Age: 15 (8 months before the U.A. exam - POV Izuku)
The sound of my breathing was the only thing filling my ears. A harsh, rhythmic, painful rasp.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
I was running along the river path at sunset. My legs burned. Lactic acid pooled in my thighs like molten lead, screaming at me to stop.
Kacchan would have told me to stop two kilometers ago. He would have looked at his stopwatch and said: "Your heart rate is exceeding the aerobic threshold. Reduced efficiency. Rest."
But Kacchan wasn't here.
I sped up.
My red sneakers hit the pavement harder. I ignored the burning. I ignored the stitch in my side. I ran until my vision blurred and my lungs felt ready to burst. Only then did I stop.
I leaned against the river railing, coughing, sweat dripping down my nose.
I looked at my hands. They were wrapped in cheap sports tape, not the medical-grade bandages Kacchan used to buy. My knuckles were swollen and purple from last week's fight.
«Your 100% isn't enough.»
His voice echoed in my head, louder than the city traffic.
For eleven years, Kacchan was my north star. He was the one who turned off the All Might video when I was crying. He was the one who told me to use my head. He taught me to fight, to analyze, to be strong.
I believed in him blindly. If Kacchan said I could do it, I could do it.
But now... now he looked at me with fear.
It wasn't disdain. I know disdain; I see it in my classmates' eyes every day. What I saw in Kacchan's eyes was panic. He looked at me like I was a glass glass about to fall off the table.
"I'm not glass..." I muttered to the dark river water. "I am bone. And bones heal stronger when they break."
I pulled my notebook out of my back pocket. Not the hero analysis notebook. A new one, with a black cover.
I opened it. On the first page, I had written: DIVERGENT STYLE.
If brute force was the realm of Kacchan and All Might, and I couldn't enter that realm biologically... then I had to stop trying to kick down the door and look for another entrance.
Sensei Ogawa called me "Ghost."
Kacchan is the Sun. He shines, burns, and everyone looks at him. I have to be the Shadow.
I reviewed my notes from the fight against the third-years.
«Subject A (Rock Skin): Immune to direct strikes. Solution: Vestibular imbalance. Strike the inner ear.»«Subject B (Elastic Arms): Long range. Solution: Close distance aggressively. Use his own arms to choke.»
I didn't use strength. I used technical cruelty. I did what Ogawa taught me and what Kacchan, with his overwhelming power, never needed to learn: fight dirty.
"Boo!"
A pair of cold hands covered my eyes from behind.
I didn't jump. I didn't scream. I recognized the smell of mint and metallic iron.
"Hello, Toga-chan," I said, lowering the notebook.
She let go and hopped onto the railing, sitting in front of me with the precarious balance of a cat. She wore her school uniform and a red scarf covering half her face.
"You're boring, Izu-kun," she complained. "You're supposed to get scared."
"I heard you coming two hundred meters ago. You're dragging your left foot a little. Is the boot too small?"
Toga blinked and looked at her boots.
"Oh. Wow. You're good."
A comfortable silence settled between us. Toga was the bridge. The cable preventing the gap between Kacchan and me from becoming an abyss. She lived with him, ate with him, but came to run with me.
"How is he?" I asked, unable to stop myself.
Toga sighed, throwing her head back.
"Unbearable. Grumpy. Doesn't sleep." She looked at me seriously. "He spends his nights drawing blueprints. Says he's building something for you. Something about 'kinetic support'."
I pressed my lips together.
"I don't want it."
"I know. And I told him." Toga swung her legs. "I told him you don't want armor, you want trust. But he is... well, he's Katsuki. He thinks he can fix feelings with screwdrivers."
I laughed. It was a short, dry laugh.
"Yeah. That's him."
"He misses you, you know?" Toga said softly. "At dinner, he looks at your empty chair like someone died. Mama Mitsuki asks about you every day."
I felt a lump in my throat. I missed them too. I missed the noise of that house, the smell of spicy curry, the arguments about the thermodynamics of explosions. I missed my best friend.
But if I went back now... if I went back and accepted that "armor" he was building me... I would be proving him right. I would be admitting that Izuku Midoriya, the human, isn't enough. That I need to be a cyborg or a gadget to be a hero.
And if I accepted that, I would never break my ceiling.
"I can't go back yet, Toga-chan," I said, closing the notebook. "I have to prove something."
"Prove what?"
"That I can do it alone." I looked at my bandaged hands. "Kacchan thinks he's protecting me by telling me to stop. But if I stop now, I'll never know how far I can go. I need to know if Ogawa was right or if Kacchan was right in the beginning."
Toga stared at me. Her yellow eyes shone with a mix of sadness and admiration.
"You look like him," she said. "When you make that stubborn face, you look a lot like him."
She jumped off the railing and landed beside me.
"Fine. Run alone. But if you break something important, call me. I know how to stitch wounds."
"Thanks, Toga."
She leaned in and gave me a quick hug, smelling my neck as she often did.
"You smell like sadness and lemon deodorant," she diagnosed. "You smell better when you're with him."
She pulled away and started walking back toward the city.
"Ah!" She turned around. "Tomorrow Katsuki is going downtown to buy parts for his 'Secret Project.' The house will be empty. If you want to get your ankle weights... I left the kitchen window open."
I smiled. She didn't take sides. She just made sure we all had our weapons.
"Thanks, Toga-chan."
I was left alone by the river. Night had fallen completely.
I looked toward the horizon, where the city lights rose and, beyond, the imposing silhouette of U.A. Academy.
Eight months left.
Kacchan was afraid I would die. I was afraid of living a life where I didn't try with everything I had.
I put the notebook away. I adjusted my sneakers.
"Evolutionary divergence," I muttered to myself.
If he was going to fly into the sky with explosions, I would have to learn to climb from the ground with my fingernails.
I started running again. Faster. Stronger. Alone.