're doing the Quirk Assessment Test. Outside. Five minutes."
Groans erupted.
Aizawa's eyes swept the room once more, lingering briefly on Izuku.
"And Midoriya," he added dryly, "this isn't the entrance exam."
Izuku met his gaze calmly.
"I know. Sorry, I just hate flies that buzz too loudly."
Bakugou's fingers dug into the edge of his desk.
For the first time since childhood, he wasn't looking at a weak extra.
He was looking at a variable he didn't understand.
And that scared him more than he'd ever admit.
...
"Midoriya, you were the top scorer in the exams. What was your furthest throw in high school?" Aizawa asked.
"25 meters," He responded.
A few heads turned.
Bakugou scoffed loudly. "Tch. Figures."
Aizawa nodded once, as if that answer confirmed something.
"Good," he said. "Now listen carefully."
He raised the ball slightly.
"You'll be performing this test without the artificial restrictions placed on you in middle school. Use your quirks. Use your full capability."
Murmurs spread through the class immediately.
"Yes!"
"Finally!"
"This is more like it."
Izuku rolled the ball once in his hand as Aizawa tossed it to him.
It felt… light.
Too light.
Aizawa watched him closely. "Same rules as everyone else. One throw. Record counts. Oh... and last place gets expelled."
The atmosphere shifted.
A collective inhale rippled through the class.
"E–EXPULSION?!" someone shouted.
Bakugou grinned sharply. "Hah! Now it's interesting."
Izuku didn't react outwardly.
That's not a threat, he realized. It's a filter.
Aizawa wasn't bluffing. He never did.
Izuku stepped into the throwing circle and stopped.
Okay, he thought calmly. Control. Minimum required. No flexing.
He made a few rapid calculations in his head, dialing everything down.
Baseline strength. Enhanced physique, yes—but nothing else.
He inhaled, planted his feet, and threw.
The ball sailed forward in a clean arc.
No shockwave.
No sonic crack.
Just a solid, powerful throw.
The display ticked up.
25m.
40m.
60m.
100m
It slowed.
Then stopped.
350m.
Nothing flashy.
....
50m sprint.
Izuku crouched next to Bakugou.
Burden Breaker activate.
Fwoom!
"Izuku Midoriya," the device announced flatly, "time: 1.01 seconds."
A beat of silence.
Then noise.
"What?!"
"No way—"
"That's not even—"
Bakugou stared at the display, teeth clenched. "…Bullshit."
Izuku stepped off to the side, already deactivating Burden Breaker. No afterimages. No skid marks. Just a clean stop and a steady breath.
Aizawa didn't comment. He simply logged the result.
….
The tests continued.
Grip strength.
Standing long jump.
Repeated side steps.
Izuku never topped the charts by absurd margins again, but he was consistently, unmistakably first or second, never dipping, never straining.
Finally, Aizawa stood before the class with his tablet.
"Results are in," he said.
The chatter died instantly.
"First place," Aizawa continued, eyes lifting briefly, "Izuku Midoriya."
A few students glanced his way. Some impressed. Some wary. One openly irritated.
Aizawa's gaze dropped back to the screen.
"Final place," he said flatly, "Mineta Minoru."
Mineta froze.
"…Huh?" he squeaked.
Aizawa looked up.
"Mineta," he said, "pack your bags."
The color drained from Mineta's face.
"W–WAIT—! You said last place gets expelled, but—but—!"
Aizawa didn't move.
"Go. If you have complaints, file them with the university."
The words landed like a gavel.
Mineta's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"…Y–Yes, sir," he croaked.
He grabbed his bag with shaking hands and hurried off the field, head down, the weight of UA's reality finally sinking in.
No dramatics.
No second chances.
Just consequences.
The rest of the class stood in stunned silence.
Aizawa turned back to them.
"Remember this," he said. "Hero work isn't fair. It isn't kind. And it doesn't care how badly you want to stay."
His gaze swept over them, briefly pausing on Izuku.
"Those who can't keep up get left behind," Aizawa continued. "Those who can… move forward."
He slung his capture weapon over his shoulder.
"Class dismissed."
As the students slowly began to disperse, the tension lingered in the air.
Bakugou clenched his fists.
Others whispered in low, uneasy voices.
Izuku adjusted the strap of his bag and started walking, expression calm.
Not relieved.
Not proud.
Just focused.
UA doesn't bluff, he thought. Good.
Because if this were the standard—
Then he'd made the right choice coming here.
...
[Congratulations on coming in first place in a quirk test!]
[The user has gained:
* [Despair Aura II]
|Uncommon Ability|
Allows you to emit an aura of despair that makes people feel a sense of unease and fear toward you, Weaker-willed targets will be overcome with unbearable fear and panic.]
"Useful against villains..." Izuku muttered at the back of the class.
A chair scraped against the floor.
Izuku looked up.
Bakugou had stood.
Not explosively.
Not shouting.
His expression was… different. Tense. Focused. Almost controlled in the way a coiled spring was controlled.
He walked over and stopped beside Izuku's desk.
The class noticed. Conversations died. A few people subtly leaned away.
Bakugou stared down at him.
"You didn't flinch," Bakugou said quietly.
Izuku blinked once. "At what?"
"At anything," Bakugou snapped under his breath. "The tests. The way everyone's looking at you. You act like it was all expected."
Izuku met his gaze calmly. "It was."
Bakugou's jaw tightened. His fists clenched, then loosened.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice low.
The words hit harder than any explosion ever had.
Izuku stared at him for half a second, genuinely caught off guard, then let out a quiet breath and gave a small, wry smile.
"For what?"
Bakugou looked away, teeth grinding as if forcing the words out was physically painful.
"For… all of it," he muttered. "For back then. For thinking I was better just because I was loud. For treating you like you were nothing."
He glanced back, eyes sharp but no longer furious.
"You're not better," he said flatly. "You never were."
The classroom felt very far away all of a sudden.
Izuku studied Bakugou's face—really studied it. The pride was still there. The fire, too. But underneath it was something new.
Awareness.
"…You don't owe me an apology to compete," Izuku said gently. "But if you mean it—then don't say it to me."
Bakugou frowned. "Then who?"
Izuku met his eyes.
"Prove it," he said. "To yourself."
Bakugou huffed a quiet laugh. "Figures."
He straightened, rolling his shoulders like he was bracing for a fight that hadn't happened yet.
"This doesn't mean I'm going easy on you," he said.
Izuku smiled, just a little wider this time.
"I'd be disappointed if you did."
Bakugou turned and walked back to his seat.
The tension in the room didn't vanish—but it changed.
Not rivals yet.
Not friends.
But something fragile had shifted.
The dark-haired girl walked over to him.
Momo, If I remember correctly.
"Yes?" Izuku said, turning fully toward her.
She hesitated for half a second, then offered a polite bow. "Yaoyorozu Momo. I wanted to introduce myself properly."
He nodded in return. "Midoriya Izuku."
"I know," she said gently. "Everyone does."
That earned a small, amused huff from him.
She clasped her hands in front of her. "I hope this isn't rude, but… You don't act like someone who just discovered their power."
Izuku studied her expression. Not suspicion. Curiosity. Academic, almost.
"I didn't," he replied honestly.
Her eyes sharpened a fraction. "I thought as much."
A brief silence followed, not awkward, just thoughtful.
"You analyze situations very quickly," Momo continued. "During the assessment tests. You never wasted movement. Never overextended. I watched the recordings."
Izuku shrugged lightly. "Efficiency matters."
"Yes," she agreed. "It does."
She glanced toward the door where All Might had entered, then back at him.
"I think," Momo said carefully, "that people like us will be expected to lead at some point. Whether we want to or not."
Izuku met her gaze. "Probably."
She smiled faintly. "Then I look forward to working with you, Midoriya-kun."
"Likewise," he replied.
She turned to leave, pausing just long enough to add, "And… thank you. For earlier."
"For what?" Izuku asked.
"For reminding everyone," she said, "that strength doesn't have to be loud."
Then she walked away, heels clicking softly against the classroom floor.
Izuku leaned back in his chair, exhaling quietly.
UA really is different, he thought.
Fwoom.
"I'm coming through the door! Like a normal person!" The classroom door slid open with an unnecessary amount of force as All Might stepped inside in his full hero form, filling the doorway with muscle, confidence, and an aggressively wholesome smile.
Several students jumped.
Kirishima lit up instantly. "ALL MIGHT?!"
Uraraka gasped. "He's really here—!"
Bakugou's head snapped toward the door, eyes blazing with renewed intensity.
All Might struck a pose out of sheer habit. "GOOD MORNING, YOUNG HEROES! I AM HERE—"
Aizawa's voice cut in like a knife.
"You're late."
All Might stiffened. "…I am fashionably—"
"You're late," Aizawa repeated flatly.
All Might coughed and relaxed his pose, scratching the back of his head. "Aha… right! Moving on!"
He turned back to the class, a smile returning.
"As you may have heard," he continued, "I will be teaching you Foundational Hero Studies!"
A ripple of excitement went through the room.
All Might clasped his hands together. "We'll be dividing you into teams and simulating real combat scenarios! Heroes versus villains, indoors!"
He paused dramatically.
"This will be your first step into understanding what it truly means to fight—not just with power, but with purpose!"
Izuku straightened slightly.
Bakugou grinned.
Aizawa sighed and pulled his scarf tighter. "Try not to break the building."
All Might laughed. "Of course!"
His gaze swept across the room—and stopped.
Just for a fraction of a second.
On Izuku.
Their eyes met.
All Might's smile didn't falter, but something deeper flickered there. Recognition. Curiosity. A careful, measured interest.
Then he looked away and clapped his hands.
"NOW THEN! LET'S HEAD TO THE TRAINING FACILITY!"
As the class began filing out, Bakugou walked past Izuku again, stopping just long enough to speak under his breath.
"Don't fall behind."
Izuku smiled faintly.
"I won't. Keep up."
....
After changing into their hero suits, everyone gathered in the staging area.
Izuku adjusted the collar of his suit once and let his shoulders relax. The black-and-green material felt familiar already, light and flexible, built for movement rather than spectacle.
(A/N: The black and green suit from the movie.)
He found himself standing beside Momo.
"Nice suit," he said casually.
She glanced over, then blinked as a faint blush crept up her cheeks. "Ah—thank you." She nodded toward him in return. "Yours is cool. Very… practical."
He smiled. "That's the idea."
All Might clapped his hands together, drawing everyone's attention.
"STUDENTS! You'll now draw your lots! You'll be teaming up in 2v2 combat scenarios. Heroes versus villains! Work together and remember—victory comes from strategy, not just strength!"
Excited chatter rippled through the group as they lined up.
Izuku stepped forward, drew a card, and glanced down.
Team… two.
He looked up as someone waved energetically nearby.
"Mina?" Izuku called, lifting a hand toward the pink-skinned girl with horns.
Mina Ashido turned, eyes lighting up. "Oh! Izuku!" She bounced over, peering at his card. "Don't tell me—same team?"
"Looks like it," he replied.
"Yes!" she pumped a fist. "This is gonna be fun. I've been wanting to see what you can really do up close."
Izuku chuckled softly. "Likewise."
Across the room, Bakugou loudly complained about his own draw, while Uraraka and Iida tried to calm him down. Momo stood a few steps away, quietly reading her card, thoughtful as ever.
All Might's booming voice rang out again.
"Teams will be announced shortly! Heroes, villains—prepare yourselves!"
Izuku glanced at Mina.
"Quick question," he said. "Do you prefer aggressive openings or flexible positioning?"
Mina grinned, sharp and confident. "Aggressive… but smart. I can melt terrain, control space."
Izuku nodded. "Perfect. I'll handle pressure and containment."
Her grin widened. "Wow. You really talk like a pro already."
He shrugged lightly. "Just thinking ahead."
As the teams were finalized and the doors to the training building began to open, Izuku felt that familiar calm settle in.