So," Midnight said, leaning casually against her desk as she looked over the class, "now that the Sports Festival is over and half the country has opinions about you lot… hero names."
A few students straightened instantly.
"Think carefully," she added with a grin. "This is what the public will call you when you're saving them. And when you're getting sued."
A ripple of nervous laughter went through the room.
Midnight's eyes landed on Izuku. "Midoriya. You've been suspiciously quiet. What'll it be?"
Izuku didn't hesitate.
"I'm going with… Apex."
The room went quiet for a beat.
Then:
"…Oh," Midnight said slowly, lips curling upward. "That's a statement."
Bakugou scoffed loudly. "Tch. Of course it is."
Kaminari blinked. "Wait, like… apex predator?"
"Or apex of heroes?" Uraraka asked.
Momo glanced at Izuku, thoughtful. "…It fits."
Midnight arched a brow. "Confident."
"Accurate," Izuku replied calmly.
Aizawa, half-asleep in his sleeping bag, cracked one eye open. "…You better be ready to live up to that."
Izuku met his gaze. "I am."
Midnight clapped her hands once. "Well then! Apex it is."
She grinned, eyes sharp with interest.
"The Evolution Hero: Apex... It has a nice ring to it."
Izuku nodded,
"Thanks, Sensei."
....
During the break, Izuku noticed something was off almost immediately.
Tenya Iida sat a little apart from the others, posture still rigidly proper, but his usual motor hadn't started. No chopping hand motions. No loud corrections. No energetic commentary.
Just… quiet.
Izuku walked over and stopped beside him.
"Iida," he said gently, "are you okay?"
Tenya startled slightly, glasses catching the light as he looked up.
"I— yes," he replied a bit too quickly. "I am functioning within normal parameters."
Izuku didn't buy it.
He sat down anyway. "You don't usually go quiet when you're 'fine.'"
There was a pause.
Tenya adjusted his glasses, fingers lingering there longer than necessary.
"…There have been some family matters," he said at last. "Nothing that concerns the class."
His voice was controlled. Too controlled.
Izuku studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright."
Tenya blinked. "…That's it?"
"You don't look like you want to talk about it," Izuku said calmly. "So I won't push."
Relief flickered across Tenya's face before he could stop it.
"…Thank you," he said quietly.
Izuku stood, then paused. "But."
Tenya stiffened slightly.
"If those family matters start affecting your safety," Izuku continued, tone still even, "or make you feel like you have to handle something alone—then it does concern me."
Tenya looked up at him again, surprised.
"You're a classmate, a friend," Izuku added. "That means you're not isolated, even if you choose not to explain."
For a second, Tenya looked like he might say something more.
Then he bowed his head, just a little.
"…I appreciate that," he said. "Truly."
Izuku gave a small nod and walked back toward the others, leaving Tenya with his thoughts.
Tenya clenched his fists in his lap, jaw tight.
....
The chatter in the classroom died down as Aizawa stood at the front, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded but sharp.
"So," he said flatly, "after your break, you'll need to start thinking about which hero agencies you want to intern under."
That got everyone's attention.
"Due to your performance," Aizawa continued, glancing briefly at Izuku before sweeping his gaze across the room, "all of you have received offers from different hero agencies."
The class erupted instantly.
"ALL of us?!"
"Even me?!"
"Wait, does this include—"
"Sit down," Aizawa said. They did.
He pulled out a stack of folders. "These are not invitations to play hero. They're evaluations. Agencies are deciding whether you're worth investing time, money, and risk into."
He paused.
"And for some of you," his eyes flicked again, briefly, unmistakably, to Izuku, "those agencies are very high-profile."
Izuku felt it immediately.
The weight.
Not excitement. Not pride.
Expectation.
Around him, reactions varied wildly.
Kaminari looked like he was about to faint.
Kirishima was vibrating with excitement.
Uraraka clutched her desk, eyes shining.
Momo sat upright, already thinking several steps ahead.
Bakugou scoffed loudly. "Tch. Like I care which idiots picked me."
Aizawa didn't look at him. "You should."
That shut him up.
Aizawa continued, "You'll review your offers carefully. Consider what you want to learn, not just who's famous. Power you can get anywhere. Judgment is harder."
Izuku leaned back in his chair, thoughtful.
He already knew his problem wouldn't be who wanted him.
It would be who he could afford to stand next to… without accelerating things too fast.
Hoopa's voice brushed his mind, amused.
Big fish, it murmured. Very small pond.
Izuku exhaled slowly.
Not yet, he thought back. Let me do this part right.
Aizawa finished distributing the folders.
"By tomorrow," he said, "you'll submit your top choices."
He zipped his sleeping bag halfway up and added, almost as an afterthought:
"And try not to cause international incidents during your internships."
A few students laughed nervously.
Izuku opened his folder.
The list inside was… long.
Very long.
....
After school, the halls were quieter than usual.
Izuku stopped in front of a familiar door.
Knock.
"Come in."
Izuku stepped through.
All Might looked up from behind his desk, already in his slimmer form, papers neatly stacked in front of him. His expression softened the moment he saw who it was.
"Ah, Young Midoriya," he said warmly. "Did you want to discuss something?"
Izuku nodded and didn't waste time.
"I was wondering," he said calmly, "if I could intern under you."
The words hung in the air.
All Might didn't answer immediately.
He leaned back slightly, fingers interlaced, studying Izuku with a mixture of pride and something closer to concern.
"…You realize," All Might said slowly, "that interning under me would place you under more scrutiny than any other option."
"I do," Izuku replied. "That's part of why I'm asking."
All Might sighed quietly. "Young Midoriya… after the Sports Festival, every major agency in Japan wants you. Some of them could teach you specialized skills. Others could keep you out of the spotlight for a while."
Izuku shook his head. "I don't need more techniques right now. I need perspective."
That caught All Might's attention.
"You've been a hero longer than anyone," Izuku continued. "You've seen what happens when power outpaces judgment. I don't want to learn how to hit harder. I want to observe how you carry it."
All Might closed his eyes briefly.
"…You sound older every time you say things like that," he murmured.
Then he opened them again, serious now.
"There's another issue," he said. "If you intern under me, people will draw conclusions. About your quirk. About my involvement. About things we may not want accelerated."
Izuku met his gaze evenly. "They're already drawing those conclusions."
All Might chuckled softly. "…Yes. They are."
Silence stretched for a moment.
Then All Might nodded.
"Very well," he said. "I'll accept you as my intern."
Izuku straightened slightly.
"But," All Might added, raising a finger, "on conditions."
Izuku waited.
"First," All Might said, "you will not treat this as special treatment. You will be held to a higher standard, not a lower one."
"That's fine," Izuku replied.
"Second," All Might continued, "I will not put you in situations meant to test your limits recklessly. You already do that on your own."
Izuku smiled faintly. "Fair."
"And third," All Might finished, voice firm, "if at any point I believe your presence is causing harm to yourself or others… I will pull you out. Immediately."
Izuku nodded without hesitation. "Understood."
All Might stood from behind his desk and extended his hand.
"I won't pretend I don't feel responsible for you," he said quietly. "But I also know when a student has outgrown being protected from the world."
Izuku shook his hand, grip steady.
"Thank you," he said. "I won't waste the opportunity."
All Might smiled, tired but genuine.
"I know," he said. "Just… try not to make my heart fail any faster than it already is."
Izuku chuckled softly.
"I did look through the internship offers," Izuku continued. "Top agencies. Veteran heroes. People I respect."
He hesitated, then chose honesty over politeness.
"… But I couldn't think of a single hero who could actually keep pace with me."
The room went very still.
All Might didn't bristle. He didn't laugh it off. He simply watched Izuku closely, searching his face for arrogance.
He didn't find any.
"Not in strength," Izuku clarified. "Not in movement. Not in decision-making under pressure. If I interned under them, I'd be slowing myself down. Or worse, forcing them to react to me instead of teaching me."
All Might exhaled slowly.
"That's… a dangerous thing to realize," he said.
"I know," Izuku replied. "That's why I'm here."
All Might's eyes sharpened. "And you think I can keep pace with you?"
Izuku met his gaze steadily.
"No," he said. "I think you can keep me grounded."
That answer hit harder than the previous one.
"I don't need someone to race me," Izuku went on. "I need someone who's already finished a marathon and understands what comes after the applause. You're the only hero I know who's carried this kind of weight and didn't let it hollow you out."
All Might was quiet for a long moment.
"…You're walking a lonely road," he said at last.
Izuku nodded. "I don't want it to be a reckless one."
All Might smiled then, small and genuine, tinged with melancholy.
"Very well," he said. "If no one can keep pace with you… then I'll make sure you don't forget why you're running at all."
Izuku bowed his head slightly. "That's all I'm asking."
As he turned to leave, All Might spoke again, voice softer.
"Midoriya… power like ours tends to leave people behind without meaning to."
Izuku paused at the door.
"I know," he said quietly. "That's why I'm trying to choose carefully who I walk beside."
He left the office, footsteps steady.
All Might remained seated, staring at the closed door.
"…A hero who's already outrunning the future," he murmured, "I just hope you don't end up like me."
....
"All Might," Izuku replied. "I asked to intern under him."
She stopped walking.
Slowly, deliberately, she turned to stare at him.
"…You what?"
Izuku blinked. "Is that surprising?"
Momo stared for another second, then shook her head as if trying to reboot her thoughts.
"You're telling me," she said carefully, "that out of every top agency in Japan… You chose All Might."
"Yes."
Her composure cracked just a little.
"But— he's— you're—" she stopped, exhaled, then tried again. "Izuku, most students would choose him because of prestige. You chose him because…?"
"Because I can't think of a single hero who can actually keep pace with me," Izuku said calmly. "And I don't need someone to chase me."
She went quiet.
Then she laughed softly, incredulous. "You say things like that so casually."
"It's just accurate," he replied.
Momo studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "That… actually makes sense."
She adjusted her gloves. "Alright then, Apex. Since you're gonna be mentored by the Symbol of Peace, I assume you're going to take it easy on me?"
Izuku smiled faintly. "No."
Her eyes lit up. "Good."
They reached the edge of the training field, empty at this hour, the sun low enough to cast long shadows across the concrete.
Momo took a breath, centering herself. "What are we starting with?"
"Adaptation drills," Izuku said. "I'll apply pressure. You create solutions. No perfect answers."
She nodded once, resolve settling in. "Understood."
Izuku stepped back, posture shifting subtly.
"Then let's not waste daylight," he said
.....
Panting, Momo let herself fall back onto the training ground floor, staring up at the sky as she tried to steady her breathing.
"And that's a wrap," Izuku noted, tone calm as ever.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The late afternoon sun was warm, the field quiet, the world feeling oddly far away.
"…I don't usually feel this tired," Momo said softly, breaking the silence. Not embarrassed. Just honest.
Izuku sat down beside her, not too close, not too distant either. "You pushed yourself."
She nodded, eyes still on the clouds. "I wanted to keep up."
"You did," he replied immediately.
That made her turn her head toward him. He wasn't smiling as he did with others. No teasing. No edge. Just… sincere.
"I'm not good at saying this kind of thing," Izuku said after a beat. "But I wanted to train with you because you don't give up when things stop going according to plan."
Momo swallowed. "…It doesn't feel that way sometimes."
"I know," he said. "But I see it."
She sat up slowly, drawing one knee to her chest. "You make it sound simple."
"It isn't," Izuku said. "But it's worth it."
Another pause. Closer now, emotionally if not physically.
"Momo," he added, quieter, "I like you."
She froze.
Not stiff. Not shocked.
Just… caught.
"…You do?" she asked, voice barely above a breath.
He nodded. "I wouldn't waste your time if I didn't. Or mine."
Her cheeks warmed, color blooming fast, but she didn't look away.
"I'm glad," she said after a moment. "I was hoping this wasn't just about training."
Izuku smiled then. Small. Real.
"It's not."
They sat there together as the sun dipped lower, neither rushing to stand, neither needing to fill the silence. Momo took a deep breath in,
He really does smell way too good even after that training...
For once, there was no pressure.
Just two people, sharing the quiet after the effort.
And for Momo Yaoyorozu, that quiet felt like the beginning of something steady, something she could grow into.
Izuku tilted his head slightly towards an empty piece of the training ground and smiled at thin air.
....
The next morning,
"So Hagakure, what happened?!" Mina asked, intrigued.
"So, Hagakure," Mina said sweetly, leaning across the common room table, eyes gleaming, "what happened?"
Hagakure's invisible hands slammed down on the table. "I SAW NOTHING."
Mina's grin widened. "You saw everything."
"I WAS JUST WALKING," Hagakure protested. "Casually. Invisibly. Like a normal person."
"And then?" Mina pressed.
"…And then Midoriya smiled at me," Hagakure muttered. "At thin air. Like he knew."
The table went silent.
Then—
"You got caught," Mina breathed reverently. "By Apex himself."
Jirou leaned back in her chair. "So let me get this straight. You were spying on him and Yaoyorozu having a quiet, emotionally vulnerable moment."
"I WAS NOT SPYING," Hagakure snapped. "I was accidentally present."
Mina slammed her hands together. "Uh-huh. And what did you hear?"
Hagakure hesitated.
"…He said he likes her."
The room erupted.
"NO WAY."
"CALLED IT."
"I KNEW IT WAS TOO QUIET."
Mina grabbed Hagakure by the shoulders. "DETAILS. TONE. VIBE."
Hagakure wilted. "It was calm. Sincere. No awkward stammering. Very… mature."
Mina stared off into space. "…That's terrifying."
"And romantic," Uraraka added faintly.
Jirou snorted. "So he clocked you and just… let it go?"
"…Yeah," Hagakure admitted. "He didn't call me out. Just smiled and went back to talking like nothing happened."
Mina shivered happily. "That's confidence. That guy is way too cool."
Across the room, Momo walked in, composed as ever.
Every head snapped toward her.
She paused. "…Why are you all looking at me like that?"
Mina grinned. "No reason~."
Hagakure covered her face. "I'm never spying again."
No one believed her.
Momo looked between them all, confusion flickering across her face. "…Why do I feel like I've missed something important?"
Mina whistled innocently. "Nope. Nothing at all."
Jirou leaned back, smirk firmly in place. "Absolutely nothing involving you, Midoriya, emotions, or life-altering conversations."
Momo stiffened slightly. "…That doesn't help."
Before she could press further, Ochaco Uraraka stepped closer, smiling warmly at her. Not teasing. Not smug. Just… sincere.
"I'm rooting for you guys," Uraraka said.
Momo froze.
"…Guys?" she repeated faintly.
Uraraka nodded. "Yeah. You and Midoriya."
Color rushed to Momo's cheeks instantly. "I-I don't— I mean—"
Mina leaned in with a grin. "You don't deny it either."
Hagakure groaned. "I told you all I shouldn't have said anything…"
Momo took a breath, straightened her posture, and tried very hard to look composed.
"…Thank you," she said finally, voice soft but steady. "That's… kind of you."
Uraraka's smile widened. "He makes you smile. That's enough for me."
Momo blinked, then looked down, fingers lightly touching the edge of her sleeve.
"…He does," she admitted quietly.
The room went still for half a second.
Then Mina exploded.
"AWWWW—"
Momo turned red enough to rival Bakugou on a bad day, but this time…
She didn't try to hide her smile.
....
During homeroom, Aizawa stood at the front of the class, eyes half-lidded as he scanned the room.
"So," Shota Aizawa said, "have you all confirmed which hero agency you'd like to intern under?"
A chorus of nods followed.
Bakugou didn't wait to be called on.
"Best Jeanist," he barked, arms crossed. "Obviously."
Aizawa glanced at him. "Figures."
Tokoyami stood, posture rigid, voice low and solemn.
"Hawks."
A few students murmured at that.
Kaminari leaned toward Kirishima. "That's… actually perfect for him."
"I know, right?" Kirishima whispered back. "So manly."
Aizawa nodded once. "Aerial combat, reconnaissance, and independent judgment. Makes sense."
He flipped a page on his clipboard.
"Uraraka."
"Gunhead," she said quickly, sitting straighter.
"Makes sense," Aizawa replied.
"Todoroki?"
"Endeavour."
His gaze shifted.
"Midoriya."
The room quieted just a little.
Izuku didn't stand. He simply spoke.
"All Might."
There it was.
A few gasps. Kaminari nearly fell out of his chair. Mina's eyes lit up like fireworks.
Bakugou clicked his tongue. "Tch."
Aizawa studied Izuku for a long moment, then nodded.
"…As expected."
He closed the clipboard.
"Then that settles it. You'll begin your internships soon. Don't embarrass U.A. Don't get yourselves killed."
He zipped into his sleeping bag.
"And remember," his voice muffled slightly, "you're representing yourselves now. Choose what kind of hero you want to be."
As the bell rang, the class buzzed with nervous excitement.
Izuku leaned back in his chair, calm as ever.
.....
"So… what's this I hear about you having a date with Yaoyorozu?" Kaminari asked, nudging Izuku during lunch, grin already locked in place.
They were at the guys' table. The girls were across the room, very clearly doing their own thing.
Izuku didn't look up from his food. "It's not a date."
Kaminari gasped. "There it is. The denial phase."
Kirishima laughed. "C'mon, bro. You two training alone, talking all serious… that's basically a date."
Izuku shrugged. "I like her. We're seeing where it goes."
Kaminari froze mid-bite.
"…WHY did you say that so calmly?" he demanded. "Do you have any idea how bad that is for the rest of us?"
Sero leaned over. "What, the confidence?"
"The lack of doubt!" Kaminari shot back. "This dude beat everyone, interns under All Might, and now he's just casually like 'yeah, I like her.' No stuttering. No panic. No self-esteem issues."
Kirishima grinned. "That's kinda manly though."
"That's catastrophic," Kaminari said flatly. "How are we supposed to compete with someone who knows what he wants?"
Izuku finally looked up. "You're not supposed to compete."
Kaminari slumped forward onto the table. "See? THAT. That sentence right there."
Sero snorted. "So you're serious about her?"
"Yes," Izuku said.
Kirishima nodded firmly. "Alright. Then treat her right."
"I will," Izuku replied without hesitation.
Kaminari stared at him for a long second, then exhaled like a defeated man.
"…We're so cooked," he muttered.
Across the cafeteria, Momo glanced over just in time to see Izuku smiling faintly.
She didn't know why.
But she smiled back.
.....
Later that afternoon, the training grounds were quiet.
Izuku stood alone at the center of the field, chest rising and falling steadily as he wiped sweat from his brow. He rolled his shoulders once, feeling the last traces of exertion fade, muscles relaxing after hours of controlled strain.
"And that's today's training done," he said to himself, voice calm.
He glanced toward the edge of the field, eyes lingering for just a fraction of a second on a very specific empty patch of air.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
I guess that's a good enough performance for that little pervert.
There was no response.
No sound.
No movement.
Just the wind brushing over the grass.
Somewhere nearby, very definitely not visible, Hagakure froze.
Her hand was circling her clitoris as she lay on the ground. Izuku began walking towards her,
No, no, no, he can actually see me!
The thought screamed in her mind, short-circuiting her nerves. She tried to pull her hand away, to scramble back, but her body was rigid with panic, betraying her.
He stopped right before her, his shadow falling over where she lay. "So," his voice was a low murmur, almost conversational, yet it vibrated with a terrifying certainty. "How do I deal with a naughty girl like you?"
He smirked before crouching, coming eye level with her invisible face. He didn't reach out to where she should be. He reached out to exactly where she was, his fingers stopping a hair's breadth from her cheek. She felt the displaced air, the warmth of his skin.
"See," he said, his green eyes holding a glint that wasn't entirely human. It was the look of something that had learned, adapted. "You rely on light bending around you. On photons ignoring you. But you still displace the air. You still have a body temperature. You still... vibrate with fear."
His gaze drifted pointedly downwards, tracing the invisible outline of her form in the grass. "Or other things."
Hagakure's breath hitched, a tiny, audible gasp she couldn't suppress. How? Quirk analysis? A new support item? But this felt deeper, more intrinsic. Like he wasn't just deducing her location—he was perceiving her through a sense that had evolved to bypass her invisibility entirely.
"W-what are you going to do?" Her voice was a trembling whisper, barely there.
Izuku's smile didn't reach his eyes. "That depends. Do you want this to be a lesson... or a reward?"
She looked down bashfully, a gesture he only knew by the dip of the grass.
"...Help me... You finished your workout... too early...."
The admission was a broken, shameless thing. At this point, she didn't care about anything else. Logic, propriety, danger—all burned away by a need that was more primal than her fear. He was too attractive, his presence too overwhelming, the sheer taboo of being perceived when she'd felt safely hidden tipping her over an edge she didn't know she was on.
"You're missing a word," Izuku said, his voice a low, predatory purr. He didn't move, letting the tension coil tighter in the silence.
A whimper escaped her. The grass rustled as she squirmed, a visible sign of her invisible agony. Her need was a palpable force between them.
"...Please...Izuku... Please," she begged, the words tumbling out in a hot, ragged rush.
"Good girl."
His approval was a lightning strike to her system. Before she could process it, his hand—warm, calloused, and terrifyingly precise—found the exact curve of her jaw, his thumb brushing where her lips would be. She jolted at the contact, a full-body shiver that rustled the entire patch of grass around her.
"Since you asked so nicely," he murmured, his other hand finally, deliberately, moving to where her own had frozen against her body.
Moving her hand away, he came and sat behind her, his body a solid, warm wall against her back. His touch was maddeningly deliberate as his fingers found her lower lips, slowly circling the sensitive flesh, a torturous promise of friction withheld.
"No sudden sounds now..." Izuku whispered, his breath a hot, intimate tickling against her ear. "You wouldn't want to be caught, would you?"
The threat was exquisite. A seemingly empty field, with Midoriya Izuku sitting alone, making a girl moan. The thought alone should have chilled her. Instead, it burned.
"Nnngh.." She moaned low, the sound ripped from her throat and instantly choked back, her entire invisible body tensing. She bit down on her own lip, the taste of copper faint as she struggled for silence.
"That's it," he encouraged darkly, his other arm snaking around her waist to hold her firmly against him. He could feel every tremble, every frantic heartbeat against his chest.
His circling fingers finally dipped, finding her wet and desperately ready. He slipped one finger inside, then two, with a smooth, claiming pressure that made her back arch silently against him. Her head fell back against his shoulder, a silent plea.
His other hand snaked up, finding the full, soft weight of her breast. He took it in a firm grasp, feeling her heartbeat thunder against his palm before his fingers found her nipple. He rolled the tight bud between his thumb and forefinger, a sharp, contrasting tease to the deep, rhythmic work of his other hand.
The dual sensation was too much. Her body was a live wire, strung tight between his two points of contact. Every nerve ending screamed. The careful silence she'd been clinging to began to crack.
"Izuku…." His name was a broken gasp. "I'm… I'm…"
She was trembling violently, a shuddering mess against him, on the very brink. He could feel the muscles in her abdomen clenching, feel the frantic, wet clutch of her around his fingers.
He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice a dark, approving caress. "Good girl. Cum for me."
It was less a permission and more a command. The words shattered her last shred of control.
A soundless moan tore through her as the orgasm ripped her apart. Her body went rigid, then convulsed against him, a wild, uncontrollable trembling. She was utterly visible in her ecstasy—not to the eye, but to every other sense. The ragged, sobbing breaths she could no longer suppress. The way the grass flattened and whipped around her thrashing legs. The slick, hot clench around his fingers, milking them through wave after wave of sensation.
Izuku held her through it, his grip firm, anchoring her as she fell apart. He didn't stop his movements, gentling them but drawing out every last pulse, every aftershock, until she was a boneless, shuddering weight against his chest, her silent cries fading into whimpers.
Slowly, he withdrew his hand, bringing his glistening fingers to her mouth. He rested his chin on her invisible shoulder, feeling the frantic race of her pulse slowly begin to steady,
"A good girl always cleans up after herself," he muttered quietly, the words not a suggestion, but a final, unbreakable rule of this new game they were playing.
The command hung in the air, a test deeper than any that had come before. It wasn't about pleasure or pain now. It was about taste. About acceptance. About owning every part of what he had done to her.
A moment of suspended silence. Then, a shaky, warm exhale against his knuckles.
Suck.
Her invisible lips parted. The first hesitant touch of her tongue against his skin was a bolt of pure, dark electricity. Then, with a soft, surrendering sound, she took his fingers into her mouth, her tongue working to clean them with a slow, thorough obedience that was more intimate than anything that had preceded it.
Izuku closed his eyes, a low, gratified hum resonating in his chest.
When she was done, she released his fingers with a final, soft lick. She didn't pull away. She leaned back against him, spent and silent, her form still invisible but her presence to him more solid and known than ever before.
"You're so unfair..." She muttered, "So you could see me that entire time..."
Izuku nodded as he got a notification.
[Congratulations on making Toru Hagakure orgasm! You have gained 1x bronze ticket.]
[The user has gained:
* [Harem King]
|Rare Trait|
You are a harem king to be, your preffered partners are more attracted to you and society as a whole does not see a problem with you having a harem. In addition, your partners do not mind you dating others either, they might still have their own problems but the concept of a harem isn't one of them.]
Well shit... That's a plus.
"So... what do we do from here?" Hagakure whispered, her voice small, vulnerable, and clinging to the warmth he provided.
Izuku looked down at where her head rested against his chest. The system notification faded, leaving the real-world consequences in sharp focus. He had her obedience, her secret, and now, apparently, a supernatural nudge to keep her complacent.
He smiled, a real one this time, edged with newfound purpose.
"We do what we want, Toru," he said, his voice low and assured. "You keep being my good, invisible girl. And I'll make sure you never regret it."
Toru nodded bashfully.
"But you and Momo..." She exhaled.
Izuku didn't rush to answer.
He shifted slightly, making sure there was space between them again, not withdrawing, just… steadying the moment.
"I need to be clear with you," he said calmly. "I already have a girlfriend. Her name's Himiko."
There was no sharp intake of breath. No panic.
Toru was quiet for a second.
He nodded. "She knows who I am. She knows I don't really fit into neat boxes. And she doesn't see caring about more than one person as a betrayal."
Toru's unseen hands fidgeted.
"She's… okay with that?"
"She's more than okay," Izuku replied. "She's supportive. As long as I'm honest. As long as no one's treated like a secret."
That seemed to be the important part.
"…So," Toru asked carefully, "where does that leave me?"
Izuku looked directly at her, expression open.
"That's not something I decide for you," he said. "I won't pull you into something without you knowing exactly what it is. If you're part of my life, it's because you choose to be. Not because things just happened. As long as you think I'll be enough for you, then... let's try this out."
Toru let out a small, nervous laugh. "You're really serious about this stuff."
"I am," he said simply. "People get hurt when you aren't."
Silence settled again, quieter this time. Thoughtful.
"…I don't mind sharing," Toru said after a moment. "I mind being lied to. And you're not doing that."
Izuku nodded once. "Good. That's the line."
She hesitated, then asked the question anyway.
"…So are you asking if I want to join? Or just… be aware?"
"I'm asking if you want to see where this goes," Izuku replied. "With everything on the table. Potentially Momo included."
Another pause.
Then Toru smiled — he could hear it in her voice.
"…Yeah," she said softly. "I think I do."
Izuku smiled back, genuine and unforced.
"Then we take it slow," he said. "And we stay honest."
"…Deal," Toru replied.
A pause.
His breath tickled her ear,
"I'm really glad that you're mine, Toru...I don't do sharing, though."
Another quiet moment passed, comfortable instead of tense.
"…There's no one who compares anyway," Toru added softly, not boastful, just sincere.
Izuku didn't answer right away.
Then, simply: "That means more than you think."
"Do we leave it at that today, then, or..." Toru asked, her voice tinged with a hopeful curiosity that bled into exhaustion.
Izuku smirked, feeling the slight tremble of fatigue in the body pressed against his. "Greedy girl."
She smiled at him, a gesture he felt in the shift of her cheek against his shoulder.
"Wanna go back to your dorm?" He asked, the offer hanging between them. It was a step beyond the field, beyond a stolen moment. It was an invitation into his private space, a deeper layer of possession.
She nodded bashfully, a slight dip of her invisible head he felt more than saw. "Yes."
"Good." He shifted, standing up and pulling her effortlessly to her feet with him. He kept one arm around her waist, a steadying, claiming presence as they began the walk back toward the dormitories. She was still invisible, a secret tucked against his side, but to Izuku, she was the most solid, real thing in the twilight.
.....
When he got back home,
"So," she said, voice rough with sleep but unmistakably amused, "mister… another girl added?"
Izuku didn't dodge it.
"Yes," he said calmly. "I was honest with her. About you. About everything."
Himiko studied his face for a long second, searching for cracks. She didn't find any.
"…And?" she asked.
"And she chose," Izuku replied. "No pressure. No secrets."
Himiko huffed, then smiled, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "Good. I'd be mad if you weren't upfront."
He relaxed a fraction. "You're really okay with this?"
She nodded, sleepy but sincere. "I told you already. I don't mind sharing affection. I mind being lied to. You didn't do that."
Izuku smiled, small and real. "Thank you."
Himiko yawned, then smirked. "Besides, Toru seemed sweet. And hilarious. And invisible, which is honestly impressive."
He chuckled. "That's one way to put it."
She poked his chest lightly. "Just remember—communication. That's the rule."
"Always," Izuku said.
Himiko settled back against him, eyes closing again. "Cool. Now let me sleep before you add the entire class."
"…Not happening," Izuku replied dryly.
She grinned without opening her eyes. That night, they slept peacefully together.
....
Before long, the internships rolled around.
Izuku stood at the base of Might Tower, the skyline of Tokyo stretching endlessly around them. The tower rose prominently in Minato, glass and steel reflecting the morning sun - a landmark as much as a headquarters.
"Young Midoriya!" All Might called out brightly as the doors opened. "Welcome to Might Tower! I hope you're ready for today's activities."
Izuku nodded, already fully suited up, earpiece slot visible but empty. "I am."
"Excellent!" All Might said, handing him the device. "Here's your earpiece. We'll be getting real-time updates directly from Tokyo's incident network."
Izuku fitted it smoothly into place.
"Now," All Might continued, his tone shifting from booming enthusiasm to something more grounded, "due to your unique circumstances, this won't function like a standard internship."
Izuku waited, attentive.
"Although you're officially an intern," All Might said, smiling wryly, "this will operate more like a hero work-study. You won't be observing from the sidelines. You'll be active in the field."
"That was my expectation," Izuku replied calmly.
All Might laughed. "Of course it was."
He gestured toward the large window overlooking Minato's streets below, already alive with movement.
"That means real patrols. Real incidents. Tokyo doesn't slow down just because you're a student," All Might said. "And Minato, in particular, attracts trouble."
Izuku followed his gaze, eyes sharp. "Understood."
All Might nodded, satisfied. "Good. Then let's get started."
Monitors lit up around the room, displaying patrol routes, emergency channels, and citywide alerts.
Sirens wailed faintly somewhere in the distance.
All Might straightened, the Symbol of Peace settling fully into place.
"Welcome to hero work in Tokyo, Young Midoriya," he said. "Let's make sure Minato stays protected."
Izuku's expression didn't change, but there was focus there now - quiet, absolute.
As All Might stepped out, Izuku followed, pulling his hood up.
[Active Abilities: Observation Haki, Atlas, Burden Breaker, Super Jump, Light Step.]
The moment they cleared the edge of Might Tower, the air itself seemed to give way.
Fwoom!
All Might launched skyward in a single, effortless bound, the familiar shockwave rippling outward.
Izuku was already moving.
He didn't leap so much as choose a direction.
The ground vanished beneath him as he kicked off, momentum compounding instantly, the skyline of Tokyo dropping away beneath his feet. He touched nothing solid again, running along invisible paths through open air, matching All Might's altitude within seconds.
Minato spread out below them - streets like arteries, traffic flowing, people unaware of how close their guardians already were.
"All channels open," All Might said through the earpiece. "Keep your awareness wide."
Izuku didn't reply verbally.
He didn't need to.
The city unfolded to him in layers - movement, intent, pressure points. Every near-miss, every sudden acceleration, every ripple of tension registered before it could become danger.
From the ground, they were blurs.
The patrol had begun.
...
"A quiet day so far," Izuku noted calmly. "We stopped a robbery, and… we talked a girl down from jumping off a roof."
They sat on the edge of a high-rise in Minato, legs dangling over the side, the city humming far below. Lunch was simple. Sandwiches, water, nothing fancy.
All Might took another bite of his sandwich and nodded thoughtfully.
"That's what being a hero really means," he said between bites. "It's not always about defeating villains."
Izuku glanced sideways at him. "It's about showing up."
All Might smiled, pleased. "Exactly. Sometimes the greatest battles are the ones no one applauds. A hand held. A word said at the right moment. A presence that tells someone they're not alone."
Izuku was quiet for a moment, watching traffic crawl along the streets below.
"She didn't need strength," he said. "She needed certainty. Someone who wouldn't flinch."
All Might hummed. "You gave her that."
"I think… anyone could have," Izuku replied.
All Might shook his head gently. "No. Anyone could, but not everyone does."
He finished his sandwich and wrapped the paper carefully.
"You didn't rush her," All Might continued. "You didn't lecture. You didn't intimidate. You listened. That's harder than punching through concrete."
Izuku nodded once. "It felt… heavier than the robbery."
All Might laughed softly. "That weight never goes away. If it does, you should stop being a hero."
A breeze rolled past them, fluttering Izuku's hood.
"…I don't mind it," Izuku said after a moment. "The weight keeps things in perspective."
All Might looked at him, really looked at him, and for a brief second, his expression wasn't that of a mentor or a symbol.
It was that of a man relieved.
"Well," he said, standing and stretching, "finish up. Quiet days never stay quiet for long."
Izuku stood as well, tossing the wrapper into a bin far below with perfect precision.
"Understood."
They stepped off the building together.
....
Boom!
Explosions tore through the air.
The calm shattered instantly as shockwaves rippled across Hosu, smoke rising between buildings and alarms screaming to life.
Izuku's head snapped toward the source, focus locking in; they were up in the air.
"Hosu," he said flatly. "Multiple blasts. Staggered. Someone's drawing attention."
All Might was already moving, sandwich gone, posture shifting from relaxed to razor-sharp.
"That's not a coincidence," he said. "That's escalation."
They launched.
The skyline blurred as they cut across wards, the sound of sirens growing louder with every second. Below them, civilians scattered, heroes converged, traffic grinding into chaos.
Izuku's gaze narrowed as patterns emerged—blast spacing, crowd funnels, response delays.
"…This isn't just destruction," he noted. "It's bait."
All Might nodded grimly. "Which means someone dangerous is nearby."
Izuku stretched his observation haki as far as he possibly could, trying to narrow down the cause. His voice let out a grim realisation,
"Nomu. Three of them. Shigaraki and the shadow-man are over there... SHIT. Iida, what is he doing?" Izuku cursed as he relayed the info to All Might.
"Young Iida is in trouble?" All Might asked. Izuku nodded.
"Midoriya," All Might said, already changing course, "I'll take the Nomu and keep Shigaraki busy. If he interferes here, your classmates may die."
Izuku hesitated for half a second — then nodded. "Understood. I'll save them."
Izuku vanished.
....
"You fake heroes—"
BOOOM!
The words were cut off mid-snarl as Stain was rocketed backward, his body smashing into the brick wall behind him hard enough to send fractures spiderwebbing across the masonry. The impact cratered the alley, dust and debris billowing outward in a choking cloud.
The alley fell silent except for the settling rubble.
As the dust slowly cleared, a figure stepped forward through it, footsteps calm, unhurried.
Shoto Todoroki exhaled, tension finally leaving his shoulders. A small, relieved smile tugged at his lips.
"…Midoriya," he said.
Izuku Midoriya emerged fully from the haze, hood still up, eyes locked on the embedded figure in the wall. He didn't look winded. He didn't look angry.
He looked done.
Stain coughed, blood dripping from his mouth as he tried — and failed — to push himself free.
"…Conviction…" he rasped. "You lack it."
Izuku tilted his head slightly.
"No," he replied evenly. "You confuse conviction with obsession."
He stepped closer, the air around him tightening, not oppressive — final.
"You hunt people who don't live up to an idea you can't even survive," Izuku continued. "You paralyse children and call it justice."
Stain's eyes burned brighter despite his broken body.
"And you think you're better?"
Izuku didn't answer immediately.
He glanced back once, checking on Todoroki as he helped Tenya Iida to safety.
Then he looked back at Stain.
"I don't think," he said calmly. "I am."
Sirens were getting closer now.
Stain laughed weakly. "…Heh. Maybe… maybe you're worth—"
Izuku raised a hand.
"Don't," he said flatly as he flicked a finger, a wave of air pressure blasting into the Hero Killer.
The sound of approaching heroes filled the alley.
Stain's head fell back against the wall, consciousness slipping.
Todoroki looked at Izuku again, really looked this time.
Izuku smiled,
"Get Iida to safety. All Might was here."
Fwoom!
The air snapped shut where Izuku had been standing, leaving nothing but drifting dust.
A second later, flames flared at the mouth of the alley.
"WHAT HAPPENED HERE?" Endeavor demanded as he rounded the corner with his sidekicks, eyes sweeping over the destruction.
Cracked walls.
A bloodied man embedded in brick.
Two students standing their ground.
Todoroki didn't hesitate.
"…All Might," he said evenly.
Endeavor's eyes sharpened instantly. "Explain."
"He intervened," Todoroki continued, supporting Tenya without looking back. "The Hero Killer had us pinned. All Might arrived, neutralised him, then left to handle the Nomu situation."
The lie landed cleanly.
Endeavor's gaze snapped to Stain, then back to his son. He studied the damage again — the impact pattern, the force behind it.
"…Tch," he clicked his tongue. "Of course he did."
One of the sidekicks checked Stain's pulse. "Alive. Severe trauma, but stable."
Endeavor nodded once. "Good. Get him restrained."
He turned back to Todoroki. "And you?"
"I'm fine," Todoroki replied. "Iida needs medical attention. Paralysis toxin."
Endeavor gave a sharp nod. "Handled."
As medics rushed in, Endeavor took one last look at the alley, jaw tight.
"All Might always has a habit of arriving right on time," he muttered.
....
Boom!
Izuku's kick landed squarely against the yellow, winged Nomu's torso, the force snapping its flight pattern instantly. The creature spiraled downward, smashing into the street in a spray of concrete and sparks.
Izuku hovered in the air for a heartbeat, eyes flicking downward.
Below him, All Might was already engaged with the other two Nomu on the ground, blows trading like thunder, keeping them pinned and away from civilians.
"Apex," a dispatcher's voice came through the earbud, sharp and authoritative, "you have full authorisation to eliminate the bioweapon."
Izuku's gaze returned to the crater.
"…Copy," he said simply.
The flying Nomu shrieked and tried to rise again, wings twitching violently as it clawed its way out of the debris.
Izuku dropped.
Not fast.
Final.
He hit the ground in front of it, grabbed one wing mid-beat, and tore it free in a single, precise motion. The Nomu screamed once before Izuku drove it back into the asphalt, the street caving in beneath the impact.
Regeneration tried to kick in.
Izuku didn't give it time.
One clean strike. Center mass. No wasted movement.
The Nomu went still.
Izuku straightened and looked up just in time to see All Might finish the last of the remaining two with overwhelming force, the shockwaves rippling through the street as the battle finally, truly ended.
"All airborne threats neutralised," Izuku reported calmly. "Remaining targets handled by All Might."
"…Confirmed," the dispatcher replied after a beat. "Excellent work, Apex."
Sirens grew louder as emergency crews moved in.
Izuku's eyes shifted over to the figures of Kurigiri and Shigaraki in the distance.
Izuku vanished.
The air folded in on itself and, an instant later, he reappeared on the rooftop — a few meters away, boots touching down without a sound.
Shigaraki flinched back half a step on instinct, fingers twitching.
Kurogiri reacted instantly, warping mist curling outward in a defensive arc.
"…So," Shigaraki muttered, red eyes narrowing, "you're the new one."
Izuku straightened slowly, hood still shadowing his face.
"You caused all this," he said calmly, gesturing vaguely toward the burning city. "For bait."
Shigaraki clicked his tongue. "Worked, didn't it?"
Kurogiri's voice echoed smoothly. "This engagement was not part of the original plan. We should withdraw."
Izuku tilted his head slightly, attention settling on the shadowed figure.
"You," he said, tone unreadable, "aren't supposed to exist like this."
Kurogiri stiffened — just a fraction.
Shigaraki noticed.
"…What did you say?" he snapped.
Izuku's eyes returned to Shigaraki.
"So what's your grand plan? Test us?"
"We told you last time…" Shigaraki Tomura said, a thin smile stretching across his face.
Then he shook his head slowly, almost disappointed, and swept one hand outward.
"We're here to eliminate the Symbol of Peace."
The air behind him curdled.
Dark mist rolled outward as Kurogiri opened a warp gate wider than any before, its edges trembling under strain.
Something stepped through.
A massive, winged Nomu emerged from the darkness, its silhouette blotting out the lights behind it. Unlike the others, this one moved with purpose. Its wings folded deliberately. Its head tilted, eyes glowing with a dim, almost reverent awareness.
It knelt.
"Your orders…" the Nomu rumbled, voice distorted but intelligible, "…master."
For the first time that night, Shigaraki's grin widened into something feral.
"All Might," he said softly. "Kill him. And cause chaos."
Below, standing amid shattered streets and scattered heroes, All Might looked up.
The High-End Nomu straightened to its full height.
Then it spread its hands.
Its chest split open again—not in a roar, but in release.
Screams tore through the air as a swarm of Nomu erupted outward, wings snapping open mid-launch, bodies flung like weapons into the city in every direction. Rooftops, streets, evacuation routes—no vector left untouched.
Hosu broke.
Sirens escalated into a constant howl.
"—CITYWIDE EMERGENCY—"
"—ALL HEROES RESPOND—"
"—CIVILIAN CASUALTIES IMMINENT—"
All Might clenched his fists.
"…So this is your answer," he said quietly.
The High-End dropped from the rooftop like a falling star, wings folding tight as it plummeted toward him.
All Might stepped forward.
The impact shook the district as the Nomu landed, cracking the street in a spiderweb of fractures.
Across the city, heroes scattered to intercept the horde—but it was already too much. Too many points. Too much ground.
In midair, Izuku watched the spread happen in real time.
"…They're trying to drown the system," he said grimly into the earpiece. "Overload response capacity. Force All Might to choose."
There was no reply—only the sound of combat thunder as All Might met the High-End head-on.
Izuku inhaled once.
Then he split himself across the city—not physically, but functionally.
"Dispatch," he said, voice razor-calm, "reroute civilian evacuation through sectors C and F. I'll hold the airspace. No Nomu passes me."
"Apex, that's—!"
"I know," Izuku cut in. "Do it."
He vanished.
Above Hosu, the sky became a battlefield.
Every Nomu that took flight found its path ending—intercepted midair, redirected, neutralised before it could reach a crowd. Shockwaves rippled, but never toward civilians. Impacts were controlled. Final.
On the ground, All Might traded blows with the High-End, each strike like a thunderclap, each step a statement.
And from a distant rooftop, Kurogiri watched the city strain under the load.
"…Tomura," he said carefully, "this hero is compensating far faster than projected."
Shigaraki scratched at his neck, eyes wide and shining.
"Good," he breathed. "Let's see his full parameters."
....
The remaining Nomu were already moving, scattering through Hosu in erratic arcs, chasing noise and fear. Too many angles. Too little time.
Izuku exhaled once.
Then he was gone.
He didn't travel so much as overwrite distance.
One moment, the sky above Hosu was fractured by smoke and fire. The next, green-black streaks tore through it, snapping from point to point faster than sirens could track.
A winged Nomu screamed—
—and vanished in a controlled implosion, shockwave folded inward, its body erased before it could fall.
Another tried to dive into a crowded street.
Izuku appeared above it, struck once, and redirected the impact straight down into empty asphalt. No debris. No collateral. Just finality.
Across Hosu, it happened again and again.
Heroes barely caught glimpses—
a shadow,
a flash,
a thump like distant thunder.
Every Nomu that tried to flee found itself intercepted midair. Every Nomu that tried to hide was dragged into the open and ended before it could reach a single civilian.
In less than five minutes, the city's chaos began to thin.
On the ground, All Might was still locked with the High-End.
The monster learned with every exchange, timing tightening, regeneration flaring brighter as it absorbed punishment meant to level blocks. All Might drove it back again and again, but each step cost more than the last.
Then—
The pressure changed.
The High-End twisted, reacting to something behind it.
Izuku landed between them, boots cracking the street.
All Might's eyes widened. "Young Midoriya—!"
"Sir," Izuku said calmly, not looking away from the Nomu, "you're burning time you don't have."
The High-End roared and lunged.
Izuku moved first.
Not with flourish.
Not with speed meant to impress.
He caught it.
Hands locked around its upper frame, halting the charge dead. The ground buckled beneath them as Izuku planted his feet and held.
The Nomu struggled, muscles swelling, regeneration screaming to life—
—and Izuku drove it straight down.
The impact didn't explode.
It compressed.
Concrete folded inward. The High-End's regeneration tried to surge and failed, its body collapsing under the force that didn't give it space to regenerate.
Izuku didn't stop.
He struck again.
And again.
Each blow precise. Identical. Relentless.
No variation. No escalation.
Just inevitability.
The High-End convulsed once more—then went still.
Silence spread outward from the crater.
All Might stood frozen for half a heartbeat, chest heaving.
"…You cleared the city," he said quietly.
Izuku straightened, breathing steady despite the tremor running through him.
"Yes," he replied. "All airborne threats neutralised. Hosu is secure."
High above, on the rooftop, Shigaraki laughed—sharp, delighted.
"There it is," he whispered. "That's what I wanted to see."
Kurogiri's mist churned uneasily. "…Those parameters exceed prior models."
Shigaraki's grin widened.
"Good," he said again. "Now we know we have to prepare something truly special to counter him. It's time to go back."
Below them, heroes rushed in. Sirens slowed. The city began to breathe.
Izuku turned his head slightly, eyes flicking toward the distant origin of the earlier stand-off.
They're gone.
Izuku steeled himself. Next time, he'd be even more ready. This was war.
[Congratulations on saving Hosu City! You have gained 1x diamond ticket.]
[The user has gained:
* [Haki]
|Legendary Ability|
One Piece - Allows you to harness your willpower in physical form such as reinforcing things, giving you extrasensory perception, applying spiritual pressure on people etc. You can also train in all types of Haki.]
[Due to the user already possessing one component of Haki, that aspect of Haki has been boosted and absorbed into the new ability.]
Izuku looked out over Hosu with a tired sigh.
Fire crews worked through the night. Medics moved stretchers. Heroes stood slumped with exhaustion, relief, and disbelief written plainly across their faces.
Izuku clenched his fist once, slowly, then relaxed it.
"…Guess I'd better start training that too."
Above him, the clouds thinned, moonlight breaking through the smoke at last.
Hosu would recover.
But the world had noticed.
And somewhere, far away, plans were already changing.