"Look at the size of that thing!" "It's going to crush the station!" "It's a villain, run!"
The world was noise and panic. Izuku Midoriya was planted in the middle of the sidewalk, deaf to the sirens and screams. An office worker shoved him as he passed.
"Move it, kid! You wanna die?"
Izuku didn't even flinch. His gaze was fixed on the sky, beyond the monster tearing apart the elevated train tracks. Because something far more important was descending from the heavens.
"What is that?" "It's a hero! A new one!"
A kick. That was the first thing he registered. A beige, high-heeled boot connected with the villain's jaw with a crack that silenced the crowd for a split second. The camera in his mind zoomed out, devouring the image. The boot, the purple-wrapped calf, the knee, and then… the thigh. A universe of power and promise in a single limb.
"Good heavens…" a man next to him whispered. "What a woman!" another panted.
The motion of her hip as she executed the kick was what broke something inside Izuku. It wasn't just strength; it was perfect fluidity, a lethal grace. The heroine landed, and the asphalt groaned under her weight. She stood tall, haughty, colossal—a goddess of flesh, bone, and spandex.
"My debut day, and I'm already taking out the trash!" her voice was a melodic thunder. "A little wink for my new fans!"
She blew that wink, and the flash of a dozen cameras immortalized the moment. Izuku felt the air leave his lungs. His hand clenched into a fist.
Holy shit, he thought, and it was the most honest prayer he had ever uttered in his life. I. Need. That. In. My. Life.
Purpose hit him like a freight train. It wasn't some vague dream of "saving people." It was a tangible, monumental goal, with curves that defied physics.
"It's All Might! All Might is here!" The crowd's focus shifted, ready to place its worship upon a new target.
But his god had already been revealed. As Mt. Lady began to shrink, her job done, he turned away. He didn't look at the Symbol of Peace. He didn't care.
"Hey, watch it, you psycho!" someone yelled as he pushed his way through.
He ran. He ran with the fury of a convert, the image of a divine hip seared into his retinas. He had a plan. He had a mission. And the first step was to get home.
"Mom!"
Izuku burst into the apartment, slamming the door against its stop. Silence and the smell of stale air greeted him. The only light was the blue flicker of the television.
"Turn it off."
His voice cut through the gloom. On the couch, a figure stirred under a blanket.
"Izuku! You scared me, are you okay?" "I'm perfect. Turn off the TV."
The click of the set turning off was deafening. The room was plunged into near darkness.
"Why are the curtains drawn? It's the middle of the afternoon. How long have you been sitting here?" "I was just resting my eyes, sweetie…" Inko's voice was a fragile murmur. "No. You weren't resting. You were disappearing." Izuku walked toward her, his shadow blanketing her. "It's over." "What's over, Izuku? I don't understand." "This," he said, gesturing broadly at the room. "The darkness. The silence. The blanket in the middle of summer. All of it. I'm getting into U.A."
Inko's laugh was a broken, joyless sound.
"What? Oh, honey, I know it's your dream, but we've talked about this. Your quirk…" "To hell with my quirk!" he snapped, the harshness of his own voice surprising him. He knelt, searching for her hands under the blanket. "My quirk doesn't matter. My body will matter. My will is what will matter. I'm going to be a hero." "You can't… the other kids… they have incredible powers…" "And I'll have you!" he interrupted. "You're going to help me." "Me?" Inko finally pulled her hands out. They were cold. "How can I help you? I can barely help myself." "Exactly!" Izuku exclaimed, as if she had just grasped a complex equation. "That's the point! Look at you, Mom! Ever since Dad… ever since he left, you've been sinking into this couch." "That's not true! I work, I clean…!" "The house is spotless because that's all you do!" his voice rose, not with anger, but with desperate frustration. "You don't live, you survive! When was the last time you went out with your friends? Or bought yourself a new dress? Or laughed out loud?"
The tears welling in Inko's eyes were the only answer he needed.
"That ends. Today," Izuku continued, his tone now lower, more intense. "Tomorrow. Six in the morning. You and me. At the park. We're going to run."
Inko shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I can't. Izuku, I can't even run for the bus. I'm fat, I'm tired… I'm old." "You're not old, you're stuck," he shot back. "And you're not going to run, you're going to try. And you're going to fail. And you're going to get up and try again. And I'll be right there, screaming at you to do it." "Why? Why are you being so cruel all of a sudden?" "Cruel?" Izuku's voice cracked for an instant. "Is it cruel to want my mother back? The one who took me to the park to see the heroes? The one who told me I could be anything? That woman wouldn't give up on a sofa!"
He stared at her, his green eyes, so much like her own, burning with a frightening conviction.
"This is the deal, Mom. It's a contract. I help you get your life back, pull you out of this hole. I get you in shape, I give you back your energy, I force you to live again. In return, you give me a reason. Every time I see you run one more meter, every time you lift something you couldn't before, I'll know that I can do the impossible. Your progress will be my fuel." "That's… that's insane, Izuku. You're putting a terrible amount of pressure on me." "Yes! I am! Because you need it! We need it!" He squeezed her hands. "We're going to get strong, Mom. Both of us. Together. We're going to destroy our weaknesses. Do you accept?"
Inko looked at him. At her son. At this feverish, determined stranger who had replaced her timid little boy. She saw the plan in his eyes—a selfish, desperate plan, but one that, for the first time in years, included her not as a burden, but as a key component. She felt a pang of something she had long forgotten: possibility.
"What if I throw up?" she whispered, a last, pathetic line of defense.
Izuku smiled, a sharp, hungry grin.
"Then you'll throw up. And then we'll keep running. Do we have a deal?"
Slowly, with the weight of a decade of inertia on her shoulders, Inko Midoriya nodded.
"We have a deal." "Good." He jumped to his feet. "Now, to the kitchen. We're declaring war on the ice cream and cookies. The campaign starts now."
Month One: The Park of Suffering
"I… can't breathe… Izuku… stop, please…" "'Please' doesn't burn calories, Mom! Keep going!" "I'm gonna—!"
The sound of her retching was violent. Inko leaned against a tree, her body wracked with spasms. Izuku stopped, jogging in place, not moving closer.
"Done? Are you finished complaining?" "I hate you…" she gasped, wiping her mouth. "I hate you with every fiber of my being." "Use that hate! Picture my face at the finish line! Come on, another lap! Weakness isn't going to walk away on its own!"
Month Six: The Scrapheap Beach
"Grunt louder! The refrigerator isn't scared of your squeaking!"
Izuku's face was beet-red, the muscles of his back defining themselves under his sweaty shirt as he pushed the rusted behemoth. A few feet away, Inko dropped the truck tire she'd been dragging with a heavy thud.
"You know," she said, her breath heavy but controlled, "I think my arms are looking better than yours. More defined."
Izuku stopped, letting go of the fridge.
"What did you say?" "You heard me," she smirked, flexing a bicep. "I've been putting in the work. While you're playing with appliances, I'm sculpting." "That's a tire! I'm moving an entire ecosystem of rust and ten-year-old rotten food!" "Excuses, excuses," she teased. "Admit it, I'm catching up to you." "When you can move this monster, we'll talk! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with tetanus!" And he went back to pushing, with a grunt that now sounded genuinely offended.
As he pushed, Inko watched him and smiled. She could make fun of her son in the middle of a dump and feel incredibly alive. For his part, the image burning in Izuku's brain with every inch he gained on the refrigerator was that of a giant heroine winking at him. Wider shoulders, stronger back, he repeated to himself. I need a solid foundation… for a solid future.
Month Ten: The Home Gym
"Are you sure this bar isn't going to bend? I feel bad for it."
Inko was sitting on Izuku's back as he did push-ups. She casually flipped through a magazine.
"The bar… is fine…" he gasped, straining to push up. "It's you… who weighs… less." "Liar. It's because you've gotten absurdly strong. Though, I think we should work more on your obliques. In this picture, Mirko's costume really accentuates them and it looks spectacular." "Noted… work… obliques…" "And about your primary motivation…" she continued, lowering her voice slightly. "I did some research. Mt. Lady. She's 2066 centimeters in her giant form. That's a lot of woman, Izuku. You're going to need a lot of stamina."
Izuku missed a rep, his chin nearly hitting the floor.
"Mom!" "What? I'm your support trainer. And your romance strategist. It's a full-service package." She patted his back. "Now come on, ten more. Think about… structural integrity."
He let out a groan that was half exertion, half pure embarrassment, and continued. They had found their rhythm: a strange symbiosis of physical training and sarcasm-based family therapy.
Exam Day
"Don't trip on your way in. It would be a bad first impression."
Inko's voice was calm, with a hint of amusement. They were standing in front of the gates of U.A.
"Only if you promise not to buy a tub of ice cream to celebrate getting rid of me for a few hours," Izuku retorted, adjusting his backpack. "Deal." She gave him a quick, firm hug. "Now go. Kick some ass. Metaphorically, of course. You don't have permission to kick actual ass yet."
He smiled.
"I'll try."
He turned and disappeared into the stream of applicants. The air vibrated with nervous energy and youthful arrogance. His eyes scanned the competition: a guy with glasses and engines in his legs, weird; a pink girl with antennae, weirder; Bakugo… idiot. He looked away from the ash-blond. Today was not the day for old rivalries.
Okay, Izuku. Game plan, he told himself. Written exam, piece of cake. Practical exam… improvise. Find a loophole. Exploit it. I can't destroy anything. But what else is there? Help? Rescue? There have to be points for more than just simple violence…
His line of thought was cut short.
A girl with brown hair. A stumble. A choked little yelp. Time froze.
She's going to fall.
But she didn't. She floated, a breath away from the pavement.
Quirk. Anti-gravity. Interesting.
She stabilized herself, touched her fingers together, and landed. A violent blush covered her cheeks.
Instinctive reaction. Good reflexes. Sharp.
The girl just stood there, mortified. Izuku watched her. And his brain, now wired with a very particular logic, made a final connection. His gaze slid from her embarrassed face to the front of her uniform.
Wow. Breasts. Big.
And then, the logical conclusion, the universal law that had become the pillar of his new philosophy on life:
Big heart.
The equation was perfect. Undeniable. A+B=C. Big Breasts + Heroic Instincts = Good Person. A law of life. Pure logic. She's definitely one of the good ones.
The decision made itself. In a hostile environment, an ally is a valuable resource. And an ally who, according to his flawless logic, was intrinsically good, was a treasure. He shook off the intensity, trading it for a slightly goofy but genuine smile, and closed the distance between them.
"Hey!" his voice sounded more confident than he felt. "That was awesome! Almost took a spill there, huh?"