Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The silence had become unbearable.

A year had passed since Izuku Midoriya graduated from UA, yet each day felt longer than the one before it. The apartment seemed bigger now, emptier somehow, as though every room had expanded solely to remind him how alone he was. His mother had left for the United States shortly after graduation to care for his father, whose health had taken a turn for the worse. He hadn't wanted her to go. The selfish part of him had desperately wanted her to stay. But after everything she had sacrificed for him over the years, he couldn't bring himself to ask that of her. So he smiled, told her everything would be fine, hugged her goodbye, and watched her leave. Now the only sounds accompanying him most days were the humming refrigerator, the occasional passing car outside, and the thoughts he could never seem to silence.

Graduating from UA should have been one of the happiest moments of his life. Since childhood, becoming a Hero had been the dream that carried him through every hardship imaginable. It had survived years of bullying, impossible odds, broken bones, near-death experiences, and a war that nearly tore Japan apart. Yet somehow, after all of that, the dream had died quietly. The Embers of One For All had lasted just long enough to carry him across the finish line. Just long enough to earn his diploma. Just long enough to let him taste victory before taking everything away. When he watched his former classmates on television wearing their costumes and conducting rescue operations, he genuinely felt proud of them. They had earned their success. They deserved their dreams. The problem was that every broadcast felt like someone twisting a knife in his chest while congratulating him for surviving.

His phone rested on the coffee table nearby. The screen was dark, but he already knew what he would find if he checked it again. Messages left unanswered. Group chats that continued without him. Plans that never materialized. Excuses. Delays. Promises to meet up "soon." Nobody ever initiated conversations anymore. Nobody ever called. Nobody ever asked if he wanted to join them. It wasn't malicious. That almost made it worse. They weren't abandoning him out of hatred. They were simply moving on with their lives while he remained standing exactly where they had left him. Yet every unanswered message from everyone else felt like another reminder that he no longer belonged in their world.

The worst part was the rumors that kept increasing since the fourth month after graduating. That Bakugo, Izuku's childhood friend turned tormentor and now reconciled friend, has been teaming up with Ochaco Uraraka, Izuku's first crush, a bit too often lately, and the two have been seen with genuine smiles towards each other. His heart skipped a beat one too many times, and it was not because he felt happy for them. No, it felt as though his heart was trying to force itself to stop beating, wishing to die.

Sometimes... Izuku wishes it would succeed already. Maybe he should pay a visit to that rooftop All Might left him on when he initially rejected him all those years ago.

"Come on, get a grip." Izuku rubbed at his eyes and immediately groaned in frustration. His voice sounded strange in the empty apartment. "I'm not gonna cry over this."

The words carried far less confidence than he intended.

A year. That was all. To him, a year wasn't enough time to justify falling apart. Plenty of people faced worse circumstances every day and managed to keep moving. He won't become so weak of heart like most of the League of Villains, who chose their own suffering over the World at large, when he had overcome impossible challenges before. Surely he could survive this. The problem was that every time he tried to imagine the future, he found nothing waiting for him. Every plan he had ever made centered around becoming a Hero. Every sacrifice. Every goal. Every late-night study session. Every drop of blood he had spilled. Now he was twenty years old and had absolutely no idea what came next.

'Maybe everyone else already figured it out because they actually have futures worth planning for.' The thought slipped into his mind before he could stop it.

Izuku immediately shook his head. It's not like staying depressed was going to solve anything either. He needed to find an answer to his woes, and the answer wasn't hidden inside his apartment.

Still, anxiety tightened around his chest like invisible chains. What was waiting for him outside? The public knew he had lost One For All. They knew he was Quirkless again. He could already imagine the reactions. Some would pity him. Others would laugh. A few would probably call him an idiot for sacrificing everything to save Tomura Shigaraki. He could practically hear the criticism already.

"You threw away the greatest power in history for a mass murderer?"

"You ruined your life for nothing."

"What kind of Hero does that?"

Maybe they were right. The possibility lingered in his mind like poison. He had refused to kill the child buried beneath the monster All For One had created from Tenko Shimura. He had chosen compassion when hatred would have been easier. He had gambled everything on the belief that saving a soul mattered just as much as saving a life. And the cost had been enormous.

"Was it worth it?"

The question haunted him constantly, and he still didn't know the answer. What he did know was that staying locked inside his apartment would accomplish nothing. The future wasn't going to magically appear while he sat on a couch feeling sorry for himself. If he kept this up, he'd wake up ten years older, wondering where his life had gone. At that point, his career options would probably consist of whatever jobs were willing to hire an unemployed former Hero student with no practical experience.

"Maybe McDonald's." A reluctant laugh escaped him. "I do love their burgers and fries."

His smile faded.

"Just not enough to spend the rest of my life working there." His pride might have been battered, bruised, and dragged through the mud, but it wasn't dead yet. "No more of this crap. All Might wouldn't want you to give up."

Speaking of All Might, his second father was his only source of comfort in these hard times. He still reached out whenever his health allowed it, but the Symbol of Peace spent nearly as much time in hospitals as he did outside them after aggravating his old injuries during the Final War. Nothing wrong with that, and at least someone is talking to him.

Another was Principal Nezu. The hyper-intelligent mammal always found a way to lift him up, and Izuku's not sure yet, but their last conversation almost implied that Nezu wanted Izuku to join UA's faculty as a teacher.

That... Might actually be a good idea! Mentoring the next generation of Heroes is just as great an honor as being one!

But he's not so sure yet.

"Enough already!" He stood from the couch and clenched his fists.

Determination slowly replaced hesitation as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. A simple walk. That was all. Musutafu wasn't some unfamiliar city. He had spent most of his life here. Every street carried memories. Every district reminded him of some Hero exercise, school trip, internship, or adventure. The city itself looked healthier than it had in years. Reconstruction efforts following the Final War were nearly complete. New buildings stood where ruins once remained. Businesses had reopened. Parks were filled with families again. The scars still existed, but they no longer dominated the landscape. Musutafu resembled a patient finally leaving intensive care after a long battle for survival.

That didn't mean the fear had disappeared. People still watched the skies carefully. Citizens still glanced over their shoulders. The country remained in recovery mode. All For One was gone, but evil hadn't died with him. Villains would always exist. Disasters would always happen. Humanity would always find new ways to hurt itself.

Yet despite everything, society continued moving forward. Izuku stepped outside and closed the apartment door behind him. The afternoon sun warmed his face. A cool breeze drifted through the street. Life carried on. Maybe his own life could do the same.

"One step at a time," He murmured.

The uncertainty remained, as well as loneliness and fear. But so did he. Regardless of what awaited him beyond the next street corner, Izuku Midoriya intended to keep walking forward. After all, what were the odds that trouble would find him today of all days?

"How did it come to this?"

Izuku Midoriya muttered the question under his breath as he stared at the six masked criminals standing several feet away from him. Somehow, despite losing One For All, despite graduating from UA, despite supposedly retiring from the Hero life, he had once again stumbled into the exact sort of situation that trouble seemed determined to drag him into. You would think he'd have grown accustomed to it by now. Villains, danger, impossible odds, and all the madness in between had practically become recurring guests throughout his life. Yet standing there now, unarmed and Quirkless, the absurdity of it all felt stronger than ever.

The irony was that his walk had actually been pleasant. Nobody had recognized him. No excited whispers. No curious stares. No debates over whether he had made the right decision during the Final War.

The civilians moving through Musutafu's streets were preoccupied with their own concerns, their own schedules, their own lives. Ordinarily, being ignored might have bothered him. A year ago, it certainly would have. Today, Izuku appreciated the anonymity. The quiet gave him room to think. It allowed him to observe the city without becoming the center of attention. Children laughed while walking beside their parents. Shop owners greeted customers. Construction crews worked on the final stages of rebuilding projects left unfinished after the war.

The city was healing.

Looking around at the people living peacefully always helped whenever doubts started creeping into his mind. Critics constantly questioned his choice to sacrifice One For All in order to save Tenko Shimura's soul. They questioned whether compassion had any place when dealing with monsters. Some called him naive. Others called him selfish. A few went as far as labeling him a fool who had thrown away the greatest power in existence.

Whenever those voices became too loud, Izuku only needed to look around.

The peaceful streets, the laughing children, and the absence of fear. Those things reminded him why he made his choice.

Maybe the cost had been devastating. Maybe he would spend the rest of his life wondering what might have been. But seeing people live without fear made the sacrifice feel worthwhile.

Unfortunately, tranquility and Izuku Midoriya had never maintained a healthy relationship.

Which explained why he now found himself standing directly between six armed bank robbers and the bank they intended to rob.

"…Seriously?"

His eyes drifted toward a nearby alleyway. There, hidden in the shadows where most civilians would never think to look, sat a large truck. The placement was careful. Deliberate. These men had clearly planned their escape route beforehand. They expected to grab the money, load it into the vehicle, and disappear before any Pro-Hero could respond.

The plan wasn't bad. The only problem was that they hadn't anticipated him being there.

"Wait a second." One of the criminals tilted his head.

"No way." Another snorted.

"Holy crap, that's Deku." The tallest member stepped forward.

Immediately, the group erupted into laughter. Mocking laughter reserved toward someone they considered harmless. Years ago, hearing that name would have made criminals reconsider every life decision that had led them to that moment. Back then, Deku had been All Might's successor. The boy who fought beside the strongest Heroes in history. The young man who had marched across Japan during his Dark Deku period like a force of nature wrapped in exhaustion and rage.

That reputation had vanished alongside One For All. Now they looked at him the same way people looked at an old trophy gathering dust on a shelf.

"Aren't you supposed to be retired?" One criminal laughed.

"I heard he's Quirkless again."

"Guess the rumors were true."

"Damn, that's pathetic."

"Listen, Dekunobu." The tallest criminal pointed at him.

The emphasis on the word made Izuku's jaw tighten. Not Deku. Not the meaning Uraraka had given it. Not "You can do it."

No. They meant the original insult. Useless. Good-for-nothing. Worthless.

"We're feeling generous today." The man grinned beneath his mask. His companions chuckled. "Walk away."

"Nobody's gonna blame a Quirkless freak for avoiding real Hero work."

"Leave this to the professionals."

A strange sensation twisted inside Izuku's chest. Fear came first. Raw and instinctive. One For All was gone. His body was an ordinary human again. A single mistake could get him killed. His instincts screamed at him to accept the offer and leave. To survive. To be sensible. To remember that he no longer possessed overwhelming power.

Then another feeling surfaced. Stubbornness. Ever since the day All Might had chosen him, Izuku had spent years fighting his own cowardice. Fear had never disappeared. It had simply lost its authority over him.

Once again, it failed, and the criminals noticed.

"Seriously?"

"He's not moving."

The tallest one sighed.

"Fine."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"We'll tie him up after we finish robbing the bank."

"Then maybe we'll have some fun with him."

The others laughed.

That was the moment Izuku reached a decision. If they were determined to attack him anyway, then there was no point waiting. He had nothing left to lose. His dream was already gone. His power was gone. His future remained uncertain.

But he still possessed his legs, fists, experience, and his will. So he would move forward.

The lead criminal swung immediately. A powerful haymaker shot toward Izuku's face.

And something strange happened.

The punch looked slow. Ridiculously slow. Like watching someone fight underwater. Like the man's arm had become trapped inside a sea of invisible jelly.

Izuku's eyes widened, yet his body moved before his brain could question it. He stepped aside effortlessly. The fist passed harmlessly through empty air.

"What the—?!"

Izuku drove his elbow into the criminal's ribs. The man doubled over. A kick followed immediately afterward. His foot slammed into the thug's chest. The impact launched him backward like a cannonball, crashing into two teammates and sending all three sprawling across the pavement. Everyone stared. Including Izuku. The remaining criminals looked horrified. Izuku, meanwhile, was too focused on survival to question why.

One of them recovered enough to raise his hands. Electricity exploded around his body.

"DIE!"

A bolt of lightning surged forward. The attack struck with enough force to blast a hole into a nearby wall. The problem was that Izuku wasn't standing there anymore. He had already moved. The criminal barely registered the blur approaching him. A hand grabbed his face.

"Oh—" His eyes widened.

The back of his skull slammed into the pavement hard enough to fracture the concrete beneath him. The electrical discharge vanished instantly.

The fifth criminal roared in panic. His arm expanded into a massive spiked boulder.

"I'LL CRUSH YOU!"

The weapon descended toward Izuku's head. Izuku stepped into the attack. His foot shot forward. The kick buried itself in the thug's stomach. The man's breath vanished. The rocky arm dispersed. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his abdomen while gasping desperately for air.

Only one criminal remained standing. The final thug looked around at his defeated companions before they shifted to Izuku and later back to his defeated companions. His bag dropped to the ground. Both hands immediately shot into the air.

"I GIVE UP!"

Izuku blinked.

"Really?"

"YES!"

The criminal looked ready to cry.

"I DON'T WANT ANY OF WHATEVER THIS IS!"

Several police sirens echoed through the street moments later.

Officers quickly surrounded the scene and moved to apprehend the criminals. More than one policeman stared openly at Izuku while handcuffing the defeated robbers.

"Midoriya?"

"I thought he lost his Quirk."

"What happened here?"

"Well…" Izuku offered an awkward smile. He rubbed the back of his head. "They're obviously not as imposing as they seem."

The police focused on securing the criminals while Izuku remained standing near the damaged street. Questions were already forming in his mind. Lots of them. The HPSC had granted him a Pro-Hero License after graduation, but everyone involved knew it was little more than a courtesy. Nobody genuinely expected him to continue active Hero work. He certainly wasn't supposed to be defeating armed criminals in broad daylight.

Yet as confusing as the situation was, another feeling slowly emerged from somewhere deep inside him.

Pride. The sensation felt fragile, like a wounded muscle slowly beginning to heal after a year of neglect. For so long, he had felt hollow. Directionless. Useless. Yet standing there among defeated criminals and flashing police lights, he felt something awakening that he thought had died alongside One For All.

The drive to help people. The desire to act. The instinct to run toward danger instead of away from it. The Hero inside him was still alive. And now that he had felt it again, Izuku knew one thing with absolute certainty. He could not allow that feeling to disappear.

Izuku Midoriya remained completely unaware that his return to Heroics had already become the biggest story in Japan.

The moment the confrontation outside the bank ended, dozens of bystanders who had witnessed the event firsthand uploaded their recordings to social media. What started as a handful of shaky phone videos exploded into millions of views within minutes. News channels interrupted regular programming. Hero forums crashed under the weight of incoming traffic. Comment sections multiplied faster than anyone could moderate them.

One phrase dominated every platform.

"Deku's back!"

The declaration spread like wildfire. The Hero the public had mourned after the Final War. The successor to All Might. The young man who had carried the hopes of an entire generation before sacrificing everything. People had accepted that Deku's career was over.

Now those same people were staring at video evidence suggesting otherwise. The footage itself only raised more questions. A masked criminal threw a punch. Deku casually evaded. Another attack. Deku countered. A lightning-based Quirk capable of blasting a hole through a concrete wall failed to even graze him. The attacker ended up unconscious with his head embedded in the fractured pavement. Another criminal transformed his arm into a massive spiked weapon. Deku folded him with a single kick. The final robber surrendered without even attempting a fight.

The entire encounter lasted less than a minute. Millions watched it repeatedly. Frame by frame. Second by second. Analyzing. Debating. Arguing. Trying to understand what they were seeing.

"That's impossible."

"He lost One For All."

"Then explain the video."

"There has to be another Quirk involved."

"What other Quirk?"

"Maybe he was hiding one."

"From whom? The entire Hero Commission?"

The debates only grew more heated as analysts, civilians, and amateur Hero enthusiasts began dissecting every movement. Some slowed the footage down to a crawl. Others enhanced the recordings. A few even started measuring distances and impact forces.

The conclusions they reached only made things stranger. The speed displayed by Midoriya exceeded normal human limits. The force behind his attacks exceeded normal human limits. The reaction time necessary to dodge that lightning attack exceeded normal human limits. Everything about the encounter pointed toward a simple answer.

A strength-enhancing Quirk.

The problem was that everyone knew Izuku Midoriya didn't have one. Even more confusing was how natural it looked. The movements weren't clumsy. They weren't experimental. They weren't the actions of someone testing newfound abilities.

Deku moved like a veteran. Like a warrior who had spent years fighting opponents stronger than himself. Which, admittedly, he had. The members of the so-called Hell Class had survived the most catastrophic freshman year in UA history. They had battled terrorists, escaped assassins, fought in a civil collapse, and participated in a war that nearly ended Japanese society as a whole.

Compared to those experiences, six bank robbers barely qualified as a warm-up. Even so, nobody expected a Quirkless man to perform feats like that. Soon enough, comparisons emerged. One name appeared repeatedly. Knuckleduster. The infamous Naruhata Vigilante. A man who had become legendary despite lacking any superhuman Quirk.

Then another comparison appeared. Stain. The Hero Killer. A villain whose physical abilities bordered on the absurd despite possessing a Quirk that provided no enhancement whatsoever.

People began revisiting old footage, reports, and interviews. Searching for answers. Perhaps Quirkless individuals were capable of far more than society believed. Perhaps Hero Society had misunderstood human potential for generations. Perhaps Deku was proving something that nobody wanted to admit.

The discussions became so widespread that some broadcasters dedicated entire segments to the topic. The mystery only deepened after what came next.

Exactly thirty-two minutes after the bank footage went viral, a second video surfaced. And this one somehow managed to create even more confusion. The recording showed Deku walking through Musutafu. No fighting. No villains. No explosions. Just a casual stroll. The cameraman appeared to be recording from across the street when Midoriya suddenly stopped.

A child cried nearby. The boy looked young, eight years old at most, and slightly overweight. He looked embarrassed and terrified. The camera shifted. A car occupied the edge of the sidewalk. The child had apparently crawled underneath it while hiding from a group of bullies.

Unfortunately, squeezing beneath the vehicle had been much easier than getting back out. The poor kid was stuck. Several pedestrians attempted to help. None succeeded. Then Midoriya approached.

The crowd quieted. The boy looked absolutely mortified.

"M-Mister Deku?"

"You okay down there?" Izuku crouched beside him.

"N-No." The child looked moments away from tears. "I can't get out."

"Don't worry." Izuku smiled reassuringly.

"What if I break the car?" The boy sniffled.

"You won't."

"What if I'm stuck forever?"

"You won't be."

"What if—"

"You definitely won't be stuck forever."

A few nervous chuckles emerged from nearby civilians.

Izuku stood. Rolled his shoulders. Then grabbed the back of the vehicle. The crowd fell silent. The boy beneath the car blinked.

The cameraman stopped breathing until Deku lifted the back of the car. Not entirely since he wasn't that strong, though Deku wasn't showing too many signs of struggle. Perhaps his muscles had tightened, and veins became visible underneath his long sleeves, but his shoes weren't digging into the pavement. The vehicle just rose several inches off the ground, just enough for the trapped child to immediately crawl free. The moment he escaped, Izuku carefully lowered the vehicle back onto the road.

"He lifted a freaking car!" Someone screamed.

The video ended shortly afterward. It received over ten million views before the hour ended.

"What is going on?"

"That's impossible."

"How could a Quirkless lift a car?"

"How is he doing it now?"

The questions became endless. Conspiracy theories multiplied. Experts argued. Former Heroes weighed in. Nobody possessed answers. What most viewers failed to notice was the brief expression crossing Izuku's face immediately afterward. A look of realization. The look of a man finally recognizing something strange was happening. His eyes lowered toward his own hands. Midoriya pulled out his phone. He made a call. The camera couldn't hear who answered. The recording quality wasn't good enough. Viewers only saw Izuku speaking rapidly before suddenly taking off down the street. And then things became ridiculous. The footage captured him disappearing at a speed that left pedestrians staring in shock.

Someone later calculated the distance using nearby landmarks. The estimate suggested Midoriya covered approximately one mile in forty-two seconds. Not enough to impress dedicated Speedsters. More than enough to break the minds of everyone else. Especially because the person accomplishing this feat was supposedly Quirkless. By that point, Japan had completely lost its collective composure. Across the country, phones buzzed nonstop. Students. Teachers. Heroes. Civilians. Everyone saw the videos. UA's faculty saw them. The former Class B who fought alongside 1-A saw them. The Pro-Heroes who had fought beside Midoriya during the Final War saw them.

Most reactions shared one common element. Relief. Joy. Hope. The loss of One For All had been one of the greatest tragedies to emerge from the war. Countless people accepted it as a necessary sacrifice, but that acceptance never erased the sadness attached to it. Watching Deku move again—watching him fight again—felt like seeing a lost piece of the future return unexpectedly.

Yet not everyone celebrated. Elsewhere, individuals watched the footage with growing concern. Some frowned. Some stared silently. Some immediately reached for their phones. Because regardless of how miraculous this development appeared, one fact remained impossible to ignore.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Izuku Midoriya was never meant to return to active Hero work. Correction: He was supposed to wait a little longer before the timing felt right for the world to have its Savior again. Plans had been made. Expectations had been established. A future had been carefully arranged for him. And every second these videos remained online threatened to unravel all of it.

The moment Izuku left Musutafu behind and began sprinting toward answers, he already knew there was only one place to start. Tokyo's Central Hospital. People would joke that his one true love is not Uraraka, but a hospital bed, and to be fair, his poor usage of One For All and Messiah Complex made it impossible not to grow accustomed to a hospital bed, and the joke was genuinely funny, one of the few good laughs he had with the Hell Class before graduation.

Whatever was happening to him had gone far beyond coincidence. Defeating six armed criminals was one thing. Lifting part of a car off the ground was another. Running a mile in under a minute should have been impossible. Every explanation he came up with somehow sounded more ridiculous than the last, and that terrified him. The greatest irony was that after spending a year mourning the loss of his power, he was suddenly afraid he might have gained something else.

By the time he arrived at the Central Hospital of Tokyo, several staff members had already recognized him from the viral videos circulating online. Fortunately, the institution maintained a level of professionalism worthy of its reputation. Nobody crowded him. Nobody demanded answers. Nobody asked for photographs. Instead, he was directed toward the physician assigned to his previous cases. Doctor Ryu Yoshida. Izuku knew him all too well. Most people in Japan had. The doctor was impossible to forget once seen. His Quirk had altered his appearance to resemble a large prehistoric reptile, giving him a broad jaw, rough-scaled skin, and sharp eyes that made him look more suited to excavating fossils than practicing medicine. Appearances, however, were deceptive.

Behind that intimidating exterior stood one of the most respected medical professionals in the country. Yoshida had become something of a legend among doctors. Six patients previously declared beyond saving by entire teams of specialists had survived under his care. In medicine, numbers like that earned attention. In Hero society, they earned admiration. Recovery Girl, who finally retired as UA's head nurse when the Hell Class was still sophomores, mentioned that Ryu Yoshida would make an excellent successor if he had chosen to pursue the position. Few compliments carried greater weight. Which was why Izuku felt slightly reassured when the dinosaur-like physician entered the examination room carrying a tablet beneath one arm.

"Doctor Yoshida." Izuku greeted respectfully.

"Midoriya." The man nodded. "I've reviewed the footage."

"And?" Izuku immediately tensed.

"And I've spent the last hour wondering if someone edited reality itself." Ryu adjusted his glasses.

Despite everything, Izuku laughed. The doctor didn't.

"I'm only partially joking."

The tests began immediately afterward. Blood samples. Neurological scans. Cardiovascular examinations. Muscular analysis. Bone density measurements. Genetic screening. Several procedures involved machinery Izuku didn't even recognize.

Hours passed. Then more hours. Eventually, Yoshida requested that Izuku remain at the hospital for the rest of the day.

"Whatever is happening," The Doctor explained, "I'd prefer to keep you nearby until we understand it."

Izuku didn't argue. He had nowhere else to be. His mother remained in America caring for his father. His apartment would still be empty when he returned. The realization hurt more than he cared to admit. So he stayed. His phone remained silent throughout the day. It vibrated occasionally. Messages. Calls. Notifications. Questions. He ignored them all. His mind already contained enough noise.

Whenever anxiety threatened to overwhelm him, he distracted himself with a handheld gaming console he had brought from home. He had never considered himself much of a gamer growing up. Training, studying, and Heroics had consumed most of his free time.

A year of isolation changed that. When loneliness became your most constant companion, even unfamiliar hobbies started to look appealing. Several times, he found himself staring at the screen without actually seeing it. His thoughts always drifted back toward the same question.

'What am I?'

The answer finally arrived the following morning. After a sleepless night and an equally restless breakfast, Izuku was escorted toward Doctor Yoshida's private office. The physician sat behind his desk reviewing several digital displays. Brain scans. Muscular charts. Cellular analysis. Enough information to make Izuku's head spin.

"Sit." Yoshida gestured toward the chair opposite him. The seriousness in his voice immediately put Izuku on edge.

"Is it bad?"

"No." The doctor folded his hands.

"Good." Izuku relaxed slightly.

"It's absurd."

The tension immediately returned.

"Which somehow concerns me more." Yoshida exhaled slowly.

Izuku swallowed. The doctor turned one of the monitors toward him.

"Let's begin with the obvious."

A skeletal image appeared.

"You're Quirkless."

"Yeah… everyone should know that by now," Izuku replied awkwardly.

"And yet you've recently convinced the whole nation that's not the case," The doctor pointed toward several highlighted sections. "But this put the superstition to rest. You possess no identifiable Plus Alpha Element."

That statement alone should have settled everything. The Plus Alpha Element, better known as the Quirk Factor, had been recognized for generations as the biological foundation behind Quirks. Every Quirked individual possessed traces of it throughout their genetic structure.

Every Quirkless individual lacked it. Simple enough to follow. Except nothing about Izuku's results was simple.

"Then why—"

"Because your body isn't behaving like a Quirkless body." The doctor switched screens.

A wall of statistics appeared. Muscular output. Reaction speed. Bone durability. Metabolic efficiency. Neural conductivity. Every category displayed values that seemed impossible.

"Midoriya, every system inside your body is operating beyond normal human limits." Yoshida leaned forward. "Your muscles generate more force. Your nervous system processes information faster. Your cardiovascular system delivers oxygen more efficiently. Your bones possess unusual density. Even your cellular repair mechanisms are significantly accelerated."

"But… why?" Izuku's confusion only deepened.

Yoshida was silent for several seconds. Then he delivered the answer.

"One For All." The name hit Izuku like a freight train.

"What?"

"My current theory is that your body adapted." The doctor enlarged another chart.

"Adapted?"

"Constantly." The physician stood and began pacing. "When All Might transferred One For All to you, your body wasn't remotely prepared to handle it."

Izuku nodded. That was true in the most painful sense. The early months had been agony. Broken arms. Broken legs. Destroyed muscles. Repeated self-inflicted injuries.

"Most people focus on the damage." Yoshida continued.

"I tried not to, but… I have issues," Izuku admitted shamefully.

"Everyone knows you have issues." The doctor adjusted his glasses. "What interests me is how your body responded."

Another chart appeared.

"Every time One For All damaged you, your body repaired itself."

"Mostly because of Recovery Girl."

"In the beginning, but I am aware of her unfair treatment of you after your Freshman-Year Sports Festival, and how you had to rely on other doctors for treatment." Yoshida pointed toward several highlighted areas. "Your body didn't simply heal. It adapted."

The physician's voice gained momentum.

"You spent months strengthening yourself before receiving One For All."

"You spent over a year forcing your body to survive increasing percentages, including when you only had Embers left in your sophomore and senior years in UA."

The doctor's eyes sharpened.

"5%. 8%. 20%. 45%. Every stage demanded adaptation, and your body answered."

Understanding slowly began to form in Izuku's mind.

"Your subconscious essentially weaponized adaptation itself."

The doctor pointed toward the scans. "Every time One For All threatened to destroy you, your body learned. Every time greater power entered your system, your biology adjusted. Every time you survived impossible stress, you became better suited to surviving it again."

Then Yoshida delivered the conclusion.

"I believe your body had been reshaping itself at the microscopic level throughout the entire time you had it." The doctor switched screens repeatedly. The images grew increasingly complex. Cellular, molecular, and potentially even subatomic."

"Subatomic?" Izuku's eyes widened.

"An extreme theory, but the evidence supports extreme conclusions." Yoshida folded his arms. "Your body was effectively torn apart and rebuilt thousands upon thousands of times so fast to notice."

The physician looked almost impressed.

"Eventually, adaptation stopped being a response and became a feature."

Izuku sat speechless.

"You eventually reached a point where your baseline physical condition exceeded normal human limitations." The Doctor continued.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that by the end of your Hero studies, your body had permanently internalized a fraction of what One For All forced it to become." Yoshida pointed toward him.

The realization struck like lightning.

"You mean…"

"I mean your body learned how to be stronger."

The room became so quiet it was unnatural.

"If it helps, you're not entirely unique," Yoshida sighed.

Izuku looked up.

"Tomura Shigaraki." The physician brought up another file.

The name sent a chill down Izuku's spine.

"Doctor Garaki modified Shigaraki's body to withstand immense power before most of his stolen Quirks became active." Yoshida continued carefully.

The comparison bothered Izuku.

"The difference is that Shigaraki's evolution was artificial and barbaric," The doctor looked directly at Izuku. "Yours happened naturally."

Then Yoshida frowned.

"Well, as naturally as this kind of insanity can happen."

Despite everything, Izuku laughed weakly.

"Frankly, calling it supernatural might be more accurate." The doctor smirked. "You remain superhuman despite possessing no superpower."

The absurdity of the statement nearly broke him. For a year, he had grieved, convinced himself that his Hero career was over. He had accepted losing One For All. Now he sat across from one of the greatest doctors in Japan, being told that One For All hadn't completely left him behind after all.

The emotional dam shattered. Tears spilled down his cheeks. Izuku lowered his head. His shoulders trembled. Years of stress. Years of loneliness. Fear. Doubt. Relief. Everything came pouring out at once.

"I thought…" His voice cracked. "I thought it was over."

Doctor Yoshida remained silent for a moment. Then he stood and placed a reassuring hand on Izuku's shoulder.

"It's okay." The simple words carried surprising weight. "It's okay, Midoriya."

The young man struggled to compose himself.

"You lost a great power. That much is true." Yoshida's voice softened. "But power was never what made you special."

Izuku slowly looked up. The doctor smiled.

"The Green Star of UA accomplished things most Heroes never will. Quirk or no Quirk."

His hand squeezed Izuku's shoulder.

"This mutation?" Yoshida shrugged. "Think of it as insurance."

The absurdity of that statement almost made Izuku laugh through his tears.

Insurance.

As if becoming a biological anomaly counted as insurance. Yet beneath the humor lay a simple truth. He wasn't helpless. He wasn't finished. His story wasn't over.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!" Izuku's good mood died a swift and violent death.

One moment, he had been walking out of the Central Hospital of Tokyo with a renewed sense of purpose. The next, he found himself staring directly at Katsuki Bakugo, who looked like he was one poorly timed sentence away from committing property damage. Small explosions popped and crackled in his palms like miniature thunderstorms trying to escape containment, drawing nervous looks from nearby pedestrians who wisely decided to increase their walking speed.

Despite everything, Izuku couldn't help rolling his eyes. Some things truly never changed.

"Good morning, Kacchan."

Bakugo twitched. The sheer normalcy of the greeting somehow seemed to offend him.

"What part of that sounded like a good morning to you, nerd?!"

"Well, I woke up."

"THAT'S YOUR CRITERIA?!"

"It usually helps."

Bakugo looked genuinely offended by the answer. Izuku, meanwhile, found himself distracted by a completely different thought. Officially speaking, Katsuki Bakugo was now the Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. Every single word in that title made it worse.

God, what right did Kacchan have to keep calling him a nerd when he willingly introduced himself with a codename that sounded like it had been assembled by an overexcited twelve-year-old who consumed nothing but action movies and energy drinks? Granted, their senior Mirio Togata had supported the name enthusiastically, but Mirio's standards for what constituted a good idea had always been questionable at best.

Unfortunately, mocking Kacchan's codename would only escalate the situation. And judging by the sparks already dancing between his fingers, escalation was the last thing Tokyo needed today.

"DON'T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!"

"I wasn't—"

"THE HELL HAPPENED YESTERDAY?!" Bakugo pointed an accusing finger at him. "And what the hell is wrong with your phone?!"

"My phone?" Izuku repeated.

"I CALLED YOU!" Bakugo's voice rose. "I TEXTED YOU! I CALLED AGAIN! I CALLED THIRTY MORE TIMES!"

His voice rose higher and higher. The nearby windows rattled. Izuku finally pulled his phone from his pocket. The screen illuminated.

"…Oh." His eyes widened.

"What do you mean 'oh?'"

Izuku stared at the notifications. One hundred and three missed calls. Several hundred unread messages. An alarming percentage belonged to Bakugo. The rest came from practically everyone else he knew.

"I may have forgotten to check my phone."

The silence that followed felt dangerous.

"Kacchan?"

"What?"

"Please don't explode."

"No promises."

In hindsight, remaining at the hospital while silencing his phone had not been his smartest decision. His mind had been occupied with medical examinations, impossible revelations, and the existential crisis caused by discovering his body had apparently evolved into something science struggled to categorize. Communication had admittedly slipped his mind. Then something occurred to him. A very obvious something.

"Actually." The corners of Izuku's mouth lifted.

"What?" Bakugo narrowed his eyes.

"You probably shouldn't judge people for not answering your calls."

A vein bulged on Bakugo's forehead.

"Considering how often you ignored my calls and texts." Izuku continued.

Another vein appeared. Including one very visible pulse near his temple.

"…Nerd."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

The remarkable part wasn't that Bakugo failed to answer. It was that he couldn't. Because they both knew Izuku was right. Naturally, Kacchan chose the immature solution. He ignored the hypocrisy entirely.

"We're talking about you."

"Convenient."

"SHUT UP!"

Before the argument could continue, another voice interrupted.

"Izuku!"

He turned and froze. Standing near the hospital entrance was nearly the entire Hell Class. Ochaco, Shoto, Iida, Tsuyu. Practically everyone except for Shinso, who is absent. The sight should have made him happy. Instead, something uncomfortable settled in his stomach because nobody looked like they had come to socialize. They looked concerned.

Concerned people rarely delivered good news.

"Midoriya!" Iida called out.

"We have questions!" Mina added.

"Lots of questions," Kaminari agreed.

"Told you." Bakugo folded his arms.

Within minutes, the group relocated to a more private location. Technically speaking, nobody had appointed Bakugo as crowd control, but his mere presence accomplished the task effortlessly. The few civilians who wandered too close took one look at his expression and immediately remembered urgent appointments elsewhere.

Once they settled, every eye focused on Izuku. The attention felt strangely familiar. Like being back at UA. Only this time, something felt off.

"So, what happened?" Todoroki said.

The questions arrived immediately afterward. Fast, relentless, and overlapping. Everyone wanted answers. So Izuku gave them.

Mostly.

He explained encountering the six bank robbers. He described the fight. He described discovering his enhanced abilities. What he conveniently neglected to mention was the part where the criminals had offered him an opportunity to walk away.

The detail remained trapped behind his teeth. Instead, he framed the situation differently. An unavoidable necessity. A fight for survival as well as protecting the civilians in the Musutafu Bank. Not entirely false, just incomplete.

Normally, his classmates would have detected the omission instantly. Then Neito Monoma happened. An unexpected friendship during their Sophomore year in UA had gifted Izuku something few believed possible. A functioning poker face.

Months of verbal warfare against Class B's most dramatic member had apparently produced results. By the time he finished speaking, nobody appeared suspicious. Even Bakugo could no longer tell when he omitted the truth. That realization worried him more than it probably should have.

As for the second incident, explaining it proved considerably easier.

"The kid was trapped." Izuku shrugged. "So I helped."

"You lifted a car," Momo said.

"Part of one."

"You lifted a car."

"Technically."

"Midoriya."

"Okay, yes."

The Hell Class exchanged bewildered looks. Izuku then explained his visit with Doctor Yoshida. The medical tests and the discoveries of biological adaptations are due to One For All.

Nobody interrupted or joked about the matter. The revelation was simply too absurd. When he finally finished speaking, several seconds passed without a response.

Then Eijiro broke the silence.

"Dude."

"Yeah?"

"That's awesome."

A few nodded. Others appeared stunned. Some looked fascinated. And for a brief moment, Izuku felt hopeful. Maybe this would work.

"It is such a shame I didn’t realize this sooner," Izuku lamented and started criticizing himself. "I should've done the sensible thing and continued to work out after graduating when I might've realized the changes in me much sooner and gone straight into the Hero action again."

"No. You still shouldn't become a Hero."

The words struck harder than any punch. Izuku looked toward the speaker. Ochaco. The apology already visible in her eyes somehow made it worse.

"What?"

"You heard me." She looked genuinely upset.

"I'm sorry, Deku."

The hope vanished.

"She's right," Shoto spoke next.

"Ribbit. It's dangerous." Tsuyu nodded.

"This is still quite jarring," Mina looked miserable.

Koji lowered his head.

Mezo folded his arms.

The concern in their expressions was painfully obvious. One after another, they began speaking. Trying to help.

Which somehow hurt more.

"Midoriya," Iida began carefully, "Being superhuman and possessing a Quirk are not the same thing."

"The risks are still enormous." Momo nodded.

"Darkness remains filled with dangers beyond ordinary men," Tokoyami spoke next.

"Dude, you've already done enough." Kaminari rubbed the back of his neck.

"Nobody would blame you." Kyoka looked away.

"You literally saved the world." Eijiro's expression tightened.

"More than once," Sero added.

The comments kept coming. Some gentle. Some professional. Some blunt. All carrying the same message of "Don't do this."

A terrible coldness spread through Izuku's chest. Like falling into an icy river. Standing beneath winter rain without shelter.

These were the people he had trusted with his life. He had bled beside. Nearly died beside. Had spent a year messaging only to receive silence in return. And now, after discovering a path back toward his dream, they wanted him to abandon it.

Again.

The cold grew stronger until something changed. A spark appeared inside. A fire that soon turned into an inferno. Conviction surged through him with such force that it burned away every trace of doubt.

He understood their concerns. Appreciated their intentions. He would not hate them for caring. But he refused to surrender.

Never again.

A single glance from him caused the intervention to die instantly. Every eye turned toward him. The sadness remained. The disappointment remained. But beneath them stood something stronger.

Something immovable.

"No." His singular response landed with all the force of a Detroit Smash. It paralyzed the Hell Class with horrible discomfort that suffocated them. The kind that descended after witnessing something impossible. Because it wasn't merely what Izuku said. It was how he said it.

Everyone present had heard Midoriya angry before. They had seen him desperate, terrified, determined, exhausted, grieving, and even furious. They had witnessed him challenge villains, confront dictators, and stand before monsters that could level cities.

This was different. The flame burning behind his eyes wasn't directed toward evil. It was directed toward them, and that realization unsettled everyone. Several of them exchanged uncertain glances. Some visibly reconsidered their position. Others looked disturbed. A few appeared guilty.

Not all of them.

Bakugo's expression only darkened. Iida straightened his posture. Both immediately doubled down.

"Midoriya," Iida began firmly. "Your abilities are extraordinary, but that does not change the risks involved."

"He's right," Bakugo growled. "The hell do you think you're proving?"

Izuku laughed. The sound lacked humor.

"You want to talk about risks?" His gaze shifted across the group. "You people act like I'm made of glass."

"Nobody said that," Ochaco protested.

"I should hope so!" His eyes landed on Kirishima and Sato. "I'm basically them after all."

The two Heroes blinked.

"What?" Sato asked.

"Brute force." Izuku pointed at them and then at himself. "That's all you two are. The difference is that I'm smarter than both of you will ever be."

The words landed like a slap. Kirishima visibly flinched. Sato's eyes widened. Neither responded. Not because they lacked a rebuttal. Because hearing something like that come from Izuku Midoriya genuinely hurt.

"Midoriya!" Momo snapped. "That was unnecessary."

"Was it?"

"It was."

"Dude." Eijiro frowned.

Izuku looked away. The irritation growing inside him continued building. Every sentence they spoke sounded identical. Every argument circled back toward the same conclusion. "Don't do this."  "Give up." "Move on." "Accept it."

The more they talked, the more those words resembled chains.

"Oh no. I'm only just starting. In your eyes, Jiro should pose the biggest concern," His eyes found Kyoka.

"What about me?" The musician froze.

"Half your Quirk got destroyed." Izuku crossed his arms.

The atmosphere immediately worsened. Several people winced. Everyone knew exactly what he meant. The damage caused during the war had never fully healed. Kyoka compensated with technology and prosthetics, but reality remained reality. Part of her Quirk was gone forever.

"You adapted." Izuku's gaze remained fixed.

Kyoka looked uncomfortable.

"So?"

"Adaptation doesn't erase the reality that you're now Half-Quirkless."

"Midoriya!" This time it was Tsuyu. The frog girl looked horrified.

Kyoka's jaw tightened. The comparison wasn't entirely inaccurate. That made it worse. The antagonism radiating from Izuku felt profoundly wrong. Like seeing sunlight emerge from the ocean floor and watching gravity reverse.

This wasn't how Midoriya behaved, or how he talked. This wasn't how he treated people. Yet there he stood. The conviction behind every word made it clear he meant everything he said.

Ochaco felt panic beginning to settle into her stomach. The conversation was spiraling fast. 

'I have to tell him. That might get him to see reason,' She murmured.

She had hoped to save it as a surprise until the time was right. When it was fully finished, and give it to him once he settled down into the idea job for him as UA's newest teacher, but at this point, he has to know now.

'About the Power Suit being built that just like the one All Might used to hold off All For One, but stronger, meant for him and him alone!'

"Deku." He looked at her, and his stare made her hesitate for a second, but she needed to power through and protect him from himself.

Unfortunately, Bakugo interrupted.

"Enough." Everyone looked toward him. The explosive Hero stepped forward. For once, he wasn't shouting. That frightened several people more than when he did.

"Deku." The old nickname turned Hero Name sounded unusually serious. "Think."

"Funny. I was about to say the same thing." Izuku's eyes narrowed.

"Your mom." Bakugo ignored the jab and attempted to hit Izuku close to home. A really low blow. "And your dad. If you die doing this stupid crap, you'll destroy them."

Nobody interrupted because beneath Bakugo's rough delivery was genuine concern.

Izuku heard it. Yet he wasn't moved.

"I'll just take One For All's final gift." Everyone stared. "And push it further."

The conviction in his voice bordered on frightening.

Bakugo's expression darkened, and so the discussion continued. Then it became a debate. It felt like they would be going in circles forever until Izuku reached a conclusion. A very familiar conclusion. One rooted deep within Hero Society itself.

Words were useless. Always had been. How many times throughout his life had arguments ended the same way?

"Fight me then." Izuku's statement stunned everyone.

"What?" Mina squeaked.

"Fight me." Izuku spread his arms, and his gaze swept across the group. "You want proof? I'll give you proof."

The atmosphere shifted instantly. Almost nobody liked where this was going.

"Think about it." Izuku sighed, looking directly at Iida. "Arguing accomplishes nothing."

Then Bakugo.

"We've literally solved problems with violence our entire lives."

Then everyone else.

"So let's settle it the same way."

His voice remained calm.

"I don't need to fight Kacchan or Todoroki, of course. I know I'll always be weaker than them." Izuku shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I never once aimed to be a Top Ten Hero."

Several classmates looked surprised by the admission.

"That's never been my goal." Izuku didn't care; his expression softened. For the first time since the argument began, genuine emotion emerged. "When All Might saved people, they smiled."

The memory alone felt sacred.

"I want that. That's all I've ever wanted."

On that, they knew that much to be true when it came to him.

"The #1 Hero rank and the Symbol of Peace had never been synonymous. Not to me!"

One represented popularity.

The other represented hope.

Only one mattered.

Then Izuku looked toward Kirishima. The redhead immediately stiffened.

"Red Riot."

"What?"

"Help me out."

"How?" Kirishima frowned.

"Fight me."

The request hung in the air.

"Prove whether I'm ready." Izuku smiled faintly.

To everyone's surprise, Kirishima actually considered it. The old Eijiro would have accepted immediately. A challenge between men and conviction. A chance to support a friend. Everything about it sounded like something Crimson Riot himself would encourage. The conflict showed plainly on his face.

Then he shook his head.

"No."

Izuku's smile vanished.

"I don't want to hurt you."

The answer should have been reassuring. Instead, irritation surfaced.

"Would Crimson Riot back down from a challenge?"

Kirishima recoiled. The comparison struck deep again. The true cruelty lay in it coming from Izuku. The friend who normally inspired people instead of tearing at their insecurities. Who normally lifted others up and sounded increasingly unfamiliar with every passing minute.

Any remaining chance of salvaging the conversation disappeared when Bakugo finally snapped.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Explosions erupted across his palms. "DROP THE ACT!"

The surrounding air trembled.

"Ditch this stupid tough-guy bullshit!"

Several of the UA Alumni immediately stepped back.

"You don't have a Quirk anymore!" Bakugo's voice thundered, pointing directly at him. "You gave it up in a failed attempt to save a monster, so stop pretending!"

Another explosion burst from his hand.

"At least for now! Or I'll kill you!"

Nobody reacted. Nobody believed it. Bakugo had been saying variations of that phrase since childhood. It was practically punctuation for him. His defining feature.

What nobody expected was Izuku's response. The green-haired Hero tilted his head, completely unimpressed.

"Kill me?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "Like how you killed All For One?"

Everything stopped. Bakugo froze. The world seemed to freeze alongside him. They couldn't understand immediately. A few looked outright baffled. Bakugo didn't. The color drained from his face.

Izuku saw it happen and continued.

"Quite a story." Every word felt deliberate. The smile appearing on his face wasn't friendly. "Everyone loved it. Really proved you've come a long way from the guy who suicide-baited me in middle school."

"Deku?" Ochaco whispered.

Bakugo didn't answer. He couldn't. His lungs refused to cooperate. Then Izuku dropped the bomb.

"Except you and I both know that's not true."

The effect was immediate. Bakugo looked like someone had punched a hole through his chest. No anger, shouting, or explosions. Just shock. The rest of the Hell Class stared between them, confused and horrified.

Some attempted to speak up in defense of Bakugo, but Izuku had had enough. He turned and walked away. A shoulder check with Bakugo happened deliberately. Not out of violence, but a message. Bakugo didn't respond.

"Deku!" Ochaco called after him.

"Wait!"

"Midoriya!"

"Come back!"

"Please!"

The voices followed him.

He ignored them.

Then salvation arrived from an unexpected source. Their phones activated simultaneously. Emergency alerts. Criminal activity nearby. Hero dispatch orders. Duty calling. The entire group immediately looked down.

Instinct and training took over. Responsibility took over. By the time they looked up again, Midoriya was already gone. Standing between pursuing him and protecting civilians, there was never truly a choice, and Izuku knew it. That was why he left when he did. As much as he wanted to join the action, now was not the time. He had to set things right before it was really too late for him and his dream.

Izuku did not waste a single second. The argument with the Hell Class had only reinforced what he already suspected. If he intended to return to Heroics, then he needed to move quickly before anyone found a way to stop him. His former classmates meant well, at least most of them did, but good intentions had a way of becoming obstacles when people became convinced they knew what was best for someone else's life. Izuku had spent a year drifting without direction after graduation. Now that he finally had a path forward, he refused to let anyone steer him away from it.

There was only one person he needed to speak to. Not his former teachers at UA or All Might. But the President of the Hero Public Safety Commission.

The formal request had been submitted less than an hour earlier. Truthfully, Izuku expected to wait days before receiving an answer. Weeks, perhaps. The President oversaw the entire Hero industry. His schedule was undoubtedly packed with meetings, political disputes, public relations disasters, and enough paperwork to bury a small nation. Imagine Izuku's surprise when approval arrived almost immediately.

Three hours later, he stood before the headquarters of the Commission. The building looked every bit as imposing as one would expect. Tall, modern, and powerful. The kind of structure designed to remind visitors exactly where authority resided.

Four men dressed in black suits escorted him through multiple security checkpoints. Their professionalism reminded him of bodyguards protecting a foreign head of state rather than ordinary security personnel. None spoke unnecessarily. No one asked questions. They simply guided him through a maze of hallways until they reached a pair of enormous wooden doors.

One of the men knocked, and a voice answered from within.

"Send him in."

The doors opened, and Izuku entered. The office beyond was enormous. Large windows overlooked the city skyline. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books, awards, reports, and photographs documenting decades of Hero history. Behind a polished desk sat the current President of the Hero Public Safety Commission.

Keigo Tamaki.

"Midoriya."

"President Tamaki."

A grin immediately crossed Keigo's face.

"God, that sounds weird."

"Yeah. Not calling you Hawks anymore will take a lot of getting used to," Izuku laughed despite himself.

The former Winged Hero rose from his chair and approached. Even after all two and a half years, it still felt strange seeing him without the Fierce Wings. For so long, those crimson feathers had been inseparable from his identity. They had carried him through countless battles and transformed him into one of Japan's most recognizable Heroes.

Then All For One stole them. That tragic revelation still irritated Izuku. Such an incredible Quirk with limitless versatility, and the self-proclaimed Demon King had barely used it because, for all his decades of experience and near foolproof plans, the only thing history had proven was that All For One possessed a remarkable talent for wasting valuable resources because of how lazy he truly was. Even his Quirk-stealing power was wasted on him.

Fortunately, losing Fierce Wings hadn't transformed Keigo into a helpless civilian. Far from it. Strapped to his side rested a familiar red katana. The replacement for his old Feather Blades. Proof that the former Hero had adapted rather than surrendered, much like Midoriya himself.

The two men shook hands.

"Good to see you."

"You too."

"I figured you'd show up eventually." Keigo returned to his desk and sat down.

"Oh?" Izuku raised an eyebrow.

The President tapped a tablet resting on his desk.

"Doctor Yoshida."

"Ah." Understanding immediately dawned for Izuku.

"He sent me his report." Keigo raised both hands. "Legally, before you accuse me of spying."

"I signed the consent forms." Izuku snorted.

"Exactly." The President smiled. "You gave permission for relevant parties to access the findings."

Izuku nodded. That was true. And if anyone qualified as a relevant party, it was the President of the Hero Public Safety Commission.

"So." Keigo leaned back in his chair.

"So?" Izuku repeated.

"You want to become active again." The former Hero's golden eyes sharpened.

Straight to the point. Exactly as expected.

"Yes." The answer from Izuku came without hesitation.

"Good." Keigo looked unsurprised.

"Good?" That response caught Izuku off guard.

"Midoriya, let's address the obvious problem." The President folded his hands together. His expression became more serious. "You possess a Pro-Hero License."

"I do."

"But not really."

Izuku grimaced. Unfortunately, that was also true. Graduating from UA automatically granted access to licensing procedures. The issue was that shortly afterward, the final embers of One For All disappeared completely. While nobody formally revoked his credentials, everyone quietly treated them as symbolic rather than practical.

A courtesy. A souvenir. A reward for service. Anything except a legitimate authorization to perform Hero work.

"I understand your frustration," Keigo sighed. "It was unfair on our part. But the definitive truth is that the problem was never that you were Quirkless."

"It wasn't?" Izuku widened his eyes

"No." The answer came instantly. "The problem was whether you could keep up."

A pause between them before Keigo tapped his tablet. A video appeared. The bank robbery. Another tap. The trapped child. Another tap. The footage of Midoriya sprinting through Musutafu.

"I think you've answered that question." The President smirked.

Izuku couldn't help smiling.

"You stopped six armed criminals and protected civilians." Keigo nodded toward him. "The physical abilities you demonstrated are beyond what most licensed Heroes possess. What exactly am I supposed to object to?"

When phrased that way, the answer seemed obvious.

"The economy is still recovering." Keigo stood and walked toward the window. His gaze drifted across the city. "Crime remains unstable, so while the War taught us that relying on just Heroes was wrong, they are still needed, along with Police, and other crucial occupations receiving more funding."

Then he looked back.

"And despite what some people apparently believe, you're still a Hero."

The words settled heavily inside Izuku's chest. They were simple and validating. Somebody in authority was acknowledging what his classmates refused to see.

Keigo returned to his desk.

"Therefore, the Hero Public Safety Commission recognizes your license as fully active. You may immediately resume Hero activities."

For several seconds, Izuku couldn't speak. A year of uncertainty, believing his dream had ended and wondering whether society still had a place for him.

And now—

"Thank you." The words emerged quietly. Sincerely.

"Wait. There's more." Keigo waved dismissively.

"What?" Izuku uttered.

"The Commission will provide access to resources, logistical support, and administrative assistance." The President grinned. "That plus funding for your agency."

"My what?" Izuku nearly choked.

"Your Hero Agency." The President sounded amused now. "You'll need one eventually."

"I haven't even picked a location."

"Then pick one. We'll help." Keigo shrugged.

The sheer generosity left Izuku speechless.

Eventually, he found his voice.

"People are going to complain."

"Absolutely." The immediate answer earned a blink, and Keigo laughed. "Oh, Midoriya."

He spread his arms dramatically.

"People complain about everything." The former Hero pointed at himself. "I'm a Quirkless President."

A second finger pointed toward his chest. "A former assassin."

A third finger. "The successor to a woman whose reputation still terrifies politicians."

"Trust me when I say I know the feeling." The grin returned.

"Fair." Izuku chuckled.

"Guys like us?" Keigo leaned back. "We'll have detractors until the day we die."

There was no bitterness in his voice, just acceptance.

"The question isn't whether people will criticize you." The President's expression softened slightly. His golden eyes locked onto Izuku's. "The question is whether you'll let them stop you."

"No." The answer arrived immediately, Izuku's fists clenching. "As long as I can move, I can fight and help people. I won't stop."

Keigo smiled. The kind worn by someone witnessing exactly what they hoped to see.

"Good." The President extended his hand once more. "Because I have a feeling this is going to get interesting."

Izuku accepted the handshake. Something told him that wasn't the whole truth. Keigo's smile contained traces of amusement and something else. As though he could already see storms gathering beyond the horizon. As though he already knew that Midoriya's return would not merely inspire people. It would divide them.

Izuku would welcome whatever came next, nonetheless. He was finally moving forward again.

The following week passed in a blur of meetings, paperwork, construction projects, interviews, inspections, and enough legal documentation to make even Tenya Iida develop a migraine. By the end of it, however, the deed was done. Izuku Midoriya was officially back. Every major news station in Japan reported the story. Every Hero publication discussed it. Every social media platform seemed obsessed with the idea of the former successor to All Might returning to active duty despite being Quirkless. More importantly, everyone knew he had the complete support of Hero Commission President Keigo Tamaki. That fact alone silenced many potential critics before they could gain momentum. There were certainly people who disagreed with the decision, but few were willing to openly challenge the authority of a Commission that was desperately trying to rebuild its credibility.

The HPSC had spent years drowning in scandal. The exposure of its crimes had shaken Hero Society to its core. Lady Nagant's testimony alone had nearly destroyed the institution. The revelation that the Commission had employed assassins to eliminate villains deemed too dangerous for the legal system and Heroes deemed too damaging to the public image of Hero Society had permanently stained its reputation.

Under normal circumstances, such an organization might never have recovered. Yet Keigo Tamaki had inherited the impossible task of rebuilding it from the ground up. Combined with the public support of the retired All Might, people had reluctantly agreed to give the Commission one final opportunity to prove that it could become something better than what it once was.

Izuku was not naive enough to miss what Keigo was doing. In many ways, he had become a symbol for the Commission's new direction. A Quirkless Hero supported by a Quirkless President. A living example that the old standards and prejudices no longer carried the same authority they once did. The irony wasn't lost on him. Keigo himself had spent most of his life being treated like a poster child and a glorified mascot by people who wanted to use his popularity while controlling every aspect of his existence. Now he was doing something remarkably similar with Izuku. The difference was intent. Keigo genuinely wanted to help him. There were no hidden chains attached to the offer. No manipulation. No secret agenda. As far as Izuku was concerned, if helping the Commission reform itself also helped him rebuild his life, then everyone involved benefited.

Unlike most of his former classmates, Izuku wasn't being forced to climb the ladder through traditional means. Heroes such as Kirishima, Kaminari, Jiro, Ashido, Sero, and many others had begun their careers as Sidekicks. Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, Bakugo, and Iida had enough experience and connections to start as solo Pro-Heroes as soon as they graduated. Izuku was now among the latter. His connection to All Might and Keigo's support had accelerated the process dramatically. Some people would call it favoritism. Others would call it a reward for saving the country. Izuku honestly didn't care what they called it. After everything he had sacrificed, he wasn't about to apologize for accepting an opportunity.

Choosing a location for his agency proved surprisingly easy. Nebaro City had remained fixed in his mind ever since the possibility was first presented. The city carried painful memories, but also important ones. It was where he and Mirio had rescued Eri from Overhaul. It was where Sir Nighteye had made his final stand. It was where Izuku had learned some of the most important lessons of his life. Establishing himself there felt appropriate.

The city still housed the former Nighteye Agency, now managed by Centipeder after the death of the Foresight Hero. The two agencies would operate only eight streets apart. Izuku found the thought comforting. Sir Nighteye's influence had shaped him more than many people realized, and having a piece of that legacy nearby felt right.

The building itself exceeded every expectation. Keigo's architects had worked frighteningly fast. The structure stood seven stories tall and immediately stood out among neighboring buildings. Its design took heavy inspiration from Izuku's Hero costume. Green and black dominated the exterior, while carefully placed lighting highlighted the angular patterns associated with his old mask. Personally, Izuku found the entire concept a little embarrassing. Most Pro-Heroes preferred their agencies to resemble professional businesses rather than giant monuments to themselves. Unfortunately, Keigo had overruled his objections.

"You need flair," the President had insisted during one of their calls.

"I need professionalism."

"You need both."

"Why?"

"Because people are idiots."

Izuku never managed to find a convincing counterargument.

Moving into the agency occupied much of the remaining week. The attached apartment required additional work since he would no longer be living in Musutafu. Furniture arrived. Decorations were installed. Equipment was delivered.

His personal office received special attention, designed to project competence and authority rather than the image of a former student trying desperately to imitate adulthood. Visitors entering the office would see a respectable Pro-Hero capable of managing a successful agency. They would not see the lifelong All Might fanatic hiding beneath the surface.

That distinction existed because one room within the entire building had been designated off-limits to everyone except Izuku himself. The room remained locked at all times. No assistants. No guests. No sidekicks. Nobody entered without permission. The reason was simple. Every piece of All Might memorabilia he owned would be stored there. Action figures, posters, autographs, magazines, collectibles, photographs, merchandise, and countless other treasures accumulated throughout his life were carefully arranged within what could only be described as a shrine. All Might had saved his life more than once. He had become a mentor, a father figure, and the source of the greatest dream Izuku had ever known. The least Izuku could do was dedicate one room to honoring him. Better to keep the obsession contained there than allow visitors to discover it spread throughout the entire agency and apartment.

Once construction and preparations finally ended, Keigo introduced him to the man assigned to help manage the agency's daily operations. Taniuchi Satoshi was an ordinary-looking man in his late twenties with neatly combed hair, professional attire, and an expression that suggested he possessed the patience of a saint. Considering he had just accepted responsibility for helping manage a seven-story Hero Agency run by Izuku Midoriya, patience was probably a requirement for survival.

"Mister Midoriya," Satoshi said while bowing respectfully. "It's an honor to meet you."

"The honor is mine for receiving more help."

"I'll do everything in my power to support this agency."

"Then I'm looking forward to working with you." Izuku smiled and returned the bow.

Managing an agency with only one assistant might have sounded ridiculous to outsiders, but Hero Society had never operated according to ordinary business standards. Most Pro-Heroes were trained from adolescence to handle overwhelming responsibilities independently. Sidekicks often doubled as administrative support when necessary, and successful agencies gradually expanded over time. Izuku fully intended to follow that example. If circumstances allowed it, he hoped to emulate Tensei Iida's famous agency one day by employing an entire network of sidekicks and support personnel. Perhaps he could even convince Cementoss to assist with future expansions once the agency became successful enough to warrant them.

For now, however, Satoshi was more than enough. The assistant immediately demonstrated remarkable competence, organizing schedules, arranging patrol routes, handling legal documentation, and solving problems before Izuku even became aware of them. It was exactly the kind of support Izuku needed while adjusting to his new life. Everything appeared to be falling into place.

Then something strange happened.

"Deku?" Satoshi asked while reviewing paperwork. "Would you like these reports filed in your office?"

Izuku froze for a second. Almost unnoticeably. Inexplicably, the name now felt wrong. Like wearing a favorite jacket that suddenly no longer fits. The sensation vanished as quickly as it arrived, leaving confusion behind. Deku had been his Hero name for years. It represented everything he had accomplished. It represented the dream he inherited from All Might and the promise he made to Ochaco years ago. It should have felt natural.

Instead, something deep inside him hesitated. The feeling made no sense. And because it made no sense, Izuku did what he usually did whenever confronted with a problem he couldn't immediately solve.

He set it aside for later.

There were still schedules to review. Patrol routes to memorize. Equipment to inspect. Responsibilities to organize. His first official patrol as a returning Pro-Hero was approaching rapidly, and that deserved his complete attention.

Whatever this strange discomfort meant could wait. Now, Izuku Midoriya had a city to protect.

Izuku was ready. The week spent preparing his agency, organizing patrol schedules, reviewing city records, and familiarizing himself with Nebaro's layout had passed quickly. Now came the part that actually mattered. Action. No amount of paperwork, interviews, or Commission support could replace the simple reality that a Pro-Hero's worth was ultimately measured by what they accomplished in the field. If an opportunity to prove himself appeared today, tomorrow, or a month from now, Izuku intended to be ready for it. He had spent too long sitting on the sidelines. Whatever happened next, nobody would be able to claim he wasn't present when people needed him.

Before leaving the agency, he stood in front of a mirror and examined his newest costume. Costume Theta. The eighth major version.

Looking back on it, the whole thing was honestly ridiculous. Most Heroes spent years refining a single costume before making significant alterations. Some only changed their designs after graduating. Others kept essentially the same appearance throughout their entire careers. Meanwhile, Izuku had gone through enough redesigns to make a fashion company jealous. Alpha. Beta. Gamma. Delta. Epsilon. Zeta. Eta. Now Theta. The list just kept growing.

Some people would probably argue it was proof that he had spent his entire career struggling to find his identity.

They would be painfully correct. Each costume represented a different stage of his growth. A different lesson. A different failure. A different victory. Hopefully, Theta would last longer than its predecessors. At least two years. His confidence could use the stability.

Unlike many of his later costumes, Theta deliberately embraced his origins. The foundation resembled Costume Alpha, the homemade suit his mother had lovingly crafted before he entered UA. A light green full-body jumpsuit covered his frame, accented by clean white outlines running along the seams. Around his waist rested a red utility belt with a black buckle and four pouches designed to carry essential equipment. Black elbow and knee pads provided additional protection while maintaining flexibility. White gloves covered his hands, and his iconic red boots completed the ensemble.

The cowl represented the most obvious modernization. It fully enclosed his head while maintaining the long ear-like protrusions inspired by All Might's famous hairstyle. Unlike earlier versions, however, this design prioritized durability as much as symbolism. Reinforced materials allowed it to withstand impacts that would have destroyed previous iterations. Knives wouldn't penetrate unless wielded by someone possessing considerable strength or specialized equipment. Even small-arms fire would struggle to breach the protective layers.

Then there was the respirator. The most recognizable part of his Hero identity. The metallic diamond-shaped mask rested over his mouth and nose, featuring eight ventilation holes arranged across the front. For years, it had existed more as decoration than practical equipment. During his Dark Deku period, however, he had finally worn it properly. Since then, it has become an inseparable part of his image. Looking at himself now, he felt strangely complete.

"Let's make this work," He quietly told his reflection.

With that, he left.

Nebaro City greeted him with clear skies and busy streets. Citizens moved between stores, offices, schools, and restaurants while traffic flowed steadily through the city's arteries. Reconstruction efforts following the Final War had restored much of the city's appearance, though subtle reminders of the conflict still lingered in certain districts. Cracked foundations hidden beneath newer buildings. Memorials dedicated to victims. Occasional empty lots awaiting development.

Life had returned, but scars remained. Much like the people themselves. Several pedestrians immediately recognized him. That wasn't surprising given his debut.

What did surprise him were the reactions. Among the gathered onlookers stood several people who had witnessed or at least followed his infamous Dark Deku phase. The moment they saw the cowl and respirator, visible unease crossed their faces. Izuku couldn't really blame them. That was a stage of his life he'd rather forget, also. A monster pretending to be saving people just because he had good intentions.

Fortunately, the illusion didn't last long. His posture lacked the paranoia of those days. His movements weren't frantic. His eyes weren't haunted. Within moments, people relaxed. The realization spread naturally.

This wasn't Dark Deku. This was simply Deku.

A Hero conducting patrols. Several citizens approached him. One elderly man thanked him for everything he had done during the war. A young woman welcomed him to Nebaro. A group of students excitedly asked for photographs. The reception exceeded his expectations.

It felt wonderful. Too long being uncertain had convinced him that people might reject him. Instead, many seemed genuinely happy to see him.

Then someone said it.

"Deku!"

The smile beneath his respirator almost disappeared again. The name felt wrong. Like hearing someone describe a person who no longer existed. Thankfully, nobody could see the brief grimace hidden behind the mask.

"Thank you." Izuku quickly composed himself and replied politely.

The citizens continued chatting before the moment passed. But the feeling remained.

Two blocks later, fate decided to test him.

The sound of screeching tires erupted from an adjacent street. Several pedestrians shouted. A horn blared. Then came the unmistakable sound of gunfire. Izuku reacted immediately. By the time he reached the intersection, the situation had already become clear.

A stolen vehicle sped through traffic at dangerous speeds. Two criminals occupied the car. Both possessed firearm-related Quirks, and both were actively using them.

Trailing behind was a Pro-Hero wearing a blue and silver costume streamlined for speed, known as Quickster.

Izuku recognized him immediately. The Hero's Quirk granted impressive acceleration and mobility, making him exceptionally effective at pursuits. Unfortunately, repeated gunfire forced him to remain cautious. Every time he attempted to close the distance, another barrage forced him to dodge.

The criminals weren't winning, but they were buying time until everything got worse. The stolen car approached an intersection at the same moment that a school bus entered from the opposite direction. The driver of the stolen vehicle never saw it.

Izuku did, and his blood ran cold. The car was moving at roughly forty miles per hour. The bus was full of children, and there wasn't enough time. At least, not for most people, and Izuku wasn't most people, so he sprinted.

The world blurred around him. Buildings became streaks of color. Pedestrians vanished from perception. The alley beside him transformed into a green tunnel as he pushed his enhanced body harder than ever before. Wind howled against his cowl. Muscles burned. Pavement cracked beneath several footfalls.

When Izuku reached the interception point, the stolen vehicle raced past. He would not allow this to stand! Both hands shot toward his utility belt. Two grappling guns emerged. One fired toward the rear of the stolen car. The other targeted a parked two-ton truck.

Both hooks connected. The cables snapped taut, and Izuku found himself standing between a speeding vehicle and a stationary truck. Pain exploded through his arms. His shoulders screamed, and his entire body felt as though it were being torn apart.

The criminals looked back, and their expressions shifted from confidence to disbelief. The truck groaned. The cables stretched. The stolen vehicle fought against the opposing force.

Then momentum finally surrendered with the car slowing and stopping completely. The school bus continued through the intersection, completely unaware of how close disaster had come. Several children waved through the windows.

Izuku almost laughed. The absurdity of it all was strangely comforting. His arms felt like they had been fed into industrial machinery. But he had endured worse. Compared to One For All shattering his bones every other week during his school years, this barely qualified as a complaint.

Quickster wasted no time. The moment the vehicle stopped, he accelerated forward and apprehended both criminals before they fully processed what had happened. The villains offered almost no resistance. They remained too stunned by the sight of a Quirkless Hero physically stopping a moving car through sheer strength and leverage.

Police sirens soon followed. Several patrol vehicles arrived moments later. Officers quickly secured the scene and took custody of the criminals.

Izuku retracted his grappling lines and inspected the equipment. The titanium cables had performed flawlessly as requested. Keigo's people had done excellent work.

"Well," A voice said beside him. Quickster stood there smiling. "That's one way to make an entrance."

"I suppose so." Izuku chuckled.

The Speedster extended a hand.

"Welcome back, Deku."

Again, the feeling from the name felt wrong. Stronger this time. Izuku ignored it and accepted the handshake.

"Thanks."

Around them, citizens applauded. Several parents hugged their children. Reporters were already gathering. Cameras pointed in every direction. People smiled. Nobody had died or been injured. A potential tragedy had become a success story. Exactly the outcome a Hero wanted.

As the crowd celebrated, Izuku found himself reflecting on the argument with his former classmates.

The #1 ranking. The endless competition. The obsession many Heroes possessed with climbing higher. None of it had ever truly mattered to him. Lemillion could keep the top spot. Dynamight could chase records. Others could pursue fame, influence, and recognition.

Izuku wished them all success because none of those things were why he became a Hero. He became a Hero because of moments like this. The relieved tears of worried parents. The laughter of children who would make it home safely. The smiles spread through the crowd after the disaster had been prevented.

That was enough.

Three days passed without incident. That wasn't unusual. Contrary to what movies, television shows, and sensationalist news reports liked to suggest, most Pro-Heroes spent far more time preventing trouble than actively fighting it. Villains still existed, certainly. The aftermath of the Final War had created countless opportunities for criminals to exploit unstable regions, settle old grudges, expand illegal businesses, and prey upon vulnerable communities.

Most criminals possessed enough common sense to avoid attracting attention in a city protected by more than twenty active Heroes. Only the reckless, desperate, or spectacularly stupid chose to test those odds.

Nebaro had remained remarkably peaceful. Izuku wasn't complaining. At the moment, he stood atop a six-story office building overlooking one of the city's busiest districts. The afternoon breeze brushed against his costume while traffic flowed through the streets below. Citizens moved through their daily routines without fear, exactly as they should. A Hero's greatest success was often measured by how little people noticed their presence. If everything remained calm, then he was doing something right.

His phone rested against his ear.

Unfortunately, maintaining public safety was proving significantly easier than calming his mother.

"Mom, please."

"Please? Izuku, I thought you were dead!"

"I wasn't dead."

"You absolutely sounded dead!"

Izuku pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his cowl. The misunderstanding had begun the previous day.

Like many disasters involving technology, it had originated from a simple mistake. Satoshi had accidentally butt-dialed Inko's number while reviewing agency reports. Normally, that would have been harmless. Unfortunately, Satoshi happened to be discussing a fatal traffic accident occurring in another city when the call connected.

Inko Midoriya had spent several horrifying minutes believing her son had been killed. The resulting panic had apparently been strong enough to alarm several neighbors from Hisashi's neighborhood.

"Mom, Satoshi wasn't talking about me."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"He literally never mentioned my name."

"He mentioned a victim!"

Izuku sighed at the fair point. From her perspective, receiving an accidental phone call involving discussions of death and emergency response probably wasn't the most reassuring experience.

"I understand why you were worried."

"Worried?" Inko exclaimed. "Izuku, I nearly fainted!"

That also sounded believable. His mother possessed many wonderful qualities. Remaining calm during emergencies was not among them. Thankfully, her breathing finally began to settle, and the panic finally faded.

The conversation gradually shifted toward more comfortable topics.

"How is America treating you?"

"It's different." Her voice softened.

"But your father is improving."

Relief immediately spread through him.

"Really?"

"A little."

It wasn't a miraculous recovery. Progress is what matters, and there's always plenty when the Midoriyas are involved. The conversation continued for several more minutes before eventually winding down. Inko offered the usual reminders about eating properly, sleeping enough, avoiding unnecessary risks, and remembering that she loved him. Izuku accepted every piece of advice with practiced patience before finally ending the call.

"Love you too, Mom."

"Be careful."

"I will."

A small smile remained on his face as the line disconnected. No matter how old he became, some things never changed. Pocketing his phone, Izuku resumed his patrol. The city remained calm. The afternoon remained pleasant. Everything felt strangely peaceful.

Then he spotted a familiar figure. The Hero walking along a nearby rooftop was impossible to mistake.

A familiar, but his carrier vest and pouches are now dark green with white wrist armors and a black bodysuit, and his tunic and hood are colored an intimidating scarlet. The latter is also redesigned with white jaw-like spikes decorating the opening, giving it a more sinister appearance. Additionally, there is a small straw-like protrusion on the left side of his cheek, possibly to help quickly administer food and power his Quirk.

Tamaki Amajiki. The Omnivore Hero: Suneater.

Izuku immediately altered course. Tamaki noticed him approaching and visibly stiffened. Some habits also never changed.

"Midoriya."

"Senpai."

The older Hero offered an awkward wave. Izuku smiled. After years of professional experience, countless battles, and enough accomplishments to fill several careers, Tamaki still possessed the social confidence of a frightened deer wandering onto a highway. At least he was better than before.

Back during UA, maintaining a conversation with him longer than thirty seconds required the persistence of a hostage negotiator. Nowadays, he could actually hold discussions without looking moments away from spontaneous combustion. His combat abilities, meanwhile, had become utterly terrifying. A shame he still chooses to remain as Fatgum's Sidekick.

"Nice new costume," Izuku said.

"Oh." Tamaki looked down. The response sounded uncertain. "I still don't know if I like it."

Izuku laughed. That made two of them. The redesign wasn't bad. It simply looked radically different from the costume associated with Suneater for so many years.

"You'll get used to it."

"Maybe."

"What are you doing in Nebaro?" Izuku tilted his head.

"A mission." Tamaki blinked.

That immediately caught Izuku's attention.

"A mission?"

"A cartel." The Hero nodded.

The single word erased any remaining amusement. Cartels rarely brought good news.

"Drug trafficking?"

"Possibly."

"Human trafficking?"

"I hope not. We still don't have enough information."

Izuku frowned. Neither possibility sounded encouraging.

"Current theory suggests a Yakuza group." Tamaki continued. That explained more.

The collapse of the Shie Hassaikai had left a vacuum within Japan's criminal underworld. Vacuums inevitably attracted opportunists.

"Fatgum's involved?"

"He volunteered." The Hero nodded again.

Of course, he did.

Fatgum possessed many admirable qualities. Ignoring dangerous criminal organizations was not one of them.

"If you need help—"

"Not yet." Tamaki immediately shook his head.

Izuku stopped speaking. The rejection wasn't personal. He recognized that instantly. Professional operations required planning. A surprise investigation could collapse if too many people became involved before the proper moment.

"The Villains don't know we're watching them," Tamaki explained. "And we'd like to keep it that way."

"Fair." Izuku nodded.

Years ago, he might have pushed the issue. Might have convinced himself that immediate action was always preferable. Experience had taught him otherwise. Impulsiveness carried consequences. Sometimes severe ones.

He still remembered the rescue operation involving Bakugo's kidnapping. Kirishima had ultimately helped save his friend, but the entire situation could have collapsed into disaster if even one detail had gone wrong.

Heroics weren't just about courage. They were about judgment.

"Besides, if things go badly, every Hero in Nebaro will be mobilized," Tamaki added.

That was reassuring, yet also concerning.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Tamaki immediately nodded.

"Agreed."

A riot was the last thing anybody needed. The conversation drifted toward lighter topics afterward. Patrol schedules. Agency management. Mutual acquaintances. Future plans. Throughout it all, however, a different thought lingered quietly in the back of Izuku's mind.

Kirishima.

The possibility of crossing paths with Fatgum's other Sidekick hadn't escaped him. Since their confrontation outside the hospital, nobody from the Hell Class had reached out.

A few missed calls. A handful of messages. Nothing substantial or meaningful. Nothing resembling an apology. Bakugo, according to rumors circulating through Hero circles, had become increasingly erratic during the past week. Nobody seemed entirely sure why. Izuku had his suspicions.

Frankly, he didn't care. Not anymore.

If reconciliation mattered so much, they could make the effort themselves. He had spent a year reaching out. Sending messages and attempting to maintain relationships that apparently only functioned when he was the one doing all the work.

For once, they could come to him and be the ones trying. He was finished chasing people.

Eventually, the conversation reached its natural conclusion.

"Stay safe," Izuku said.

"You too." Tamaki nodded.

The two Heroes exchanged farewells before heading in opposite directions across the city skyline. Above them, the afternoon sun continued its slow descent toward the horizon. Below them, Nebaro carried on with business as usual, unaware of the dangers lurking beneath the surface.

Both Heroes hoped it would stay that way.

Misfortune arrived in Nebaro just after sunset.

Izuku had learned long ago that peace was rarely permanent. Calm days were valuable precisely because they never lasted forever. Somewhere, someone always made the decision to hurt another person. Somewhere, greed, hatred, desperation, or arrogance pushed somebody into becoming a threat. Heroes existed because human nature guaranteed that tranquility would eventually be challenged.

Tonight happened to be one of those nights. The emergency alert reached every active Hero in the city simultaneously. Then came more and more. The volume alone told Izuku everything he needed to know. Something had gone horribly wrong.

By the time he reached the agency's operations room, multiple news stations were already broadcasting fragmented reports. Citizens were uploading videos. Police scanners were overloaded. Rumors spread faster than official information.

One fact quickly became clear. The raid had failed badly enough that the operation involving Fatgum and the other Heroes had turned into a disaster. The target wasn't some ordinary criminal organization. It was a reborn Yakuza faction known as the Abegawa Tenchu Kai.

The name immediately sounded familiar. Izuku dug through his memory as he sprinted toward the deployment zone. Then he remembered that years ago, the organization had supposedly been destroyed. Between Hero operations, internal conflicts, and the bloody campaign carried out by Stain around the same time the Naruhata Vigilantes were active. The group was believed to be extinct.

Apparently not extinct enough. Like weeds growing through concrete, some remnants had survived and spent years waiting for Hero Society to become vulnerable. The chaos of the Final War must've provided them with many opportunities to return.

Unfortunately, they had chosen their moment well.

The Heroes had attempted to repeat history. One decisive raid and overwhelming strike capable of crushing the organization before it could spread. The strategy sounded familiar because it mirrored the operation that had dismantled the Shie Hassaikai.

The problem was that history rarely repeated itself so neatly. Sir Nighteye wasn't there this time. No Foresight, no perfect predictions. No ability to see a disaster before it happens. Worse was that the new leader of the Abegawa Tenchu Kai proved significantly smarter than anyone anticipated.

The result was chaos.

What should have been a raid became a battlefield. Police officers fought beside the Heroes. Yakuza soldiers fought like rabid animals. Explosions illuminated the darkness. Buildings shook. Gunfire echoed through the night. And somewhere along the way, someone made the catastrophic decision to distribute Ideo Trigger.

Izuku grimaced as he leaped across another rooftop. Regular Trigger was already horrifying. Every Hero understood that. Any weak villain could become a serious threat under its effects. Strength increased. Aggression skyrocketed. Reason disappeared. Fighting Trigger users often felt like battling people who willingly transformed themselves into living bombs.

Ideo Trigger was worse. The drug didn't simply amplify power. It amplified obsession, ideology, and madness. People consumed it because they believed their cause mattered more than their own survival. Only fools used Ideo Trigger. The kind willing to destroy themselves if it meant dragging others down with them.

The situation deteriorated so rapidly that police barriers became impossible to maintain. The battle spread. Heroes assigned to reserve duty received immediate deployment orders. Including Midoriya. The objectives were simple. Contain the disaster, protect civilians, and prevent the battlefield from expanding. Unfortunately, reality rarely respects simple objectives.

Izuku landed in the middle of a shattered street just as a car flew through the air. The vehicle spun overhead like a discarded toy before crashing through the side of a convenience store. A monstrous figure emerged from the smoke. Humanoid, mostly. Its body resembled an enormous crab standing upright on two legs. Chitinous armor covered much of its frame, while massive claws larger than motorcycles hung from both arms. Red eyes glowed beneath a hardened, shell-like brow.

The thing had once been human. Now it looked more like a sea monster dragged from the bottom of the ocean.

"There you are," Izuku muttered.

The creature immediately noticed him. Its response was only violence. One colossal claw swung toward him with enough force to split concrete. Izuku jumped backward. The claw missed him by inches. The parked vehicle behind him wasn't so fortunate. The car was sliced cleanly in half. Metal separated, and glass exploded. The two pieces collapsed onto opposite sides of the street.

"Okay." Izuku's eyes widened slightly. That was enough information. Getting hit was not an option.

The Crab Villain released a distorted roar before raising both claws. Izuku expected another melee attack.

Instead, the creature snapped one claw shut. A thunderous crack erupted through the battlefield. The sound physically struck him. Not metaphorically. Physically. The shockwave smashed into nearby buildings. Windows shattered instantly. Streetlights exploded. Several abandoned vehicles rolled across the pavement as though caught in a hurricane.

For a brief moment, the scene reminded Izuku of a pistol shrimp, except no water existed nearby. No environment where such an ability should reasonably function. Yet somehow it did. Perhaps the original Quirk possessed similar principles, and Ideo Trigger had twisted it beyond recognition.

Whatever the explanation, the results were terrifying. Izuku planted his feet as the shockwave still sent him skidding backward. His muscles screamed. His ears rang. His vision blurred. Then he dropped to one knee.

"Damn it…"

The villain noticed and smiled. At least, Izuku assumed the horrific twitch of its mandibles was a smile. The creature believed it had won. All he needed was one more attack, and the Great Deku would die once and for all.

Izuku understood that immediately, so he moved first. His hand darted toward his utility belt. Two small metallic spheres appeared between his fingers, and he threw them just as the Villain was about to fire.

Both actions happened almost simultaneously. The shockwave raced forward. The spheres sailed through the air. Then the grenades detonated with white light exploding across the battlefield. Blinding as artificial sunlight compressed into a fraction of a second.

The Crab Villain screamed. Its oversized eyes suffered the most. The creature immediately covered its face while stumbling backward in agony.

Izuku didn't hesitate. Heroes who hesitated got people killed. He sprinted forward. One punch slammed into the creature's abdomen. A second struck its jaw. A third targeted the center of its chest. The monster retaliated wildly. Izuku dodged and made a counter-advance. The crab-like shell absorbed enormous amounts of punishment. Each strike felt like hitting reinforced armor plating. Against a normal opponent, the defense would have been overwhelming.

Unfortunately for the Villain, Izuku had spent years learning how to fight opponents stronger than himself. Punches became combinations. Combinations became barrages. Barrages became relentless pressure. The creature lost ground. Then balance. Then confidence. Finally, it lost consciousness.

The last kick sent the monster crashing into a ruined storefront. The impact collapsed what remained of the wall. Dust filled the air. Silence followed for only a moment as the battle still raged elsewhere.

Izuku exhaled heavily while rolling his sore shoulders. The villain wasn't dead. Just unconscious. Police could handle the rest. His work wasn't finished.

All around him, the city continued to shake from distant battles. Sirens echoed through the streets. Explosions illuminated the skyline. Radio chatter flooded his earpiece with reports of injured officers, advancing villains, and Heroes requesting assistance.

The night was still young, and Nebaro was still burning. Without wasting another second, Izuku launched himself back into the chaos, racing toward the next battle before somebody else's luck ran out.

The battle for Nebaro reached its peak shortly after.

Izuku arrived at the heart of the conflict like a green comet cutting through a storm. The streets had become a warzone of shattered pavement, overturned vehicles, broken storefronts, and exhausted Heroes struggling to hold the line against dozens of Ideo Trigger-enhanced Yakuza. Sirens wailed from every direction. Police officers scrambled to reinforce defensive positions. Emergency crews dragged the wounded away from the battlefield while explosions illuminated the night sky.

For a brief moment, the Yakuza actually held the advantage, and that made Izuku's stomach tighten. Ideo Trigger was proving every bit as dangerous as he remembered.

A monstrous figure noticed his arrival. The thing had once been human. Now it resembled a nightmare stitched together from flesh and madness. Its body was warped beyond recognition, limbs stretched into jagged spear-like appendages that dripped with an oily black substance. Veins pulsed beneath swollen skin while bloodshot eyes locked onto the newly arrived Hero.

It charged faster than something that large had any right to move. Not a real problem for Izuku yet, as he immediately calculated the attack's angles, momentum, and trajectory. His mind processed everything automatically.

Years of combat experience combined with his analytical instincts gave him the answer almost instantly. A simple leap to the left would avoid the strike entirely while placing him in perfect position for a counterattack. He bent his knees before preparing to move.

Then someone shoved him hard.

"What—?!"

The world lurched sideways. Instead of leaping away from danger, Izuku was thrown directly into its path. The spear-like limb came screaming toward him.

Instinct took over, and his body twisted violently. The attack missed his torso by a fraction of an inch. The sharpened edge scraped across his right arm. Sparks erupted from the reinforced fabric of Costume Theta. The material held, so there was no blood or injury. No blood.

Izuku landed awkwardly before immediately rolling away. His heart hammered against his ribs. For one terrifying second, he realized exactly how close that had been. Then he saw who had pushed him.

"Kirishima?!"

Red Riot didn't answer. The Sturdy Hero was already charging toward the mutated Yakuza. The villain immediately redirected its attention with manic rage. Everything shifted away from Midoriya. The creature roared, and Red Riot roared back.

The Hero's body hardened instantly. Jagged armor spread across his skin. Muscles expanded. Teeth sharpened. Then came the transformation everyone recognized.

"UNBREAKABLE!"

The street trembled beneath his feet. For years, that technique had served as the UA Alumnus' greatest defensive abilities. It transformed Kirishima into an unstoppable wall capable of enduring punishment that would kill most Heroes.

Against most opponents, it worked beautifully.

Unfortunately, this wasn't most opponents. The mutated Yakuza laughed. It was a horrifying sound. It was followed by a faint hiss that escaped from its body. Nothing visible emerged. Just air that hid the Villain's Quirk activating. An odorless poison that can't be seen with devastating effectiveness.

The gas entered Kirishima's lungs before anyone realized what had happened. Immediately, his charge faltered. His eyes widened, and his body froze. The tall Hero staggered backward.

"Ngh—!"

He couldn't breathe. The realization hit instantly, and panic followed. His lungs burned. Vision blurred. His strength abandoned him. Unbreakable remained active, but what good was an invulnerable body when oxygen itself became the enemy?

Kirishima collapsed, and the villain seized the chance to raise its spear-like arm for a killing blow. Eijiro could barely move. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Izuku throwing himself directly between Red Riot and death.

The spear struck. The battle continued. And the world disappeared.

When Eijiro opened his eyes again, everything smelled wrong. Antiseptic. Medicine. Disinfectant. The familiar scent immediately told him where he was. A hospital.

"Damn it…"

His throat felt dry, and his head felt heavy. Other than that, nothing of consequence was left in him.

Slowly, he sat upright. The movement proved surprisingly easy.

Only two people occupied the room. Fatgum and Suneater.

Both looked relieved to see him awake. But that didn't mean they were also happy to see him. That did not go unnoticed and frightened Eijiro more than any injury could.

"What happened?" Kirishima asked immediately. His voice sounded rough. "The fight."

Neither Hero answered immediately. Fatgum exchanged a glance with Tamaki. Something passed between them. Something uncomfortable.

"The Abegawa Tenchu Kai are finished." The answer should have sounded victorious. It didn't. There was no satisfaction in Fatgum's voice. Just exhaustion and disappointment.

A cold knot formed in Kirishima's stomach.

"What happened?"

This time, Tamaki responded.

"Just look." The nervousness usually present in his voice was gone. He handed over his phone.

Eijiro accepted it, and later wished he hadn't.

News coverage filled the screen. The battle dominated every major headline in Japan. Videos, articles, interviews, and analysis. The operation had become national news overnight. Thankfully, casualties remained low. Dozens injured. Property damage extensive. But nobody died. More importantly, the Yakuza leader had been defeated.

The man responsible?

Deku.

Midoriya had personally ended the conflict before it could grow into another Shie Hassaikai or League of Villains. Another national disaster was averted.

That should have been the biggest story. It wasn't. Kirishima's blood ran cold as he continued reading. The true headline appeared beneath it.

"Japan's Savior Nearly Killed By Fellow Hero."

The accompanying image froze his heart. It showed the exact moment he pushed Midoriya. From the angle and perspective of that footage, it looked horrific and intentional. It looked like Red Riot had shoved Deku into an enemy attack.

The color drained from his face.

"No…" His fingers trembled. "No, no, no…"

More and more videos are played. Each one looked worse than the last.

"I was trying to help him!" The words burst from him. "I was protecting him!"

"Really?" Fatgum folded his arms. The question hit harder than any punch.

Kirishima stared.

"Because from what I saw for myself in the midst of that mess, Midoriya didn't need protecting." Fatgum continued.

Eijiro opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

"His cowl protected him from the poison," Fatgum continued. "You know that now."

"I didn't know—"

"And every piece of footage shows he was already moving."

Another blow that cracked his confidence.

"He was faster than almost everyone on that battlefield." Fatgum's voice remained calm. That somehow made it worse. "You didn't save him, Eijiro."

The room felt smaller.

"He saved you."

Kirishima clenched his fists.

"He shouldn't have been there!" The words escaped before he could stop them.

"Enough." Tamaki immediately intervened.

The single word carried an unusual force that stopped Kirishima from speaking.

"You're only harming yourself the more you talk. You have to think smarter than this," Tamaki advised his junior and fellow Sidekick of Fatgum.

Fatgum sighed and dropped the final bomb.

"There's a report filed against you."

"What?" Eijiro blinked. "A report."

His brain struggled to process the statement.

"It happens when you endanger another Hero." Fatgum didn't soften the truth.

Horror spread through Kirishima's chest.

"No."

"If the investigation goes badly, your Pro-Hero License could be suspended." The older Hero didn't look away. The words struck harder than any villain ever had.

Everything Kirishima worked, sacrificed, and dreamed of was suddenly hanging by a thread.

"But I didn't—"

"The victim decides whether to pursue it."

Kirishima froze.

The victim.

Midoriya.

The room became impossibly quiet.

Fatgum's expression remained unreadable.

"If somebody had done that to me," He said at last, "I'd push for the suspension."

Those words finished what the news article started, and Red Riot's future now rested entirely in the hands of the friend he had tried so desperately to stop.

-][-

Two more days later, Izuku found himself walking toward the Hero Public Safety Commission once again. The building loomed overhead like a monument to judgment.

Ordinarily, such a thought would have made him laugh. Hearings happened every day. Reports were filed constantly. Heroes made mistakes. Villains escaped custody. Property damage exceeded projections. Bureaucracy never stopped moving.

Today felt different because it involved Eijiro Kirishima and a choice. The worst part was that Izuku still didn't know which choice he wanted to make. The walk from his agency to the train station had been spent replaying memories.

1. Class A. Dormitories. Training exercises. Movie nights. Study sessions. Conversations. Laughter. Friendships. Kirishima stood at the center of many of those memories. The red-haired Hero had always been one of the easiest people to get along with. Honest. Loyal. Encouraging. The sort of person who could make an entire room feel lighter simply by entering it.

Those memories urged forgiveness. Understanding. To drop the report and move on. A mistake had been made. A dangerous mistake. But still a mistake. People deserved second chances. That was the philosophy he'd carried his entire life. The philosophy that had driven him to save villains, rescue enemies, and extend a hand toward people nobody else wanted to help.

Yet another voice existed now. Smaller, but stronger. A voice that had grown steadily louder during the past several months. It whispered questions he didn't enjoy answering.

About fairness and respect. Questions about why he always seemed to be the one expected to sacrifice his feelings for everyone else's comfort. The voice suggested a different path. A harsher path that felt wrong, yet. strangely satisfying.

Izuku frowned. He didn't like that voice. He liked it even less that he kept listening to it.

The Commission's headquarters eventually came into view. Taking a steady breath, he entered the building. Then immediately encountered his first obstacle. Almost all of the Hell Class are waiting in the lobby. Izuku stopped walking. His classmates noticed him a second later, and the atmosphere immediately shifted. He wasn't surprised they were here. Kirishima's hearing would determine the future of his career. Of course, his friends would come to support him. Anything less would've been strange.

Still, the sight produced complicated emotions. Some faces looked hopeful. Others looked nervous. Several looked guilty. A few appeared uncertain. Notably absent were two familiar figures. Shinso again. The absence wasn't surprising anymore. More noticeable was Todoroki. Though unlike Shinso, Izuku already knew the reason.

Shoto was currently working on a major case in Saitama alongside Shishikross and Illus-o-Camie. Professional obligations took priority. Todoroki couldn't abandon an active investigation simply because one of his friends found himself in trouble.

The other absence that did surprise Izuku him was Bakugo. That one genuinely puzzled him. Kirishima had always been closer to Bakugo than almost anyone else. Closer than Izuku. That truth stung, but it remained true. Eijiro admired many of Katsuki's traits. Some admirable. Some considerably less so.

So where was he? Why wasn't he here supporting his friend?

Izuku almost smiled. Whatever the reason, he considered it a blessing. The last thing he needed before the hearing was another argument with Kacchan.

As he approached, the group shifted nervously. Several exchanged glances. Nobody seemed entirely sure how to begin.

Mina eventually stepped forward. She had always been the most socially fearless among them. Unfortunately, fearless didn't necessarily mean wise.

"Midori!" She exclaimed. "I-I'm sure you saw the news."

Mina laughed nervously.

"It's ridiculous, right?" Nobody joined in the laughter. "The media's blowing everything out of proportion."

She smiled hopefully.

"I'm really glad you're here to help him." Her expression brightened further. "I knew you'd come through when it mattered!"

Izuku stared for several seconds.

He genuinely didn't know how to respond. Not for lack of words. He had too many. The sheer certainty in Mina's voice left him speechless. She was so confident in her assumption. Most disturbing of all was the fact that she appeared completely sincere. Unaware that she might have said something wrong. In her mind, everything had already been resolved. Midoriya was here. Therefore, Kirishima would be fine. Problem solved.

The realization bothered him more than it should have. Part of him understood exactly why she'd reached that conclusion. It was predictable of him. The old Izuku would've done exactly that. Forgive, smile, and reassure everyone. Make the uncomfortable situation disappear.

The small voice in the back of his mind immediately seized upon the moment.

'See?' The thought slithered through his consciousness. 'They already decided what you're going to do.'

Izuku hated how persuasive it sounded.

Mina stepped closer to open her arms and hug him. The gesture was familiar.

Izuku stopped it. His hand rose between them to prevent contact.

The reaction was immediate. Several gasps echoed through the lobby. Mina froze. The shock on her face looked almost childlike.

"W-What?" The word barely escaped her lips.

Izuku looked away. He couldn't stand seeing that expression. Anger battled sadness inside him. Disappointment followed. Finally, betrayal once more.

He knew Kirishima hadn't acted maliciously. He knew Eijiro genuinely believed he was helping. The media narrative was unfair. The situation was complicated. Nothing about this was black and white. But that didn't erase what happened, and it certainly didn't erase how everyone seemed determined to pretend it hadn't happened at all.

His eyes returned to the Hell Class. Eyes full of hope and expectation of his predictability. All of them are waiting for him to play his assigned role. The role he'd played his entire life. Something inside him quietly settled.

A tired resignation born from realizing people weren't listening.

When Izuku finally spoke this time, his voice remained calm.

Dangerously calm.

"I understand that none of you want to see him lose his license."

The hopeful expressions returned instantly. Then vanished just as quickly.

"That doesn't change what happened."

The lobby grew silent. Nobody dared to interrupt. Izuku looked directly at Mina. Then at Iida. Then at Uraraka. Then at every other member of the class. One by one.

"He made a stupid mistake on the field that definitely showed that he's not ready to be a Hero."

A stunned silence followed Izuku's words. For a brief moment, nobody spoke. Nobody seemed capable of processing what they had just heard.

Then everything exploded.

"Are you seriously turning your back on Kiri, Midoriya?!" Sero shouted.

"What's wrong with you?!" Mina demanded.

"You can't be serious!" Denki added.

The accusations came from every direction at once. Angry voices collided together until they became one giant wall of noise. Izuku barely bothered listening. Most of it sounded the same anyway.

Then one voice cut through the rest.

"You're upset we didn't talk to you since graduation! So what?!" Hagakure yelled. "We're busy being Heroes! Get over it and stop taking it out on Kiri!"

That one landed. Not because it hurt. Because it clarified everything. The confusion he'd been wrestling with for a year suddenly vanished. The uncertainty and doubt. The hope that there had been some misunderstanding. All of it was gone. His classmates still didn't understand. They didn't even realize there was something to understand.

The atmosphere changed. Nobody could explain exactly how. The anger in Izuku's eyes seemed to gain weight. His posture straightened. His presence sharpened. The room felt smaller. Several members of the Hell Class instinctively took a step back.

It wasn't fear of physical violence. It was something else more unsettling. They had seen Midoriya angry before. Muscular. Overhaul. All For One. Shigaraki. The Villains responsible for countless deaths and endless suffering.

Yet somehow this felt worse. This anger was directed at them. The realization settled over the group like a funeral shroud.

Izuku spoke. His voice was low and controlling. Every word sounded deliberate.

"Not one of you gets a say in this."

The shouting stopped immediately.

"You weren't there." His gaze swept across the crowd. "You weren't fighting those Yakuza. You weren't the one almost getting skewered. You weren't the one forced to fix someone else's mistake."

Iida stepped forward predictably. If anyone would still try to reason through this, it would be him.

"Midoriya, I agree that Kirishima acted improperly," Iida said carefully. "His conduct was unprofessional, and consequences are warranted. However, suspension of his Pro-Hero License is an extreme punishment."

Iida adjusted his glasses.

"President Tamaki will never agree to such a measure."

Before Izuku could answer, Uraraka stepped forward.

"He's right." Her voice was softer. More emotional. "Kirishima was only trying to help you."

Izuku gave a short, humorless, and dangerous laugh.

"Help me?"

Ochaco visibly flinched. The force behind those two words shattered her momentum.

"Help me?!" Izuku repeated. "He could have gotten someone killed!"

His voice echoed through the lobby.

"I'm lucky to be standing here without a scratch."

"Exactly!" Mineta blurted out. Everyone turned toward him. The tiny Hero didn't notice. "You're fine! Why are you overreacting?! Nothing bad happened!"

The glare Izuku gave him nearly made Mineta choke on his next breath.

"So we should let that moron keep making the same mistakes until somebody does get hurt?"

Mineta opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Nothing came out. He looked like a fish desperately searching for water.

Izuku didn't wait for an answer that did not exist.

Mina tried stepping in.

"Kirishima isn't—"

"I don't care."

The coldness in Izuku's voice silenced her immediately. His eyes moved across the group. One face after another.

"Mistakes are judged by the damage they can cause."

Nobody interrupted.

"What if he'd done that to a civilian?"

His question hung in the air.

"What if someone died? Would you still be defending him then?"

Nobody could answer.

"If you're all so determined to talk about how hard he's worked, then apparently he hasn't worked hard enough."

Izuku didn't stop.

"This is the same kind of mistake he's been making since our first year. Am I the only one who remembers the blunder he did along with Bakugo in our first time in the USJ?!"

His voice grew sharper, and several of them winced.

"We're professionals now. We don't get to keep making the same mistakes forever. Fuck! Did none of Aizawa's lessons actually sink in?"

"Midoriya," Yaoyorozu began carefully, "Kirishima was only trying to get you off the field. You are—"

"A liability." Izuku cut her off instantly. The bitterness in his voice startled everyone. "That's the word, right?"

Momo was the next to lose her voice.

"People love throwing it at me these days." His hands clenched. "But you're forgetting something."

"W-What?" Kaminari asked. Even he sounded nervous now. Izuku looked directly at him.

"Nothing you say will change my resolve."

The words came out like iron.

"Kirishima is the one who can't be a Hero. I will see to that."

Several people gasped. Izuku wasn't finished.

"And since all of you seem so repulsed by liabilities, I suggest you leave and cut your losses. Starting today, that's exactly what Red Riot will be."

That was the final straw, and the Hell Class was horrified. Does Izuku really now hate them so much for not approving of him following his dream that he would deny them theirs?

Izuku would speak to them no more and readied to depart.

"Midoriya—" Tsuyu started.

"Stop."

Nobody spoke again. Izuku turned toward the elevators. The conversation was over. The hearing awaited. So did Kirishima's future.

Then Ochaco moved.

"Deku, wait!"

She grabbed his arm desperately, refusing to let things end like this.

Izuku reacted immediately. He tore his arm free. The motion sent Uraraka stumbling backward before she fell hard onto the polished floor.

Gasps erupted around the lobby.

Izuku stared back. The last traces of hesitation disappeared from his eyes.

"Don't call me Deku ever again, Uravity." The words struck harder than any punch. His voice trembled with anger.  "I refuse to be yoked by people who keep trying to hold me down."

Uraraka was paralyzed with fear and heartbreak. Izuku looked at all of them one final time. His former classmates. His former friends. The people who once stood beside him against impossible odds. The people standing against him now. When he spoke again, his voice carried throughout the entire lobby.

"From this day onward… I am Absalom."

"B-But…"

"And if you want to speak to me again, which the passing year after graduating clearly showed that you don't want to, it'll be under my terms, so for once in your life… Answer your FUCKING PHONE WHEN I CALL YOU!!!"

Then he turned away without another glance.

And as the future Symbol of Defiance walked toward the hearing that would decide Red Riot's fate, the Hell Class could do nothing except watch the death of Deku unfold before their eyes.