The moment the great wooden doors of the Fairy Tail guild hall swung open, revealing Mirajane Strauss and Katsuki Bakugo standing side-by-side, a sudden, almost electric hush fell over the normally boisterous room. Every head turned. Every conversation ceased mid-sentence. Even Natsu and Gray, who had inevitably gravitated towards another impromptu wrestling match near the (now severely depleted) bar, froze in a tangled heap, their attention, along with everyone else's, instantly riveted on the newcomers.
Katsuki, now clad in his new, sensible, and thankfully frosting-free dark attire, looked significantly more like his usual formidable self, though a faint, lingering blush still dusted his cheekbones, and his crimson eyes held a wary, almost hunted look as he scanned the sea of suddenly silent, intensely curious faces. He had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.
Mirajane, by contrast, looked radiant. Her earlier fluster had completely vanished, replaced by her customary serene smile, though today it seemed to possess an extra sparkle, a subtle, almost feline contentment that made the more perceptive guild members shiver with anticipation. She walked with her usual grace, but there was a new, almost imperceptible spring in her step, a subtle air of… triumph.
Then, the silence broke.
It wasn't a gradual return to noise. It was an explosion. A cacophony of gasps, excited whispers, outright shouts, and a barrage of questions that hit them like a physical wave.
"Mira-nee! You're back!"
"Bakugo! Where have you been?!"
"Lucy told us EVERYTHING!" (This, from Cana, accompanied by a very loud, very suggestive wink that made Katsuki's eye twitch uncontrollably.)
"Is it true, Mira-san? Did you really… claim him?" (This, from a wide-eyed Levy, who immediately blushed and hid behind Gajeel when Mirajane shot her a dazzling, enigmatic smile.)
"Oi, Bakugo! Did Mira really feed you steak like a baby bird?!" (This, inevitably, from Natsu, who had somehow already managed to extricate himself from Gray and was now bouncing with unrestrained, idiotic curiosity.)
"What about the burrito-wrapping? Was that foreplay?!" (This, from a grinning Wakaba, earning him a swift, sharp elbow to the ribs from Macao, though Macao was grinning too.)
The guild clamored, a tidal wave of teasing, speculation, and unabashed, voyeuristic delight. Katsuki felt his carefully reconstructed composure beginning to crumble. His hands clenched, sparks threatening to fly. He looked like he was about to spontaneously detonate from sheer, overwhelming social awkwardness and rage. He shot a murderous glare at Lucy, who squeaked and tried to hide behind her notebook, muttering something about "artistic license" and "research."
Mirajane, however, seemed to thrive in the chaos. She just chuckled, a light, musical sound that somehow managed to cut through the din, her smile unwavering. She placed a gentle, almost possessive hand on Katsuki's arm – a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the eagle-eyed assembly and sent a fresh wave of excited murmurs through the crowd.
"Now, now, everyone," she said, her voice carrying a calm authority that momentarily quelled the uproar. "Settle down. Can't a lady and her… associate… arrive at their guild without causing such a fuss?" The way she said 'associate,' her eyes sparkling as she glanced at Katsuki's still-fuming face, was laden with a universe of unspoken meaning that sent the gossip mill into overdrive once more.
She then smoothly, expertly, began to navigate the throng, gently deflecting the more outrageous questions, offering enigmatic smiles, and generally managing the situation with a grace and aplomb that left Katsuki both infuriated and grudgingly impressed. She was a master at this, at controlling the narrative, at keeping them all guessing while simultaneously fanning the flames of their curiosity.
Katsuki just followed in her wake, scowling, grumbling, occasionally letting out a low, warning growl when someone got too close or asked a particularly impertinent question. He felt like a prize bull being paraded through a circus. He hated it. He absolutely, unequivocally hated it.
And yet… as Mirajane guided him towards the relative (and he used that term very loosely) sanity of the bar, her hand still resting lightly on his arm, a strange, unwelcome, but undeniable thought occurred to him. For all the chaos, for all the teasing, for all the sheer, infuriating absurdity of it all… he wasn't alone in facing it. He had Mirajane, in all her serene, manipulative, and terrifyingly captivating glory, right there beside him, weathering the storm with him.
It was a confusing, infuriating, and utterly Bakugo-esque realization. But it was there. The Fairy Tail guild had erupted at their arrival. And Katsuki Bakugo, much to his own shock and horror, found that he didn't entirely want to blow them all to kingdom come for it. Not yet, anyway. The day, it seemed, was still full of unwelcome surprises.
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Katsuki's glare, a concentrated beam of pure, unadulterated annoyance, swept across the clamoring guild members as Mirajane skillfully steered him through the throng towards the relative safety of the bar. His scowl was firmly in place, his posture radiating his usual 'don't-even-think-about-touching-me' energy. The brief, bewildering interlude of his "Fierce x Shy Mode" seemed to have been forcibly suppressed, locked away behind his familiar explosive defenses.
"He's back to normal!" someone whispered, a little too loudly, from a nearby table.
"Yeah, look at that scowl! Definitely our Bakugo!" another voice chimed in, with a mixture of relief and perhaps a touch of disappointment that the adorable, blushing version had been so fleeting.
"Thank goodness," Macao muttered to Wakaba. "I was starting to think Mira-chan had actually broken him. Or domesticated him. Which would be way scarier, come to think of it."
Katsuki just let out a low growl, a clear warning that while he might have been temporarily incapacitated by romantic bewilderment, he was still very much capable of incinerating anyone who pushed him too far. The orange Fairy Tail mark on the back of his hand seemed to pulse with a silent, aggressive energy.
As they finally reached the bar, they found Makarov looking utterly frazzled, his face smudged with what looked like ale and ink, a pile of mismatched order slips teetering precariously beside him. He looked up as Mirajane approached, his expression one of profound, almost tearful relief.
"Mira, my child! Thank the heavens you've returned!" he cried, practically leaping off his stack of crates. "This… this 'barmaiding' is a task for younger, more resilient souls! I believe I've accidentally charged Master Rob for a lifetime supply of pickled fish guts, and I may have inadvertently promised Cana that all her future drinks would be free if she could teach me that 'card trick' of hers!"
Mirajane just smiled, her usual serene composure fully restored now that she was back in her element. "Not to worry, Master. I'll sort everything out." With a reassuring pat on his shoulder, she smoothly took her place behind the bar, her presence instantly restoring a semblance of order and competence to the proceedings. She began to work with a calm, focused efficiency that was truly awe-inspiring, untangling Makarov's chaotic orders, correcting billing errors, and placating disgruntled (or overly-optimistic, in Cana's case) guild members with a few well-chosen words and a dazzling smile.
Katsuki watched her for a moment, a grudging admiration for her sheer, unflappable capability warring with his residual annoyance. She really was a damn force of nature, in her own way.
His attention then drifted to a nearby table where a group of male guild members, including Jet, Droy, and a few others, were huddled over the latest issue of Sorcerer Weekly magazine. Their expressions were a mixture of rapt attention and slightly dopey grins. He caught a glimpse of the glossy pages – a colorful spread featuring several an attractive, swimsuit-clad female mages. The emblem of the Mermaid Heel guild was prominently displayed.
"Oi, check out Kagura! She looks amazing in that one!"
"Nah, man, Millianna's where it's at! That cat-bikini is… purrfect!"
"Risley Law, though… those gravity-defying assets…"
Katsuki just snorted in disgust. Idiots. Ogling pictures in a magazine. He had more important things to worry about, like his still-delayed super-armor and the lingering, confusing aftertaste of strawberries and… whatever the hell that feeling was Mirajane evoked in him. He turned back to the bar, leaning against it, content for once to just observe the chaos rather than actively participate in it. He needed to let his own internal systems recalibrate after the morning's… events.
Mirajane, meanwhile, was a whirlwind of graceful efficiency. She sorted through Makarov's disastrous tally of the guild's funds, her brow furrowed in concentration as she reconciled numbers, her fingers flying across the ledger. She placated a fuming pub owner who had been overcharged for a delivery of ale Makarov had forgotten to pay for, charmed a grumpy merchant whose request for an escort had been misplaced, and even managed to gently dissuade Natsu from trying to "help" her by breathing fire on a stack of overdue bills.
Within half an hour, the bar was running smoothly again, the guild's finances were miraculously back in order, and a sense of relative calm (by Fairy Tail standards) had been restored. Makarov watched her with a mixture of awe and profound gratitude, vowing to never, ever attempt to manage the bar himself again.
Katsuki, too, found himself watching Mirajane with a new, if still grudging, appreciation. She wasn't just a pretty face or a (secretly terrifying) demon. She was the damn lynchpin that held this entire chaotic nuthouse together. Her ability to manage the madness, to soothe tempers, to keep the guild functioning despite its members' best efforts to constantly destroy it (and each other), was a superpower in its own right, as formidable in its way as any explosion or S-Class spell.
He still didn't understand her. He still didn't understand them. But as he leaned against the bar, watching Mirajane effortlessly orchestrate the beautiful, infuriating chaos of Fairy Tail, a tiny, almost imperceptible thought flickered through his mind: maybe, just maybe, being "claimed" by someone this capable, this serene, and this undeniably, terrifyingly captivating… wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to him in this strange, new world. It was still annoying as hell, though. Obviously.
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After devouring another substantial meal – his appetite apparently as explosive as his Quirk – Katsuki felt a familiar restlessness begin to stir. The earlier romantic chaos and the subsequent quiet observation had been… a change of pace, but his core programming, the ingrained need for action and purpose, was reasserting itself. He wasn't going to sit around ogling magazines like those other morons, and he certainly wasn't going to let Mirajane's… attentions… completely derail his focus on getting stronger and, eventually, finding a way back to his own damn world.
He pushed his empty plate away, grunted a noncommittal sound that might have been thanks towards Mirajane (who was still expertly managing the bar and the guild's various crises), and strode purposefully towards the Request Board.
This time, however, his approach was different. The memory of his earlier conversation with Makarov about "Plus Ultra," the lingering echo of his own U.A. ideals, and perhaps even the subtle, humanizing influence of the morning's… domestic entanglements… had shifted something within him. He still craved action, still needed an outlet for his power, but his criteria for selecting a job had subtly, almost unconsciously, evolved.
He scanned the board, his crimson eyes, usually drawn to the most violent, destructive, and high-paying subjugation or annihilation requests, now lingered on a different section. His gaze, for once, deliberately skipped over the parchments adorned with crude drawings of grotesque beasts or crossed-out dark guild emblems. He was, for the moment, consciously trying to stop defaulting to jobs that entailed pure, unadulterated destruction, the kind of missions that were all about overwhelming force and leaving nothing but rubble in his wake.
Instead, he found himself drawn to a smaller, less ostentatious request, one that might have been easily overlooked by a mage seeking glory or massive financial reward. It was a plea from a small, remote village nestled in the foothills of the Volcanic Peaks, a region known for its unstable geothermal activity and frequent minor monster incursions. The request wasn't for monster slaying, not primarily. It was for rescue.
'Urgent Assistance Required: Village of Ignis trapped by sudden rockslide and localized magma flow. Several villagers, including children, believed to be cut off in the upper valley. Safe extraction and securing of a stable escape route needed. Caution advised due to hazardous terrain and potential lingering geothermal threats. Modest reward offered.'
Rescue. Safe extraction. Securing an escape route. These weren't the usual parameters Katsuki Bakugo sought out. There was no glory in it, no massive payout, no opportunity to unleash his most devastating, landscape-altering attacks. It was… a hero's job. The kind of mission Deku, with his infuriating, selfless idealism, would have jumped at. The kind of crisis All Might, in his prime, would have resolved with a booming laugh and an indomitable, reassuring presence.
A strange, unfamiliar feeling stirred within Katsuki. It wasn't the usual thrill of anticipated battle, nor the grim satisfaction of planned annihilation. It was… something else. A sense of responsibility, perhaps? A flicker of the 'Plus Ultra' spirit, not just about surpassing his own limits, but about using his power to… help? The thought was almost uncomfortable in its unfamiliarity.
He reached out and, with a decisive, almost solemn movement, took the Ignis village rescue job slip from the board.
He walked back to the bar, where Mirajane, having just successfully negotiated a truce between two mages arguing over the ownership of a particularly shiny spoon, looked up, a welcoming smile on her face. Katsuki placed the request slip on the counter, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
"This one," he said, his voice devoid of its usual aggressive edge. "Needs approval."
Mirajane picked up the slip, her eyebrows rising slightly as she read it. A rescue mission? From the village of Ignis? This was… a significant departure from Bakugo-san's usual modus operandi. She looked at him, her sapphire eyes searching his, a new, deeper understanding dawning.
"A rescue, Katsuki?" she asked softly, her use of his first name natural now, imbued with a gentle warmth. "This is… a noble choice. And a dangerous one, given the terrain."
Katsuki just shrugged, avoiding her gaze, though a faint flush touched his cheeks. "Someone's gotta do it, right? And those idiots in the upper valley aren't gonna rescue themselves." He paused, then added, almost under his breath, so quietly she almost didn't hear it, "It's… what heroes do."
He wouldn't admit it aloud, not even to himself fully, but he was consciously choosing a path that Deku, that All Might, would have taken. He was choosing to use his power not just to destroy, but to protect. To save. It was a small step, a hesitant one, but it felt… significant. Like he was finally, truly, beginning to integrate the hero he had been trained to be in his old world with the explosive, chaotic mage he was becoming in this new one.
Mirajane's smile was radiant, filled with a pride and affection that made Katsuki's heart do that stupid, fluttery thing again. She took her stamp and pressed it firmly onto the parchment, the Fairy Tail insignia a bold orange against the worn paper.
"Approved, Dynamight," she said, her voice soft but firm, a universe of unspoken approval in her eyes. "Go. Be the hero they need."
Katsuki just grunted, snatched the approved slip, and turned towards the door. He didn't launch himself into the sky with his usual explosive fanfare this time. He just walked, his strides purposeful, his expression set in a grim, determined line. He had a village to save, people to rescue. The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight was still very much present, but today, perhaps, just perhaps, the 'hero' part of that equation was about to take center stage. And for Katsuki Bakugo, that felt like a challenge, and a responsibility, worth rising to. Plus Ultra.
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The journey to the beleaguered village of Ignis was undertaken with a focused, almost grim, efficiency. Katsuki utilized his 'Explode: Frictionless Mode,' but not for reckless, terrain-altering speed. Instead, he employed it for swift, silent, and precise aerial reconnaissance, soaring high above the Volcanic Peaks, his crimson eyes scanning the unstable landscape, assessing the extent of the rockslide and the flow of the encroaching magma.
He found Ignis nestled precariously in a small valley, its escape routes indeed cut off by a massive, fresh rockslide on one side and a slowly advancing river of molten rock on the other. Higher up, in a smaller, more isolated section of the valley, he spotted them – a small cluster of terrified villagers, waving frantically, trapped by a secondary slide and the creeping heat. Children were among them.
Katsuki's jaw tightened. This wasn't a monster to be obliterated or a dark guild to be annihilated. These were innocent lives in imminent danger. The objective was clear: rescue, then secure an escape.
He descended with controlled precision, landing not with a ground-shattering explosion, but with a surprisingly gentle series of buffering blasts from his palms and feet, minimizing any further destabilization of the already treacherous terrain. The trapped villagers cried out, a mixture of fear and dawning hope, as the infamous explosive mage of Fairy Tail appeared before them, his expression fierce but, for once, devoid of overt aggression.
"Alright, you damn extras!" he barked, his voice sharp but carrying an undercurrent of reassurance he himself was barely aware of. "Listen up and listen good, 'cause I'm only saying this once! I'm getting you outta here! No arguments, no panicking, just do exactly what I goddamn say!"
He didn't wait for their terrified nods. He began to work with a speed and precision that was breathtaking. His first priority was the immediate threat of the encroaching magma. He used a series of carefully aimed, relatively small Quirk-blasts – "Explode: Precision Charges," he mentally dubbed them – not to destroy, but to redirect. He blasted channels in the rock, creating new pathways for the molten rock to flow, diverting it away from the trapped villagers and, crucially, away from the main village below. It was like conducting a fiery, geological orchestra, each explosion a precise note in a symphony of controlled destruction designed to save, not to obliterate.
Next, the rockslide that had trapped them. It was too large, too unstable, to simply blast away without risking a wider collapse. Instead, Katsuki, drawing on the same structural analysis skills he'd used at the Valerius Mine, identified key stress points. He then used a combination of his Quirk's concussive force and focused, almost surgical, applications of his 'Explode' magic (the Incinerate function used not for melting, but for precisely weakening specific rock joins) to create a narrow, stable pathway through the debris. It was painstaking, dangerous work, requiring immense concentration and a level of fine control over his powers that he hadn't consciously realized he possessed.
Once a path was cleared, he began the evacuation, his usual impatience tempered by a surprising, almost gruff gentleness, especially with the children. He didn't carry them, not exactly – that would be too much of an affront to his pride – but he used his explosions to create small, stable platforms, to clear obstacles from their path, to provide a reassuring (if still somewhat terrifying) explosive escort as they scrambled down the newly created escape route. He even, on one occasion, used a perfectly timed, gentle blast of air from his palm to prevent a small, crying child from stumbling over a loose rock, an act of such subtle, almost unconscious heroism that it went largely unnoticed, even by himself.
With the trapped villagers safely evacuated to the main village, Katsuki turned his attention to the larger problem: the primary rockslide and magma flow that still threatened Ignis itself. This required a grander, more audacious solution.
He soared into the air again, surveying the entire valley. He needed to create a new, permanent escape route for the village, and simultaneously ensure the volcano's future outpourings would be harmlessly diverted. This wasn't just about immediate rescue; it was about long-term safety.
His mind raced, processing geological data, calculating explosive yields, envisioning the controlled reshaping of an entire landscape. This was 'Plus Ultra' in action – not just surpassing his own limits, but using his power to achieve something constructive, something protective, on a massive scale.
He began to work, a solitary, explosive force of nature against the raw, untamed power of the earth. He used his most powerful, Quirk-fueled Howitzer Impacts, not to annihilate, but to strategically carve a new, wide canyon through the mountainside, a safe channel leading away from Ignis and towards a desolate, uninhabited basin. He then used a series of massive, precisely aimed 'Explode: Incinerate – First Impact' blasts to shatter and melt key sections of the existing volcanic caldera, subtly altering its structure, creating a new, primary vent that would direct future magma flows down his newly created canyon, away from the vulnerable valley.
It was an act of monumental, landscape-altering power, a display of destructive artistry on a scale that few, if any, mages in Fiore could have conceived, let alone executed. But it was all done with a singular, protective purpose. He wasn't just blowing things up; he was reshaping the world to save lives.
When he was finally finished, hours later, as the sun began to set, casting long, dramatic shadows across the Volcanic Peaks, the village of Ignis was safe. The trapped villagers were reunited with their families. A new, stable escape route led away from the valley. And the volcano itself, its dangerous energies now harmlessly channeled, loomed not as a threat, but as a tamed, if still awe-inspiring, giant.
Katsuki landed in the village square, covered in soot, sweat, and stone dust, his body aching with a profound, satisfying exhaustion. The villagers, who had watched his herculean, landscape-altering efforts with a mixture of terror and profound, tearful gratitude, rushed towards him. They didn't cheer with the boisterous adulation of the Fairy Tail guild; their response was quieter, deeper, a wave of heartfelt thanks, of prayers, of children offering him small, handmade gifts of flowers and polished stones.
He just grunted, embarrassed by their effusive gratitude, swatting away their attempts to thank him too much. "Yeah, yeah. Just doin' my damn job. Now get back to your lives, you damn extras. And maybe… don't build your village next to a pissed-off volcano next time."
He didn't take any trophies. There were no monsters to slay here, no dark guilds to annihilate. His proof of completion was the saved village itself, the newly carved canyon, the tamed volcano.
Rescue Mission Finished!
As he prepared to leave, to head back to Fairy Tail, a small, shy girl, one of the children he'd helped rescue from the upper valley, approached him, clutching a slightly singed, but still vibrant, wildflower. She timidly offered it to him.
Katsuki looked down at the small, offered flower, then at the little girl's hopeful, upturned face. For a long moment, he just stared. Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand unspoken emotions, he reached out and, very gently, took the flower. He didn't know what to do with it. He didn't do flowers. But he took it.
He turned and launched himself into the twilight sky, the small, singed wildflower clutched carefully in his calloused, explosion-scarred hand. He wasn't just Dynamight, the God of Explosive Murder. He was Katsuki Bakugo. And today, he had been a hero. In every sense of the word. The feeling was… strange. Unfamiliar. But not, he grudgingly admitted to himself as he flew towards home, entirely unpleasant. Not unpleasant at all.
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The return flight from the Volcanic Peaks was different from Katsuki's usual post-mission departures. He wasn't fueled by the adrenaline of combat or the grim satisfaction of annihilation. Instead, a strange, quiet sense of… accomplishment… settled over him, mingled with a profound, bone-deep weariness that was more than just physical. He had reshaped a landscape, diverted a river of fire, saved a village. He had used his devastating power not to destroy, but to protect, to create safety where there had been none. It was… a lot to process.
He still clutched the small, singed wildflower the little girl had given him, its fragile beauty a stark contrast to the calloused, explosion-scarred hand that held it. He didn't quite know why he'd kept it, why he hadn't just incinerated it or tossed it away. But it felt… important, somehow. A tangible symbol of something he couldn't yet name.
He landed outside the Fairy Tail guild hall as evening settled over Magnolia, the lights from within casting a warm, inviting glow. He walked in, not with his usual aggressive swagger, but with a quieter, more subdued presence. He was covered in soot and stone dust, his clothes torn in new places from the rigors of his landscape-altering endeavors, but his crimson eyes, though tired, held a new, thoughtful depth.
The guild was in its usual state of lively, early-evening chaos. A few heads turned as he entered, but his relatively quiet demeanor didn't immediately signal another impending drama, so most returned to their revelries. He made his way to the bar, where Mirajane was, as always, a calm, radiant presence amidst the storm.
She looked up as he approached, her sapphire eyes immediately taking in his weary, soot-stained appearance, the deep exhaustion etched on his face. Her smile was soft, gentle, filled with an unspoken understanding.
Katsuki placed the Ignis village rescue job slip on the counter. It was smudged with dirt and ash, a testament to the day's work. "Ignis is safe," he said, his voice low, tired. "Rockslide cleared. Magma's taking a detour. No casualties." He didn't elaborate on the monumental effort involved, on the canyons he'd carved or the volcano he'd re-engineered. The results spoke for themselves.
Mirajane picked up the slip, her gaze lingering on it for a moment before she met his eyes. The pride, the warmth, the sheer, unadulterated affection in her expression made Katsuki's chest feel tight, his usual defenses momentarily faltering.
"I heard, Katsuki," she said softly, her voice like a balm to his weary soul. "The gratitude of an entire village reached Magnolia even before you did. They're calling you… their mountain-moving savior." Her lips curved into a tender smile. "It seems the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight has a rather heroic alter ego."
Katsuki just scowled, though there was no heat in it, only a deep-seated embarrassment. "Just did what needed to be done, damn it. Stop making it sound like some sappy story."
He then remembered the flower. It was still clutched in his hand, surprisingly intact despite his usually crushing grip. He looked at it, then at Mirajane. For a moment, he hesitated, a flicker of his old awkwardness, his "Fierce x Shy Mode," returning. This was… different. This wasn't a trophy of war, not a proof of subjugation. It was… something else.
With a sudden, almost impulsive movement, before he could second-guess himself, before his pride could reassert itself and make him incinerate the damn thing, he held out the small, singed wildflower to her.
His voice was a gruff, mumbled, "Here. Some kid… gave it to me. It's… probably stupid. But… whatever." He couldn't quite meet her eyes, his gaze fixed somewhere on the polished wood of the bar.
Mirajane stared at the offered flower, her breath catching in her throat. It was a simple thing, a wildflower from the mountains, slightly scorched at the edges, held in the calloused, powerful hand of the most explosive, most volatile, and most unexpectedly tender young man she had ever known. And it was, in that moment, the most beautiful, most precious gift she could have ever imagined.
Tears, bright and unbidden, welled in her sapphire eyes, but her smile was radiant, luminous, a reflection of the profound, overwhelming emotion that filled her heart. She reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as she took the flower from him, their hands brushing for a fleeting, electric moment.
"Katsuki…" she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears, with a depth of affection that needed no further words. She brought the small, singed flower to her nose, inhaling its faint, earthy scent, a scent now forever intertwined with him, with this moment. "It's… it's not stupid at all. It's… perfect."
She looked at him then, truly looked at him, seeing not just Dynamight, not just the explosive hero, but Katsuki – the lost boy, the reluctant savior, the fierce heart capable of such unexpected, breathtaking tenderness. And in her eyes, he saw not teasing, not amusement, not even just affection, but a profound, unwavering acceptance, a love that was as fierce and as resilient as any flame.
Katsuki just stood there, his face burning, his heart doing that stupid, acrobatic thing again. He didn't understand it. He didn't understand her. He didn't understand himself. But as Mirajane carefully tucked the small, singed wildflower into the bodice of her dress, right over her heart, a tiny, fragile, but undeniably beautiful seed of hope, of belonging, of something that might, just might, be happiness, began to take root in the barren, explosion-scarred landscape of his soul.
The guild hall around them faded into a blur of noise and light. There was only him, and her, and a small, singed wildflower that somehow meant more than all the Jewel in Fiore. The rescue mission was finished. But something else, something far more significant, and infinitely more terrifying and wonderful, had just begun.
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As Katsuki stood at the bar, the warmth of Mirajane's radiant smile and the unexpected, profound tenderness of the moment washing over him, a familiar, deeply ingrained thought surfaced, a competitive fire that had been banked but never truly extinguished. He looked down at his own hands, the hands that had just reshaped mountains and saved a village, the hands that now bore the orange mark of Fairy Tail, and a name, a rival, a lifelong benchmark, echoed in his mind.
Deku…
The thought was no longer tinged with the same burning, contemptuous rage it once had been. There was still rivalry, yes, an unshakeable, deeply ingrained need to surpass him. But now, it was overlaid with a strange, almost wistful sense of… shared experience, of a destiny unexpectedly derailed for both of them, though Deku knew nothing of Katsuki's current predicament.
Even if I'm in another goddamn world, Katsuki thought, a fierce, new resolve hardening his crimson eyes, even if everything I knew is gone, I'm still gonna compete with you, you damn nerd. I'm still gonna prove I'm the best. On who's going to be the Number One Hero… here, there, or anywhere the damn universe decides to throw us.
The declaration was a silent vow, a reaffirmation of his core identity, his unbreakable ambition. He might be a mage of Fairy Tail now, he might be entangled in confusing, heart-stopping romantic entanglements, but he was still Katsuki Bakugo, the one who would always strive, always fight, always aim for the absolute pinnacle. And Deku, whether he knew it or not, was still the ghost at his shoulder, the rival who pushed him, even across dimensions, to be more, to be better, to be… Plus Ultra.
Meanwhile, on another continent, far across the vast, unexplored oceans of Earth Land, in the shadowy, often-dangerous lands of Guiltina…
The world tore itself apart with a scream of emerald light and a pressure that felt like being crushed at the subatomic level. Izuku Midoriya, known to some as Deku, the Ninth Inheritor of One For All – or rather, the former Ninth Inheritor – slammed onto hard, unfamiliar earth, the impact jarring every bone in his body, his vision exploding in a shower of painful stars.
He lay there for a long moment, gasping, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth, his mind reeling from the violent, disorienting transit. The air was wrong – thick, heavy, carrying alien scents of damp earth, strange flora, and something else, something that prickled at his senses, something that felt like… magic?
Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself up. His U.A. graduation uniform, the one he had worn with such pride, such a heavy sense of responsibility, was torn and stained, a stark reminder of a life that felt a million miles, and perhaps a lifetime, away. His right hand, the one that bore the worst of the scars from his countless battles, from pushing One For All beyond its limits time and time again, throbbed with a phantom ache. His face, too, bore the faint, silvery lines of old injuries, a roadmap of his heroic journey.
He looked around, his green eyes, usually so bright with hope and determination, now wide with a dawning, horrified disbelief. He was in a dark, foreboding forest, the trees gnarled and ancient, their leaves a sickly, unnatural shade. There was no sign of Musutafu, no familiar landmarks, no echo of the world he knew.
This had happened a few days after Katsuki Bakugo had vanished without a trace from their world, a disappearance that had sent shockwaves through the hero community and left a gaping, unanswered question in its wake. Izuku himself had been… adrift.
After his graduation from U.A., after the final, climactic battle that had saved their world but had also, tragically, cost him One For All – the Quirk finally burning itself out, its embers too faint to be passed on, its legacy ending with him – Izuku Midoriya had found himself quirkless once more. For two long, difficult years, he had struggled to find his place, to redefine himself as a hero without the incredible power that had once defined him. He had worked tirelessly, honing his intellect, his strategic mind, his hand-to-hand combat skills, pushing his quirkless body to its absolute limits. He had still been a hero, in his heart, in his actions, but the absence of One For All had been a constant, aching void.
And now… this. Ripped from his world, his struggles, his attempts to forge a new path, and thrown into… wherever this was.
A wave of despair, cold and profound, washed over him. First Kacchan, now him. Was this some cruel cosmic joke? Some villain's ultimate, dimension-spanning revenge?
He clenched his scarred right hand, a hand that no longer crackled with the emerald lightning of One For All, a hand that now felt… empty. He was alone. Quirkless. In a world that felt alien, hostile, and filled with an energy he didn't understand.
But then, through the despair, a familiar spark ignited. The ingrained, indomitable spirit of Deku, the spirit that had faced down impossible odds time and time again, that had refused to give up even when all hope seemed lost. He was quirkless, yes. He was lost, yes. But he was still Izuku Midoriya. He was still a hero.
He took a shaky breath, pushing himself to his feet, his green eyes, though filled with uncertainty, now also held a flicker of grim determination. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know how he had gotten here. He didn't know if he would ever see his home, his friends, his mother, again.
But he would not break. He would survive. He would find answers. And if there were people here who needed help, if there was injustice to be fought, then Izuku Midoriya, quirkless or not, would do what he had always done. He would try to be a hero.
He looked around the dark, foreboding forest, a solitary, green-clad figure in a vast, unknown world. His journey in Earthland – or rather, in the dangerous, untamed lands of Guiltina – was just beginning. And it promised to be even more challenging, more perilous, than anything he had ever faced before. But somewhere, deep inside, a tiny, almost forgotten echo whispered the words that had always defined him, the words that had always pushed him forward: Plus Ultra. Even here. Even now.