Melissa Shield wanted to be someone's hero.
She learned what heroism truly meant by watching the unwavering trust between the world's mightiest man and its greatest mind. From them, she understood that the front line wasn't found only in battle, but in every reinforced seam, every humming circuit.
Quirkless. Yes. Melissa had long since made her peace with that.
What she could never accept was standing still.
Her childhood diagnosis, she decided, wasn't a verdict, but a blueprint. One that demanded different tools: resilience, precision, patience, and hands perpetually stained with grease.
And then there was everything else.
One for All. All for One. A war stretching across centuries. The fatal injury of the strongest man in the world. The man she called Uncle.
The ride to Might Tower had been suffocating. Emotions piled atop one another in the backseat until they blurred together, but one rose above the rest.
Grief.
Seeing him, reduced to a half-skeleton, a jagged, stitched hollow where his stomach had once been was devastating.
This was the man who had lifted her onto his shoulders as a child, whose booming laugh had filled her father's lab like sunlight through steel.
This was the price of heroism.
That night, after watching the green-haired boy faint during his results, Melissa lay awake in the large bed of her Tower suite.
She wondered about the Quirks that could dominate other Quirks.
About the strange, troubled expressions her father had worn.
About the green-haired successor of the Symbol of Peace.
And about one small, persistent curiosity she couldn't silence—
Why her uncle had never asked her.
The next day, as the green-haired boy zipped across the gymnasium floor, her father analyzed the Quirk through a tablet linked to the Analysis Matrix. Melissa moved to where her uncle sat at the sidelines.
He looked fragile in oversized clothes. A stark contrast to the boy who now overflowed with the very power that was leaving her uncle behind.
"Uncle Might?" Her voice was steady, though it carried the weight of a sleepless night.
He blinked, sunken eyes softening as he looked up. "Ah, little Melissa? Is something wrong?"
She paused, her throat tightening for a fleeting second before forcing the words out.
"Why… why did you never ask me if I wanted to carry the Quirk?" Her gaze didn't waver.
He froze, eyes widening.
The silence that followed was broken only by the distant sounds of Izuku Midoriya tearing through the obstacle course.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
Melissa shifted her weight, uncertainty creeping in. She had asked the question. But should she have?
It wasn't as if she wanted to be a hero. Not really. She had dreamed of it as a child, like everyone did, but she had never truly pursued it.
Even so—
Uncle Might let out a heavy sigh, his gaze dropping to his large, calloused hands. Hands that held the world together.
"Sit," he said quietly, patting the bench beside him.
He waited until she did.
For a long moment, he said nothing. His shoulders rose and fell once, slow and heavy, as if even breathing required permission.
"It seems I must answer my follies more often these days," he said at last. "But not in this matter. Because I did ask you, little Melissa."
He met her eyes.
"Do you wanted to be a hero?"
The words landed softly, but they struck all the same.
Melissa stilled.
Yes. He had asked. Not about the Quirk, but about her wish.
"You are brilliant. Kind. Stubborn. So much like your father." A faint, tired smile touched his lips. "And just as determined to follow in his footsteps."
His hand curled against his knee.
"One for All isn't simply a gift," he continued. "It's a burden that grows heavier the longer it's carried. And when you were choosing your path after your diagnosis… All for One was still alive."
His gaze flicked, just once, to the stitched hollow beneath his shirt.
"And I couldn't ask that of you."
Silence settled between them, heavy with everything left unsaid.
A large hand rested atop her head, the sensation bittersweet. For the first time, she could feel bone beneath his fingers.
"That's enough. Take a break, zygote."
The quiet shattered at Gran Torino's shout from the far side of the gym, where he sat beside Midoriya Inko, who had just finished her own workout.
Her father hadn't looked up once. His attention remained locked on the tablet, fingers squirming—a familiar tic of subconsciously using his Quirk, whenever his mind ran through calculations.
The mental frequency they are calling Ultima resisted analysis.
The graph was patchy, unstable. The frequency registered below infralow levels, rendering sustained readings impossible. Yet at irregular intervals, the matrix briefly interpreted it as ultrasonic.
Across the room, Izuku Midoriya, her uncle's successor, collapsed into a corner, already rifling through scattered sheets of paper and pencil. Notes, most likely. From Uncle Toshi's words, the boy was quite the analyst.
Even with the matrix struggling to frame the Quirk, the reconstructed data revealed something telling.
An upward-curving growth trend, no plateau in sight—evolution without a visible ceiling.
Layered atop it were multiple concurrent mental wave substreams, overlapping rather than interfering.
Melissa froze.
Hadn't...Uncle Might possess heightened senses?
So… did the boy?
Heat crept up her ears, embarrassment flaring. Had he heard her? Her question, like a jealous child grasping at something she'd never wanted?
After a moment's hesitation, she straightened.
Then she stood, and walked toward him.
PSSS—H!
The gym doors slid open as the Tower's chief of staff entered, hazel eyes sweeping the room before settling on Midoriya Inko, then snapping to Uncle Toshi as she made a beeline toward him.
Ayumi Amatsuki.
One of Melissa's two role models.
The other, of course, was big sis Cathleen.
As Midoriya Inko joined them, Melissa couldn't help but feel faintly rueful. Miss Ayumi remained the only one outside the truth of One for All.
But now, Melissa could guess the initial reason the chief of staff had been kept out of the fold.
He probably wanted a relationship that wasn't built on the weight of that quirk.
Well, there was herself and her father.
But...
She glanced at the three adults, a faint, knowing smile tugging at her lips, then turned back.
"What are you doing?" Melissa crouched beside him.
He jolted despite his enhanced senses, eyes wide. "Y—yes?"
She crouched beside him.
"Are those notes about Ultima? We have Quirk analysis courses at I-Institute. Mind if I take a look?"
Izuku rubbed the back of his head as he handed them over, already spiraling into muttering. "I—it's not about that. It's about a… fascinating Quirk. A friend's. W—we're friends. She did congratulated me on my results, and she's moving to Mustafu, so we planned to meet…"
Melissa looked down at the pages.
--
Zero Gravity Conceptual Mechanical Models and how it didn't, or did broke the physical law of reality.
Model One — Curvature Bending:
Warps local spacetime to divert gravity around an object, like water flowing around a stone. Gravity is reoriented from downward to parallel, allowing flotation while remaining bound to Earth's motion. Conflicting inertial frames induce nausea and vertigo.
Model Two — Gravitational Wavelength Retuning:
Severs an object's link to Earth's gravity and retunes it to the user's emitted wavelength, anchoring it to a personal field that moves with the planet. The strain disrupts inner equilibrium, causing nausea.
Model Three — Graviton Transfer / Storage:
Extracts and internalizes an object's gravitational linkage, rendering it weightless while inertia remains passively anchored. Graviton overload induces metabolic strain and nausea.
--
"A Quirk that mimics zero gravity," she breathed. "Fascinating."
He nodded eagerly. "Isn't it?"
She studied the notes again. "What about a bio-electromagnetic field that scrambles an object's coupling to Earth's EM field?"
"That's a great theory!" he said, brightening. "Though even lifting something 2-3 meters would require overcoming a massive, persistent pull."
They drifted easily into discussion—lost in the shared joy of analysis.
Some time later, their conversation was cut short as Ayumi Amatsuki approached.
"Midoriya-kun," Ayumi said evenly. "Have you contacted Mister Ingenium yet?"
Izuku stiffened and shook his head. "N–no. He did offered help–as an apology, and for his Quirk's analysis. I just haven't…"
His voice trailed off, fingers tightening around his notes.
Melissa glanced between them. "Help with what?"
Ayumii answered calmly that, Gran Torino had already insisted Izuku needed a new instructor to fully maximize the floating abilities.
At his name, Gran Torino grunted from the far side—acknowledging without comment.
"Mister Ingenium has the credentials, the temperament,"she continued, adjusting her clipboard, "and most importantly, the connections."
"This avoids relying on All Might's direct involvement, and limits any traceable connection between you."
Izuku let out a long sigh, lifting the tablet marked with the Might Tower insignia.
"I didn't even finish answering Principal Nezu's questions," he muttered.
Melissa leaned in, catching the split-screen displays. Academic articles, research papers, books. All centered on human and animal consciousness.
Ayumi spoke before Izuku could elaborate. "The principal has already informed you that, given your scores, you qualify for the Support Department's Analysis Course—even without his intervention."
Izuku shifted. "Well—"
"Let me see Ingenium's analysis," Melissa said smoothly.
He hesitated, then handed her a worn notebook.
Hero Analysis for the Future — Vol. 13
She flipped through it. Her eyes widened, just a fraction.
The notes were precise. Mechanical breakdowns. Predictive movement models. And new application.
"These are nearly professional-grade," she said. "Why don't you accept compensation for this?"
Izuku opened his mouth, but she continued.
"Do you think Quirk analysis isn't a work worth paying for?"
She crossed her arms, gaze unyielding.
Izuku squirmed.
"…Okay," Izuku said at last. "I'll contact Tensei-san."
Melissa nodded, satisfied.
"Later," Ayumi cut in. "Freshen up first, Midoriya-kun."
Izuku blinked. "What—"
"I AM HERE!"
The doors burst open as All Might strode in at full muscle, arms thrown wide. "With a celebration for Young Midoriya's 1st ranking!"
Tower staff followed, carrying jubako sushi, grilled fish, and carefully arranged dishes.
Izuku stared. "W–what is all this? We already had katsudon celebration last night, didn't we, Mom?"
Inko smiled apologetically. "All-Might-san insisted."
"One celebration is never enough for a rising hero!" All Might laughed, clapping Izuku on the shoulder.
After Izuku freshened up, the party began in earnest.
There were only seven of them—Melissa, her father, her uncle, the Midoriyas, Gran Torino, and Miss Amatsuki—but it was warm, lively, real.
As the evening wound down, Melissa surveyed the room. Staff clearing plates, her father deep in discussion with sam on the phone, her uncle laughing too loudly, Izuku smiling like he couldn't believe any of this was real.
She took a steady breath.
The thought had been forming ever since she learned Uncle Might had chosen a successor.
She stepped forward.
"I'll be your support tech."
Izuku blinked. "Ah—Melissa-san?"
She met his eyes, voice firm, unwavering.
"I'll build your hero suit."
***
Womp! Splosh!
Seawater surged upward, bursting from the shoreline in a wavering ribbon that stretched toward the equally floating beach ball.
"Wow!" Uraraka-san gasped, lifting her hand from the water's edge.
"So it does spread through water," Izuku murmured, eyes locked on the suspended stream as it twisted unnaturally in midair.
The water didn't fall.
His gaze flicked to the pile of ribbon-tied test objects on the sand. "Zero Gravity already shows conductivity," he continued, thinking aloud. "But if a mass this large, the seawater, can propagate the effect, then…"
He trailed off.
"What is it? What is it?" a loud voice echoed inside his head.
"Shut up," a second voice—feminine—snapped. "I'm trying to watch my teen drama."
Izuku tried to ignore both Banjo and Nana.
Predictably, he couldn't.
"It means," he said slowly, "the effect might also conduct through air."
"Through… air?" Uraraka echoed.
Izuku winced.
He talked to the vestiges outloud. Again.
"Ah—y-yes. Sorry. Thinking." He nodded toward the floating water. "If Zero Gravity spreads through connected matter, it shouldn't stop at liquids. Air's thinner, but it's still matter, molecules constantly colliding."
Uraraka blinked, fingers pressing together. "So… you're saying… it could affect things from a distance?"
He nodded. "In principle."
Splash!
The seawater and beach ball dropped back into the sea at once.
She laughed, breathless. "That's amazing! Yesterday I didn't even know I could spread it in a line—and now this?" She turned to him, eyes shining. "You're really amazing, Midoriya-kun."
Izuku flushed. "Nezu-san did say most Quirk doctors focus on classification, not mechanics. I—I just analyze what's already there. And Zero Gravity…" He hesitated. "It leans toward graviton manipulation or generation, but it isn't fully conclusive."
Uraraka crossed her arms, considered that for half a second, then grinned.
"Okay," she said suddenly. "Now show me yours."
Izuku froze. "H-huh?"
"Your floating ability," she clarified, pointing at him. "The one that suddenly appeared. You keep explaining mine. So it's only fair, right?"
"Well… I just recently received my quir—"
He stopped himself mid-word, teeth clicking shut.
Uraraka tilted her head. "Recently?" she echoed gently. "How recently?"
Huuh. Huuh.
Izuku's breathing grew heavy. The beach blurred at the edges as memories echoed —
"Midoriya doesn't have a quirk?"
"It's called Quirkless."
"Eh—seriously?"
"So lame."
The voices stacked, overlapping. Sharp as glass.
Then other voices spoke chasing away the jagged memories—
"Breathe." Low and familiar.
"Izuku." Warm and comforting.
"Nine." Firm but gentle.
"Steady." Calm as still water.
"Kid." Gruff but grounding.
A soothing presence wrapped around him. The same sensation he'd felt in the infirmary that day.
Then, unexpectedly, flashes of azure and crimson joined the chorus beside the warmth of the golden flame.
"She seems like a good girl," Nana's voice surfaced gently. "I don't think she would mind. Even if you were to became Quirkless again."
A ripple of agreement followed. Soft affirmations, a few approving grunts.
Hooh!
Izuku exhaled.
"I—" He tried again, steadier this time. "I… didn't always have it."
He swallowed. "It manifested a few months ago," he added carefully. "And it's… unstable. I'm still figuring out how it works."
"Wow," she said softly. "That's… really recent. And unusual—"
Izuku braced himself.
"And very, very incredible."
"Huh?"
She stepped closer, one hand waving in excitement. "With so little time, you still ranked 1st," she said brightly. "And you're already looking for a dojo to train in—inviting me like it's the most natural thing in the world."
She turned slightly away, her voice dropping too low for anyone else to hear, anyone without enhanced hearing, that was.
"It makes me feel… slothful in comparison," she whispered. "Like I'm not doing enough. Like I'm… inadequate."
Her fingers twisted into the hem of her T-shirt. "Even with the travel costs, I should go. It's not charity... we're friends. And… it is hero training, after all."
Izuku coughed once, narrowly stopping himself from blurting out the name of Tensei-san's colleague—the agency already lined up, the other student who would be joining them.
Knowing he'd overheard her would only embarrass her more.
So—
"A-about my floating ability," he said quickly, forcing a small smile. "Let me show you."
Izuku drew a steady breath. Energy streamed inward, converging in his stomach. Forming a dense, weightless pit.
He exhaled.
Woong—sprrrk!
Green and pink sparks flared at once as the pit expanded, lifting him from the sand.
A two-meter-wide ring of force formed around his body, rotating. Dragging sand and seawater into its wake.
He rose to Uraraka-san's eye level, green and pink light pulsing over the form below.
"It's different from yours," he said. "It's counter-pressure, pushing against Earth's pull instead of slipping free."
"It's… warm," she said, reaching toward the crackling arcs. "And the air's vibrating."
Izuku grinned. "It can even—"
He focused, recalling Ayumi-san's analysis.
"—do this."
The ring dispersed, expanding outward into a three-meter-wide disc of force, streaked with intermingling sparks.
"Beautiful," Uraraka-san said, eyes wide. "It looks like a cosmic rose."
"A… cosmic rose?" Izuku echoed.
She nodded quickly. "Y–yeah! The green sparks, the water and sand floating together. It looks like the Rosette Nebula. People call it the Cosmic Rose."
"Hm. Hm," Nana hummed approvingly. "I approve."
Izuku blinked. "A-approve?"
"Of course," Nana said cheerfully. "The name of my Quirk's new manifestation—Nebula. And naturally, Ochako Uraraka as your dating partner."
Izuku crashed, face-first into the sand.
Thud!
***
"Cute."
Ochako thought it involuntarily, listening to the unexpectedly chirpy voice of the massive, masked pro hero standing before them—Gunhead.
"Welcome to the Gunhead Dojo," he said cheerfully. "And before you ask. No, there aren't any guns in my head. It's an inherited name. Same as the dojo."
He scratched the top of his helmet.
"I didn't expect trainees this time of year, not with the Sports Festival still coming up. But as Tensei-kun explained, your enrollment at U.A. is already confirmed. Hero Course students and all, so there's no issue."
Tensei-kun.
The pro hero Ingenium, who'd personally driven them here with his younger brother—Tenya Iida. A future schoolmate.
Ochako glanced to her left at the bespectacled boy. He stood ramrod-straight, intensity practically vibrating off him. And oddly… he kept casting Midoriya-kun a strange, focused look.
What was that about? Is he into—?
At the station, Iida had bowed at a perfect ninety degrees and loudly praised Midoriya-kun's "shining excellence."
After that, he'd said absolutely nothing for the entire car ride.
Honestly, she couldn't disagree. Midoriya-kun was incredible.
He'd only recently gained his Quirk, yet still ranked first overall. Even without the rescue points she'd wanted to share. An idea Recovery Girl had shut down immediately.
And he didn't stop there.
He trained relentlessly. Every time she called, she caught him mid-training.
And then there was her.
…Someone who had to be saved.
"The heart, your resolve," Gunhead said, his tone shifting. "The how, your technique. The house, your vessel."
Off to the side, Midoriya-kun was already scribbling furiously in his notebook. Iida-kun mirrored him.
Gunhead crossed his arms.
"Your body must be a temple strong enough to house your heart and execute your technique," he continued. "If one pillar weakens, the entire structure collapses. Keep them in balance, and you'll never be shaken."
He nodded once, then clapped.
Clap!
The crack echoed through the wooden rafters.
"Enough theory for the morning!" he announced. "During your training here, the way—technique—will be our focus. The mind and the body? Those you must forge on your own."
He swept an arm across the mat.
"But first the basics. Stances. Katas. Then footwork. And after that…" His voice brightened again. "We'll see what you can do with your Quirks."
Gunhead planted his feet firmly.
"Now feet shoulder-width apart. Toes forward. Hands tucked tight against the hips."
He demonstrated with practiced ease.
Ochako followed, along with the two boys beside her, mirroring his movements.
"Ha!"
Gunhead punched straight forward.
They did the same.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
In the steady, almost soothing rhythm of motion, Ochako's thoughts drifted. The week after the results had passed in a blur of preparations for moving into the Musutafu apartment her parents had arranged through their connections, interrupted only by a small celebration at a local barbecue place.
There hadn't been time for her eager parents to meet Midoriya-kun during their two-day stay before work pulled them away again.
Her mother's last piece of advice, one among many, had been not to skip meals just to save money.
Well...
That was exactly what she planned to do.
Uraraka Ochako's Penny-Pinching Economic Primer.
The train from Musutafu to Asakusa cost 550 yen. Round trip: 1,100. Over two weeks, that added up fast.
She could skip dinner.
She would skip dinner.
"Ha! Ha! Ha!"
By noon, the dojo smelled of cedar and sweat. Sidekicks filtered in and out, conferring briefly with Gunhead, stretching along the sidelines, then heading off for patrol—while the rhythm of training never fully stopped.
Gunhead circled them one last time.
"Tensei-kun was right about your rigidity, Iida-kun. With footwork, we curve that. Gives you finer dexterity."
"Understood! I shall strive for the whirlwind!" Iida shouted, bowing deeply.
Gunhead nodded approvingly.
"You," he said, turning to her, "can touch your opponent if you hone your timing, Uraraka-kun."
"Yes, sir." She nodded, studying her palm, slowly curling her fingers.
"And you," he continued, shifting to Midoriya-kun, "as a power type, a strong stance will be your pillar. Especially when protecting others."
He adjusted Midoriya-kun's posture with practiced hands.
"All three fundamentals—stance, timing, and footwork—are essential," he said. "But for now, a single focus will best support your Quirk."
As afternoon waned, the session finally ended.
Gunhead waved them off before heading out on patrol, footsteps heavy but unhurried.
Midoriya-kun pulled Iida-kun aside, murmuring something quietly. After a moment, Iida nodded.
Then Ochako approached Midoriya-kun for the return trip.
"Uraraka-san," Izuku said, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes darting. "There's a good eatery nearby. Tensei-san recommended it."
He hesitated, then smiled. "My treat. A first-day celebration." His eyes flicked to her worn sneakers—then back to her face.
Ochako studied him, searching...
Finding only sincerity.
After a fleeting moment, warmth bloomed in her chest.
The mental ledger in her head went silent.
"Okay." She smiled.
"Lead the way, Midoriya-kun."
***
"Crazy woman."
Seated on the sofa, Izuku blinked at Gran's jab. Then, hearing the familiar feminine whisper in his mind, he sighed and echoed it—
"Senile shorty."
Izuku would have fainted in dread at the exchange by now, if it hadn't become a daily ritual of barbed affection between old friends in the fortnight since exam day.
Gran barked out a laugh, grinning as he turned and left the lounge, already preparing to depart the tower.
Izuku had a new trainer now, and the old hideouts of the Demon needed scouting—Gran had explained it bluntly, as if discussing the weather.
Which meant today was Izuku's last day at the Tower for a while.
One For All's analysis was finished.
Well… as finished as it could be.
As Mr. Shield had explained, the Analysis Matrix couldn't fully, or consistently, read a Quirk's frequency. Variables shifted wildly from Quirk to Quirk. Some didn't even rely on externally detectable signals.
"Imagine a mental Quirk," he'd said, "one that generates its own internal frequency. Now imagine trying to scan that from the outside."
Still, they'd learned something.
Izuku picked up his notes from the table, glancing over the meticulously compiled data—David Shield's analysis layered with his own observations.
---
Ultima / One For All — Neural Frequency Analysis
Primary Anomaly—
The majority of Ultima's frequency manifests without neuronal firing, contradicting all established models of human brainwave generation.
Conclusion: Vestige-originated signal.
--
Vestige Frequency Structure—
Nine distinct frequency bands identified.
• Independent
• Intertwined
• Non-interfering
The structure resembles harmonic resonance rather than signal overlap.
Contradictory Observation:
One frequency is likely mine.
However, it persists even when my neurons are inactive.
--
Neural Interaction During Activation—
Upon activation, neuronal firing resumes . Signal oscillation occurs between:
• Central nervous system (brain)
• Peripheral nervous system (body)
Conclusion:
Functions as a unified circuit rather than isolated pathways.
--
Nebula-Specific Behavior—
One frequency band—likely Nana Shimura's—amplifies during activation.
This amplification does not suppress the others.
Instead, it increases overall coherence.
Conclusion:
Nebula functions as a structural node and reinforcement.
(Other Quirks may perform similarly.)
--
Elemental Particle Observation—
Subatomic particles detected during activation—dubbed Sub-Ultima Elements.
Flow analysis indicates they do not define or originate the ability, unlike Alpha-class elements.
Conclusion:
They function as a medium for execution, not a source.
Note:
The core of the Quirk—not an energy core, which has been confirmed as deeply body-rooted and responsible for Aurora Cowl (embers)—remains entirely untraceable.
--
Final Conclusion — David Shield
Ultima behaves as an internal framework.
One For All behaves as a system.
The system exhibits no detectable upper limit.
David Shield's final note —
"That's not how Quirks behave."
---
Izuku sighed. It seemed One For All was a Quirk still riddled with unknowns and contradictions.
He closed his notes and stood, gripping the chilled Cryo-Box briefcase before leaving the room.
Despite it being peak hours, few staff crossed his path as he made his way five floors down to the thirtieth. The Support Sector.
'Protégé.'
'Student.'
'Successor.'
Heightened senses caught the whispers as he passed. As always, a pit formed in his stomach. Self-doubt, apprehension, the weight of expectation pressing in.
The tower staff were competent enough to notice, but professional enough not to question.
Ayumi-san had assured him there was no need to worry; the information wouldn't leak beyond the tower's walls. She took considerable pride in the information management system she had built.
Passing through the massive gate of the main support lab—the facility that housed and maintained the various suits of the Symbol of Peace, which Izuku had already thoroughly scoured—he stopped in front of a smaller access door.
Pss-h!
The door slid open, revealing Melissa-san, packing equipments into a briefcase.
After declaring her intention to build him a hero suit, she had effectively claimed this room. It was here they had discussed his specifications in detail. His mom had also contributed, surprisingly so, revealing that she had planned to gift him a hero costume of her own.
"Here," Izuku said, offering her the Cryo-Box suitcase.
One of his ideas had prompted her to pilfer the container from the support department. As instructed, he had filled it.
She latched the case shut, then turned to him. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
"Well," Melissa said at last, stepping closer, "don't break yourself before I finish the suit."
He almost smiled. "I'll try not to. And ...thank you...Not just for the suit."
He hesitated, then added hurriedly, "So this is goodbye. Until the I-Expo."
She didn't reply right away.
Instead, she closed the distance and wrapped her arms around him in a hug.
"We'll meet again," she said softly.
Then, she briefly pressed her lips to his cheek, before stepping back.
Izuku stood there, frozen, long after she'd turned away.
The shock still lingered the next day, even during training. And the vestige's teasing wasn't helping.
Thud.
Across the mat, Uraraka-san swept the training dummy clean off its feet, swinging it down to crash against the floor.
A perfect shoulder throw.
With Zero Gravity involved, of course.
"Let your hips and body follow the pivot," Gunhead instructed. "Don't resist the twist."
Vrrrm! Vrrrm!
Tenya-kun ran a tight three-meter circle inside a rope boundary, engine humming low.
"Yes, sir!"
"C'mon, Midoriya boy."
The sidekick assigned as his partner this time motioned him forward.
Izuku nodded and activated Nebula.
The circular field flared to life as he focused the rotating force along Yamata-san's leg. Simultaneously, he swept with a pivot, colliding his own left leg against it.
The converged force broke the large man's steady stance, felling him.
Thud!
"Good job," Yamata-san said as he stood again, brushing himself off.
As the afternoon wore on and the session finally ended, Izuku once again found himself inviting Uraraka-san and Iida-san to the nearby eatery.
He was still grateful to Iida-san for not brushing the idea aside that first day, for understanding his motives well enough without needing them spelled out.
Seated at the table with his companions, chewing grilled meat, the bustle of the crowd faded into a low hum. The chatter of the vestiges flowed through his mind, overlapping voices and half-formed thoughts.
Tomorrow was his official Quirk registration.
'I've decided on a name.'
At that, the vestiges of One for All fell silent, every presence waiting for him to finish the thought.
'Nexus. A connection point.'
***
Unbeatable. Top. Number One.
That's Bakugo Katsuki. That's reality. Destined.
He doesn't fail. He wins.
Always had. Always would.
But—
BOOM!
The desk exploded.
Splinters. Smoke. Charred woods slamming into the walls.
Clatter!
The hologram disk skidded across the floor, not even scratched. The footage kept playing. The ranking list glared back at him.
[ 9th] Katsuki Bakugo [ 191 ] [ 0 ] [ 0 ] [ 39.2%] [ 0 ] [ 116.73 ]
His jaw clenched until his teeth ached. The stench of burnt plastic and paper choked the room.
The annoying Rat principal's voice droned on.
"As you can see, your Villain Points are the highest. Hunting the scattered bots as the Gigantes appeared was a brilliant strategy. However, you also accumulated the highest penalty points."
His breathing turned ragged, fists trembling.
Penalty points.
Damn penalty points.
Like he was supposed to care about a few broken things when he was out there winning.
Bang!
The door slammed open.
"Son, what happened?"
"Brat, what's with the explosions? Did you—your desk! You blew up your desk! Goddammit, you're not four years old anymore! I swear, if this is because you scored low—"
He tuned them out, his eyes snapping back to the ranking list hovering beside the smug rat. All the way to the top.
His chest heaved once more, sparks crackling across his palms as his jaw tightened.
"Welcome to U.A. High, Mr. Bakugo."
[ 1st ] Izuku Midoriya
Deku.
The Quirkless, useless, defenseless, deku.
In the following weeks, Aldera Middle School felt more suffocating, as that cheating bastard never showed his damn face.
Slam!
Bakugo yanked the classroom door open and stormed out, shoving past wire-hand.
The history teacher only smiled at him broadly. The same look he'd worn while assuring Bakugo he was exempt from homework or carrying textbooks for the last two weeks.
Those textbooks had exploded, along with the desk.
"Bakugo, wanna eat on the ro—"
From behind, the bootlickers called out—Stretchy Fingers and Pointy Teeth. He ignored them.
The tooth-breaking punch he'd given Stretchy the day after the results—
"U.A., man, U.A.! Congrats! You're gonna be a legend—ahhh!"
—had been enough to teach them not to push when ignored.
The teacher who'd seen it, of course, only said—
"Don't do anything unbecoming of a future top hero."
Bakugo stalked down the hallway, hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep the sparks from spilling out.
The noise followed him anyway.
—"Is it true? Did Midoriya really get accepted into U.A.?"
—"Well… the rankings on U.A.'s official site did have his name. On the top."
—"He probably cheated. I mean—I know U.A. isn't stupid, but still. It's the only explanation. He's Quirkless."
The voices dropped into conspiratorial whispers as the trio of girls slowed when he passed.
He didn't look at them.
Of course he cheated.
Of fucking course that useless Deku cheated. There was no other explanation.
His teeth ground together.
He rounded the corner hard enough that a first-year flinched and pressed himself flat against the wall.
"Tch."
Sunlight flooded the corridor through the tall, open windows.
He stopped.
Below—outside—
Green.
A mop of familiar green hair heading toward the school gates.
Bang! Bang!
He vaulted through the open window.
"Ahh—someone jumped!" Scream of the first year echoing.
Boom! Boom!
Rapid explosions tore from his palms, propelling him through the air toward the figure turning below.
"Dekuuu!" he screamed. "You dipshit, how did your Quirkless ass cheat your way to the top?! You ruined my perfect backstory! I was supposed to be the only hero to crawl out of this damn hellhole!"
A sudden red dot danced across his vision, making him blink mid-flight. The distraction threw his momentum off, as he landed in a stagger, then looked up properly for the first time.
A familiar woman stood in front of him.
Short. features.
And,he noticed despite himself,slightly slimmer than before.
Inko Midoriya.
"Auntie Inko?" Bakugo blinked. "Why are you here?"
"Katsuki-kun." She nodded, visibly steadying herself after his explosions.
Then she gestured to the file in her hands.
"Izuku's transfer certificate."
Her voice was calm, but unusually so. Flat. Devoid of its usual warmth.
It irritated him. He didn't know why.
"Where's the nerd?" Bakugo sneered. "Too scared to pick up his own papers? Too scared his cheating'll get exposed?"
"…Cheating?" She repeated.
"Of course," he snapped. "How else does a Quirkless bastard even pass. Let alone top the rankings?"
She inhaled slowly.
"I thought Mitsuki would have told you."
"Told me what?"
"Izuku does have a Quirk, Katsuki-kun," she said. "An accumulation-type. It awakened after exposure to a trigger."
Bakugo's mind went blank.
Then a memory surfaced—
—"Did you hear what I said? It seems Izuku-kun really did have a Quirk. I knew that Dr. Tsuba—"
He'd put the headphones back on. Focusing on the game. Even as a joke, that crap had limits. There was no way he'd believed it.
Bakugo snarled. "The old hag mentioned something, but I knew it was bullshit. Deku doesn't have—"
"It wasn't, Katsuki-kun."
Inko continued, unflinching.
"We officially registered it yesterday."
Mid-sentence, her phone rang.
Inko picked up the call, glancing toward the road.
"Ayumi-san. No. He's just an acquaintance. Yes."
She looked again.
This time, Bakugo followed her gaze.
A black car had pulled up along the curb. From the lowered window, he saw a black-haired hazel-eyed woman lowering her phone with one hand. The other hand… was that...was that a damn gun?
"Katsuki-kun."
He snapped his attention back to her.
"You expect Izuku to help you all the time."
Bakugo bristled. "What the hell does that mean? When the fuck has that nerd ever helped me?"
"You expect my son," she said, her voice steady but sharp, "to stop striving for his dream—because of your plans. Your...worries."
The last part came in a whisper, as if addressing herself.
Bakugo faltered for half a second.
Then—
"That doesn't mean I need his help!" He growled.
Inko sighed, tired, and fiddled with her phone.
"I still have your number… I'll send you the video," she said quietly. "I asked a friend for help finding this footage. Just out of curiosity, you see, Katsuki-kun. But.."
She glanced at the car once more.
Bzzz.
Bakugo's phone vibrated.
He pulled it out and opened the video.
His stomach dropped.
Fire. Sludge. Screaming.
Him—trapped.
The villain's mass crushed his chest. His explosions sputtered, dying in his palms as the sludge tightened around his face.
The heroes—standing back. Hesitating. Waiting.
"Hey—wait! Stop!"
A hero's voice, shouting after a running green-haired boy.
The boy's bag swinging as he charged forward, hands clawing into the sludge.
Bakugo froze.
Then he snarled, "I didn't need his help. He didn't do anything. He just ran in uselessly."
She let the silence hang. Heavy. Suffocating.
"Hypoxia," she said calmly. "Asphyxiation. Unconsciousness."
She looked him in the eyes.
"You were seconds away from passing out, Katsuki-kun."
His breath hitched.
"You remember my former profession?"
Yes. A retired nurse.
She stepped closer, her voice gentle.
"That villain was trying to take control of your body, wasn't it? If you had lost consciousness…"
No.
The memory surfaced. Unwanted. Visceral.
Sludge pressing into his mouth.
His nose.
Filling his throat.
The taste of rot and chemicals.
The sound of his own muffled screaming.
"If he'd taken over you, the heroes couldn't have done anything. Probably not even All Might…"
No, that's not—
She raised her hand gently, stopping just short of his cheek. Maybe to comfort. Maybe to slap.
Her voice softened. Not with anger. But with something worse.
Something that sounded like pity.
"If Izuku hadn't clawed at that monster's eyes, if he hadn't torn it away from your face for even a second, you wouldn't be standing here."
His hands shook, palms crackling with aborted sparks that died before igniting.
His throat felt tight.
Bakugo swallowed, forcing it down.
Inko lowered her hand.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"...Please," she said finally.
"Just… please. Don't burden my son with your expectations of what supposed to be."
She lowered her hand.
"He's already carrying enough."
Then she turned and walked toward the car.
Just before getting in, she paused and looked back.
"Congratulations on your acceptance to U.A., Katsuki-kun."
She smiled.
The car door closed.
The engine started.
And it drove away.
Bakugo stood frozen.
Ironically—
The cheek she never touched burned like a slap.
-- --