What deku had an Crocodile quirk

 

The pain was not a sharp, stinging thing. It was a grinding, stretching agony, deep in the marrow of his bones, as if his skeleton was trying to rearrange itself into a puzzle that didn’t fit inside his skin.

Izuku Midoriya was four years old, and he was screaming.

The pediatric ward of Musutafu General Hospital was used to the sounds of distress—children crying over shots, broken arms from quirk accidents—but this was different. This was the sound of biology violently asserting itself.

"Please! Make it stop! It hurts, Mommy, it hurts!" Izuku sobbed, clutching at his forearms.

Inko Midoriya stood by the gurney, her hands hovering, terrified to touch her own son. Where there should have been soft, pale skin, patches of emerald-green roughness were breaking through, bleeding at the edges. His jaw was trembling, cracking audibly as it pushed outward, lengthening, distorting his round, cherubic face into something angular and prehistoric.

"Doctor! What’s happening to him?" Inko shrieked, tears streaming down her face.

The doctor, a man with a telescopic eye quirk, was observing the transformation with a mixture of clinical fascination and urgency. "His quirk factor is engaging. It’s a late-onset mutation, but an incredibly aggressive one. Nurse, get the sedatives! His bone density is increasing too rapidly; his body is going into shock."

Izuku curled into a ball, his spine arching. A sickening tearing sound filled the room as the base of his spine elongated, ripping through his favorite All Might pajamas. A thick, muscular appendage lashed out, knocking over a tray of metal instruments with a heavy clang.

"Mommy..." Izuku whimpered, his voice distorting into a guttural growl as his vocal cords thickened.

His eyes, once wide and green, rolled back. When they snapped open again, the pupils had narrowed into vertical, predatory slits. A translucent second eyelid flicked across them horizontally.

The sedative finally took hold. Izuku’s thrashing slowed. His breathing became heavy and wet, rattling in a chest that seemed to have expanded three inches in circumference in the last ten minutes.

Inko fell to her knees, sobbing into her hands. The doctor stepped forward, examining the boy who now lay unconscious. The child’s skin was almost entirely covered in interlocking osteoderms—hard, bone-like scales. His fingers ended in short, black talons. His mouth, now protruding like a snout, was filled with jagged, conical teeth that looked capable of crushing stone.

"Mrs. Midoriya," the doctor said softly, wiping sweat from his brow. "He’s stable. The metamorphosis is mostly complete."

"Is he... is he okay?" Inko asked, her voice trembling.

"Physically? He’s going to be incredibly robust," the doctor noted, tapping his clipboard. "We’ll need to run DNA tests to be certain, but the phenotype is clear. It’s an Ancient Zoan-type mutation. Specifically, the Sarcosuchus. The SuperCroc."

Inko looked at her son—her sweet, gentle Izuku—who now looked like a monster designed to haunt nightmares. She reached out, her fingers trembling, and touched his arm. It was cold. Hard as rock. Rough like sandpaper.

He didn't feel like a little boy anymore. He felt like a weapon.

Ten Years Later

The morning sun beat down on the asphalt of Musutafu, but for Izuku Midoriya, it wasn't warm enough.

He walked to school with a heavy, deliberate gait. He stood at 185 centimeters, towering over most middle schoolers, his shoulders broad and hunched forward. The standard black gakuran uniform of Aldera Junior High strained against his frame. The fabric was specially tailored, reinforced at the seams to prevent ripping, with a custom vent in the back for the massive, five-foot tail that dragged slightly behind him, swishing rhythmically with every step.

People didn't ignore Izuku Midoriya. In a world of quirks, where people could have horns, blue skin, or floating hair, Izuku was still an anomaly. He was visceral. He triggered a primal "fight or flight" response in the mammalian brain of anyone who looked at him.

A mother walking her child on the opposite side of the street pulled her daughter closer, crossing to the other sidewalk. Izuku saw it. His vertical pupils contracted. He didn't sigh; he let out a low, rumbling chuff from his throat—a sound that vibrated in his chest.

It’s fine, he told himself, adjusting the straps of his bright yellow backpack. I’m used to it.

He wasn't "Quirkless Deku." In this reality, the nickname "Deku" carried a different weight. It wasn't just "useless"; it was something Bakugo had coined to mean "wooden doll" or "stump"—something that just stood there, taking up space, ugly and unmoving.

Izuku entered the classroom. The chatter died instantly.

He kept his head down, navigating the aisles. He had to turn his body sideways to fit between the desks without his tail knocking someone’s books over. He reached his seat in the back corner, the reinforced metal chair groaning as he sat down.

"Hey, watch the tail, Godzilla," a student whispered, though not quietly enough.

Izuku ignored him. He pulled a notebook from his bag. Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 13. His claws scraped gently against the paper as he opened it.

"Alright, settle down, you hellions," the teacher announced, slapping a stack of papers onto his desk. "You’re all third years now. It’s time to think seriously about your futures."

The class remained relatively quiet. Usually, this was the cue for the teacher to throw the papers in the air and shout about heroics, but the dynamic in Class 3-A was... heavy.

"I have the aptitude test results here," the teacher continued. "Most of you are aiming for the Hero Course, naturally."

Cheers erupted, quirks flaring. Stones levitated, fingers extended, minor fires sparked.

"Yes, yes, very impressive," the teacher drawled. "But remember, public quirk usage is illegal. Make sure you don't..." He paused, his eyes landing on the ash-blonde boy with his feet on the desk. "Oh, and Bakugo. You’re aiming for U.A. High, correct?"

Katsuki Bakugo grinned, a feral expression that mirrored the explosive power in his palms. "Don't lump me in with these extras, Teach. I’m the only one here with the stuff to go pro. I’ll surpass All Might and become the top hero. I’ll be the richest, most famous hero on the charts!"

"U.A.? That’s impossible to get into," someone muttered.

"He’s got the grades for it, though," another whispered.

"Oh," the teacher added, checking his list again. "And it looks like Midoriya is applying to U.A. as well."

The silence that followed was absolute.

It wasn't the laughter that usually followed such an announcement in other timelines. No one laughed at Izuku. You didn't laugh at a six-foot crocodile with a bite force capable of snapping a steel girder.

Instead, the room filled with tension. Fear.

Bakugo’s feet slammed onto the floor. He spun around in his chair; his palms crackling with miniature explosions.

"HUH?" Bakugo roared. "You think you can stand in the same ring as me, you damn reptile?"

Izuku didn't flinch. His nictitating membranes flicked across his eyes—a reflex to protect them from the sudden flash of light. He looked up, his face an unreadable mask of green scales.

"It’s the only school without a size restriction on mutations for the dorms, Kacchan," Izuku said, his voice a deep, gravelly bass that seemed to come from the bottom of a well. "And... I want to save people."

"Save people?" Bakugo scoffed, standing up and marching over. He slammed a hand onto Izuku’s desk. Smoke curled from his palm, scorching the wood, but Izuku didn't recoil. "Look at you! You don't save people, Deku. You eat them. You’re a villain in a hero’s costume. You’ll just scare the civilians to death before the villain even touches them!"

The class murmured in agreement. That was the narrative Izuku had lived with for ten years. Too scary. Too dangerous. Too monstrous.

"I can be a hero," Izuku said quietly. He looked at his own hands—large, clawed, deadly hands. "Heroes come in all shapes."

"Not yours," Bakugo spat. He leaned in, his red eyes boring into Izuku’s. "Don't make me turn you into a pair of boots, Deku. Don't take the entrance exam."

Izuku held his gaze. In the animal kingdom, staring contest was a challenge for dominance. Izuku’s instincts screamed at him to snap his jaws, to tail-whip the threat, to assert his place as the apex predator. His tail twitched violently behind him, cracking against the leg of his chair.

Bakugo saw the twitch and stepped back, just an inch, his bravado faltering for a microsecond. That was the root of Bakugo’s hatred. He wasn't bullying Izuku because Izuku was weak. He was bullying him because Izuku was durable. Bakugo had blasted him since kindergarten, and while it hurt, while it burned... Izuku never broke. He was the one thing in Bakugo’s life that wouldn't stay down, the one thing his explosions couldn't destroy.

And that terrified him.

School ended with the usual heavy atmosphere. Izuku packed his bag quickly, eager to get out of the building. The air conditioning in the school was always set too low. As an ectotherm—or semi-ectotherm, given his quirk’s hybrid nature—Izuku grew sluggish in the cold. His movements became stiff, his thoughts slower.

He needed the sun.

He walked the long way home, taking the route that passed under the Tatooine Shopping District overpass. He hummed a quiet tune, trying to shake off Bakugo’s words.

You look like a villain.

He stopped by a polished shop window and looked at his reflection. The dark green scales along his jaw, the yellow eyes, the lack of hair on his head (replaced by rows of small, hardened ridges). He tried to smile like All Might.

The reflection grimaced back. When he smiled, he showed too many teeth. It looked like a threat display.

"It’s not fair," he whispered.

He turned into the underpass tunnel. It was dark and cool. He shivered slightly, wrapping his arms around himself.

"A medium-sized invisibility cloak..."

The gurgling voice came from the sewer grate behind him.

Izuku spun around, his tail sweeping an arc through the air. A massive volume of sludge erupted from the manhole, forming a towering, liquid visage with frantic, manic eyes.

"You’ll do nicely," the villain hissed. "Great body. Big. Strong. Perfect for hiding in!"

Izuku’s reptile brain engaged before his human brain could process the danger.

Threat. Close range. Ambush.

The villain lunged. Izuku didn't scream. He dropped his center of gravity, his heavy tail acting as a counterbalance, and lashed out with a clawed hand.

SWISH.

His claws passed harmlessly through the sludge.

"Fluid body?" Izuku analyzed instantly, panic rising. "Physical attacks are ineffective!"

The sludge slammed into him. It wasn't a hard impact; it was suffocating. The villain engulfed him, forcing slime into his mouth and nose.

"Don't struggle," the villain laughed. "It’ll only hurt for a minute. Thanks for the ride, kid. You’re a real tank!"

Izuku couldn't breathe. The slime was forcing its way down his throat. But Izuku’s physiology was built for the water. His glottis slammed shut instinctively, sealing his windpipe to prevent drowning. His heart rate dropped, conserving oxygen.

He had minutes. A normal human would have passed out in forty-five seconds. Izuku could hold his breath for thirty minutes if he remained calm.

But he wasn't calm.

He’s trying to possess me. I have to get him off.

Izuku thrashed. He planted his feet and spun, executing a partial 'Death Roll'—a maneuver hardwired into his genetics. The sheer torque of his body spinning generated a centrifugal force that splattered some of the sludge against the tunnel walls.

"Whoa! Feisty one!" the villain grunted, tightening his grip. "Stop moving!"

The slime invaded his eyes. Darkness took him. His lungs burned, not from lack of air yet, but from the pressure. He clawed at the liquid, his talons scraping against the concrete floor, leaving deep gouges.

Is this it? Am I going to die here? Before I even tried?

No.

His tail slammed into the tunnel wall, cracking the concrete.

I am not prey.

Suddenly, the sewer cover exploded upward.

"FEAR NOT!"

A voice boom echoed through the tunnel, vibrating in Izuku’s sensitive eardrums.

"FOR I AM HERE!"

A blast of wind pressure, sharper and more focused than a hurricane, tore through the tunnel.

"TEXAS... SMASH!"

The air itself seemed to shatter. The Sludge Villain didn't stand a chance. The wind pressure scattered him instantly, blasting the liquid off Izuku’s scales.

Izuku hit the ground hard, gasping for air. His glottis opened, and he coughed up the remnants of the slime. He blinked, wiping the muck from his second eyelids.

Standing there, backlit by the sunlight at the end of the tunnel, was a mountain of a man. Blonde hair, impossibly wide smile, white t-shirt.

All Might.

"Apologies, young man!" All Might boomed, gathering the scattered villain into soda bottles with blinding speed. "I got a bit turned around in the sewer system. Not my finest hour! But you! You held out remarkably well! Most would have suffocated by now!"

Izuku stared. His hero. The Symbol of Peace. Standing right there.

"A-All Might," Izuku rasped, his voice rougher than usual. He scrambled to his feet. "I... You... My notebook!"

He fumbled for his yellow backpack. The notebook was there, and All Might had already signed it. The signature took up two whole pages.

"There you go! Now, I must be off to deliver this guy to the police!" All Might crouched, preparing to jump.

"Wait!" Izuku stepped forward, his claws clicking on the pavement. "I have to ask you something!"

"No time! Evil awaits!"

All Might leaped.

Izuku didn't think. He didn't consider the physics. His powerful legs, built for explosive bursts of speed, launched him upward. He caught All Might’s leg just as the hero ascended.

"Hey! Now wait just a—!" All Might looked down, horrified. "Let go! I love my fans, but this is excessive!"

"If I let go now, I’ll die!" Izuku shouted, the wind whipping his heavy tail around like a flag. "I’m too heavy to land from this height!"

"Ah. Good point!"

They landed on a rooftop a few miles away. The impact cracked the concrete, but Izuku’s legs absorbed the shock effortlessly. He rolled, his tail steadying him, and came to a stop.

"That was reckless," All Might scolded, though he looked tired. Steam was rising from his body. "I really must go."

"Wait!" Izuku shouted again. He stood up to his full height, looming, yet his posture was shrunk, submissive. "Everyone says... everyone says my quirk is villainous. They say I’m a monster."

All Might paused. He looked at the boy. The green scales, the teeth, the predator's eyes. It was a terrifying visage, indeed.

"I want to save people," Izuku said, his voice cracking. Tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes, large heavy drops. "I want to be a hero who saves everyone with a smile. Like you. Can I... can I be a hero even if I look like this?"

There was a silence.

Then, a puff of smoke.

Izuku watched in horror as the muscular demigod shrank. The mass evaporated, leaving behind a skeletal, gaunt man with sunken eyes and blood trickling from his mouth.

"A-A imposter?!" Izuku hissed, stepping back.

"No," the man sighed, sitting down on the roof vent. "Just... the reality."

All Might lifted his shirt, revealing a horrific scar on his side. It looked like a crater, a mess of purple and twisted tissue. "Five years ago. A villain did this. Respiratory system half destroyed. Stomach gone. I can only do hero work for about three hours a day."

Izuku stared at the wound. It was a mortal injury. The fact that he was alive was a miracle.

"To answer your question, kid," All Might said, looking down at his hands. "Pros are always putting their lives on the line. I cannot simply say 'you can do it' without knowing if you can handle the burden."

He looked at Izuku. "You have a powerful body. That quirk... it’s formidable. But being a hero isn't just about power. It’s about image. It’s about making people feel safe."

Izuku felt cold.

"When people see me," All Might said gently, "they see hope. When they see you... being honest, kid? They’ll see fear."

Izuku’s head dropped.

"It’s not fair," All Might admitted. "But it is the society we live in. If you want to help people, being a police officer is a noble profession. They get a lot of flap for the villains they bring in, but it’s good work."

All Might stood up and walked toward the door to the stairs.

"It’s good to have dreams, young man. Just... make sure they’re attainable."

The door clicked shut.

Izuku stood alone on the roof. The wind bit at his exposed skin. The sun was setting, painting the sky in bruised purples and reds. The temperature was dropping.

His blood slowed. His limbs felt heavy, like lead weights were strapped to them.

"Police officer," Izuku whispered. A tear rolled down his snout and dripped off the tip of a tooth. "Yeah. That’s what they always say."

He felt foolish. He felt like a giant, stupid lizard in a school uniform.

Walking home was a blur of misery. Izuku hugged his chest, trying to keep his core temperature up. He needed his heat lamp. He needed to crawl under his weighted blanket and sleep for a week.

BOOM.

An explosion rocked the street a few blocks away.

Izuku flinched. He looked up. Smoke was rising. Instinctively, he started walking toward it. It was a bad habit. Analyzing villain fights.

He reached the crowd. It was a chaotic scene in the back alley of the shopping district. Flames were everywhere. The heroes—Death Arms, Kamui Woods, Mt. Lady—were standing around, helpless.

"I can't get close!" Death Arms shouted. "The explosions are too intense! And I can't grab the villain; he’s fluid!"

Fluid?

Izuku pushed through the crowd. His height allowed him to see over the heads of the onlookers.

It was him. The Sludge Villain. All Might had dropped the bottle.

It’s my fault, Izuku realized, horror washing over him. I grabbed his leg. He must have dropped it.

"I’ve got a hostage!" the Sludge Villain roared. "Don't come any closer or the kid dies!"

Trapped inside the muck, struggling violently, was a familiar face. Ash-blonde hair. Red eyes wide with panic.

Bakugo.

The villain was trying to force himself into Bakugo’s mouth, but Bakugo was setting off explosions, creating pockets of air. But the explosions were getting weaker.

"Why aren't they doing anything?" Izuku muttered. "Why are they just watching?"

"We have to wait for a quirk suitable for this!" Kamui Woods yelled.

Wait? Izuku thought. He’s suffocating. You can't wait.

Izuku looked at Bakugo. Their eyes met. For the first time, Izuku didn't see arrogance or hatred in those red eyes. He saw a plea.

Help me.

Izuku’s body moved before his mind gave permission.

"Hey! That kid! Stop!" Death Arms yelled.

Izuku broke through the police tape. The asphalt cracked under his shoes as he sprinted. He wasn't a runner—crocodiles were ambush predators, built for short, violent bursts of speed.

He closed the distance in seconds.

"YOU AGAIN?" The Sludge Villain shrieked. "I’ll kill you this time, you pest!"

The villain lashed out with a tendril of sludge.

Izuku didn't dodge. He tanked it. The slime hit his chest, but his scales were harder than concrete. He didn't even slow down.

"Kacchan!" Izuku roared.

He reached the villain. The heat was intense. Bakugo’s explosions were searing the air, but Izuku was fire-resistant. His thick hide insulated him against the thermal shock.

He couldn't punch sludge. He knew that.

He spun.

"TAIL SMASH!"

His massive tail whipped around with the force of a wrecking ball. The wind pressure generated by the swing blasted the flames back and scattered the sludge covering Bakugo’s face, creating an opening.

Bakugo gasped, sucking in greedy lungfuls of air. "Deku?"

Izuku plunged his clawed hands into the sludge, finding the solid purchase of Bakugo’s school uniform. He pulled.

"Why..." Bakugo coughed, "why are you here?"

"My legs moved on their own!" Izuku shouted back, his jaw clenched, teeth bared in a grimace of exertion. "You looked like you were asking for help!"

The Sludge Villain reformed, looming over them. "I’M DONE PLAYING!"

A massive wave of muck descended to crush them both.

Izuku shielded Bakugo with his body. He turned his back to the villain, tucking his head, presenting the thick, armored ridges of his spine and tail to the attack. He braced for impact.

But the impact never came.

There was a flash of blood. A cough. And then... steam.

"I really am pathetic," a deep voice growled.

Izuku looked up.

All Might stood there, holding back the sludge with one hand. He wasn't smiling. He looked furious—furious at the villain, furious at himself.

"I told you looking the part was important," All Might said, blood spraying from his lips as he forced his muscle form to hold. "But I forgot the most important part of being a hero! A hero is someone who meddles when they don't have to!"

All Might pulled back his fist.

"DETROIT... SMASH!"

The punch changed the weather. An updraft of massive proportions spiraled into the sky. The sludge was vaporized. The fire was blown out. The windows of the nearby buildings shattered.

Rain began to fall from the rapidly cooling clouds.

The aftermath was a familiar bitter pill.

The Pro Heroes scolded Izuku.

"You idiot! You could have gotten yourself killed!" Death Arms yelled, poking a finger at Izuku’s chest (and hurting his own finger on the scales). "You stepped in the way! You have a tough quirk, sure, but no training!"

Meanwhile, the media and other heroes fawned over Bakugo.

"That bravery! Those explosions! You held out for so long!"

Izuku stood off to the side, the rain slicking his scales. He felt the cold creeping into his bones again. He accepted the scolding silently. He was used to being the problem.

Eventually, the crowd dispersed. Izuku began the long walk home, his tail dragging on the wet pavement. He felt heavier than ever. He had proven them right. He had charged in like a beast and needed saving.

"Deku!"

Izuku turned. Bakugo was running after him, panting.

"Kacchan?"

Bakugo stopped a few meters away. He looked furious. He was shaking.

"I didn't ask for your help!" Bakugo yelled. "I didn't need saving! Especially not by a freak like you! Don't look down on me! I don't owe you anything!"

He turned and stomped away.

Izuku watched him go. A small, dry chuckle escaped his throat. "You're welcome, I guess."

He turned back to his path.

"I AM HERE!"

All Might slid out from around a corner, striking a pose, before instantly vomiting a startling amount of blood and deflating into his skeletal form.

"All Might?!" Izuku jumped back. "You... you were shaking off the reporters?"

"Detailed reports are a nightmare," All Might wiped his mouth. "Young man. I have a correction to make. And a proposal."

"A proposal?"

" earlier today," All Might said, stepping closer, "I told you that you couldn't be a hero. I judged you based on appearances. I judged you based on the status quo."

The skeletal man looked Izuku in the eye.

"But back there... in that alley... the pros stood by. I stood by. But you? The timid, reptile boy? You moved."

Izuku gripped the strap of his backpack.

"Why did you go?" All Might asked.

"I don't know," Izuku admitted. "My legs... they just moved."

All Might smiled. It wasn't the practiced grin of the Symbol of Peace. It was a genuine, small smile.

"Top heroes have stories about their school days. Most of them have one thing in common: their bodies moved before they could think."

Izuku’s breath hitched.

"That happened to you, didn't it?"

Izuku fell to his knees. The pavement was wet and cold, but he didn't care. He covered his face with his clawed hands. The tears came, hot and fast.

"Young man," All Might said softly. "You looked fear in the eye. You looked prejudice in the eye. And you acted."

All Might pointed a finger at him.

"You can be a hero."

Izuku sobbed. It was the permission he had waited ten years to hear.

"But," All Might continued, "I have more to say. Listen closely, young Midoriya. Do you know how my quirk works?"

Izuku sniffled, wiping his eyes. "Super strength? Jumping? Wind pressure?"

"It’s called One For All," All Might revealed. "A power passed down from one generation to the next, stockpiling energy and cultivating a will to save others."

"Passed... down?"

"I am looking for a successor," All Might said. "And I believe I have found him."

He looked at Izuku’s massive frame.

"This power... it breaks bodies. If a normal human tried to take it, their limbs would explode. The vessel must be strong. It must be durable."

All Might walked over and placed a hand on Izuku’s scaled shoulder. It felt like touching a tank.

"You have been blessed with a mutation that grants you immense durability. You have the 'Apex' physiology. But more importantly, you have the heart."

All Might extended his hand.

"Izuku Midoriya. I want you to inherit my power. With your natural strength combined with One For All... you won't just be a hero."

All Might grinned.

"You will be an unstoppable force of nature. You will be the Pillar that does not crack."

Izuku looked at the hand. He looked at his own claws. For the first time, he didn't see a monster. He saw a vessel. A container for something greater.

He reached out and grasped All Might’s hand. His grip was strong.

"I’ll do it," Izuku swore, his reptilian eyes burning with a new fire. "I’ll be the hero no one expects."

All Might laughed. "Good! But first... we need to clean up the beach."

"The beach?"

"And get you a heating pad. You’re shivering."

"Oh. Right. Cold-blooded."

"We'll work on that."

The alarm clock buzzed at 5:30 AM, a hateful, mechanical sound that pierced the silence of the Midoriya apartment.

For any normal teenager, this hour was an annoyance. For Izuku Midoriya, it was a physiological battle.

He didn't move. He couldn't.

Over the night, the temperature in his room had dropped to sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. To a mammal, that was a comfortable, perhaps slightly brisk, sleeping temperature. To Izuku, whose quirk, Sarcosuchus, had rewritten his genetic code to lean heavily towards ectothermic regulation, it was paralyzing.

His limbs felt like they were filled with wet concrete. His heart rate had slowed to a crawl—four beats per minute—to conserve energy. His brain was wrapped in a thick, gray fog, the reptilian hindbrain dominating his consciousness with a single, overriding command: Conserve. Wait for sun.

"Izuku?"

 The door creaked open. Inko Midoriya peeked in, already dressed in her housecoat. She held a remote control in her hand.

"Time for the beach, honey," she whispered gently. She pointed the remote at the ceiling fixture installed above Izuku’s bed—a heavy-duty ceramic heat emitter used for large reptile enclosures, scaled up for a human.

Click.

An orange glow bathed the room. Intense, focused infrared heat washed over Izuku’s exposed back.

For five minutes, nothing happened. Then, a twitch. The heavy, armored tail that draped off the side of the reinforced bed frame shifted, scraping against the floorboards. The green scales along his spine absorbed the radiation greedily. His blood began to thin, circulating faster. The fog lifted.

Izuku groaned, a deep, guttural sound that rumbled in his chest cavity. He pushed himself up, his claws digging into the mattress.

"Morning, Mom," he croaked. His voice was always deeper in the morning, his vocal cords slack from the cold.

"Breakfast is ready," Inko smiled, though her eyes looked tired. "High protein. Just like All Might said."

Getting dressed was the second hurdle. Izuku stood before his mirror, inspecting his body. At fourteen, he was already massive. The mutation hadn't just given him scales; it had broadened his skeletal structure to support the weight of his armor. His neck was thick, blending almost seamlessly into his shoulders. His skin was a tapestry of dark viridian and muddy olive osteoderms—bony plates that acted as natural chainmail.

He reached for the pile of clothes on his chair. First came the compression layer. It was a struggle to pull the elastic fabric over his rough scales, the material snagging on the ridges of his forearms. He had to be careful; one wrong tug and his claws would shred the fabric.

"Cold blood," he muttered to himself, finally snapping the waistband of his sweatpants. "Just another hurdle."

He grabbed his notebook and headed to the kitchen. The smell of raw meat hit him, and his stomach growled—a ferocious, animalistic sound.

On the table sat a mixing bowl filled with raw chicken breasts, bones and all.

"I cooked the rice," Inko said apologetically, pouring him a glass of calcium-enriched milk. "But I know you prefer the protein... natural."

Izuku sat down, the chair groaning. He didn't use a fork. His jaw unhinged slightly, the ligaments stretching with a wet pop, and he began to eat. His teeth, conical and interlocking, crunched through the chicken bones as if they were pretzels. His stomach acid, far more potent than a human’s, was designed to dissolve bone, hoof, and horn. Digestion was one of the few things his body did quickly.

" ten months," Izuku said between bites, wiping a smear of blood from his snout. "I have ten months to turn this body into a vessel for One For All."

"Are you sure about this, Izuku?" Inko asked, her hand hovering near his shoulder. "All Might... he said your body is already strong. Why do you need to push it so hard? The doctor said your heart creates a lot of strain just pumping blood to your tail."

Izuku stopped eating. He looked at his mother. Her quirk allowed her to attract small objects, but she had spent her life pushing away her own anxieties for his sake.

"Mom," Izuku said softly. "People look at me and they see a villain. They see a monster from a creature feature." He clenched his fist, the scales scraping together like stones. "All Might saw a hero. I have to prove him right. I have to be strong enough not just to hold his power, but to carry the weight of everyone’s fear."

Inko sighed, a watery smile forming. "You're already my hero, Izuku. Just... don't forget your heating pads."

"I won't."

He grabbed two chemical heat packs, cracked them to activate the crystallization, and shoved them into the pockets of his hoodie.

"I'm off!"

Dagobah Municipal Beach Park

The beach was a graveyard of trash. Mountains of tires, rusted appliances, and driftwood choked the sand, blocking the view of the horizon. It was a monument to apathy.

And standing atop a rusted refrigerator, striking a pose that defied gravity, was All Might.

"GOOD MORNING, YOUNG MIDORIYA!" the hero bellowed, coughing slightly as he deflated into his skeletal form. "You’re late! The sun has been up for twenty minutes!"

"Sorry," Izuku panted, jogging onto the sand. "Traffic lights. And... it’s forty-five degrees out. I had to walk on the sunny side of the street."

All Might nodded, pulling a clipboard from nowhere. "Right. The ectothermy. We need to factor that into the 'Aim to Pass: American Dream Plan'!"

He flipped a page.

"Now, normally, for a vessel to inherit One For All, they need to build muscle mass. The power is volatile; without a strong container, it would blow your limbs off."

All Might walked around Izuku, poking his arm. The finger didn't even indent the skin. It was like poking a tire.

"But you..." All Might mused. "You’re already built like a tank. Your bone density is four times that of a human. Your muscle fibers are fast-twitch dominant. If I gave you the hair right now, you probably wouldn't explode."

Izuku blinked, his nictitating membranes flicking. "Really? Then why wait?"

"Because you’d be a statue!" All Might exclaimed. "You have power, Young Midoriya, but you lack mobility and control. A crocodile is dangerous in the water and dangerous in a burst, but over a long fight? You’d tire out. You’d overheat or freeze up. One For All requires stamina."

All Might gestured to the trash.

"Your training will not be about lifting heavy things. You can already lift a car, I assume?"

"A small one. If I use my legs," Izuku admitted shyly.

"Exactly! No, your training will be about flow." All Might pointed to a pile of scrap metal. "I want you to clear this beach, yes. But I don't want you to carry the trash. I want you to throw it. I want you to shred it. I want you to work on your rotational velocity."

All Might picked up a rusted pipe and tossed it to Izuku.

"Your tail," All Might said, pointing to the massive appendage. "It’s a counterweight. Use it. You fight like a human, keeping your back straight. You need to fight like you."

Izuku looked at the pipe. He looked at the pile of trash.

"Fight like... me?"

"Go on!" All Might shouted. "Attack that washing machine! It’s a villain!"

Izuku hesitated, then dropped into a stance. He lowered his center of gravity, his tail hovering inches off the sand. He stared at the washing machine.

Don't punch it. Punching is for humans.

He lunged. Instead of throwing a fist, he twisted his torso. His tail whipped around with terrifying speed.

WHAM.

The heavy, scaled ridge of his tail slammed into the washing machine. The metal crumpled like paper, and the appliance went flying thirty feet into the air, landing with a crash in the dumpster All Might had designated.

"EXCELLENT!" All Might transformed for a split second to give a thumbs up. "That’s the torque we need! One For All will amplify that rotation. You’ll be a cyclone of destruction!"

"It... it felt natural," Izuku said, looking at his tail. usually, he tried to keep it still, to keep it from knocking things over. Letting it loose felt... good.

"But!" All Might raised a finger. "We have a problem. The calendar."

"The calendar?"

"The Entrance Exam is in February," All Might said gravely. "The coldest month of the year."

Izuku felt a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. "If the practical exam is outdoors... I’ll be sluggish. I won't be able to move fast enough to score points."

"Precisely!" All Might reached into a bag at his feet. "Which is why I called in a favor."

He pulled out a bundle of black fabric. It looked like a wetsuit, but wires were woven visibly through the material.

"I have a friend in the support industry. David... well, a friend. I sent him your measurements. This is a prototype Thermal Regulation Undersuit."

Izuku took the suit. It was heavy.

"It has a localized battery pack," All Might explained. "It maintains a surface temperature of 95 degrees against your skin for four hours. It’s thin enough to wear under your uniform."

Izuku ran his claws over the fabric. "This... this is expensive tech."

"Consider it an early investment!" All Might grinned. "Now, put it on! We have a beach to clean, and the tide is coming in!"

Five Months Later: Summer

The summer was Izuku’s season.

The heat was oppressive to everyone else, but for Izuku, it was rocket fuel. His metabolism skyrocketed. He moved with a speed that frightened the locals.

He wasn't just cleaning the beach; he was devouring it.

He developed a technique for the larger items. He would clamp his jaws onto a hunk of metal—a safe door, a truck axle—and perform a death roll. His body would spin horizontally in the air, the sheer rotational force ripping the metal free from its hinges.

His teeth broke often. It was a bloody, painful process, but unlike humans, Izuku was polyphyodont. A lost tooth was replaced within a week by a sharper, harder one. By August, his smile was a jagged row of ivory daggers that could shear through aluminum.

He swam, too. Dagobah Beach had water, after all. He would drag massive tires into the surf, sinking to the bottom, and run underwater. The resistance built his lung capacity. He learned to control his heart rate consciously, dropping it to hold his breath for forty minutes, then spiking it to explode out of the surf like a kaiju.

All Might watched from the seawall, taking notes.

The boy is adapting, All Might wrote. He isn't trying to be me anymore. He’s becoming the Apex. But his aggression... it’s rising.

One afternoon, Izuku was sparring with a refrigerator. He had worked himself into a frenzy. His pupils were slits, his movements jerky and violent. He shredded the metal door with his claws, letting out a roar that sounded like a dinosaur’s bellow.

"Young Midoriya!" All Might shouted.

Izuku snapped his head around, hissing.

Then he froze. He blinked. The vertical pupils widened.

"I... sorry," Izuku panted, stepping back from the ruined appliance. "I lost track."

"The predatory instinct," All Might said, walking down the steps. "It’s tied to your adrenaline?"

"Yeah," Izuku admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "When I get worked up... the thinking part of my brain gets quiet. It’s just... hunt. Bite. Kill."

"That is dangerous," All Might said seriously. "A hero must always be in control. If you lose yourself to the beast, you’re no better than the villains you want to stop."

"I know," Izuku said, looking at his claws. "How do I stop it?"

"You don't stop it," All Might said, tapping Izuku’s chest. "You ride it. You acknowledge the beast, and you point it in the right direction. You need an anchor. A thought. A goal that is louder than the instinct."

"Save people," Izuku whispered.

"Louder."

"Save people!"

"Good. Keep that in your head. When the red haze comes, you hold onto that."

Ten Months Later: The Morning of the Exam

The beach was unrecognizable.

Where there had been mountains of trash, there was now pristine white sand. The sunrise painted the ocean in gold and violet. The water lapped gently at the shore, clear for the first time in decades.

And atop the highest dune stood Izuku Midoriya.

He was shirtless, his heated undersuit tied around his waist. His body was a masterpiece of biological engineering. His scales gleamed with health, dark emerald fading to a creamy yellow on his underbelly. Every muscle was defined, corded and tight. He didn't look like a bodybuilder; he looked like a predator carved from jade.

He let out a breath, and steam curled from his nostrils in the crisp February air.

"Oh my... goodness!"

All Might arrived, dropping his grocery bags. "I expected you to finish, but... you even raked the sand!"

"I got into a rhythm," Izuku smiled. It was a scary smile, full of teeth, but it reached his eyes.

"You’ve done it," All Might said, his voice thick with emotion. "You’ve built the vessel."

He reached up and plucked a single golden hair from his head.

"Now. It is time for the ceremony."

He held the hair out to Izuku.

"Eat this."

Izuku stared at the hair. Then he looked at All Might.

"That’s it? Just... eat the hair?"

"It contains my DNA!" All Might insisted. "It’s the mechanism of transfer!"

"I mean, I’ve eaten weirder things this year," Izuku shrugged. He took the hair. "Do I need water?"

"Most people would."

Izuku tossed the hair into his mouth. He swallowed.

Ssssss.

A faint sizzling sound echoed from his throat.

"Did... did you just dissolve it?" All Might asked, horrified.

"My stomach pH is 1.5," Izuku said, patting his belly. "It’s gone. Did it work?"

"It takes a few hours to digest... or, well, absorb," All Might muttered. "You should feel it by the time the practical exam starts. But be warned, Young Midoriya. You are putting a supercharger engine into a... well, you’re already a tank. But be careful. The power will be unfamiliar."

"I’ll be ready."

Izuku grabbed his yellow backpack and his shirt.

"I have to go. The written exam starts in an hour."

"Go! Show them that you are here!"

U.A. High School Gates

The sheer size of U.A. was intimidating. The glass H-shaped buildings gleamed in the sun, promising a future that felt impossible just a year ago.

Izuku walked through the crowd, his heated suit humming quietly under his uniform. He was warm. He was mobile.

But the stares were intense.

"Is that a villain?"

"Look at his teeth."

"He’s huge."

The whispers pricked at him. Izuku kept his head down, clutching the straps of his backpack. His tail, usually dragging, was held stiffly behind him to avoid tripping anyone, a sign of his tension.

Just walk. Just breathe. You’re not a monster. You’re a candidate.

He was so focused on not looking at people that he didn't see the uneven paving stone.

His toe caught.

In a normal timeline, he would have tripped, flailed, and been caught by a gravity quirk.

But Izuku didn't trip easily. His tail acted as a gyroscope. As he stumbled forward, his heavy tail whipped up reflexively to counterbalance his weight.

THWACK.

The tail slammed into something soft.

"Oof!"

Izuku froze. He spun around.

A girl with a bob cut and round, pink cheeks was stumbling back, winded. His tail had caught her right across the stomach, preventing her from falling over him, but effectively clotheslining her.

"Oh my god!" Izuku gasped, his voice jumping an octave. "I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did I break ribs? I tried to counterbalance and—"

The girl waved her hands, wheezing slightly. "I’m... I’m okay! Wow, that’s... hard."

She reached out and touched his tail. Izuku flinched. People didn't touch him.

"It feels like a rock," she marveled, rubbing a scale. "But it’s warm!"

"I... uh... heating suit," Izuku stammered, his face heating up (which unfortunately made his scales turn a slightly darker shade of green).

"I’m Uraraka Ochako!" she beamed, seemingly unbothered by the fact that she had just been whacked by a reptile. "Good luck with the exam! Let’s do our best!"

She waved and walked off.

Izuku stood there, stunned.

"She... she didn't run away," he whispered. "And she touched the scales."

"Out of my way, Deku."

The voice was ice cold.

Izuku stiffened. Bakugo walked past him, hands in his pockets. He didn't look at Izuku. He stared straight ahead at the U.A. building.

"Don't think just because you got bulky that you can stand in my way," Bakugo muttered as he passed. "If you fail, don't come crying to me."

Izuku watched him go. It wasn't the usual explosion of rage. Bakugo seemed... focused. Or maybe he was just saving his energy for the targets.

Izuku took a deep breath. The cold air stung his nose, but the fire in his gut—the phantom heat of the hair he had swallowed—kept him moving.

"I’m not the same Deku anymore, Kacchan," he whispered.

The Orientation Hall

The written exam had been a breeze. Izuku’s mind was sharp, his analysis skills honed by years of obsession. The only issue had been the desk—he had to sit sideways, his legs in the aisle, his tail curled around the chair leg like a depressed snake.

Now, they were in the auditorium. It was dark, loud, and crowded.

"EVERYBODY SAY HEY!"

Present Mic’s voice boomed through the speakers.

Izuku winced, his hands flying to the sides of his head where his ear-holes were hidden under flaps of skin. His hearing was tuned for low frequencies—vibrations in the water—but high-volume shouting was physically painful.

"Too loud," he hissed softly.

Present Mic began explaining the practical exam. Robots. Points. Three types.

Izuku muttered to himself, analyzing the schematics shown on the screen. "Mobility is key. If they are spread out, I need to ambush. I can't chase them all down. I need to find high ground and drop on them..."

"Excuse me!"

A hand shot up in the row ahead. A tall boy with glasses and a severe haircut stood up.

"May I ask a question?"

"Shoot!"

"On the printout, there are four types of villains. If this is a mistake, it is highly shameful for a top-tier institution!" The boy pointed accusingly. Then, he whipped around to point directly at Izuku.

"And you! The mutant student in the back!"

Izuku froze. The spotlight effect was real. Hundreds of eyes turned to him.

"You’ve been muttering and hissing this entire time. It’s distracting! And that tail of yours is thumping against the floor every time you get excited. If you can't control your animalistic urges, perhaps you should leave!"

The auditorium went silent. It was the same old song. Animal. Beast. Disruptive.

Izuku felt the shame burn in his chest. He shrunk in his seat, trying to make his massive frame small.

"Sorry," he rasped. "I... I’ll be quiet."

"Okay, okay! Examinee 7111, thanks for the segue!" Present Mic intervened, saving Izuku from further mortification. "The fourth villain is zero points! It’s an obstacle! Avoid it!"

Izuku stared at the silhouette of the Zero Pointer.

Avoid it.

His gut churned. The "One For All" feeling was starting to manifest. It wasn't a voice. It was a pressure. A bubbling under his skin, like carbonation in his blood.

Battle Center B

The changing rooms were a gauntlet of insecurity.

Izuku stripped off his uniform, revealing the heated undersuit. He pulled the standard-issue U.A. tracksuit over it, but the tracksuit was tight across his chest and shoulders.

Other students stared. They couldn't help it. Izuku’s body was a map of violence—scars from his own growth spurts, chipped scales from sparring with refrigerators, the sheer density of his muscle.

"Whoa," a guy with red spiky hair (Kirishima) said from the next locker. "You look tough, man! What’s your quirk? Dinosaur?"

Izuku looked at him. The boy was smiling. It was a genuine, manly grin.

"Crocodile," Izuku corrected, zipping up his jacket. "Sarcosuchus."

"Sick! I’m Hardening!" Kirishima banged his fists together, turning his skin into rock. "We’re kind of similar, huh? Defense bros!"

"Defense bros," Izuku repeated, a small smile touching his lips. It was nice.

They walked out to the bus that would take them to Battle Center B.

The center was a city. A fake city, but a city nonetheless. Buildings, streets, streetlights. It was massive.

Izuku stood at the gate, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The cold wind was biting, but his suit was holding at 95 degrees. He felt loose. Ready.

He saw the girl, Uraraka, standing near the entrance, looking nervous.

I should wish her luck. She was nice to me.

He took a step.

"Stop right there."

A hand chopped the air in front of him. It was the glasses boy from the auditorium.

"Are you trying to intimidate that girl?" the boy accused. "She’s trying to focus. Your predatory aura is leaking out again."

"I was just—" Izuku started, frustration rising.

"Save your energy for the exam," the boy said sternly.

Izuku clenched his jaw. His teeth ground together with a sound like rocks being crushed.

Fine. I’ll show you.

"AND START!"

Present Mic’s voice screamed from a tower.

The other examinees looked confused. There was no countdown?

But Izuku didn't wait.

All Might had taught him one thing about crocodiles. They don't wait for a starting gun. They explode.

Boom.

The pavement under Izuku’s feet shattered.

He launched himself forward, dropping to all fours for maximum acceleration. His tail lashed out, correcting his balance as he cornered the gate at forty miles per hour.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Mic shouted. "THERE ARE NO COUNTDOWNS IN REAL LIFE! GO! GO! GO!"

The other students scrambled, but it was too late to be first.

The green blur was already down the main street.

Izuku saw his first target. A Three-Pointer. A massive drone on tank treads.

It swiveled its gun toward him. "TARGET ACQUIRED."

Izuku didn't slow down. He didn't dodge.

The "One For All" inside him surged. He didn't know how to use it yet, not really. He didn't call upon the smash. He just let the energy flood his muscles, reinforcing what was already unbreakable.

He roared.

It wasn't a human shout. It was a primal bellow that shook the glass in the windows.

He leaped, spinning in the air.

"DEATH ROLL!"

His tail, reinforced by the glowing red veins of One For All for just a microsecond, slammed into the robot's chassis.

Metal screamed. The robot wasn't just dented; it was cleaved in half.

Izuku landed, his claws gouging the asphalt to brake. He stood up, steam rising from his scales, his yellow eyes dilated.

Three points.

He turned to the city.

I’m hungry.

The fake city of Battle Center B smelled like ozone, burning rubber, and fear.

To Izuku Midoriya, it smelled like prey.

He was moving faster than he ever had in his life. The Sarcosuchus mutation made him heavy—nearly three hundred pounds of dense bone and muscle—but once that mass was in motion, it was a freight train. His claws dug into the asphalt with every stride, kicking up divots of concrete, propelling him forward with a terrifying momentum.

"Six minutes and two seconds remaining!" Present Mic’s voice echoed over the city speakers, tinny and distant compared to the roar of blood in Izuku’s ears.

He skidded around a corner, his massive tail swinging wide to counterbalance the drift, knocking a streetlight stanchion flat with a resonant clang.

Ahead, a chaotic scene unfolded. A cluster of examinees was pinned down by a pair of Two-Pointers—bulky, scorpion-like machines with pneumatic tails. The students were hesitating, throwing weak emitter blasts that pinged harmlessly off the armor plating.

"They're too thick!" a boy with prehensile hair shouted. "We need to flank them!"

"Move!" Izuku roared.

He didn't mean to sound angry. In his head, he was shouting a warning. But filtered through a larynx thickened by reptilian vocal cords and amplified by the adrenaline of the hunt, it came out as a thunderous, guttural command.

The students scattered, not out of tactical agreement, but out of sheer terror of the green blur charging them.

Izuku didn't slow down. He targeted the left robot.

Analysis: Two-Pointer. Armored carapace. Weak points: Joints and sensor array.

Strategy: Brute force.

Izuku dropped his shoulder. The heated undersuit beneath his tracksuit was humming, keeping his core temperature at optimal efficiency despite the February chill. He felt loose. He felt powerful.

He slammed into the Two-Pointer like a wrecking ball.

CRUNCH.

The impact was visceral. Metal buckled against scales. Izuku didn't just knock the robot over; he caved in its entire side panel. The machine shrieked—a sound of grinding gears—and skidded sideways, sparking wildly.

But it wasn't dead. Its pneumatic tail lashed out, aiming for Izuku’s head.

Izuku’s eyes, protected by his transparent nictitating membranes, tracked the movement. It was slow. So incredibly slow.

He caught the mechanical tail with one hand. His grip strength, enhanced by the latent buzz of One For All coursing through his veins, was immense. He squeezed. The metal crimped and collapsed like aluminum foil.

"Death Roll."

It wasn't a whisper. It was a statement of intent.

Izuku clamped his other hand onto the robot's chassis. He planted his feet, revved his hips, and threw his entire body into a horizontal spin.

It was the signature move of the crocodilian order, perfected over millions of years of evolution to tear limbs from large prey. Applied to a robot, the physics were catastrophic.

Izuku spun. The centrifugal force generated by his heavy tail and broad shoulders was immense. The robot was lifted off the ground, twisted violently in the air, and slammed back down.

SCREEE-CRACK.

The robot was torn in half at the waist. Oil and hydraulic fluid sprayed over Izuku’s chest, slicking his green scales.

He stood up, chest heaving, steam rising from his nostrils. He dropped the severed tail of the robot onto the pile of scrap.

That’s... roughly twenty points now, he calculated, wiping oil from his snout. Not enough. I need more.

He turned to the stunned group of students.

"Are you hurt?" Izuku asked, trying to soften his voice.

The boy with the hair quirk trembled, pointing a shaking finger. "N-no! Please don't eat us!"

Izuku’s shoulders slumped. Right. Still scary.

"Keep moving," he grunted, turning away. "The Three-Pointers are congregating two blocks east."

He sprinted off, leaving the confused students in his wake.

Observation Room

In a darkened room lined with monitors, the faculty of U.A. High watched the carnage.

"This year's harvest is... energetic," Midnight purred, tapping a screen. "There are quite a few lookers."

"Destructive capability is high," Snipe noted, adjusting his mask. "Especially that explosion kid in Center A. But look at Center B."

On the main screen, a feed tracked Izuku. He was currently dismantling a Three-Pointer by grabbing its treads and flipping it over with pure physical torque.

"Examinee 7111. Izuku Midoriya," Nezu, the principal, squeaked thoughtfully, sipping tea. "Quirk: Sarcosuchus. A mutation type. Very rare to see one fully expressed like this. Usually, reptilian quirks are just skin conditions or a tail. He is a full-scale throwback."

"He’s brutal," a voice grumbled from the back. Shota Aizawa stood with his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed. "He fights like a wild animal. Look at him. No martial arts. No technique. Just biting, thrashing, and throwing his weight around. It’s reckless."

"Is it?" All Might sat in the corner, trying to look small in his muscle form. "I think it shows adaptability! He is using his natural weapons! Crocodiles are apex predators for a reason, Aizawa! They don't need karate!"

Aizawa side-eyed the Number One Hero. "Strength without control is just a liability. He’s causing almost as much collateral damage to the city as the robots. Look at the road."

On screen, Izuku took a corner too sharp, his claws digging furrows deep enough to lay pipe in.

"And there's something else," a hero with a cement-block head muttered. "He’s tough. He took a missile from a Three-Pointer directly to the back a moment ago and didn't even stumble. His durability scores are off the charts."

"He’s a tank," Midnight agreed. "But tanks are slow. Can he keep this up?"

Nezu smiled, his beady eyes gleaming. "Well, let's find out. It’s time to test their mettle. Release the catalyst."

He pressed a large red button.

Battle Center B - 4 Minutes Remaining

Izuku was panting.

The adrenaline was still high, but the lactic acid was building up. The heat suit was doing its job, but the cold air outside was biting at his exposed face and hands. The contrast between the searing heat against his torso and the freezing wind on his scales was disorienting.

Focus. Keep the blood moving.

He had thirty-eight points. It was a solid score, but was it enough? U.A. was the best. The cut-off line was historically high.

I need fifty. Just to be safe.

He rounded a corner into a wide plaza. It was a battlefield. Robots lay in smoking heaps. Students were running everywhere, shouting coordinates and quirks.

He saw the blue-haired boy with glasses—Iida—sprinting past, his engine legs blurring. Iida delivered a high-speed kick to a One-Pointer, shattering its optical lens.

"Efficiency! Speed!" Iida shouted to no one in particular. "Two minutes remain! We must maximize our score!"

He glanced at Izuku. For a split second, their eyes met. Iida’s expression was stern, judgmental. He saw the oil and hydraulic fluid dripping from Izuku’s jaws. He saw the brutality of Izuku’s path.

Izuku looked away, shame pricking at him again. I’m not a villain, he thought desperately. I’m just... heavy.

"Help!"

A shrill cry cut through the noise.

Izuku’s head snapped toward the sound. A girl—the one with the earphone jacks—was cornered by three robots.

Izuku stepped forward, but before he could move, a laser beam blasted one of the robots into slag.

"I cannot stop twinkling!" A blonde boy with a naval laser posed atop a pile of rubble.

Izuku blinked. Okay, she’s safe.

Then, the ground jumped.

It wasn't a vibration. It was a convulsion. The asphalt rippled like water. Dust billowed from the north end of the city, blotting out the sun.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

Footsteps. Titanic footsteps.

The skyscrapers flanking the main street trembled, glass shattering and raining down on the students below.

From the dust cloud, a shadow emerged. It was gargantuan. A single hand was the size of a bus. Its green optical sensors glowed with indifferent malice.

The Zero Pointer.

It was taller than the buildings. It was a moving mountain of metal and circuitry.

"That’s... that’s funny," a student near Izuku laughed nervously, backing away. "They... they actually built something that big?"

The Zero Pointer punched a building. The entire structure collapsed, masonry cascading into the street. The shockwave knocked several students off their feet.

"RUN!"

The panic was instantaneous. The examinees turned and fled. There were no points to be gained here. It was an obstacle. Logic dictated retreat.

Iida was already moving. "It is irrational to fight! Clear the area!"

Izuku stood frozen. His reptilian brain was screaming at him.

PREDATOR TOO LARGE. CANNOT FIGHT. FLEE. HIDE. SURVIVE.

His tail tucked between his legs instinctively—a submissive, fearful posture. He took a step back.

Run. Just run. You have 38 points. You might pass. Don't die here.

He turned to run.

"Oww!"

The sound was small, barely audible over the crashing of the falling building.

Izuku stopped. His ear-hole twitched.

He looked back.

Through the dust, about fifty meters away, trapped under a slab of concrete that had fallen from the crushing impact of the Zero Pointer, was Uraraka.

She was struggling, her face contorted in pain. She couldn't reach the debris to use her gravity quirk. The Zero Pointer was looming over her, its massive treads grinding the pavement, inching closer.

It wasn't looking at her. It didn't care. She was just an ant in its path.

Izuku looked at the fleeing students. He looked at Iida, who was disappearing down a side street.

They don't see her.

He looked at Uraraka.

She’s going to die.

The thought hit him like a physical blow. Not "she might get hurt." She was going to be crushed.

The fear in his gut didn't vanish. The reptile brain was still screaming RUN.

But something else screamed louder.

I AM HERE.

The memory of the beach. The memory of the slime villain. The memory of All Might’s hand on his shoulder.

You will be the Pillar that does not crack.

Izuku Midoriya stopped thinking.

The "One For All" energy, which had been a low hum in his blood all morning, suddenly spiked. It wasn't a conscious activation. It was a response to the need.

Red veins of energy flared across his green scales. Green lightning arced from his body, sizzling in the air.

He spun around.

His claws gouged deep into the street as he launched himself.

He didn't run. He exploded.

The Clash

Uraraka Ochako was terrified.

Her leg was pinned. The pain was sharp and hot, but the fear was cold. The shadow of the giant robot had swallowed her. She watched the massive metal treads churning toward her, crunching debris into dust.

I can't move. I’m stuck. Someone...

She squeezed her eyes shut.

WHOOSH.

A gust of wind, powerful enough to sting her cheeks, blasted past her.

She opened her eyes.

Something green was flying through the air.

It wasn't a bird. It wasn't a plane. It was a monster.

Izuku Midoriya was airborne. He had leaped from a crouch, clearing fifty meters in a single bound. The force of his jump had shattered the pavement where he stood, leaving a crater.

He was screaming. A raw, wordless war cry that challenged the god-machine in front of him.

One For All: Full Cowl - 5%.

Wait, no.

His body wasn't human. His bones were denser than granite. His muscles were braided steel. He didn't need to limit himself to the human safety threshold.

One For All: Limit Break - 15%.

The power flooded him. It felt like his blood was boiling, like his scales were going to pop off his skin, but he held it. He was the vessel.

He reached the Zero Pointer’s face level. The robot was sluggish, its massive size making it slow to react. Its sensors locked onto the projectile hurtling toward it.

"THREAT DETECTED."

Izuku didn't punch. A punch was a blunt instrument. A punch pushed things away.

Izuku needed to hold on.

He opened his jaws.

To a human observer, it looked impossible. His mouth unhinged, the skin stretching wide, revealing rows of serrated teeth that glistened in the sunlight.

He slammed into the robot's neck—a thick bundle of hydraulic cables and support struts protected by armor plating.

CHOMP.

Izuku bit down.

The sound was sickeningly loud—metal shearing, glass shattering. His teeth, reinforced by the strongest stockpiling quirk in history, punched through the titanium alloy armor like it was cardboard.

He locked his jaw. Thousands of pounds per square inch of bite force, multiplied by One For All.

He hung there, suspended in the air, clamped onto the giant robot's throat like a pit bull on a intruder.

The Zero Pointer flailed. It reached up with a massive hand to swat him away, but the damage was already done. The bite had severed the main hydraulic lines for the head unit.

Oil—black and viscous—sprayed out like arterial blood, drenching Izuku.

But he wasn't done.

"GRRRRRAAAAAH!"

Muffled by the metal in his mouth, Izuku roared. He engaged his core. He swung his massive tail to generate momentum.

He began to spin.

The Death Roll.

Usually, a crocodile spins to rip a chunk of meat off a carcass. Izuku was trying to rip the head off a building-sized robot.

The physics were insane. The sheer torque twisted the robot's neck structure. Steel girders groaned and screamed. Sparks showered down like fireworks.

RIP.

With a sound like a bomb going off, the Zero Pointer’s head unit was torn free.

Izuku, still clamping the severed head (which was the size of a small car), was flung backward by the release of tension.

The headless body of the Zero Pointer slumped, its systems failing, and began to tip backward, away from Uraraka.

The Fall

Izuku was falling.

He was high up—maybe ten stories. The wind whipped past him. He spat the robot's head out; it plummeted to the street below with a deafening crash.

Now, gravity took hold.

I’m falling.

The adrenaline began to fade, replaced by pain. His jaw felt like it was on fire. His teeth ached. His muscles were screaming from the strain of using 15% of One For All.

He looked down. The ground was rushing up fast.

I can't fly.

He tried to activate One For All to cushion the fall, but his limbs were numb. The cold air rushed over his oil-slicked scales, sapping his heat instantly.

This is going to hurt.

"Slap!"

Suddenly, he wasn't falling. He was floating.

A hand had touched his ankle just as he passed the third-story mark.

He looked down. Uraraka was standing on top of a pile of rubble (she had freed herself while he was fighting), her hands pressed together, her face pale and nauseous.

"Release!" she gagged.

Gravity returned instantly.

Izuku crashed down, but from only ten feet instead of a hundred.

He landed in a crouch, his claws gouging the concrete to arrest his momentum. His tail slammed down behind him, cracking the asphalt, absorbing the remaining kinetic energy.

He stood up slowly.

He was a mess. Covered in oil, dust, and robot fluids. His tracksuit was shredded. His scales were scraped and dull.

Silence descended on the city.

The other students were peeking out from alleys and behind cars. They stared at the headless giant collapsing in the distance. They stared at the green monster standing in the crater.

Izuku’s chest heaved. He felt the cold creeping into his core. His eyelids were heavy.

"That..." a student whispered. "That was... terrifying."

Izuku flinched. He looked at his hands. They were shaking.

I scared them. I acted like a beast again.

"You saved me!"

Izuku looked down. Uraraka was limping toward him, ignoring the oil and the scary teeth. Her eyes were wide, shining with tears.

"You saved me," she repeated. "You jumped right at it! You ripped its head off!"

Izuku blinked. "I... I just..."

"TIME’S UP!"

Present Mic’s siren wailed.

The exam was over.

Izuku’s knees buckled. The adrenaline crash, combined with the cold, hit him all at once. He slumped forward, catching himself on his hands.

"Are you okay?" Uraraka asked, reaching out.

"Cold," Izuku chattered, his teeth clicking together. "Sleepy."

"Here, let me..."

"Move aside, dearies!"

A small, elderly woman in a nurse's outfit hobbled through the crowd, pushing students out of the way with a syringe-cane.

"Recovery Girl!" someone gasped.

She walked up to Izuku. She looked at the destroyed robot head, then at the headless body, then at the massive crocodile boy shivering on the ground.

"My, my," she tutted. "You certainly made a mess, didn't you?"

She tapped Izuku’s arm with her cane. "Any broken bones?"

"Jaw..." Izuku mumbled. "Feels loose. And... tired."

Recovery Girl peered into his mouth. "Open wide. Wider. Goodness, look at those teeth."

She inspected his gums. "Well, you’ve chipped three teeth and dislocated your jaw slightly, but it’s already popping back into place. Tough boy. Most people would have shattered every bone in their face biting that thing."

She kissed his snout.

Smooch.

A wave of warmth washed over Izuku. His stamina drained further, but the pain in his jaw vanished.

"Here," she said, pulling a handful of gummies from her pocket. "High sugar. You need the energy. And someone get this boy a blanket! He’s coldblooded, you idiots!"

Two robots rushed over with thermal blankets, wrapping Izuku up like a giant burrito.

As he lay there, warming up, he saw Iida walking toward him. The tall boy looked shaken. He looked from the robot to Izuku, his fists clenched.

"I..." Iida started, then stopped. He adjusted his glasses. "I misjudged the situation. And you."

Izuku looked at him from the depths of his blanket cocoon.

"You perceived the threat to the examinee when I was focused only on the objective," Iida said stiffly. "Your actions were... most heroic."

He bowed—a sharp, ninety-degree angle.

"I have much to learn!"

Izuku blinked. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—a small one, so he wouldn't show too many teeth.

"Thanks," he whispered.

One Week Later

The letter arrived.

It was heavy. Izuku sat at his desk, staring at the envelope. He was wearing a thick sweater, his room heated to a tropical eighty degrees.

Inko was pacing in the hallway. "Izuku? Is it here? Do you want me to open it?"

"I'll do it, Mom," Izuku called out.

He ripped the seal with a claw. A metal disk slid out onto the desk.

A hologram projected onto the wall.

"I AM HERE! AS A PROJECTION!"

All Might filled the room, his signature laugh booming.

"Young Midoriya! It has been a week! I apologize for the silence, but there was much paperwork! You destroyed a very expensive robot!"

Izuku winced. They’re going to bill me.

"But fear not!" All Might continued. "Let us look at your score!"

A scoreboard appeared on the projection.

Villain Points: 38.

Izuku’s heart sank. "Thirty-eight... usually the cutoff is forty-five or fifty. I failed. I spent too much time on the Zero Pointer."

"Thirty-eight points! A respectable score! But not enough to guarantee a spot in Class A!"

All Might’s face grew serious.

"However! You are not applying to a mercenary school! You are applying to a Hero course! And what is a hero?"

The video cut to a clip from the exam. It showed Uraraka speaking to the judges.

"Please! Give him some of my points! He saved me! He jumped in when everyone else ran away! He can't fail because he saved me!"

Izuku’s eyes widened. She had tried to give him her points?

"A hero is someone who risks their life for others!" All Might shouted. "And acts of true heroism must be rewarded!"

The scoreboard updated.

Rescue Points: 60.

Total: 98.

Izuku gasped, covering his mouth.

"Ninety-eight points! Young Midoriya! You passed with flying colors! In fact, you shattered the records!"

All Might extended a hand toward the camera.

"Come, Izuku Midoriya. This is your Hero Academia!"

The hologram faded.

Izuku sat in the silence, the warmth of the room wrapping around him. Tears welled up in his eyes—big, heavy tears that rolled down his scales.

He opened the door. Inko was standing there, terrified.

"Izuku?"

He held up the hologram disk, a jagged, toothy smile breaking across his face.

"I got in, Mom."

Inko screamed and fainted.

U.A. High - Teacher's Lounge

Aizawa shuffled through the files of the accepted students. He stopped at the file for Class 1-A.

"Midoriya Izuku," he muttered, looking at the picture of the reptilian boy.

"He’s a handful," Midnight commented, looking over his shoulder. "Highest rescue points we've seen in years. But look at the property damage report."

Aizawa glanced at the report. Cost of Zero Pointer repairs: Total Loss. Road repairs: Significant.

"He lacks finesse," Aizawa said, dropping the file onto the desk. "He relies on brute strength and durability. He thinks because he has scales, he can tank anything."

He grinned—a terrifying, manic expression that rivaled even Izuku’s.

"I look forward to breaking that habit. Let’s see how cold-blooded he really is."

The U.A. High School blazer was a masterpiece of tailoring, but it was still a prison.

Izuku Midoriya stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, adjusting the collar. The dark gray fabric was reinforced with Kevlar weave—standard for Hero Course students—but for Izuku, the issue wasn't protection; it was containment.

His neck, thicker than a normal human’s and lined with ridge-like scales, strained against the starch. The buttons on the chest held on for dear life against the dense pectoral muscles beneath. And then there was the tail.

The pants had been custom modified with a specialized vent in the back, reinforced with elastic polymers to allow his massive, five-foot tail to extend comfortably without tearing the seam every time he turned a corner.

"It’s tight," Izuku muttered, his voice a low rumble.

"It looks dashing!" Inko chirped from the doorway, clasping her hands together. She was beaming, though her eyes were wet. "My little Izuku, off to U.A.!"

Izuku offered a toothy smile, careful not to flare his nostrils—a sign of aggression in crocodilians. "Thanks, Mom. I just hope... I hope I fit in."

"You’ll do great," she insisted. She handed him a bento box. "Lots of raw sashimi and chicken today. And I packed two extra heat packs just in case the classrooms are drafty."

"Thanks."

Izuku grabbed his yellow backpack, swinging it over one shoulder. He checked the battery indicator on his wrist—a small monitor connected to the thermal undersuit he wore beneath his uniform. 98% Charge. Core Temp: 96°F.

Perfect.

He stepped out of the apartment. The spring air was crisp, the cherry blossoms were blooming, and for the first time in his life, Izuku walked with his head held high.

Class 1-A

Finding the classroom was easy; the door was massive.

A towering barrier of steel and wood, clearly designed to accommodate students with gigantification quirks or mutations. For Izuku, it was a relief. He wouldn't have to duck.

He stood before the door, his heart hammering against his ribs.

This is it. The Hero Course. The best of the best.

He remembered the Entrance Exam. The Zero Pointer. The feeling of One For All coursing through his veins—a power that felt like lightning trapped in a bottle. He hadn't used it since. He had spent the last week visualizing the energy, trying to understand how to call upon it without snapping his own mind.

Don't be nervous. Just open the door.

He reached out with a clawed hand and slid the door open.

"Remove your foot from the desk!"

The shouting hit him instantly.

"Hah?"

Inside, Tenya Iida—the stiff, glasses-wearing boy from the exam—was chopping the air in front of Katsuki Bakugo.

"It is disrespectful to the U.A. upperclassmen and the people who made this desk!" Iida boomed.

Bakugo, leaning back with his feet crossed on the wood, sneered. "Joke's on you, four-eyes. I don't respect anything. What junior high are you from, you extra?"

"I am from Somei Private Academy. My name is Tenya Iida."

"Somei? A stuck-up elite, huh? I’ll have fun crushing you."

"Crushing? That’s cruel. Do you truly aim to be a hero?"

Izuku froze in the doorway. It’s them. The scary ones.

Iida turned, sensing the presence. His eyes locked onto Izuku.

"Ah! You!"

The room went silent. Everyone turned to look.

Izuku instinctively hunched his shoulders, his tail curling around his leg. He was the biggest thing in the room, yet he felt like the smallest.

Iida marched over. "I am Tenya Iida! I must apologize for my behavior at the entrance exam! I misjudged the nature of the test, and your resolve! You perceived the true nature of the rescue points, while I was blinded by the superficial objective!"

"Oh, uh, no," Izuku stammered, waving his hands. "I didn't really... I just moved. It wasn't a calculation."

"That makes it even more impressive!" Iida declared.

"Hey! It’s the Green Giant!"

A bubbly voice chimed in. Ochako Uraraka appeared from behind Iida, beaming.

"You got in! I knew you would! That punch—well, bite—was amazing!" She mimed a chomp motion with her hands.

"Uraraka-san," Izuku smiled, relaxing slightly. "Yeah. We made it."

"I wonder what the ceremony will be like?" she wondered. "Or the teacher? Do you think they’re scary?"

"If you're here to make friends, pack up and leave."

The voice came from the floor.

Izuku looked down. Lying in the hallway, wrapped in a yellow sleeping bag like a monolithic caterpillar, was a man with messy black hair and bloodshot eyes. He sucked on a pouch of jelly drink.

"It took you eight seconds to quiet down," the man said, unzipping the bag and standing up. He looked exhausted. "Time is limited. You kids lack rationality."

The class stared. This is our teacher?

"I’m your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa," he drawled. He reached into his sleeping bag and pulled out a stack of blue gym uniforms.

"Put these on and head to the P.E. grounds immediately."

"The P.E. grounds?" Uraraka asked. "What about the entrance ceremony? The orientation?"

Aizawa turned, his dark eyes lifeless. "If you want to be a hero, you don't have time for frilly ceremonies."

The Locker Room

The boys' locker room was a chaos of changing bodies.

Izuku went to the far corner, trying to be discreet. Changing was a process. He had to strip down to his undersuit, check the wiring, and then pull the tracksuit over his bulk.

"Whoa, dude."

Izuku turned. A short boy with purple balls on his head—Mineta—was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

"Is that... is that real?" Mineta pointed at Izuku’s tail, which was currently swishing back and forth as Izuku struggled with his pants.

"Yeah," Izuku said. "Born with it."

"Does it... does it bite?" Mineta squeaked, backing away.

"The tail? No. The mouth? Yes," Izuku said dryly, flashing a quick grin.

"Man, that is so manly!" Kirishima, the redhead from the exam, slapped Izuku on the back. His hand hardened into rock as he did so, making a clack sound against Izuku’s scales. "You’re like a walking fortress! I’m Eijiro Kirishima. My quirk is Hardening. We’re basically quirk cousins!"

"Izuku Midoriya," Izuku replied, appreciating the contact. Most people were afraid to touch him. "Your hardening... does it increase your mass, or just density?"

"Density, mostly! But you? You’re huge!"

"It has its downsides," Izuku muttered, finally getting the tracksuit zipped. It was tight across the chest. "Finding clothes is a nightmare."

"I can imagine," a boy with six arms—Shoji—said quietly from a bench. "I have similar issues with sleeve holes."

Izuku looked at Shoji. A fellow mutant. He felt a sudden kinship. "We should... we should exchange tailor contacts later."

Shoji nodded. "Agreed."

The P.E. Grounds

The sun was high, but the wind was cool. Izuku stood in the line of students, his heating suit set to medium.

Aizawa stood in front of them, holding a softball.

"U.A. is known for its 'freedom' in education," Aizawa stated. "That freedom applies to the teachers as well."

He looked at the class.

"Softball throw. Standing long jump. 50-meter dash. Endurance run. Grip strength. Upper-body lift. Toe-touch. Sit-ups. You did these in middle school, correct? Without quirks."

He tossed the ball up and caught it.

"The country is still stuck on the old standard of prohibiting quirks in sports. It’s irrational. Bakugo."

Bakugo looked up.

"How far could you throw in middle school?"

"Sixty-seven meters," Bakugo scoffed.

"Try it with your quirk. Do anything you want, just stay in the circle."

Bakugo walked to the circle. He stretched his arms. He glared at the ball.

"Daaieee!" (Die!)

BOOM.

An explosion erupted from his palm, propelling the ball into the stratosphere. A shockwave of heat washed over the class.

Izuku watched the ball soar. He added blast propulsion at the moment of release. Adding rotational force to the projectile.

Aizawa held up a device. "705.2 meters."

"Whoa! That’s awesome!" Kaminari shouted.

"We can use our quirks as much as we want? This is gonna be fun!" Ashido cheered.

The atmosphere lightened. Everyone was excited.

Aizawa’s expression darkened. The air temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Fun?" he whispered.

The class went silent.

"You have three years to become heroes. Do you think you can spend that time having 'fun'?" Aizawa’s hair began to float slightly. "Right then. New rule. The student who ranks last in total points will be judged as having 'no potential' and will be immediately expelled."

"Haaaah?!" The class erupted.

"Expelled?" Uraraka cried out. "It’s the first day! That’s too unreasonable! That’s unfair!"

"Natural disasters," Aizawa said, his voice cutting through the noise. "Highway pileups. Rampaging villains. Calamity is always unreasonable. Heroism is about overturning that unreasonableness."

He pointed a finger at them.

"Go Beyond. Plus Ultra. Overcome it with everything you have."

Izuku swallowed hard. The saliva in his mouth felt thick.

Last place gets expelled.

He looked at his classmates. Bakugo, with his explosions. Iida with his engines. Uraraka with gravity.

I have a strong body. But I don't have finesse. If I slip up...

He clenched his fists. His claws dug into his palms.

I won't be last.

Test 1: 50-Meter Dash

"On your mark."

Izuku crouched in the starting lane. Next to him was Iida.

Iida’s engines were revving. Vroom. Vroom.

Izuku’s stance was different. He dropped to all fours, his tail raised high behind him like a scorpion’s stinger.

My legs are strong, but my body is heavy. Three hundred and twenty pounds. Inertia is my enemy.

"START!"

Iida was a bullet. He was gone instantly.

Izuku exploded forward. His claws tore into the dirt track, giving him perfect traction.

Dig! Dig! Dig!

But the start was slow. It took him a full second to overcome his resting mass. His acceleration curve was steep, but the track was too short.

Iida crossed the line. "3.04 seconds!"

Izuku thundered across a moment later, wind whipping past his scales.

"5.51 seconds!" the robot announced.

Izuku skidded to a stop, using his tail as a brake to keep from crashing into the fence.

"Not bad," he panted. "Faster than middle school. But Iida... he’s in a different league for speed."

He looked back. Bakugo ran a 4.13 using explosions. Even Uraraka, by lightening her clothes and shoes, ran a 7.15.

I’m in the middle of the pack for speed.

Test 2: Grip Strength

This was different.

Izuku picked up the dynamometer. It looked like a toy in his hand.

He looked at Shoji, who was squeezing with three hands at once. "540 kg!"

"Impressive," Izuku muttered.

He gripped the device.

Crocodiles have the strongest bite force in the animal kingdom—upwards of 3,700 PSI. While his hands weren't jaws, the muscle density was the same. His tendons were like steel cables.

He didn't use One For All. He didn't need to.

He squeezed.

CRACK.

The plastic housing of the machine shattered. The digital display flickered and died, but the last reading froze on the screen.

ERROR.

"Uh, sensei?" Izuku raised his hand, holding the broken pieces. "I think I broke it."

Aizawa looked over. "The last reading was 700kg before it snapped. I’ll record that."

The class stared.

"700kg?" Sero gasped. "That’s like... a gorilla!"

"More like a T-Rex," Kaminari corrected.

Izuku blushed, his scales darkening. Strength is my category. I have to bank points here.

Test 3: Standing Long Jump

Izuku stood at the edge of the sandbox.

Usually, a standing jump is about leg spring. For Izuku, it was about kinetics.

He bent his knees. He swung his heavy tail backward, loading it like a spring.

As he jumped, he whipped his tail upward and forward, transferring the momentum. It was a technique kangaroo rats used, scaled up to a monster.

He soared.

He cleared the sandbox. He cleared the grass beyond it. He landed in the dirt nearly ten meters away.

"Clear!" the robot beeped.

"He flies pretty good for a lizard," Bakugo muttered, though his eyes were narrowed.

Test 4: Side Steps

Disaster.

"Start!"

Izuku tried to move side-to-side rapidly.

Thump. Thump. Thwack.

His tail kept hitting the sensory poles. Every time he changed direction, his center of gravity lagged behind. His inertia was too great for rapid directional changes.

"Time up!"

His score was abysmal. Even Mineta beat him here.

Izuku walked away, frustrated. I’m a tank. I’m not built for agility drills.

Test 5: The Ball Throw

This was it. The big one.

Uraraka had just scored "Infinity," which demoralized everyone. Now it was Izuku’s turn.

He walked to the circle. The ball felt tiny in his clawed hand.

He stood there, breathing deeply.

I need a big score. I need to show I belong here.

He looked at Aizawa. The teacher was watching him like a hawk. Or rather, like a tired cat watching a mouse.

One For All.

Izuku closed his eyes. He felt the power. The stockpile.

If I use 100% in my arm... I’ll break it. But I need distance.

Wait. All Might said I’m durable. Maybe I can handle 20%? No, the doctor said my bones are strong, but the connective tissue is still adapting.

I’ll use the tail.

It was an insane idea. But his tail was the strongest muscle in his body. It was pure muscle, bone, and scale.

He turned his back to the field. He held the ball in the curl of his tail, gripping it between two osteoderm ridges.

"He’s gonna throw it with his butt?" Kaminari whispered.

"It’s a tail, you idiot," Jiro hissed.

Izuku widened his stance.

One For All... Flow.

He channeled the power. Not into his arm, but down his spine. He felt the red veins glowing beneath his scales. The heat was intense.

He began to spin.

One rotation. Two rotations.

He was a green cyclone.

"SMASH!"

He whipped his tail. The centrifugal force, combined with the explosive power of One For All, launched the ball.

The sound was deafening. A sonic boom cracked through the air.

But something was wrong.

The ball didn't vanish into the sky. It flew about fifty meters and dropped.

"What?" Izuku gasped, stopping his spin. He felt dizzy.

"I erased your quirk."

Izuku turned. Aizawa stood there, his hair defying gravity, his scarf floating. His eyes were glowing red.

"That throw," Aizawa said, walking closer. "You were winding up for a massive release of energy. Just like the entrance exam. You rely on that destructive power."

"I... I was trying to—"

"You fight like a beast," Aizawa cut him off. His voice was cold, sharp. "I watched the footage. You bite. You thrash. You throw yourself into danger with zero regard for your own safety or the collateral damage. And now, you’re trying to use a power that you clearly can't control."

Aizawa stepped into Izuku’s personal space. Izuku towered over him, but Aizawa felt bigger.

"You look like a monster, Midoriya. The world will already judge you for that. If you fight like a mindless animal, destroying everything around you, you will simply prove them right."

Aizawa’s eyes bored into him.

"Are you a hero? Or are you just a kaiju waiting to be put down?"

The words stung worse than any punch.

A monster.

Izuku looked at his claws. He looked at the ball lying in the grass.

"I..." Izuku’s voice trembled. "I want to save people."

"Then show me," Aizawa blinked, his hair falling. "Show me rationality. You have a mutant body. You have a stockpile of power. Stop trying to use them separately. Integrate them."

He tossed the ball back to Izuku.

"One more try. Don't disappoint me."

Izuku caught the ball.

He stood in the circle again. The class was silent. Bakugo was watching, his face unreadable.

Integrate them.

My body is the weapon. One For All is the fuel.

He didn't turn around this time. He faced the field.

He held the ball in his right hand.

Don't just use the arm. Use the whole chain.

He planted his feet. He dug his claws into the dirt.

He swung his tail to the left, creating a massive counter-torque.

He engaged his hips. His core. His shoulder.

One For All: Full Cowl - 5%.

Green lightning crackled around him. It didn't hurt. It felt... right. It felt like the heat from his undersuit, permeating every cell.

He whipped his arm forward. At the same moment, he snapped his tail in the opposite direction to maximize the rotational velocity of his torso.

It was a kinetic whip.

"GO!"

The ball left his hand.

BOOM.

The air pressure shockwave knocked Mineta over. A cone of dust blasted out from the circle.

The ball screamed into the sky, burning through the clouds.

Izuku stood there, his arm smoking slightly. His scales felt hot, but his bones... his bones were fine.

Aizawa looked at the device.

"709.6 meters."

He showed the screen to Izuku.

"Better."

Izuku let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He clenched his fist. It wasn't broken.

"I... I can move," Izuku whispered. "I can do it."

"DEKU!"

An explosion.

Bakugo was charging. His face was twisted in pure rage.

"Since when did you have an emitter quirk?! You damn lizard! You lied to me!"

He was fast. He was going to blast Izuku right in the face.

Izuku didn't flinch. His reptile brain tracked the movement.

Threat incoming.

He shifted his weight. He prepared to catch the wrist.

But suddenly, white cloth wrapped around Bakugo.

"Gah!" Bakugo fell face-first into the dirt, restrained.

"I’m getting dry eye," Aizawa groaned, reeling Bakugo in with his capture weapon. "We’re wasting time. Next up."

Izuku looked at Bakugo, who was struggling against the cloth.

"I didn't lie, Kacchan," Izuku said softly. "I just... evolved."

The Results

The sun was setting. The air was getting cold again. Izuku shivered, hugging himself.

"Time for the results," Aizawa said. "I won't bother reading them out. Just look at the hologram."

A screen projected from his phone.

Izuku closed his eyes. Please not last. Please not last.

He opened one eye.

1.  Momo Yaoyorozu

2.  Izuku Midoriya

3.  Shoto Todoroki

4.  Katsuki Bakugo

...

20. Toru Hagakure

Izuku blinked.

Second place?

He scanned the scores. His grip strength, standing jump, and ball throw were top tier. His dash was average. His agility scores were low, but his raw power stats pulled him up.

"Midoriya got second?" Kirishima gasped. "Man, that’s manly!"

"He beat Todoroki and Bakugo?"

Bakugo was staring at the board. He wasn't screaming. He was vibrating.

"And by the way," Aizawa said, turning to walk away. "The expulsion was a logical ruse."

"Hah?"

"It was a deception to draw out your maximum potential."

"WHAAAT?!" the class shrieked.

"Well, of course it was," Momo Yaoyorozu said confidently. "It was obvious."

No it wasn't! the rest of the class thought.

Aizawa stopped. He looked back at Izuku.

"Midoriya."

Izuku straightened up. "Yes, sensei!"

"You passed. But your technique is sloppy. And you hesitate when you switch between your instincts and your brain."

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed.

"The world is full of poachers who would love to turn you into a handbag. If you want to survive, you need to stop thinking of yourself as a mutant trying to be a human. Be the Apex."

He walked off.

Izuku stood there, the words sinking in.

Be the Apex.

"Hey, Midoriya!" Uraraka ran over. "Second place! That’s amazing!"

"Yeah," Iida nodded. "Your physical parameters are truly exemplary."

Izuku smiled. It was a tired smile, but a real one.

"Thanks, guys. I... I’m just glad I get to stay."

He looked at his hand. The claws were sharp. The scales were hard.

He wasn't All Might. He wasn't a shining beacon of peace.

He was something else. Something heavy. Something ancient.

And for the first time, he thought that might be okay.