"Let's do our best, Mina," Izuku spoke with confidence.
Mina nodded enthusiastically. "You bet!"
He took a step forward, posture relaxed but ready, eyes already scanning the building layout ahead of them.
"But don't worry," Izuku added calmly. "Even if things go south… I've got this."
Mina blinked—then burst out laughing.
"Whoa—Izuku, are you a pro hero already or something?" she grinned. "You've totally got the catchphrase down already."
Izuku paused, then gave a small, almost sheepish smile. "Was that a catchphrase?"
"Absolutely," Mina said, pointing at him. "Short. Confident. Reassuring. Civilians would eat that up."
"…Huh," Izuku murmured. "Good to know."
All Might's voice echoed through the staging area.
"TEAM MIDORIYA AND ASHIDO! YOU WILL BE THE HERO TEAM! Team Yaoyorozu and Todoroki will be the VILLAINS!"
Mina pumped her fist. "Yes! Heroes!"
Izuku nodded once, focus sharpening. "Alright. We'll move fast together. I'll draw attention and control space. You adjust terrain and cut off routes. We need to be aware that Todoroki has enough firepower to freeze the entire building. When I say Jump... Jump. Yaoyorozu is the wild card; we don't really know her quirk."
Mina tilted her head, impressed. "You already have a plan."
"I always do," he replied simply.
The massive doors to the mock city began to slide open, metal groaning as the battlefield revealed itself.
Mina stretched her arms, acid dripping faintly from her fingertips. "Alright, Mr. Catchphrase," she said with a playful smirk. "Let's see if you can back it up."
Izuku's eyes stayed forward as the countdown began.
"I can," he said.
[Active abilities: Observation Haki, Burden Breaker, Combo, Light step.]
...
"Jump!" Izuku commanded as he activated his observation haki.
Mina didn't question it.
She leapt.
A split second later, the building in front of them flash-froze, ice erupting upward like jagged teeth. The temperature plummeted as Todoroki's quirk tore through the ground.
Mina landed beside Izuku, eyes wide. "—Okay, I'm listening now!"
Izuku was already moving.
Burden Breaker engaged and he vanished, sprinting up the side of a building as if gravity were optional. He ran three steps on open air, pivoted, and slammed down onto a rooftop.
"There!" he called. "Third floor, north side!"
Mina grinned ferally. "Got it!"
She sprinted forward through the bottom floor whilst Izuku crashed through the ceiling, coming face-to-face with Todoroki,
"I thought you'd do that, Izuku..." He muttered as he readied his
Todoroki inhaled sharply.
The air around him crystallized as ice surged outward, spreading across the floor in a disciplined wave meant to control distance and force Izuku into predictable lanes.
Izuku saw it before the temperature dropped.
Wide freeze. Anchor point at my feet. Follow-up wall. Mina boxed out.
He didn't hesitate.
Burden Breaker surged.
The world compressed.
Izuku stepped forward as the ice erupted — not away, not to the side, but through the gap Todoroki hadn't realized he'd left. His boots skimmed the floor without friction, momentum folding inward instead of spilling outward.
Todoroki's eyes widened.
Too late.
Izuku was already inside his range.
[Light Step disengaged.]
[Four Arms engaged.]
Two extra arms manifested mid-motion.
One hand slapped Todoroki's wrist aside before the ice could thicken.
Another hooked his sleeve and yanked — not hard, just enough to break the balance.
The third arm flicked outward—
SNAP.
Capture tape hissed through the air.
It wrapped around Todoroki's torso in a single fluid motion, cinching tight before his quirk could respond. The fourth arm followed immediately, binding his legs and pinning his arms against his sides.
The entire exchange took less than five seconds.
Todoroki hit the floor hard, ice shattering uselessly beneath him.
He tried to move.
The tape tightened.
"…What—" he breathed, genuinely stunned.
Izuku was already stepping back, disengaging, eyes flicking past Todoroki instead of lingering on him.
"Stay still," Izuku said calmly. "You're restrained."
Todoroki tested the bindings one more time, then stopped.
He sighed,
"You got me."
A buzzer echoed faintly through the building.
From below, Mina's delighted voice rang out.
"IZUKU! ROCKET'S CLEAR—YAOMOMO CAN'T MOVE!"
Izuku tapped the comm once. "Acknowledged."
.....
"His speed is crazy!" Kaminari blurted out, eyes wide. "That quirk is straight-up a cheat!"
"No kidding…" Uraraka murmured, still watching the building, fingers curled into the fabric of her gloves. "I barely even saw him move."
Bakugou scoffed loudly from where he stood, arms crossed tight over his chest. "Tch. Of course it's fast. That bastard's been holding back this whole time."
But there was no mockery in his voice.
Just tension.
Izuku stood off to the side of the training area, posture relaxed, breathing even. The fight was already over in his mind, filed away as efficiently as it had begun.
Mina jogged back toward him, a wide grin on her face.
"Hey," she said, bumping her shoulder lightly into his. "Just so you know—I did take Yaoyorozu down. Acid trap through the floor, pinned her before she could finish making whatever she was planning."
Izuku smiled. "I figured you would."
She preened a little at that. "Still. Congrats on getting the spotlight."
Before Izuku could reply, All Might's voice rang out.
"THAT CONCLUDES THIS MATCH!"
The villains were released from the capture tape. Todoroki rose silently, brushing ice from his uniform, expression unreadable. Yaoyorozu adjusted her gloves, composed but clearly replaying the fight in her head.
All Might's smile was there.
But it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Midoriya," he said, gesturing with a thumb. "A word."
Izuku nodded and followed him a short distance away into a corridor, leaving the rest of the class behind.
For a moment, All Might said nothing.
Then he exhaled.
"…That was extraordinary speed," he said finally. "Clean. Decisive. Controlled."
Izuku waited.
"But," All Might continued, turning to face him fully, "did you notice what happened after?"
Izuku glanced back through the glass in the door. Mina was animatedly recounting her win over Momo to Uraraka and Kaminari now, clearly enjoying herself.
"She succeeded," Izuku said. "The objective was secured."
"Yes," All Might agreed. "But not because she needed you. Because you trusted her enough to let her act."
He smiled slightly. "That matters."
Izuku frowned faintly. "But Todoroki—"
"You neutralised him perfectly," All Might interrupted gently. "And that's exactly why I wanted to talk."
He folded his arms.
"When I was at my strongest," All Might said, "I ended fights before others could even react. It made me reliable. It also made everyone else… unnecessary. I can see that in you."
Izuku's brow furrowed.
"You didn't do that today," All Might continued. "You could have. But you didn't erase your teammate from the equation."
He placed a hand on Izuku's shoulder.
"You're fast," he said. "Faster than any hero I've seen before....even myself at this point. The question isn't whether you can win."
Izuku met his gaze.
"It's whether you leave room for others to grow when you do."
Izuku thought back to Mina moving on her own, adapting, smiling when she won.
"…I understand," he said quietly.
All Might's grin widened again, this time genuine.
"Good," he said. "Because that speed of yours?"
He chuckled.
"It's going to change the world. Remember, if you solve everything alone, the world will let you — until the day you can't."
Izuku nodded,
Teamwork. Something I'm not used to...but he has a point. I can't really be in two places at once.
Izuku let the thought settle, then—almost absentmindedly—he focused.
Not outward.
Inward.
He let his Observation Haki expand, not toward threats or intent, but toward presence.
And he stiffened.
The towering aura in front of him… was wrong.
It wasn't the overwhelming, sun-bright pressure he'd seen from All Might on television, in recordings, in old battles.
This one was… fractured.
Hollow in places.
Like a bonfire burning on borrowed fuel.
Izuku's expression tightened.
"All Might…" he said quietly.
All Might blinked. "Hm?"
Izuku hesitated. Not because he was afraid—but because he understood, suddenly, that this was private. Important.
"…What the hell happened to you?"
The air went still.
All Might's smile didn't vanish.
But it froze.
"…That's a rather blunt question, young Midoriya," he said lightly.
Izuku didn't back down.
"Your presence is unstable," he said, voice low. "You're bleeding strength constantly. Your body feels… damaged. This isn't age. This isn't fatigue."
He looked All Might straight in the eyes.
"This is an injury. A catastrophic one."
Silence.
Then All Might laughed.
Hoarse. Forced.
"Haha… you really are sharp."
Izuku's brow furrowed. "You're hiding it."
"Yes," All Might admitted, far more easily than expected.
Izuku's eyes widened slightly.
"You already told Nezu, didn't you?" Izuku said. Not a question.
All Might exhaled slowly, shoulders slumping just a fraction.
"…Yes."
He turned away, gaze drifting toward the training field where students were still talking excitedly, unaware.
"A long time ago," All Might said quietly, "I fought a villain named All For One."
Izuku felt a chill.
"I won," All Might continued. "But not cleanly."
He tapped his chest.
"My respiratory system. My stomach. Most of my internal organs were destroyed."
Izuku's jaw tightened.
"That's why you're on a timer," Izuku said.
All Might glanced back at him, startled. "…You can tell that too?"
Izuku nodded. "You burn through your reserves every time you transform. You're not healing. You're compensating."
For a moment, All Might looked… old.
"I didn't want to burden anyone," he said softly. "The world needed a symbol. I couldn't afford to be weak."
Izuku absorbed that.
Then shook his head once.
"That's not strength," he said. "That's endurance. And endurance runs out."
All Might studied him carefully now.
"…You see things others don't."
"I have to," Izuku replied. "Speed doesn't matter if I miss the truth."
A small smile tugged at All Might's lips.
"Nezu warned me," he said. "He said if anyone noticed… it would be you."
Izuku exhaled.
"How long?" he asked.
All Might hesitated.
"…A few years," he admitted.
Izuku's fists clenched.
Then he relaxed them.
"…I might be able to fix it..." Izuku whispered as he noticed the notification appearing in front of him,
[Congratulations on defeating the enemy team! You have gained 1x silver ticket.]
[The user has gained:
[Greater Healing Light]
|Elite Ability|
Allows you to bathe a target in healing light, capable of healing even grievous wounds and lethal damage. Effect scales with your power level. Stronger targets need more energy to heal.]
"…You're joking," he breathed.
All Might tilted his head. "Midoriya?"
Izuku swallowed.
"No," he said quietly. "This… this is real."
He looked up at All Might, eyes sharp now—not with bravado, but with weight.
"I have an ability," Izuku said carefully. "A healing one. It's not instant. It's not free. And I don't know its limits yet."
All Might's smile returned reflexively. "Young Midoriya, I appreciate the thought, but—"
"It can heal lethal damage," Izuku interrupted.
That stopped him.
All Might stared.
"…You're serious."
"Yes."
A long silence followed.
The distant noise of students faded into something unreal, muffled by the gravity settling between them.
All Might finally spoke, voice lower than Izuku had ever heard.
"…If what you're saying is true," he said slowly, "then this isn't something you offer lightly."
Izuku nodded.
"I know."
He looked back at the notification, then dismissed it with a thought.
"I won't try it blindly," Izuku continued. "I won't do it without understanding the cost. And I won't do it unless you want me to."
All Might searched his face.
Not for confidence.
For recklessness.
He didn't find it.
"…You're still a student," All Might said. "You shouldn't be carrying this."
Izuku met his gaze evenly.
"You carried the world with half a body," he replied. "Let me at least try to carry this."
All Might's hands trembled—just a little.
"…Nezu said you'd be dangerous," he murmured. "He didn't mean your power."
Izuku gave a small, tired smile.
"I don't plan to rush this," he said. "But if there's even a chance… then maybe the symbol doesn't have to burn itself out."
All Might looked away, jaw tight.
For the first time in years, the future felt… uncertain.
Not darker.
Just different.
"…We'll talk," All Might said finally. "Privately. With Nezu. And no one else."
Izuku nodded. "That's fair."
All Might placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
"Midoriya," he said quietly, "whatever you become… don't let this world turn you into a replacement."
Izuku's eyes softened.
"I won't," he said.
....
That afternoon, after school,
Izuku was walking down the hallway, towards the principal's office, while typing away at his phone,
I'll be back a bit late, mom, I've got a meeting with a teacher. Don't worry, just drafting a progression plan.
Flicking over to his chat with Himiko, he reassured her as well,
Don't die 👍Also, bring snacks if you can.
He smiled,
I won't. I'll swing by the store later, see you in a bit.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket just as he came to a stop in front of an unassuming wooden door.
He raised a hand and knocked.
"Come in," a cheerful voice called from inside.
Izuku stepped in.
The office was exactly as he remembered from the entrance exam interview—warm, cluttered with books and odd devices, sunlight streaming through the window. Principal Nezu sat behind his desk, small paws folded neatly, tail flicking with quiet interest.
Across from him sat another figure.
All Might.
This time, in his thin form.
Izuku's gaze flicked to him for half a second—Observation immediately catching the strain, the careful posture, the way he conserved every movement.
Nezu smiled broadly. "Ah! Midoriya Izuku. Right on time."
Izuku bowed politely. "Thank you for seeing me, Principal Nezu. All Might."
All Might nodded back, expression serious but warm. "Young Midoriya."
Nezu gestured to the empty chair. "Please, sit. We have… quite a bit to discuss."
Izuku took the seat, posture straight, hands resting calmly in his lap.
Nezu tilted his head, eyes bright with curiosity.
"Let's start simply," the principal said. "You have demonstrated abilities that do not behave like a conventional quirk."
Izuku nodded once. "That's correct."
"And," Nezu continued pleasantly, "you've noticed things you shouldn't reasonably be able to notice."
Izuku didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
All Might watched him closely.
Nezu's smile widened—not with amusement, but with interest.
"Let's focus on one thing for now," Nezu said pleasantly. "This healing ability you mentioned."
Izuku nodded once.
"You said you might be able to fix All Might," Nezu continued. "That is… an extraordinary claim."
All Might shifted. "Nezu—"
Nezu raised a paw. "Let the boy answer."
Nezu's dark eyes returned to Izuku. "How confident are you, Midoriya Izuku?"
Izuku didn't answer immediately.
He didn't need to think.
"I'm confident in what it does," he said calmly. "Not arrogant about what it costs."
Nezu's ears twitched. "Elaborate."
Izuku met his gaze directly.
"The healing itself isn't unstable," Izuku explained. "It's not conditional, and it doesn't appear to reject targets. It scales with severity and with the target's baseline strength."
All Might's brow furrowed. "And the danger?"
Izuku answered without hesitation.
"The only danger is the drain on my energy."
Nezu stopped tapping his pen.
"…Only?" he asked.
Izuku nodded. "No backlash. No delayed failure. If I have the energy, it works. If I don't, it stops."
"And what happens to you if you run out?" Nezu asked quietly.
Izuku considered that honestly.
"Exhaustion," he said. "Possibly unconsciousness. Worst case, organ strain. But not permanent damage."
Nezu leaned back slightly, tail flicking once.
"That's a remarkably measured assessment for a first-year student," he said.
Izuku shrugged faintly. "I don't gamble with unknowns."
All Might studied Izuku now, something heavy in his eyes.
"So you're saying," All Might said slowly, "that the risk is entirely yours."
"Yes," Izuku replied simply.
Nezu smiled.
Not wide.
Not amused.
Interested.
"That," Nezu said, "is precisely the kind of answer I was hoping for."
He closed his clipboard with a soft snap.
Then here is my position," Nezu continued calmly. "We will attempt a small heal on him."
All Might stiffened immediately. "Nezu—"
Nezu raised a paw again, expression mild but unyielding. "A small one," he repeated. "Nothing structural. No full restoration. Merely enough to observe response, energy transfer, and aftereffects."
He turned his gaze back to Izuku.
"If it does not noticeably drain your energy," Nezu said, "then we will continue. Incrementally."
Izuku nodded without hesitation. "Understood."
All Might looked between them, jaw tight. "…Young Midoriya, you don't have to—"
"I know," Izuku said gently. "But I'm willing. I'm fully rested from earlier."
Nezu hopped down from his chair and padded over to a small side table, pressing a button. The blinds slid shut automatically, privacy seals engaging with a faint hum.
"Very well," Nezu said. "All Might, please sit."
All Might hesitated only a second before doing so, settling into the reinforced chair with careful movements.
Izuku stepped closer, heart steady, mind already switching modes.
Start small. Superficial tissue. No deep regeneration.
He raised one hand, palm open.
[Greater Healing Light: active.]
Soft light bloomed—warm, steady, controlled. Not blinding. Not dramatic. It washed gently over All Might's torso, concentrating around the scarred regions without burrowing deeper.
All Might sucked in a sharp breath.
"…That feels," he paused, surprised, "…warm."
Izuku frowned slightly in concentration, monitoring his own body.
No dizziness.
No strain.
Energy draw present—but shallow. Manageable.
After a few seconds, he withdrew his hand and let the light fade.
Silence.
All Might blinked, then slowly straightened.
He pressed a hand to his side.
"…Nezu," he said quietly.
Nezu was already watching closely. "Yes?"
"The pain," All Might said. "…it's less."
Not gone.
But less.
Izuku exhaled slowly. "Energy loss is minimal," he reported. "Equivalent to light exertion. I could repeat this dozens of times safely."
Nezu's tail flicked sharply.
"…Fascinating," he said.
All Might looked at Izuku, something unguarded in his eyes.
"…Young Midoriya," he said, voice rough, "do you realize what you just did?"
Izuku met his gaze calmly.
"Yes," he said. "I reduced your daily strain. Slightly. Temporarily."
Nezu smiled.
A dangerous, delighted smile.
"Then we are in agreement," Nezu said. "This ability is not theoretical. It is functional. And—most importantly—controllable."
He clasped his paws together.
"We will proceed cautiously," Nezu continued.
All Might leaned back, eyes closed for a moment, breathing easier than he had in years.
"…Heh," he murmured. "Looks like I'm in your care now."
Izuku nodded,
Time to see if I can heal the symbol of Peace...
Izuku stepped forward and placed his hand against All Might's chest.
Maximum Output...
The room changed.
Light didn't burst outward — it poured, dense and radiant, flooding the space with a warm, steady brilliance that made the air feel thick and alive. It wasn't holy or divine in the theatrical sense.
It was restorative.
All Might sucked in a sharp breath.
Pain flared — not agony, but pressure, like bones and organs being remembered by his body. Scar tissue softened. Damaged muscle knit itself together. Organs long reduced to barely functional states began rebuilding, layer by layer.
All Might's back arched slightly as he clenched his fists.
"…Ah—" he breathed. "This—this feels—"
"Don't fight it," Izuku said, voice steady despite the strain beginning to creep in. "Let it happen."
Inside Izuku, energy began to bleed away.
Not violently.
Not catastrophically.
But steadily, like a reservoir being drained through a wide-open valve.
His breathing deepened. His shoulders tensed. Sweat beaded along his temples and rolled down the side of his face.
Nezu's eyes flicked to Izuku's posture instantly.
"Heart rate elevated," Nezu noted. "Perspiration onset. Energy expenditure is increasing but stable."
Izuku didn't respond.
He was focused.
Lungs first. Digestive tract next. Structural damage last.
The light intensified.
All Might gasped — then froze.
Something clicked.
His breathing evened out.
The constant background ache he'd lived with for years — the dull pressure, the ever-present reminder that his body was failing — vanished.
"…Nezu," All Might whispered.
Nezu leaned forward. "Yes?"
"…I can breathe," All Might said, voice unsteady. "Fully."
Izuku's knees trembled.
The light finally faded as he pulled his hand back, the glow dissipating into the air like mist under sunlight.
He took one step back.
Then another.
"…Done," he said quietly.
And promptly sat down on the floor, back against the wall, chest rising and falling hard.
Sweat soaked through his uniform. His muscles burned, not painfully — just used. The kind of exhaustion that followed a long, relentless run.
Nezu was already at All Might's side, scanning him with instruments, eyes sharp and utterly focused.
"…Extraordinary," Nezu murmured. "Vital signs normalized. Organ function—" He paused, then looked up sharply. "—fully restored."
All Might stared at his hands.
He clenched them.
Unclenched them.
Stood.
Slowly at first — then straighter.
Taller.
Stronger.
"…I don't feel weak," he said softly.
He turned toward Izuku, who was still seated on the floor, breathing heavily but smiling faintly.
"…You did it," All Might said.
Izuku wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "You'll need to get used to things. Your body's been compensating for years."
All Might laughed — a full, stunned, almost disbelieving sound.
"HAHA…!" He cut himself off, eyes shining. "Young Midoriya… you didn't just heal me."
He stepped closer, towering even in his thin form.
"You gave me time."
Nezu folded his paws behind his back, tail swaying slowly.
"…Midoriya, you don't understand what you have just done. You've given the world time. For that, I thank you. I will no longer question your origins... Your secret is safe with me."
All Might nodded,
"Me too."
Izuku closed his eyes for a second, then reopened them.
"Worth it," he said simply.
For the first time in years — truly, genuinely —
The Symbol of Peace stood whole.
And seated on the floor beside him was the boy who had quietly, decisively ensured that symbol would not fade just yet.
Izuku smiled,
"So who's the lucky kid?"
"So you saw that as well?"
Izuku nodded once. "Yeah. That…energy associated with quirks was lacking. Not damage. Not strain. More like an absence. Like you gave something away and never took it back."
All Might was quiet for a long moment.
Then he laughed softly.
"…I suppose there's no point hiding it from you."
Nezu's ears perked up, but he didn't interrupt.
"All For One wasn't the only legacy I carried," All Might said. "I also inherited a Quirk. One passed down intentionally. From hero to hero."
Izuku's expression sharpened, curiosity overtaking fatigue. "A stockpiling type?"
All Might nodded. "Very perceptive. It grows stronger as it's passed on, One For All, it's called."
Izuku tilted his head slightly. "What a fitting name. So… you already passed it."
"Yes," All Might said. No hesitation now. "Before I met you, Midoriya. Before UA."
Izuku blinked. Then smiled again, genuinely this time.
"Huh," he said. "That explains why you felt… incomplete."
All Might winced. "You make it sound so clinical."
"Sorry," Izuku said. "Force of habit."
Nezu finally spoke. "And the successor?"
All Might looked toward the window, sunlight spilling across the floor.
"Mirio Togata," he said proudly. "Third-year. Powerful Quirk. Unbreakable spirit. The kind of hero who charges forward even when the world tells him not to."
Izuku nodded slowly. "I've heard of him. Hard to miss, from what people say."
All Might smiled. "He's everything I thought a successor should be."
Izuku leaned his head back against the wall, considering that.
"…Then you chose right," he said simply.
All Might turned to him, surprised. "You don't sound disappointed."
Izuku shrugged. "Why would I be? I'm not lacking power. And you didn't choose him over me. You chose him before you knew me."
That earned him a long, searching look.
"You're an odd one, Midoriya Izuku," All Might said quietly.
Izuku chuckled. "I get that a lot."
Nezu's tail swayed thoughtfully. "Then this creates a most interesting situation."
All Might nodded. "Indeed. With Mirio carrying One For All… and you possessing abilities that rival and complement it…"
Izuku glanced between them. "Let me guess. Don't tell anyone."
All Might smiled wryly. "Please."
Izuku raised a hand weakly. "Relax. Secrets are kind of my thing."
For a moment, the three of them sat in silence.
Then All Might spoke again, voice firm but warm.
"You didn't need One For All," he said. "But you still chose to help me. To heal me."
Izuku met his gaze.
"You're the Symbol of Peace," he replied. "Whether you're holding the torch or not, the world's better with you standing. Plus...I'd probably beat Mirio."
All Might laughed softly, eyes shining.
"…Mirio is my successor," he said. "But Midoriya Izuku…"
He placed a hand over his chest.
"You are something new entirely."
Nezu smiled.
Izuku nodded, still panting slightly.
....
A week later,
"Students, today for your basic hero training, we're doing something a bit different..." Eraserhead spoke with the same deflated tone.
Sero's hand shot up,
"Sir... What are we doing?"
Aizawa's tired eyes swept across the class before settling somewhere just past them, like he was already regretting this.
"Disaster-response simulation," he said. "Urban environment. Civilian dummies. Limited visibility. Structural instability."
A pause.
He clicked a remote. The screen behind him lit up, displaying schematics of a partially collapsed city block.
"Your objective is evacuation, triage, and coordination," Aizawa continued. "Heroes who prioritize combat over civilians will fail."
Several students stiffened.
Uraraka glanced at the screen, nervous but focused. "So… rescue points matter more than takedowns?"
"Correct," Aizawa said. "And you'll be graded individually and as teams."
His gaze drifted, briefly, to Izuku.
Izuku didn't react outwardly. He was already studying the map, Observation Haki lightly brushing the edges of his awareness—not predicting attacks, but movement. Bottlenecks. Collapse risks. Dead zones.
Evacuation routes are narrow. Multiple failure points. Speed helps… but only if people can follow.
Aizawa clapped once. "You'll be assigned to squads of four. One leader per team. Leaders rotate."
Bakugou cracked his neck. "Good. I'll—"
"Midoriya," Aizawa said, cutting him off. "You're not leading first."
Bakugou's head snapped toward Izuku. "Tch—!"
Izuku blinked, surprised, then nodded. "Understood."
"You're support," Aizawa continued. "Mobility and extraction. You move when told. You stop when told."
Izuku met his gaze evenly. "Yes, sir."
That earned him a fraction of a nod.
The screen shifted again, now showing countdown numbers.
"Suit up. The bus will be here in ten minutes. We're going to the USJ."
As the class began to move, Mina fell into step beside Izuku.
"Support role, huh?" she teased. "Must be killing you."
Izuku smiled faintly. "Honestly?"
He looked at the map one more time.
"…I think this one's going to be harder than fighting."
Mina grinned. "Good. That means it'll be fun."
Izuku wasn't so sure.
.....
Izuku sat beside Yaoyorozu Momo, one row behind the rest of their team.
Ahead of them, Kirishima was animatedly talking with Tsuyu, his voice carrying easily over the low rumble of the engine.
"So we're basically rescue heroes today, huh?" Kirishima said with a grin. "Man, that's kinda awesome."
Tsuyu nodded, hands folded neatly in her lap. "It will require careful coordination. Ribbit."
Momo sat very straight, hands clasped together in her lap, eyes forward—but Izuku could tell she was tense.
She'd been chosen as leader.
Not because of power.
Because of judgment.
Izuku glanced at her, then spoke quietly so only she could hear.
"You picked a good team."
Momo blinked, startled, then looked at him. "I—I did?"
He nodded. "Kirishima's durability is perfect for debris removal and shielding civilians. Tsuyu's mobility and awareness make her ideal for scouting."
"And you?" she asked softly.
Izuku smiled faintly. "I'm fast, and I can carry the civilian dumies without slowing down. That's all we need from me."
Momo studied him for a moment.
"You didn't try to take charge," she said. Not an accusation—an observation.
Izuku shrugged. "You're the leader. I'm support today."
She looked down at her hands, then back up, determination slowly replacing her earlier nerves.
"…Thank you," she said. "If you notice anything I miss, please tell me. I don't want to make the wrong call."
Izuku nodded. "I will. But I won't override you."
That earned him a small, relieved smile.
Ahead, Kirishima twisted around in his seat. "Yo, Midoriya! You think we're gonna ace this?"
Izuku met his grin. "If we keep people safe? Yeah."
Tsuyu glanced back as well, eyes curious. "You're unusually calm today, Midoriya."
He chuckled softly. "Not my first time saving someone."
Momo tilted her head slightly, studying him. "You've… done rescue work before?"
Izuku considered how to answer, then nodded. "Unofficially. Different circumstances. Same priorities."
Tsuyu's eyes narrowed just a bit, deciding not to pry, "That explains your confidence. Ribbit."
The bus slowed as it turned, the Unforeseen Simulation Joint coming fully into view through the windows. A massive dome that encapsulated collapsed buildings leaning at dangerous angles. Artificial smoke curled through shattered streets. Sirens wailed in overlapping patterns, designed to create a disorienting effect.
The atmosphere inside the bus shifted.
Aizawa projected his voice,
"Everyone off the bus! We've arrived, the pro-hero Thirteen is waiting for us."
The doors hissed open.
Instead of smoke and chaos, they were met with a vast, enclosed dome — pristine white walls curving overhead, the artificial sky above glowing softly. The sheer scale of the Unforeseen Simulation Joint drew a collective breath from the class.
Students filed out, eyes wide.
"Whoa…" Kaminari muttered. "This place is huge."
At the entrance stood a lone figure in a sleek black-and-white hero suit, helmet gleaming under the lights.
Thirteen.
The rescue hero raised a hand in greeting. "Welcome, everyone, to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint."
A ripple of excitement ran through the group.
"That's Thirteen!" someone whispered loudly.
Uraraka froze mid-step, eyes sparkling. "I-It's really Thirteen…!"
She leaned forward unconsciously, hands clenched at her chest. "The Space Hero… the rescue specialist…!"
Thirteen chuckled warmly. "You flatter me. Today, I'll be instructing you in disaster rescue fundamentals."
As they moved into the reception area, Momo listened intently, posture straight, clearly taking mental notes already.
Izuku, standing slightly behind the others, observed quietly. His focus wasn't on the hero — it was on the space itself. The way sound echoed. The entrances. The artificial terrain divisions were barely visible from here.
Contained environment. Multiple zones. Controlled variables.
Aizawa stepped forward, voice flat as ever. "This exercise is about rescue, not combat. You'll be learning how to save lives when fighting isn't an option."
Bakugou scoffed under his breath. "Tch."
Thirteen gestured toward the massive interior gates leading deeper into the facility. "Inside, you'll encounter floods, fires, landslides, and collapsed structures. These scenarios are designed to overwhelm."
Uraraka swallowed, then nodded determinedly.
"You'll be divided into teams," Thirteen continued. "Your goal is to evacuate civilians safely and efficiently."
Izuku felt Momo shift beside him, tension and resolve mixing in equal measure.
"Remember," Thirteen said gently, "true heroes don't rush into danger."
They paused.
"They rush in to save people."
Thirteen then discussed the way her quirk worked, before Aizawa's eyes swept the class. "Move out-"
Water glinted in the distance.
Smoke curled upward in another sector.
Rubble loomed elsewhere.
The fountain began sputtering before cutting out.
A dark purple smoke began forming around the fountain area.
Izuku and Aizawa's eyes narrowed. Izuku switched his loadout.
[Active Abilities: Observation Haki, Burden Breaker, Super Regeneration, Despair Aura 2.]
That's not part of the simulation.
His Observation Haki flared instinctively, not focused on movement—but malice.
And there was a lot of it.
The smoke expanded, rolling outward, swallowing the base of the fountain as shapes began to form inside it. Humanoid silhouettes. Too many. Too sudden.
Momo stiffened beside him. "Midoriya…?"
Before he could answer, Aizawa was already moving.
"Everyone, stay back," Aizawa ordered sharply, eyes locked on the smoke. His capture weapon slid loose from his shoulders. "Thirteen, get the students behind—"
The mist ruptured.
Figures spilled out, dropping to the ground in staggered lines. Men and women in mismatched gear. Masks. Weapons. Scarred faces twisted with excitement.
Villains.
Dozens of them.
A ripple of fear tore through the students.
Uraraka gasped. "Th-This isn't—!"
Izuku's jaw set.
Warp quirk. Mass teleportation. Hostile intent across the board.
At the center of the smoke, two figures remained.
One was tall.
Broad.
Monstrous.
Its presence hit Izuku like a wall—dense, heavy, wrong. Not fast. Not clever. But immensely durable.
The other was thin. Disheveled. Hands were twitching at his sides.
White hair. Red eyes.
Izuku's gaze locked onto him.
Don't touch him.
The warning wasn't logical.
It was instinct.
The smoky figure that spawned the portals spoke,
"Nice to meet you... We are the League of Villains. We've invited ourselves to UA...in order to have All Might, the symbol of Peace, take his last breath."
The pale, thin man stepped forward, scratching at his neck, eyes unfocused as he surveyed the stunned students.
"Wow…" he muttered. "So where is All Might...."
Aizawa's eyes glowed red.
The pale man continued,
"I wonder... If we kill some kids... Will he appear?"
"Thirteen," Aizawa barked, "take the students! Izuku-"
"Don't even think about it. I'm staying, Ida run... run as fast as you can back to UA and tell them what's happened."
Aizawa nodded; Ida sprinted away.
He was already moving before Izuku's sentence finished, capturing weapon whipping outward as he launched himself straight into the mass of villains, erasure washing over the front line as bodies staggered and fell.
Chaos erupted.
Students screamed.
Thirteen stepped forward, hands raised, gravity wells beginning to form as they positioned themselves between the villains and the class.
"Everyone stay behind me—!"
Too late.
The figure made of dark mist vanished.
Izuku was still rooted in place, taking in every figure before him.
The mist reappeared directly in front of the fleeing students, coalescing into a tall, faceless shape.
"It's my job…" the thing intoned calmly, voice echoing unnaturally, "…to scatter you."
Izuku turned his head just long enough to see it happen.
Space folded. Students vanished in bursts of purple fog, flung toward distant zones of the USJ.
They're scattered. Good.
They won't be caught in the free-for-all in front of me.
His jaw set.
I trust them. They can handle no-name villains without me. Sensei won't be able to hold out by himself.
He turned back.
The mist villain still stood there.
Waiting.
Izuku faced it squarely, posture relaxed but coiled, like a spring held under deliberate control.
The mist shifted, head tilting slightly.
"Oho…" it said, voice curious rather than mocking. "One of you remained in their place…"
Purple fog rippled as it leaned forward.
"…Did you freeze in fear?"
Izuku exhaled slowly.
"No," he replied evenly. "I stayed."
The mist paused.
Izuku took a step forward—not fast, not aggressive. Just enough to make intent clear.
"You separate crowds," he continued, eyes locked on the shifting void where a face should be. "You're not here to fight. You're here to control the field."
The fog churned faintly. Interested.
"That makes you dangerous," Izuku said. "But it also makes you predictable."
He rolled his shoulders once.
Warp gate. Mist-based displacement. Needs contact to displace.
Izuku smiled faintly.
"And that means you're my problem."
The mist villain's voice softened, almost amused.
"…You speak like you've already won."
Izuku's eyes sharpened, Observation Haki flaring—not toward speed, but timing.
"No," he corrected. "I speak like I know you won't run."
He shifted his stance, planting his feet.
"Because if you leave," Izuku said calmly, "your entire plan falls apart."
The fog thickened.
"…You're confident," the mist replied.
Izuku's Despair Aura unfurled—not wildly, not flooding the entire USJ, but focused, narrowed like a blade and directed straight at the mist figure.
Cold seeped into the space.
The kind of cold that wasn't temperature—but inevitability.
"I'll tell you this once," Izuku said quietly, voice carrying without effort.
"And once only."
The despair pressed harder.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Certainty.
"Give up," Izuku continued. "Now."
The mist villain… paused.
For the first time, its form wavered—not dispersing, but hesitating. The fog recoiled inward slightly, like something touching a surface it hadn't expected to feel resistance from.
"…Interesting," it said after a moment. "Most people scream. Or run."
Izuku didn't move.
Energy coiled around him, dense and contained, like a storm forced into a glass sphere. His stance remained relaxed—but rooted. He wasn't preparing to rush.
He was preparing to end options.
"You're a gate," Izuku said calmly. "Not a fighter. If I pressure you, you either move… or you collapse."
The mist curled defensively.
"…And what makes you think you can pressure me?" it asked.
Izuku's eyes sharpened, Observation Haki mapping every fluctuation in the fog, every delay, every microsecond where space failed to fold cleanly.
"Because," he replied, "you've been standing here talking."
Silence.
The despair deepened—not overwhelming, not crushing—but heavy enough that even a being without a nervous system could feel it.
"You don't want to be here alone with me," Izuku said.
The mist rippled.
For the first time since appearing, it took a step back.
Not teleporting.
Walking.
"…You're not one of the variables we accounted for," it admitted.
Izuku exhaled slowly.
"Then here's your correction."
Boom!
The ground cratered where Izuku had been standing.
One moment he was there—calm, centered, despair pressing down like gravity—
The next, he was gone.
[Active Abilities: Super Regeneration, Observation Haki, Burden Breaker, Conjure Ice]
Burden Breaker released in a controlled surge, not a reckless burst. The air screamed as Izuku vanished from the mist villain's perception entirely, velocity folding space instead of tearing it.
To anyone else, it would've looked like teleportation.
To Izuku—
Time stretched.
Observation Haki lit the world in threads of probability. He felt the mist villain's reaction before it happened—the split-second delay as it attempted to warp, the instinctive expansion of fog to create distance.
Too slow.
Izuku reappeared a distance above the villain, inverted, already moving.
Ice bloomed beneath his feet midair—hard, razor-clean—forming a platform for less than a heartbeat before shattering as he kicked off again.
Another sonic crack.
The mist twisted violently, trying to open a gate—
Izuku was already there.
Ice formed in his hand mid-motion.
Not a blade.
Not elegant.
A mace.
Dense, brutal, crystallized mass built around a reinforced core, weight packed deliberately for impact rather than finesse.
Izuku reappeared inside the mist's reaction window.
Too close.
Too fast.
The mist barely had time to ripple.
CRACK.
The ice mace connected with the center of the villain's head.
The sound wasn't explosive.
It was wrong.
A deep, concussive thud echoed across the plaza as the fog collapsed inward violently, the warp field destabilizing under the sudden, overwhelming kinetic shock.
Kurogiri's body snapped forward, mist tearing apart as his head whipped to the side. The warp gates sputtered and failed mid-formation, collapsing into nothing.
The ice mace shattered on impact, fragments scattering across the ground.
Kurogiri hit the pavement hard.
And stayed down.
The fog dispersed erratically, no longer coherent, thinning rapidly like smoke blown apart by a sudden gust.
Izuku skidded to a stop several meters away, boots carving shallow lines into the concrete. He straightened slowly, eyes never leaving the fallen villain.
No follow-up.
No overkill.
He didn't need it.
"One down... a couple more to go."
Izuku waved his hand, ice constraints forming around the villain.
Fwoom!
He disappeared from view.
Bang!
A villain that was about to sucker punch Aizawa was sent flying through the air.
A fraction of a second later—
BANG!
A villain who had been mid-swing behind Aizawa never landed the hit.
They were launched sideways as if struck by a freight train, body twisting violently through the air before smashing into a concrete pillar hard enough to crack it.
Aizawa barely had time to register the sudden absence of danger.
He turned, capture weapon half-raised—
—and saw Izuku skidding to a stop nearby, boots grinding against the floor, coat fluttering before settling.
Boom.
A single second passed.
Then—
Bodies fell.
Dozens of them.
All across the USJ, villains hit the ground almost simultaneously, like marionettes with their strings cut. Some skidded. Some bounced. Some lay still, ice binding them to the floor.
Dust settled.
Smoke drifted.
Boots planted. Coat settling. Breathing steady.
Izuku straightened.
"…Field's clear," he said calmly.
Aizawa stared.
Not at the villains.
At the time gap.
"…How long?" he asked quietly.
Izuku tilted his head, considering. "Ten seconds...Give or take."
Aizawa exhaled slowly.
Around USJ, the students began talking,
Kirishima swallowed. "Dude…"
Uraraka's hands trembled. "Was that Izuku..I—I didn't even see him move…"
Bakugou clenched his fists, teeth grinding. "…Damn Monster."
Izuku's gaze fell on the two figures who remained standing near the fountain.
One was tall, grotesque, muscles bulging unnaturally beneath stitched skin. It stood motionless, head tilting slightly as if reassessing the world around it.
The other was thin, pale, hands twitching at his sides. Red eyes burned with something between irritation and fascination.
Izuku stepped forward once.
The sound of his boot against concrete echoed far louder than it should have.
"And you are…" he said calmly.
The pale man laughed softly, scratching at his neck until the skin reddened. "Wow… so you're the reason everything stopped. Your quirk is such a cheat."
His gaze dragged over the field of fallen villains, then snapped back to Izuku with unsettling intensity.
"That speed… that pressure…" he muttered. "You're not a student."
Izuku didn't deny it.
The larger creature shifted then, cracking the ground beneath its feet as it rolled its shoulders. The air around it felt heavy—dense, like standing too close to a freight train.
Aizawa's voice cut in sharply. "Midoriya. That one's engineered to fight All Might. Do not engage."
Izuku acknowledged it with a slight nod—eyes never leaving the pair.
The pale man grinned wider. "Midoriya... So that's your name. Name's Shigaraki Tomura," he said casually. "Leader of the League of Villains."
He spread his arms slightly, as if presenting a stage.
"And that," he continued, gesturing lazily toward the monster, "is Nomu."
Izuku's Observation Haki brushed against the creature again.
No malice.
No fear.
Just obedience.
A weapon.
"…You brought that here," Izuku said quietly.
Shigaraki's grin twitched. "Yup."
Izuku took another step forward.
The despair aura stirred—not flaring, not crushing, but present. Heavy. Inescapable.
"You lost," Izuku said evenly. "Your gate's down. Your people are down. Your advantage is gone."
Shigaraki tilted his head. "And yet," he replied, fingers brushing the ground, "you haven't moved toward me."
Izuku stopped a few meters away.
"Because," Izuku said, "you're not my priority."
Shigaraki's smile faltered for half a second.
Behind him, Nomu growled low and deep.
Izuku's eyes slid past them—toward the distant shockwaves where All Might still battled.
"My job," Izuku continued calmly, "was to stop you from turning this into a massacre."
He met Shigaraki's gaze again.
"And I did."
For the first time since arriving, Shigaraki felt it.
Not fear.
Not panic.
But the uncomfortable realization that the board had shifted—and he hadn't been the one to do it.
"…You're interesting," Shigaraki said slowly.
Izuku nodded once. "You're not."
Aizawa stepped up beside him, capture weapon ready, eyes glowing faintly.
"This ends here," Aizawa said.
Izuku's eyes ignored them for a second,
"Well...isn't that interesting..."
[Congratulations on defeating Kurogiri! You have gained 1x platinum ticket.]
[The user has gained:
[Atlas]
|Epic Ability|
"The Giant held up the very skies." Grants you immense super strength, strong enough to carve mountains and move cities with your bare hands, as long as you expend enough energy. You can also release shockwaves with your power. Consumes energy when active.]
[You have gained another ability slot!]
Shigaraki looked between them, irritation finally overtaking amusement.
Before Aizawa could move, Izuku lifted one hand slightly.
"Sensei," Izuku said calmly, certainty baked into every syllable, "step back. Trust me. I've got this."
Aizawa stiffened. "Midoriya—"
"Focus on the NEET over there," Izuku added, nodding faintly toward Shigaraki without taking his eyes off Nomu. "He's the real variable."
Aizawa hesitated.
Then, grinding his teeth, he retreated a step, capture weapon tightening in his grip.
Shigaraki clicked his tongue.
"…Tch."
He raised a hand, fingers twitching with irritation.
"Nomu," he ordered flatly, "get them."
The monster moved.
The ground exploded beneath its feet as Nomu launched forward, air detonating behind it with a concussive boom. The sheer force cracked concrete, shockwaves rippling outward as it crossed the distance in an instant.
Izuku didn't dodge.
He didn't brace.
He stepped forward, energy surging through his fist, meeting the creature's palm.
Boom!
The creature's arm crumpled on impact.
I was expecting more for 50%....
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.