The weight of the revelations about Faris and the impending threat left a somber, determined mood hanging over the Fairy Tail guild hall. The immediate plans had been set: Levy and Jellal would bury themselves in research, Laxus and the Sabertooth contingent would bolster the guild's defenses and run interference, and Katsuki… Katsuki had been assigned the unenviable, unpredictable, and utterly crucial task of being Touka's personal bodyguard and Faris-detector.
As the strategic meeting finally, exhaustedly, adjourned, and the various mages dispersed to their own tasks or to seek some much-needed rest, a new, more immediate logistical problem arose for Katsuki. Touka. Where was she going to stay? His tiny, one-room apartment was barely big enough for him, let alone an additional (if small and fluffy) Exceed who might or might not be harboring a world-ending parasitic entity. And he certainly wasn't going to subject her to the chaos of the Fairy Tail dorms, not in her current fragile state.
It was Mirajane, ever practical, ever… present, who offered a solution, her smile serene but with that familiar, underlying twinkle. "Perhaps, Katsuki-kun," she'd said, her voice soft, "Touka-chan could stay with you, for now? It would allow you to fulfill the Master's request of keeping a close eye on her. And," she'd added, a delicate blush dusting her own cheeks, "it would be… reassuring for all of us to know she is under your capable protection."
Katsuki had just scowled, but he couldn't really argue with the logic. He was her designated guardian. Keeping her close made sense, however inconvenient it might be.
And so, after a brief, awkward discussion about sleeping arrangements (Katsuki vehemently refusing to share his already too-small bed with a cat, possessed or otherwise), a trip to Magnolia's rather limited furniture emporium was made. Katsuki, with a grunt of resignation and a glare that dared anyone to comment, had purchased a small, comfortable-looking pet bed, the kind usually reserved for a pampered Pekinese, not an interdimensional Exceed. He then, much to the surprise (and barely suppressed amusement) of the shopkeeper and several onlookers, had proceeded to carry the fluffy, pink (it had been the only one available on short notice, much to his disgust) pet bed back to his apartment himself, refusing all offers of assistance.
Touka, perched on his shoulder, had looked at the pink monstrosity with wide, uncertain eyes, but had wisely refrained from comment.
Mirajane, who had "coincidentally" been in the same shopping district "running errands for the guild," had, equally "coincidentally," decided to accompany them back to Katsuki's apartment, ostensibly to "help Touka-chan get settled in" and to "ensure Katsuki-kun remembers all the important details about monitoring Faris's potential influence."
Katsuki just grumbled, but he didn't actively try to stop her. He was too tired, too overwhelmed by the day's events, and too… something else… to put up much of a fight against Mirajane's serene, implacable presence.
They arrived back at his small apartment. The pink pet bed was placed in a corner, looking ridiculously out of place amidst Katsuki's spartan, almost aggressively masculine, decor. Touka, after some gentle coaxing from Mirajane, had hesitantly curled up in it, looking small and lost but also, perhaps, a tiny bit safer than she had felt all day.
Katsuki had just stood there, awkwardly, not sure what to do next. He was exhausted. He wanted to sleep. But the presence of Mirajane in his small apartment, after everything that had happened between them – the kisses, the confessions, the hand-feeding, her possessive declarations – filled the room with a palpable, almost crackling tension.
Mirajane, however, seemed completely at ease. She moved around his small kitchen area, tidying up the remnants of their earlier, chaotic breakfast, her movements graceful and efficient. She hummed a soft tune, her earlier anxieties about Faris seemingly packed away for the night, replaced by a quiet, almost domestic contentment.
"Well, Katsuki-kun," she said finally, turning to him, her smile soft and intimate in the dim light of the setting sun filtering through his window. "It has been… quite a day. For all of us." She looked at the sleeping Touka, then back at him, her sapphire eyes holding a warmth that made his stomach do that stupid, fluttery thing again. "You should get some rest. You've earned it. More than earned it."
Katsuki just nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence. He was so damn tired. And she was so damn… close.
He stumbled towards his bed, kicking off his boots, his mind a muddle of exhaustion, confusion, and a strange, unfamiliar anticipation. He collapsed onto the mattress, not even bothering to get under the covers, intending to just pass out.
He heard Mirajane chuckle softly behind him. "At least take off your jacket, you silly boy. You'll be too warm." He felt her gentle hands on his shoulders, helping him shrug out of his sturdy work jacket. Her touch was light, fleeting, but it sent a jolt through him, making his skin tingle.
He mumbled something incoherent, already drifting off. He was vaguely aware of her pulling the blanket over him, of her moving around the small room, her presence a quiet, comforting hum.
And then, he felt the dip in the mattress beside him.
His eyes snapped open, or tried to. He was on the very edge of sleep, his limbs heavy, his mind foggy. But he was definitely aware of a warmth, a soft feminine presence, settling in beside him.
Mirajane.
She had, with a quiet, almost breathtaking audacity, simply… climbed into bed with him. Again.
Katsuki's brain, already overloaded and shutting down, couldn't even muster a protest. He was too tired. Too confused. And if he was being brutally, terrifyingly honest with himself, a very large, very traitorous part of him… didn't want to protest.
He felt her arm snake around his waist, her body fitting snugly against his back. He felt her soft breath on his neck, her hair tickling his shoulder. She let out a soft, contented sigh, a sound that vibrated through him, surprisingly comforting.
"Just… resting my eyes for a moment, Katsuki-kun," she whispered, her voice a sleepy murmur against his skin. "It's been a long day for me too. And this bed… it's surprisingly comfortable, once one gets used to the… lingering scent of explosions."
Katsuki didn't move. He couldn't move. He just lay there, his heart hammering, his entire body flushing a furious, incandescent red in the darkness. Mirajane Strauss was in his bed. Cuddling him. Again. And this time, he was awake. Ish. Sort of.
He should say something. He should do something. Explode. Yell. Throw her out.
But all that came out was a strangled, almost pathetic, whimper.
Mirajane just giggled softly, a warm, sleepy sound. She snuggled closer, her embrace surprisingly strong, surprisingly comforting. "Shhh, Dynamight," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear, sending a jolt of pure, unadulterated electricity through him. "Just sleep. We can… discuss the terms of my official claiming of you in the morning."
Katsuki Bakugo, the Great Explosion Murder God, the victor of epic spars, the future Number One Hero (in this world or any other), just groaned, a sound of utter, profound surrender. He was blushing a storm. He was completely outmaneuvered. He was terrified.
And as he finally, inevitably, succumbed to the overwhelming tide of exhaustion, with Mirajane Strauss's warm, soft body pressed against his, her gentle breathing a lullaby in the quiet darkness of his small apartment, a single, terrifying, and undeniably, wonderfully exhilarating thought managed to pierce through the haze:
Fuck. I think I'm actually screwed now.
And for once, it wasn't the kind of screwed he could just blow his way out of. This was a whole different, infinitely more complicated, and terrifyingly… nice… kind of screwed.
———
Hours later, in the deepest, quietest part of the Magnolia night, Katsuki was lost in a profound, almost comatose slumber. The day's – or rather, the past several days' – relentless physical and emotional toll had finally caught up to him completely. He was a dead weight in his small bed, oblivious to the world, his breathing deep and even, Mirajane a warm, comforting presence nestled against his back.
Mirajane herself had also drifted off, lulled by Katsuki's steady warmth and the sheer exhaustion of her own long, eventful day. She lay curled against him, her earlier playful intentions and strategic musings momentarily forgotten in the simple, shared peace of unconsciousness. Her arm was still draped possessively around his waist, her face soft and serene in the faint moonlight that filtered through the window.
In her new, fluffy pink pet bed in the corner of the room, Touka the Exceed stirred.
She hadn't been sleeping as deeply as the two humans. Her small body was still thrumming with a mixture of fear, confusion, and a strange, new sense of fragile security. The revelations about Faris, the danger to Fairy Tail, her own unwitting role in it all… it was a lot for a young Exceed from another dimension to process. Katsuki's gruff, awkward protectiveness had been a surprising comfort, but the underlying terror of Faris's presence within her was a constant, gnawing ache.
She shifted restlessly in her little bed, her blue eyes blinking open in the dimness. The apartment was quiet, save for the soft, rhythmic breathing of Katsuki and Mirajane. Touka looked towards them, a small, lonely whimper escaping her. She felt… isolated. Scared. Even with Katsuki's promise of protection, the thought of Faris stirring within her, of being so close to these kind (if somewhat terrifying) people while harboring such a dangerous entity, filled her with a profound anxiety.
She missed Elentear. She missed the comforting hum of its overflowing magic. She even, in a strange, convoluted way, missed the Natsu-sama (or rather, Happy-sama) she thought she had known, the brave hero who had offered her a fish and a fleeting sense of safety.
Driven by a childlike need for comfort, for reassurance, for a warmth that wasn't just her own fear-induced trembling, Touka did what any small, frightened, and slightly magically-inclined cat would do.
She got out of her bed.
Her tiny paws made no sound on the wooden floor as she padded softly towards Katsuki's larger bed. She looked up, her head barely reaching the edge of the mattress. Katsuki and Mirajane were a tangle of limbs and blankets, their faces peaceful in sleep, remarkably close. They both radiated a comforting warmth, a sense of… safety, despite Katsuki's usual explosive nature.
With a tiny, determined leap, fueled by a desperate need not to be alone in the dark with her fears (and her internal parasite), Touka launched herself onto the bed. She landed with a soft, almost inaudible thump, right in the small space between Katsuki's back and Mirajane's front.
Neither of them stirred, lost in their own deep slumbers.
Touka hesitated for a moment, then, with a small, contented sigh that was almost a purr, she began to burrow. She nudged her way under the shared blanket, seeking out the combined warmth emanating from the two larger bodies. She found a surprisingly cozy little nook, a valley of safety nestled between the formidable, if currently unconscious, forms of Dynamight and the (former) She-Devil.
She curled up into a tight, fluffy white ball, her small body pressed against Katsuki's warm back, Mirajane's gentle breathing a soothing rhythm just inches from her nose. The scent of strawberries and ozone, surprisingly, wasn't unpleasant. It felt… protective.
And so, in the deep stillness of the Magnolia night, an unlikely trio shared a single, small bed. Katsuki Bakugo, the Great Explosion Murder God, blissfully unaware that his personal space had just been invaded by a second, much smaller, and significantly fluffier, individual. Mirajane Strauss, dreaming her own surprisingly tender, if slightly mischievous, dreams, equally oblivious to the new addition to their unconventional cuddle puddle. And Touka, the interdimensional Exceed with a parasitic world-ending entity in her head, finally, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, felt a tiny measure of peace, of safety, of belonging, snuggled securely between the two most powerful, most terrifying, and most unexpectedly comforting beings she had ever encountered.
The morning, when it eventually arrived, was now guaranteed to be at least three times as chaotic, confusing, and utterly, wonderfully, Fairy Tail.
———
In Katsuki's small apartment in Magnolia, an unlikely peace settled…
Katsuki Bakugo, Mirajane Strauss, and Touka slept. The Great Explosion Murder God, the (former) She-Devil, and the interdimensional Exceed, a strange, impromptu family huddled together for warmth and unconscious comfort in a single, small bed. The moonlight painted them in shades of silver and shadow, utterly oblivious to the monumental awkwardness, the profound emotional shifts, and the sheer, unadulterated chaos that their eventual awakening would undoubtedly unleash upon the unsuspecting city of Magnolia. For now, there was only the soft rhythm of their breathing, a quiet in the heart of a gathering storm.
Far, far away, on the perilous, dragon-haunted continent of Guiltina…
Izuku Midoriya, alongside his new comrades in Team Natsu, had faced down the colossal power of Aldoron, the Wood Dragon God. The victory had been hard-won, pushing each of them to their absolute limits and beyond. Izuku, despite his quirklessness, had been instrumental, his strategic mind and unwavering courage proving invaluable.
But the aftermath of the battle, in the strange, Ethernano-rich atmosphere of Aldoron's dissolving form, had brought an unexpected, almost miraculous, development. As Wendy was healing their grievous wounds, her Sky Dragon Slayer magic amplified by the potent ambient energy, Izuku had felt a strange, familiar stirring within him.
It was faint at first, a tiny, almost forgotten ember in the deepest core of his being. One For All. The Quirk that had defined him, that had been his strength, his burden, his legacy. He had believed it to be gone, extinguished in the final, cataclysmic battle that had saved his world. For two long years, he had felt its absence, a hollow ache where once there had been a universe of power.
But here, in this new world, saturated with a different kind of energy – Ethernano – that tiny, lingering ember, the last, most resilient vestiges of One For All's power that had somehow clung to his soul even through the dimensional transit, began to… react. It wasn't re-igniting as a Quirk; that connection was severed, that pathway forever closed. Instead, the Ethernano around him, drawn by Wendy's healing and the sheer, desperate will of Izuku's own spirit, began to interact with those residual embers, coaxing them, nurturing them, transforming them.
He felt a surge, not of raw physical power as before, but of… something else. Something that felt like the echo of One For All, but translated into a new language, the language of this world's magic.
His scarred right hand, the one that had thrown so many world-saving Smashes, began to glow, not with the familiar emerald lightning of his Quirk, but with a soft, pulsing, golden-green light, infused with the swirling patterns of Ethernano.
"W-what… what is this?" Izuku stammered, staring at his glowing hand, a mixture of disbelief, awe, and a terrifying, exhilarating hope dawning in his eyes.
Team Natsu gathered around him, equally stunned. Wendy, her healing efforts momentarily forgotten, looked at him with wide, wondering eyes. "Midoriya-san… your hand… it's… it's glowing with magical energy! I can feel it! It's… like your stories of One For All, but… different! It's… magic!"
And in that moment, Izuku Midoriya understood. The last, dying embers of One For All within him, the very essence of its accumulated power and the echoes of its previous users, had not been entirely extinguished. They had been transformed, reforged in the crucible of this new world's energy, birthing something new, something unique to him. He could feel it, a wellspring of power, familiar yet alien, thrumming within him, waiting to be unleashed.
His very own magic. A magic born from the fading legacy of heroes, now given new life. He would call it… "Smash."
It wouldn't be One For All as he had known it. He wouldn't have the stockpiled physical power, the raw, overwhelming force. But he could feel… echoes. Echoes of the Quirks that had resided within One For All. Fa Jin's kinetic energy build-up. Blackwhip's versatile, binding tendrils. Float's gravity defiance. Danger Sense's precognitive warnings. Smokescreen's obscuring clouds.
These weren't Quirks anymore. They were… spells. Magical manifestations, fueled by his own newfound Ethernano and shaped by the lingering imprint of One For All's legacy. He could feel them, waiting to be called upon, to be woven into his attacks, into his very movements.
Tears streamed down Izuku's face, tears of disbelief, of gratitude, of a profound, almost unbearable, hope. He was no longer quirkless. He was a mage. A mage with a unique, powerful, and deeply personal magic, born from the ashes of his past and the promise of this new, terrifying, and wondrous world.
He looked at his glowing hand, then at his new friends, his new family in Team Natsu, their faces alight with a mixture of awe and shared joy. He still didn't know how he would get home. He still didn't know what the future held. But now, he had power again. His power. His "Smash" magic.
And with it, Izuku Midoriya, the boy who had always wanted to be a hero, would continue to fight, to protect, to strive, to go Beyond… Plus Ultra, even here, in the magical, dragon-haunted lands of Guiltina. The 100-Year Quest had just gained an even more formidable, and entirely unexpected, new champion. And the world of Earth Land was about to witness the debut of a hero unlike any it had ever seen before.
———
The days that followed Izuku Midoriya's miraculous awakening of his "Smash" magic were a blur of cautious experimentation, intense training, and a dawning, exhilarating sense of renewed purpose. As Team Natsu continued their arduous journey across the treacherous landscapes of Guiltina, Izuku seized every spare moment, every lull in their travel, every campfire-lit evening, to explore the depths of his newfound abilities.
He quickly discovered that his initial instincts had been correct. While the core, power-stockpiling aspect of One For All was gone, its ability to be transferred to another host seemingly severed forever, the echoes of the other Quirks that had resided within it, the Quirks of the previous users, had indeed translated into a unique set of magical spells. They felt different, yes – fueled by his own Ethernano, shaped by his will and incantations rather than pure instinct – but their essence, their fundamental capabilities, remained.
And as he practiced, as he pushed himself, he found himself instinctively prefacing each new magical manifestation with the word that now defined his power: "Smash." It wasn't just a name; it was a declaration, an affirmation, a connection to the heroic legacy he still carried within him.
Smash: Float! With a surge of golden-green Ethernano around his feet, he could achieve a bounded, controlled levitation, not the effortless, high-speed flight of Nana Shimura perhaps, but enough to grant him enhanced mobility, to leap across chasms, to navigate treacherous terrain with a new, almost graceful agility. It was a far cry from Kacchan's explosive aerial acrobatics, but for Izuku, who had always been grounded, it felt like soaring.
Smash: Danger Sense! This translated into a potent precognitive magical awareness. A sharp, tingling sensation at the base of his skull, a thrum of Ethernano in the air around him, would warn him of impending threats, of hidden traps, of hostile intent. It wasn't as raw or overwhelming as the Quirk version had sometimes been, but it was more… refined, a subtle sixth sense that allowed him to anticipate and react with uncanny speed, much to the surprise (and occasional alarm) of his teammates when he'd suddenly call out a warning about a hidden monster or a crumbling cliff face.
Smash: Smokescreen! By manipulating his Ethernano and the ambient moisture in the air, Izuku found he could generate localized, dense clouds of obscuring mist and vapor. It wasn't En's vast, choking clouds, but it was incredibly effective for creating diversions, for breaking line of sight, for allowing Team Natsu to reposition or stage ambushes. He could even, with concentration, subtly alter the color and opacity of the smoke, using it for signaling or misdirection.
Smash: Blackwhip! This was perhaps the most visually striking of his new spells. Instead of the raw, almost uncontrollable black energy tendrils of Daigoro Banjo's Quirk, Izuku could now summon whips of pure, solidified golden-green Ethernano. They were incredibly versatile – he could use them for grappling, for ensnaring opponents, for creating makeshift bridges or anchors, for deflecting weaker attacks. They required immense concentration to control, but their utility in both combat and exploration was undeniable. Erza, in particular, watched his practice with Blackwhip with a keen, appraising eye, recognizing the potential for complex, coordinated maneuvers.
Smash: Fa Jin! The kinetic energy storage and release of the Third User's Quirk manifested as a fascinating magical ability. Izuku learned to channel his Ethernano into repetitive, almost kata-like physical movements, storing that magical energy within his own body. Then, with a focused cry of "Smash: Fa Jin Release!" he could unleash that stored energy in a burst of incredible, localized force, augmenting his physical strikes with explosive, Ethernano-fueled power. It wasn't the same as a full-power Detroit Smash, but it allowed him to hit with a surprising, almost concussive impact, enough to stagger even the heavily armored beasts they encountered in Guiltina.
Smash: Gearshift! This, perhaps the most complex of the vestiges, translated into a subtle but potent form of Ethernano manipulation affecting his own perception of speed and the speed of objects he directly infused with his magic. It wasn't true super-speed like Loke's Regulus, nor could he alter the velocity of his opponents directly. Instead, "Smash: Gearshift" allowed him to, for brief periods, enter a state of heightened magical focus where he could perceive attacks moving slower, allowing for incredible feats of dodging and reaction. He could also imbue a thrown rock or even one of his Blackwhip tendrils with a temporary burst of focused Ethernano that made it strike with significantly increased velocity and impact. It was a demanding spell, draining his reserves quickly, but its tactical applications were immense.
Team Natsu watched his rapid development with a mixture of awe, excitement, and in Natsu's case, a burning desire to spar with this "new and improved Greenie." They offered encouragement, advice (often of dubious quality, in Natsu's case), and readily participated in his training exercises, providing him with moving targets and (relatively) safe opponents to test his burgeoning abilities against.
Izuku Midoriya, the once quirkless boy who had dreamed of being a hero, then the Quirk-wielding Symbol of Hope in training, and then, once more, a quirkless young man struggling to find his place, was now… something new. A mage. A mage with a unique, powerful, and deeply personal magic, born from the ashes of his past and the vibrant, Ethernano-rich soil of this new world.
He still had much to learn, much to master. His magical reserves were not yet as deep as his seasoned teammates, and controlling these echoes of Quirks as focused spells required immense concentration and a different kind of mental discipline than he was used to. But with every successful "Smash: Float" that carried him over a chasm, with every "Smash: Danger Sense" that averted disaster, with every opponent ensnared by a golden-green "Smash: Blackwhip," his confidence grew.
The journey through Guiltina was still fraught with peril. The remaining Dragon Gods and the secrets of the 100-Year Quest loomed large. But Izuku Midoriya was no longer just a liability, a quirkless hanger-on. He was a contributing member of Team Natsu, a warrior with his own unique arsenal, ready to face whatever this strange, new world threw at him, armed with his courage, his intellect, and the indomitable, heroic echoes of One For All, now reborn as the magic of "Smash."
———
The week following the "Great Spar" and the subsequent "Touka-Faris Revelation" had been… surprisingly, almost unnervingly, calm for Katsuki Bakugo. He'd thrown himself into "guarding" Touka with his usual aggressive intensity, which mostly translated into him making her practice her Aqua Aera teleportation (with Juvia as a reluctant, but increasingly proficient, mobile water source) until she was dizzy, and then making her watch him do his own brutal training routines, all while keeping a wary eye out for any signs of Faris's malevolent influence.
He'd also, much to everyone's surprise (including his own), taken on a series of remarkably mundane, low-risk jobs around Magnolia. Repairing a collapsed wall for the Bakers' Guild (using precisely controlled demolition charges, of course). Clearing a field of stubborn, oversized boulders for a farmer (again, with strategically applied explosions). He even, in a moment of what he would later vehemently deny as boredom, helped deliver a rush order of particularly heavy flour sacks to a remote village when the usual cart had broken down (his "Explosive Speed" proving remarkably effective for express deliveries, if a bit terrifying for the flour). These tasks, while mind-numbingly dull compared to annihilating dark guilds or fighting S-Class mages, served a dual purpose: they kept him occupied, preventing him from going stir-crazy while waiting for his armor, and they slowly, steadily, refilled the coffers Mirajane was managing for him, offsetting the cost of Touka's fish and milk (and his own increasingly prodigious appetite).
He still had his… moments… with Mirajane. Awkward encounters at the bar, usually involving her teasing him with an infuriatingly sweet smile and him responding with a flustered scowl and a hasty retreat. The memory of their kisses, and his subsequent mortifying shyness, was a constant, simmering undercurrent. He hadn't initiated another "discussion" about it, and neither had she, but there was an unspoken, palpable something between them now, a charged awareness that made his stomach do stupid flips whenever she looked at him a certain way.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of boulder-blasting, flour-delivery, and Exceed-teleportation drills, the day arrived. Heart Kreuz sent word: The Armor of Dynamight, Project Codename: 'Volcanic Core Overlord' (a name Katsuki had secretly, grudgingly, approved of when the head tailor had suggested it), was ready for its initial fitting and preliminary stress test.
Katsuki arrived at the tailor shop with Touka perched on his shoulder (she now refused to go anywhere without him, much to his feigned annoyance and secret, grudging satisfaction) and Mirajane at his side (who had insisted on accompanying him, ostensibly to "oversee the final financial transactions and ensure the quality of the craftsmanship," but mostly, Katsuki suspected, because she wanted to see him try on his new super-suit).
The head tailor greeted them with a rare, almost predatory, smile. "Ah, Bakugo-san. Lady Mirajane. Touka-chan. Right on time. The… 'garment'… is prepared."
She led them not to the usual fitting rooms, but to a heavily reinforced, magically shielded chamber at the very back of the workshop, a room clearly designed for containing… significant energies. And there, displayed on a heavily armored mannequin, was his armor.
It was… magnificent.
Even Katsuki, who prided himself on his stoic refusal to be impressed by anything, felt a reluctant surge of awe.
It was a full-body suit, "dark, a deep, burnished obsidian that seemed to drink the light, with aggressive, angular plating reminiscent of his old hero costume but sleeker, more menacing. Accents of fiery, volcanic orange, the color of his Fairy Tail mark, traced along the pauldrons, gauntlets, and greaves, glowing with a faint, internal heat. It wasn't just clothing; it was a statement. A declaration of barely contained explosive power.
The head tailor gestured towards it with a flourish. "Behold. The culmination of Heart Kreuz's finest craftsmanship, ancient Elentearian material science – yes, Bakugo-san, your earlier mention of Elentear proved… fortuitously inspiring for certain reinforcement weaves – and thaumaturgical engineering pushed to its absolute limits. Codename: Volcanic Core Overlord."
She then began to describe its features, her voice filled with a craftsman's passionate pride, as Katsuki, with Mirajane's (entirely unnecessary, but not unwelcome) assistance, began the suit-up sequence.
"The base layer," she explained, as Katsuki donned a surprisingly lightweight, almost silk-like black undersuit, "is woven from Ashen Phoenix Down, enchanted for unparalleled thermal regulation and rapid cellular regeneration. It will protect you from the immediate blowback of your own heat, and significantly accelerate recovery from minor injuries."
Katsuki grunted his approval. Regenerative underwear. Nice.
Next came the main body armor – the chest plate, back plate, and limb guards. "These primary sections," the tailor continued, as the pieces seemed to almost magnetically attach themselves to the undersuit, fitting his frame with a perfect, custom-molded precision, "are forged from a Solarium Steel alloy, infused at a molecular level with powdered Magma Salamander scales. The internal matrix is then cross-woven with those Elentearian Spiria-conductive fibers we discussed – a fascinating addition, theoretically rendering it resistant not only to extreme kinetic and thermal forces, but also to certain Ethernano-nullifying effects and, perhaps, even those 'Spirit Arts' young Touka-chan spoke of."
Katsuki's eyes widened slightly. Spiria-conductive. Resistant to magic-nullification. This was even better than he'd hoped.
The gauntlets were next, sleek and deadly, extending into reinforced bracers that covered most of his forearms. "The gauntlets are specifically reinforced at the palms," the tailor noted, "with layered Solarium plating and a triple-core enchantment designed to channel and amplify your… explosive Quirk emissions, while simultaneously shielding your hands from the direct concussive force. Theoretically, this should allow for significantly more powerful and sustained blasts with reduced physical strain."
He flexed his hands, the gauntlets moving with a smooth, responsive articulation. He could already feel a subtle, pleasant thrum of contained power.
Finally, the helmet. It was an aggressive, angular piece, reminiscent of his old hero mask but more complete, offering full cranial protection, with a polarized, orange-tinted visor that glowed with a faint, internal light. "The helm incorporates a multi-spectrum optical array, communication lacrima compatibility, and a runescribed internal dampening field to protect against sensory overload from your own detonations," the tailor concluded, as the helmet sealed around his head with a soft, satisfying hiss.
The suit-up sequence was complete. Katsuki Bakugo stood there, no longer in borrowed work clothes or infirmary pajamas, but clad head-to-toe in the Volcanic Core Overlord armor. He felt… incredible. The suit was surprisingly lightweight, yet exuded an aura of absolute, uncompromising invulnerability. It moved with him like a second skin, enhancing his strength, channeling his power, making him feel like a living weapon, a true God of Explosions.
He looked at his reflection in a polished sheet of metal the tailor had thoughtfully provided. He looked… like Dynamight. But a new, upgraded, infinitely more dangerous Dynamight.
Mirajane, who had been watching the entire process with wide, appreciative eyes, let out a soft, breathy sigh. "Katsuki…" she whispered, her voice filled with awe. "You look… absolutely… breathtaking." (And she didn't just mean the armor.)
Touka, perched on a nearby stool, just stared, her little blue eyes like saucers. "B-Bakugo-sama…" she stammered. "You… you look like a real… like a real hero from the legends of Elentear…"
Katsuki just grinned, a wide, savage, and utterly, terrifyingly joyful grin. He clenched his gauntleted fists, feeling the familiar, potent energy of his Quirk and his 'Explode' magic surging within him, now amplified, contained, and perfectly channeled by this masterpiece of arcane engineering.
"Alright, you damn armor," he growled, his voice slightly distorted, more menacing, through the helmet's vocoder. "Let's see what you can really do."
The preliminary stress test was about to begin. And Heart Kreuz's reinforced, magically shielded chamber was about to experience the true meaning of 'Plus Ultra,' Dynamight-style.
———
Katsuki, still reveling in the sheer, intoxicating power of his new Volcanic Core Overlord armor, heard Touka's awestruck, slightly trembling whisper: "B-Bakugo-sama… You… you look like a real… like a real hero from the legends of Elentear…"
He turned his helmeted head towards the small white Exceed, the orange visor glowing with a faint, internal light. The "-sama" honorific, while technically respectful, still felt… off. Too formal. Too distant, especially coming from this furball he was now unofficially (and very reluctantly, he kept telling himself) fond of. And "Bakugo-sama" just reminded him of all the annoying extras who usually used it right before he blasted them.
But… he also remembered another name. A name from his past. A name only one person had ever truly used for him, a name that carried a complex, infuriating, and undeniable weight of shared history. A name that, in this strange new world, perhaps deserved a new, slightly less baggage-laden context.
A mischievous, almost uncharacteristically playful, glint sparked behind his orange visor.
"Oi, Touka," he rumbled, his voice through the helmet's vocoder deeper, more resonant. "Don't call me that… 'Bakugo-sama' makes me sound like some stiff-assed old fossil." He paused, then, with a smirk that was pure, unadulterated Bakugo, he added, "If you gotta stick a damn 'sama' on the end, you can… uh… Call me 'Kacchan-sama' instead!"
Touka blinked her large blue eyes, tilting her fluffy head. "Kacchan…sama?" she repeated, the unfamiliar syllables tasting strange on her tongue. She didn't understand the history, the rivalry, the sheer, explosive weight that name carried from another world. To her, it just sounded… a little friendlier, a little more familiar, than the formal 'Bakugo-sama.' A name her unlikely, terrifying, and surprisingly kind protector seemed to… prefer?
"K-Kacchan-sama!" she tried again, a small, hesitant smile forming on her face. It sounded… right.
Katsuki just grunted, a sound of gruff satisfaction. 'Kacchan-sama.' It was still ridiculous, but it was his kind of ridiculous. And hearing it from the furball… it wasn't entirely terrible. It was a small, internal nod to his past, twisted into something new in this present.
Mirajane, watching this exchange with a soft, knowing smile, felt her heart melt just a little bit more. Katsuki, willingly offering a nickname, even a complicated one like 'Kacchan'… he was changing. Slowly. Explosively. But undeniably.
"Alright then, 'Kacchan-sama'," the head tailor interjected, her voice bringing them back to the matter at hand, though her lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "Are you ready to begin the preliminary stress test? We have a series of arcane disruptors, kinetic impactors, and thermal projectors calibrated to… well, to attempt to scratch your new paint job."
Katsuki's grin widened, his earlier playfulness replaced by a surge of fierce, joyous anticipation. "Scratch it? Lady, I'm about to show this five-million-Jewel masterpiece what a real explosion feels like from the inside!"
And the testing commenced.
It was, in a word, glorious. Katsuki unleashed his power with a ferocity he hadn't dared to use since the Oppenheimer Smash, but this time, there was no catastrophic recoil, no shredded clothes, no near-death experience. The Volcanic Core Overlord armor absorbed, channeled, and amplified his Quirk and his 'Explode' magic with breathtaking efficiency.
He fired off full-power Howitzer Impacts within the confines of the shielded chamber, the concussive force contained and redirected by the armor's enchantments, leaving him perfectly stable, his internal systems humming with barely contained energy. He unleashed sustained blasts of his Incinerate magic, the azure flames roaring with an intensity that would have previously melted his own gauntlets, but now, the armor merely glowed with a faint, internal orange heat, dissipating the excess thermal energy harmlessly.
He tested his Cluster Style kicks, each impact against the magically reinforced test dummies augmented by the armor's kinetic enhancers, sending shockwaves through the chamber. He even, with a wild, experimental yell, attempted a contained, one-handed Point-Blank Kamikaze Impact against a specially designed adamantine target. The target buckled. The armor held. He held.
The head tailor and her assistants watched, their initial professional calm slowly morphing into wide-eyed, incredulous awe. They had designed the armor to be durable, to withstand extreme forces. They had not, perhaps, fully anticipated the sheer, relentless, almost joyful savagery with which Katsuki Bakugo would push it to its absolute limits, and then try to push it further.
Mirajane and Touka (who was watching from a safe, magically shielded observation booth Mirajane had insisted upon) just stared, mesmerized. He was a whirlwind of orange and black and azure, a living embodiment of controlled, catastrophic power. He wasn't just testing the armor; he was reveling in it, a symphony of explosions conducted by a master of destruction who had finally found an instrument worthy of his terrifying talent.
When it was finally over, Katsuki stood in the center of the smoking, dented, and thoroughly abused testing chamber, his breath coming in heavy but even gasps, his armor unscratched, gleaming with a faint, residual heat. He felt… incredible. More powerful, more in control, more… Dynamight than he had ever felt before.
"Well, fabric-witch?" he rumbled through his helmet, his voice vibrating with exhilaration. "How'd your precious creation hold up against a real workout?"
The head tailor slowly, almost reverently, approached. She ran a gloved hand over one of his pauldrons, her expression one of profound, almost religious, awe. "Bakugo-san… Kacchan-sama…" she corrected herself, a rare, genuine smile spreading across her face. "This… this is not merely armor. This is a masterpiece. It has not only met, but exceeded, every design parameter. It is… perfect."
Katsuki let out a roar of pure, unadulterated triumph. The five million Jewels. The endless monster hunts. The infuriating delays. The cake incidents. The damn burrito. It had all been worth it.
He had his armor. He was, finally, truly, ready to unleash his full power upon this new world. And he was, without a single doubt, absolutely, positively, LOVING it. Fairy Tail, Fiore, and any unfortunate villain who happened to cross his path, had better brace themselves. The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, now clad in his Volcanic Core Overlord armor, was officially open for business. And business was about to boom.