Time slipped by almost unnoticed for Izuku, the months blurring together until middle school ended not with fanfare, but with quiet finality.
Graduation came and went like any other day. And—
All Might never appeared.
Neither did the sludge villain. Katsuki was never attacked. No explosive night, no desperate leap, no borrowed miracle.
Izuku chalked it up to a butterfly effect—tiny deviations rippling outward into something unrecognizable. He knew better than to obsess over it. The world had already diverged, and there was no point staring at the tracks behind him.
Right now, he stood deep within a forest far from prying eyes, lungs burning as he dragged in heavy breaths. Sweat streamed down his bare torso, tracing the lean lines carved into his body through relentless training. His discarded shirt lay somewhere behind him, forgotten. His arms trembled—not from fear, but exhaustion earned the hard way.
He lowered his gaze to his hands.
His knuckles were split and raw, blood smeared across his skin where he had pushed too far and refused to stop. Izuku clenched his fists anyway, ignoring the sting as his muscles tightened in response.
' I think I'm ready for tomorrow,' he thought.
The forest before him told the story his body didn't need to.
Trees lay snapped or uprooted entirely, thick trunks shattered as if struck by a battering ram. Boulders were fractured, chunks blown apart and scattered across the dirt.
A small hillside had been gouged and collapsed inward, earth torn open and stripped bare. The ground itself was scarred—cratered, uneven, broken beneath the force of repeated impacts.
This wasn't the aftermath of a single outburst.
It was the result of days, weeks, months of deliberate destruction.
Izuku straightened slowly, rolling his shoulders as the forest creaked and settled around him. Tomorrow was the entrance exam. Tomorrow would decide everything.
.....
The next morning came far too quickly.
Izuku was already awake by the time the sun crept through his curtains, dressed and standing still in front of his mirror.
His middle school uniform sat neatly on his frame—clean, pressed, and worn for the very last time. He adjusted the collar absently, eyes locked on his own reflection as the reality of the day settled in.
Today was the U.A. entrance exam.
For a moment, he simply stared at himself. The face looking back was calm, far calmer than he felt inside. His eyes held a quiet focus, sharpened by months of preparation and nights spent pushing himself past his limits.
' I'm really about to take the U.A. test… and I don't even have a quirk,' he thought, tightening his tie with practiced fingers.
' I wonder if they'll even accept me.'
The doubt surfaced naturally—but he didn't let it linger. Worry had never made him stronger.
Izuku exhaled slowly and looked away from the mirror. He slipped on his shoes, laced them snugly, then reached for the roll of bandages on his desk.
Carefully, he wrapped his hands, layer after layer covering the healing cuts and bruises beneath. They were a reminder of how hard he'd trained—and how much more he was willing to endure.
With his bag packed and slung over his shoulder, Izuku left his room.
As he descended the stairs, he was met by a familiar sight.
Inko stood waiting at the bottom, already wiping at her eyes.
"Good luck, Zuzu," she said through tears as she pulled him into a tight hug.
Izuku chuckled softly, returning the embrace without hesitation. Her arms were warm, trembling slightly as always.
"Thanks, Mom," he said gently. "I'll see you later."
She clung to him for a second longer than necessary before finally letting go, walking him to the door despite her reluctance.
Outside, the morning air was cool and clear. Izuku stepped past the gate, then turned back and waved.
Inko sniffed, forcing a smile as she waved back before retreating inside.
' God knows how much she cried during the Shigaraki arc,' Izuku thought dryly as he started down the road.
The neighborhood passed by in a blur as he walked, his gaze drifting to the sky, the buildings, the people around him. His mind was already ahead—running through future battles, future threats.
Nomu.
All Might.
All For One.
Overhaul.
Shigaraki.
Names that carried weight. Monsters, legends, symbols.
He knew they would only grow stronger as time went on. The world wouldn't slow down or wait for him to catch up. And yet…
Izuku's grip tightened slightly on his bag strap.
Even so, he wanted to see how far he could go. Quirkless or not. No matter who stood in his way.
....
It didn't take long for Izuku to reach U.A. High.
The massive gates loomed overhead, metal and concrete stretching skyward like a fortress rather than a school. Students streamed in from every direction, nervous excitement buzzing through the air as examinees hurried toward the entrance. Izuku slowed slightly, taking it all in—the sheer scale of the place, the weight of what it represented.
Ahead of him, he spotted Ochaco Uraraka walking with a small bounce in her step.
Izuku smiled faintly.
He didn't call out to her. Not now. This wasn't the time for distractions. Today was about focus.
They were ushered inside and gathered into a large hall where a familiar, booming voice greeted them.
"YOOOO—HELLO, FUTURE HEROES!"
Present Mic stood at the front, microphone in hand, grin blazing as he threw his arms wide. "Alright, everyone! On my count, shout out a big—HEY!!"
Silence.
A thick, awkward silence.
Mic's smile twitched—but he powered through it like a true professional. "Haha… wow, tough crowd! That one hurt a little, not gonna lie!"
Despite the sting, he launched straight into explaining the rules of the practical exam. Point values. Robot types. Combat conditions. Rescue points—or the lack thereof.
Izuku listened carefully, even though he already knew every detail. Information was a weapon. If even a single variable had changed, he wanted to catch it.
When Mic finally finished, he threw one fist into the air.
"PLUS ULTRA! BREAK A LEG, EVERYONE—" he paused, then pointed sternly, "—NOT LITERALLY!"
The examinees were quickly divided into groups and loaded onto transport platforms. Moments later, the doors opened to reveal the testing site.
A sprawling cityscape unfolded before them.
Tall buildings. Intersections. Side streets. Alleys. Rubble-strewn roads.
A full-scale urban combat simulation—Mustafa, recreated in steel and concrete.
Izuku's eyes widened just a little.
How does U.A. even have the money for this? he thought. We don't even pay tuition.
He snorted internally. …Probably taxes.
"AND—BEGIN!" Present Mic roared.
Izuku exploded forward.
The moment the start signal hit, he launched into a full sprint, leaving a wave of startled examinees behind him. Footsteps pounded against asphalt as the city blurred past. Wind tore at his uniform as he vaulted over debris and cut sharp corners.
Okay, he thought, breathing steady. What's the plan?
He didn't have to wait long.
A cluster of One-Pointer robots clanked into view ahead, metal limbs whirring as their sensors locked onto movement.
Izuku accelerated.
He leapt high, body twisting midair before bringing his leg down in a brutal axe kick.
CRACK.
The first robot collapsed instantly, its head crushed into its own torso.
Izuku landed without breaking stride, pivoting sharply as he spun into a second kick. His heel smashed into another One-Pointer's chest, sending it skidding across the pavement before it burst apart in sparks and twisted metal.
He didn't stop.
Two points, he noted calmly. Let's set a record, shall we?
He flowed from target to target—strikes clean, efficient, and merciless. Punches shattered joints. Kicks tore through armor plating. Robots fell one after another, their point counters ticking up rapidly.
Five minutes hadn't even passed.
48 points.
Izuku wiped sweat from his brow as another robot crashed behind him, already scanning the streets ahead for his next target. This was only the beginning.
TO BE CONTINUED