What if Deku was Hashirama Senju reincarnation

byNeotory -
0

 


The asphalt of the playground was hot enough to scorch bare skin, radiating the oppressive mid-July heat that hung over Musutafu like a wet blanket. The air shimmered above the blacktop, distorting the horizon of swing sets and jungle gyms. The droning cry of cicadas was deafening, a relentless wall of sound that seemed to press against the temples of the three children standing in the park.


Or rather, two standing, and one on the ground.


"You're so weak," a voice sneered, dripping with the cruelty only a four-year-old prodigy could muster. Katsuki Bakugo stood with his chest puffed out, small explosions popping like firecrackers in his palms. The smell of burnt caramel was thick in the air. "You don't have a Quirk. You're just a pebble in my path."


Behind Katsuki, his two lackeys snickered, wings buzzing and fingers elongating, eager to follow their leader.


On the ground, a boy with messy green hair and oversized red shoes trembled. Izuku Midoriya was terrified. His knees shook, his eyes were wide and brimming with tears, and his heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. But he didn't run. Behind him, a weeping child clutched a bruised knee, looking at Izuku as if he were the only wall between him and a painful demise.


"Stop it, Kacchan!" Izuku cried out, his voice wavering but his stance firm. He raised his fists in a shaky guard. "He’s already crying! If you keep hurting him... I-I’ll stop you myself!"


Katsuki’s grin widened, shifting from arrogant to predatory. "You? A Quirkless loser like you thinks he can play hero?" He punched his palm, a larger explosion sending a plume of smoke into the stagnant air. "Try it, Deku!"


Katsuki lunged. It was a simple, telegraphed right hook, propelled by a small blast from his palm. To a four-year-old, it was a cannonball.


Izuku flinched, squeezing his eyes shut. He waited for the burn. He waited for the pain. He waited for the inevitable realization that he was born wrong, born empty.


Protect.


The thought didn't sound like his own voice. It was deeper, resonant, echoing like a shout inside a cavern. It wasn't a panic-induced scream; it was a command. An ancient, imperative instinct that felt older than the city, older than Quirks, older than the ground beneath his feet.


The village must be protected. The seedlings must not be trampled.


Izuku felt a sudden, violent lurch in his stomach—not nausea, but a pulling sensation. It felt like a dam breaking behind his navel. A torrent of energy, warm and rushing like a river, flooded his limbs. It moved faster than thought, surging down his legs and into the soles of his red sneakers.


The asphalt didn't just crack; it screamed.


CRACK-BOOM!


"What the—?!" Katsuki yelped, his momentum halted instantly.


Izuku opened his eyes. He wasn't hit. He wasn't burned.


Between him and Katsuki stood a wall. But it wasn't made of concrete or ice. It was wood. Thick, gnarled roots had burst from the suffocating prison of the pavement, twisting and weaving together in a fraction of a second to form a concave shield of timber. The wood was vibrant, alive, smelling of deep earth and rain—a stark contrast to the chemical stench of the city.


Katsuki had face-planted into the bark. He stumbled back, rubbing a red mark on his forehead, his eyes wide with genuine confusion. "What... what is that?"


Izuku stared at his hands. They were tingling. No, they were humming. He could feel the pulse of the roots he had just summoned. He could feel the moisture deep, deep underground, trapped beneath the layers of city infrastructure. He felt connected to it.


"I..." Izuku whispered. The fear evaporated, replaced by a strange, bubbling sensation in his chest. It wasn't just relief. It was joy. A boundless, overwhelming optimism that made him want to laugh.


The roots shifted. They didn't just sit there; they responded to his rising mood. Tiny green buds popped open along the rough bark of the shield, blooming into small white flowers in seconds.


"I have a Quirk!" Izuku shouted, a wide, dazzling smile breaking across his face. "Kacchan! Look! I made a tree!"


Katsuki stared at the wood, then at Izuku. The hierarchy of their world had just shifted, and the blonde boy didn't like it. "That’s... that’s just a log! My explosions are way cooler!"


He fired another blast at the wood. The fire licked the surface, scorching the bark black, but the wood didn't burn away. Instead, it seemed to absorb the impact, groaning slightly before a new branch whipped out from the side, purely on instinct, and wrapped around Katsuki’s ankle.


"Hey! Let go!" Katsuki thrashed, upside down now, dangling a foot off the ground.


Izuku panicked. "Ah! I’m sorry! Down! Put him down!"


The root obeyed immediately, gently lowering the fuming blonde to the ground. Izuku rushed forward, his earlier terror forgotten, replaced by a concern that felt oddly paternal.


"Are you okay, Kacchan? That was reckless of me! We should likely establish a truce before—" Izuku clamped his hand over his mouth. Establish a truce? Why did he say that? He sounded like his grandfather.


Katsuki slapped Izuku’s hand away, his face red with humiliation. "Shut up! Don't look down on me!"


He turned and ran, his lackeys scrambling to keep up. Izuku stood amidst the broken concrete, surrounded by the lush, impossible greenery he had summoned from nothing. The boy he had saved tugged on his shirt.


"Um... thank you," the kid sniffled.


Izuku looked down. The child looked so small. So fragile.


A seedling.


Izuku patted the boy's head, his smile softening into something wise beyond his four years. "Think nothing of it. Go home now, it’s dangerous to wander alone."


As the boy ran off, Izuku looked back at the wooden shield. He placed his small hand against the rough bark. He could feel the life inside it fading now that he had stopped pushing that warm energy into it.


"You did good," he whispered to the wood.


And for a split second, he could have sworn the wind rustling the leaves whispered back.




"It’s a Mutation-type, most likely," Dr. Tsubasa said, adjusting his thick goggles as he held the X-ray up to the light. The room smelled of antiseptic and cold air conditioning, a stark difference from the vibrant smell of the wood Izuku had created earlier.


Inko Midoriya sat nervously on the edge of her chair, twisting a handkerchief in her hands. Izuku sat on the exam table, swinging his legs. He felt... heavy. Not in a bad way, but grounded. Like he was made of denser material than he had been yesterday.


"A Mutation-type?" Inko asked, her voice high with anxiety. "But... he summoned wood. Isn't that an Emitter?"


"Normally, yes," the doctor grunted, tapping the film. "But look at his bone density. Look at the muscle fibers. Even at four years old, this boy’s cellular structure is... dense. Extremely dense. His vitality is off the charts. If I didn't know better, I'd say his body is constantly regenerating at a cellular level."


The doctor turned his chair to face them, his expression unreadable. "And the energy readings. We track 'Quirk Factors' usually through a specific radiation signature. Izuku’s is different. It’s not localized to a specific organ. It’s flowing through his entire nervous system, merging with his biological stamina. It’s a powerful bio-energy."


"Is it... dangerous?" Inko whispered.


"Only to the pavement," the doctor quipped dryly. "He has the ability to manipulate his own bio-energy to accelerate plant growth, spontaneously generating wood and flora. We’ll register it as Arbor. It’s a versatile ability. Though, I must warn you..."


The doctor leaned in, looking at Izuku with a gaze that felt too sharp, too clinical.


"With vitality like this, he’s going to have a lot of energy. He might be... exuberant."


Izuku didn't notice the doctor's creepy stare. He was staring at the potted plant in the corner of the office. It was a dying ficus, its leaves brown and drooping. Izuku felt a pang of sadness so deep it made his chest ache.


It’s thirsty. It’s dying alone in this cold room.


Without thinking, Izuku hopped off the table and walked to the plant.


"Izuku?" Inko called.


Izuku placed two fingers on the soil. "Grow," he whispered.


Green light, soft and warm, pulsed from his fingertips. The soil rippled. In seconds, the brown leaves turned a vibrant, emerald green. The stem thickened, cracking the cheap plastic pot. New branches shot upward, reaching for the fluorescent lights, and small figs sprouted from the nodes.


The room went silent.


Izuku turned back to his mother, beaming, a laugh bubbling up from his throat—a laugh that was booming and hearty, far too loud for a toddler. "Hah! Look, Mom! It just needed a little motivation!"


Then, abruptly, his shoulders slumped. A dark cloud seemed to materialize over his head. He crouched down, drawing circles on the linoleum floor with his finger.


"But I broke the pot..." he mumbled, his voice hollow with despair. "I broke the pot... I am a destroyer of homes... how can I be a hero if I break pots...?"


Inko blinked, exchanging a bewildered look with the doctor. "Izuku?"


"The duality of high-energy quirks," the doctor muttered, scribbling on his clipboard. "Mood swings. Good luck with that, Mrs. Midoriya."




That night, the dream came.


It wasn't a normal dream. Dreams were usually hazy, fragmented things about All Might or Katsuki. This was sharp. High definition.


Izuku was standing on a high cliff. The wind was whipping his hair, but it wasn't his short, curly green hair. It felt long, straight, flowing down his back. He was wearing armor—red plates over black gear. It felt heavy, comforting.


Below him lay a vast forest, stretching out as far as the eye could see. And nestled within the forest was a village. Not a city of glass and steel like Musutafu, but a village of wood and stone. He saw faces carved into the rock face beneath his feet.


He felt a swell of pride so intense it brought tears to his eyes.


Konoha.


The name meant nothing to Izuku, yet it meant everything.


"We did it," a voice said beside him.


Izuku turned. Standing there was a man with wild, spiky black hair and armor similar to his, but sharper, more aggressive. The man’s eyes were intense, burning with a complex mix of emotions.


"Madara," Izuku heard himself say. But his voice sounded different. Deeper. "This is the place where children won't have to die. A place where we can protect the seedlings."


The man, Madara, looked out over the village. "It is a beginning, Hashirama. But how long will it last?"


"As long as the Will of Fire burns," Izuku replied instantly. He placed a hand on his chest. "As long as we love them."


The scene shifted. Fire. Screams. A giant nine-tailed beast roaring. Swords clashing. The feeling of a blade piercing his chest—not out of hate, but out of necessity. The sorrow of killing a best friend to save the many.


Forgive me.


Izuku woke up with a gasp, shooting upright in his All Might themed bed.


His cheeks were wet. He was sobbing. deep, racking sobs that shook his small frame. He clutched his chest, feeling a phantom pain where the sword had been, and a deeper pain in his heart for a loss he couldn't understand.


"Madara..." he whispered into the darkness.


The door creaked open. Inko rushed in, illuminated by the hallway light. "Izuku? Baby, what's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"


Izuku looked at his mother. He saw her worry, her love. And beneath that, he felt her life force—a small, warm flickering candle.


He wiped his eyes, the strange, ancient grief receding like the tide, leaving behind only the sediment of wisdom.


"I'm okay, Mom," he said. He gave her a smile that didn't look like a four-year-old’s smile. It was weary, but incredibly warm. "I just... I dreamt of an old friend. I think I miss him."


Inko hugged him, confused but comforting. As she held him, Izuku looked out the window at the moon.


He didn't know who Hashirama was. He didn't know who Madara was. But he knew one thing: The world was fragile. And he had the power to build a frame to hold it together.




Ten Years Later


The years had been... interesting for the Midoriya household.


As Izuku grew, the "echoes" grew with him. He wasn't possessed; he was still Izuku Midoriya. He still loved All Might, he still analyzed Quirks, and he still got nervous around girls. But there was an undercurrent to his personality that baffled everyone around him.


For one, he stopped going to the gym.


"Why lift weights made of iron when the earth provides resistance?" he had told a confused Inko when he was eight.


Instead, Izuku spent his free time in the forest preserve on the edge of Musutafu. He would sit cross-legged under the oldest oak tree for hours, perfectly still. At first, Inko thought he was sleeping. Then she noticed the birds landing on his shoulders, and the way the grass seemed to grow greener in a perfect circle around him.


He called it "listening to the nature energy." The doctors called it "photosynthetic meditation."


Physically, he was an anomaly. By age fourteen, Izuku wasn't bulky like a bodybuilder, but he was dense. His stamina was bottomless. He once ran a marathon by accident because he got lost in thought and just kept jogging. He didn't even pant at the finish line.


But the most notable change was his relationship with Katsuki Bakugo.


Aldera Junior High was a typical school, filled with typical students, and one very loud explosion boy.


"Die! Die! Die!"


Katsuki was currently screaming at a vending machine that had eaten his yen. Sparks flew from his hands, threatening to melt the plastic interface.


"Kacchan!"


A hand clamped onto Katsuki’s shoulder. It wasn't a grip of iron, but it was immovable. Katsuki froze, his eye twitching.


"Get off me, Deku," Katsuki growled, turning to glare at the green-haired boy.


Izuku stood there, wearing the standard black school uniform, but somehow making it look like ceremonial robes. He was smiling—that infuriatingly beatific smile that drove Katsuki up the wall.


"Anger is a waste of chakra—I mean, energy," Izuku chided gently, releasing his shoulder. "Besides, the machine is not your enemy. It is merely a vessel. Here."


Izuku placed his palm flat against the side of the machine. He didn't use his Quirk visibly, but he sent a tiny, controlled pulse of shockwave through the metal. The mechanics rattled, and the soda can tumbled down.


"See?" Izuku beamed, handing the soda to Katsuki. "Diplomacy works better than force!"


Katsuki snatched the can, cracking it open aggressively. "Whatever. Don't think you're better than me just because you can talk to machines or whatever weird crap you do."


"I cannot talk to machines, only living things," Izuku corrected earnestly. "Though, this machine does have a very sorrowful aura."


"It's a vending machine, you damn nerd!"


The dynamic had shifted over the years. Katsuki still bullied people, but he couldn't bully Izuku. Not really.


When Katsuki threw explosions, Izuku didn't dodge. He blocked. He would clap his hands together, and a wooden dome would erupt from the floor, absorbing the blast. Or he would stomp his foot, and a wall of vines would catch Katsuki’s arm mid-swing.


It infuriated Katsuki because Izuku never fought back. He never threw a punch. He just... neutralized him. Like an adult stopping a toddler's tantrum.


"You're looking down on me again!" Katsuki yelled, crushing the soda can.


Izuku’s smile vanished instantly. He dropped to his knees in the middle of the hallway, his head hanging low. A literal mushroom sprouted from the floor tiles next to his ear.


"I am not..." Izuku mumbled, his voice trembling. "I just wanted you to be hydrated... am I so annoying? Is my existence a burden to the hydration of my peers? I should just become a tree and stay silent for a century..."


The students in the hallway stepped around him, used to this routine.


"He's doing the thing again," one whispered.

"Yeah, Bakugo broke him again."

"Give him a minute, he'll bounce back."


Katsuki vibrated with rage. "STOP SULKING! FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN!"




Class began ten minutes later. The teacher, a man who clearly didn't get paid enough, slapped a stack of papers on his desk.


"You're all third years now," he announced monotonously. "It's time to think about your futures. I would hand out these career forms, but..." He snatched the papers up and threw them into the air. "Who am I kidding? You all want to be Heroes!"


The class erupted into cheers, everyone activating their Quirks. Fingers elongated, eyes glowed, rocks floated.


"Yes, yes, you all have wonderful Quirks," the teacher said. "But no power usage in school. Get back in your seats."


"Hey, teach!" Katsuki leaned back, feet on his desk. "Don't lump me in with these extras. I'm the real deal. I'm going to UA High."


The class gasped. "UA? The national school? That's impossible to get into!"


"I aced the mock tests!" Katsuki bragged. "I'm going to be the only one from this garbage dump of a school to make it. I'll surpass All Might and become the richest hero of all time!"


"Oh, actually," the teacher interrupted, checking his list. "Midoriya is also applying to UA."


Silence. Absolute, pin-drop silence.


Then, Katsuki turned slowly.


Izuku was sketching in his notebook. He wasn't drawing hero costumes. He was drawing a diagram of a complex irrigation system for a theoretical village built at the base of Mt. Fuji.


"Deku..." Katsuki’s hands smoked. "You..."


"UA has excellent grounds," Izuku said, not looking up, seemingly oblivious to the killing intent radiating from the blonde. "And their hero course is the best place to learn how to protect the people. It is the logical step."


"LOGICAL?!" Katsuki exploded out of his chair. He lunged at Izuku’s desk. "You think you can stand on the same stage as me with that gardening trick?! You’re nothing but a glorified lumberjack!"


Katsuki unleashed an explosion directly at Izuku’s face.


The class screamed.


When the smoke cleared, Izuku was unharmed. In front of his face, a small, intricate wooden shield—shaped like a demon’s face—hovered, connected to his desk by a thick vine. The wood was scorched, but intact.


Izuku peeked around the shield. "Kacchan, we are indoors. Fire hazards are a serious violation of safety protocols."


"Stop blocking me!" Katsuki roared.


"Stop attacking me," Izuku countered calmly. He stood up, towering over the desk. He had grown tall lately, his shoulders broad. There was a gravity to him that made the air feel heavy.


"I am going to UA, Kacchan," Izuku said, his voice dropping an octave, resonating with that strange, ancient authority. "Not to compete with you. But because there is a shadow over this world. I can feel it. And someone needs to be strong enough to hold the roof up when the storm comes."


He looked at Katsuki, his eyes flashing with a stern intensity that made the explosion boy hesitate.


"If you want to be the best, focus on your own growth. A tree does not envy the flowers; it simply grows toward the sun."


Katsuki stared, mouth agape. Then, the anger returned twofold. "Don't give me your fortune cookie crap!"


"Midoriya, sit down," the teacher sighed. "Bakugo, stop trying to blow up the furniture."


Izuku sat, the wooden shield retracting back into the desk like a receding tide. He sighed, opening his hand. A small flower bloomed in his palm. He stared at it, his mind drifting.


Why do I feel like I've had this conversation a thousand times before?




The walk home was lonely. Izuku took the long route, passing under the underpass. He liked the damp shade. It reminded him of... somewhere. He couldn't place it.


He checked his phone. Hero news. Mount Lady had debuted today.


"Flashy," Izuku muttered. "Too much collateral damage. A hero should resolve the conflict with minimal destruction to the infrastructure. Who is going to pay for that street?"


He put the phone away and sighed. He felt out of place in this era. The heroes today were like celebrities. They fought for ratings, for money.


Where is the Will of Fire? Where is the self-sacrifice?


"A medium-sized invisibility cloak..."


A gurgling voice interrupted his thoughts.


Izuku stopped. He didn't turn around. He felt it. A malicious, wet presence.


"You'll make a perfect skinsuit, kid."


The manhole cover behind him rattled, and a massive surge of sludge erupted from the sewers. A villain. Liquid, elusive, eyes manic.


"Don't worry," the villain hissed, lunging forward. "It'll only hurt for about 45 seconds."


Izuku didn't scream. He didn't run.


He pivoted on his heel, his eyes narrowing.


"An ambush?" Izuku said, his voice calm. "Sloppy."


The sludge engulfed him.


"Gotcha!" the villain laughed. "You can't grab me! I'm fluid!"


The sludge forced its way into Izuku’s mouth and nose. It was suffocating. It tasted like sewage and oil.


I can't breathe. He's trying to take my body.


Panic flared for a second, the natural reaction of a fourteen-year-old boy. But then, the other instinct took over. The instinct of a man who had fought Tailed Beasts.


He is fluid. Fluid requires a container.


Izuku’s eyes snapped open. He didn't try to claw at the sludge. He brought his hands together in a prayer seal, despite the slime restricting his movement.


Wood Style.


Inside the sludge, against Izuku’s skin, sharp wooden spikes erupted from his pores. But they didn't pierce the villain randomly. They wove together.


"What the—?!" the villain gurgled. "What is this?!"


"Binding!" Izuku thought.


Roots burst from Izuku’s clothes, expanding rapidly. They didn't push the villain away; they wrapped around him. The wood soaked up the liquid, expanding and interlocking.


In seconds, the hallway was filled with the sound of creaking timber.


"I can't... move!" the villain shrieked.


Izuku ripped himself free as the wood formed a cage—no, a barrel. A perfect, airtight wooden barrel around the sludge villain. The roots cinched tight, compressing the liquid into a sphere of wood about the size of a beach ball.


Izuku fell to his knees, coughing up a bit of slime. He wiped his mouth, gasping for air.


The barrel rattled. "Let me out! You brat!"


Izuku stood up, dusting off his knees. He looked at the barrel. He placed a hand on it, and a small wooden talisman grew over the seam, sealing it shut.


"You possess a wicked chakra," Izuku told the barrel. "You should reflect on your actions in confinement."


CLANG.


The manhole cover flew into the air.


"HAVE NO FEAR! FOR I AM—"


All Might exploded out of the sewers, striking a heroic pose. His smile was blinding. His muscles rippled.


"—HERE!"


All Might looked around, ready for a battle. He blinked.


There was no villain. There was just a green-haired middle schooler standing next to a very agitated wooden barrel.


"Uh..." All Might dropped his pose slightly. "Young man! Did you see a sludge villain pass this way?"


Izuku looked at All Might.


For the first time in his life, the "Hashirama" side of him was silent. This was All Might. The Symbol of Peace. The Hokage of this era.


Izuku’s eyes sparkled. "All Might!"


"Yes! It is I!" All Might laughed. "But seriously, the villain?"


Izuku pointed to the barrel. "I... um... captured him. Sir."


All Might stared at the barrel. The barrel muffled a scream of "I'll kill you!"


"You... captured him?" All Might walked over and tapped the wood. It was solid oak. "With a Quirk?"


"Yes!" Izuku stood at attention. "Wood Release... I mean, Arbor! My Quirk is Arbor!"


All Might looked at the boy. He saw the strength in his posture. He saw the lack of fear. Most kids would be crying. This kid had effectively canned the villain.


"Incredible!" All Might grabbed the barrel. "Professional containment! I couldn't have done it better myself! You saved me a lot of trouble, young man!"


All Might checked his pockets. "I must get this to the police, but... ah! Need to sign something!" He grabbed Izuku’s notebook from his bag (Izuku had dropped it) and scribbled his signature at lightning speed.


"Here you go! Keep up the good work! A pro hero in the making, for sure!"


All Might crouched, ready to jump.


"Wait!" Izuku yelled.


All Might paused. "I really must be going, time is of the essence!"


"All Might!" Izuku stepped forward. He wasn't asking for an autograph. He wasn't asking if he could be a hero. He knew he could be a hero.


He looked at All Might’s side. He saw it. Not with his eyes, but with his sensory perception. A dark, cold void in the man’s energy network. A massive injury that had shattered his respiratory system and depleted his life force.


"You are hurt," Izuku said softly.


All Might froze. The smile didn't waver, but the eyes sharpened. "Occupational hazard, my boy! Nothing to worry about!"


"No," Izuku shook his head. "I can feel it. Your... your fire is burning out. You are in constant pain."


All Might’s grip on the barrel tightened. How does he know?


"I... I have a healing factor," Izuku lied—well, half-lied. "I can manipulate life energy. If you are hurt..."


Izuku took a step closer, his hand glowing with a soft, green light. It was warm. Comforting.


"I might be able to help. Not fix it completely... but ease the burden."


All Might looked at the hand. He looked at the boy’s eyes. They were green, deep, and filled with an empathy that All Might hadn't seen in years. It wasn't pity. It was the look of a fellow soldier.


For a second, Toshinori Yagi wanted to say yes. He wanted to let this boy touch the wound that plagued his every waking moment.


But the timer was ticking. Steam was beginning to rise from his skin.


"I appreciate the offer, Young Man," All Might said, his voice softer, losing some of the bombast. "But I am fine! A hero must always be fine! Stay safe!"


BOOM.


All Might launched himself into the air, creating a gust of wind that nearly knocked Izuku over.


Izuku watched him go, shielding his eyes against the sun.


"He is stubborn," Izuku muttered, a fond smile touching his lips. He turned to walk home. "Just like Tobirama."




The City Center


Izuku didn't notice the explosion at first. He was too busy brooding.


He had walked a few blocks when he realized he had forgotten to ask All Might about the entrance exam specifics.


"I am a failure," he whispered, a small sapling growing out of his backpack. "I met the Hokage... the Symbol... and I let him leave without asking for guidance."


Then, the sound hit him.


BOOM.


Screams. Smoke.


Izuku’s head snapped up. His depressive mood vanished instantly, replaced by the sharp clarity of battle.


He ran. He didn't run like a normal sprinter. He leaped, bounding off a mailbox, then a lamppost, landing on a rooftop. He moved through the urban jungle as if it were a real forest.


He reached the crowd in seconds.


The scene was chaos. Fire was everywhere. The sludge villain—Wait, how did he escape?!—had engulfed the alleyway.


"It’s my fault," Izuku realized, horror dawning on him. "I distracted All Might. The barrel must have come loose when he jumped."


The heroes were standing around, useless.


"I can't get close!" Death Arms yelled.

"There's no water!" Backdraft shouted.


Izuku looked at the center of the flames. The sludge villain had a hostage.


Blonde hair. Explosions.


"Kacchan."


Katsuki was struggling, but his explosions were weak. He was suffocating. His eyes met Izuku’s across the crowd. They were filled with pure terror. It was the same look the crying boy had given Izuku ten years ago.


The seedling is in danger.


Izuku didn't think. He didn't wait for the pros.


He jumped from the roof.


"Hey! Kid! Get back!" Kamui Woods shouted.


Izuku ignored him. He landed on the pavement with a heavy thud, cracking the asphalt.


"You again!" the sludge villain roared. "I'll kill you this time!"


He lashed out with a tendril of slime.


Izuku didn't block it. He ran forward, weaving under the strike.


"Kacchan!" Izuku yelled.


"Deku?!" Katsuki choked out. "Why...?"


Izuku clapped his hands together. The sound cut through the roar of the fire.


He felt the earth beneath the city. He felt the dormant seeds, the old roots of trees that had been paved over decades ago. He called to them.


WAKE UP.


"Wood Style: Great Forest Technique!"


It wasn't a few roots this time.


From Izuku’s arm, massive beams of wood exploded forward. They transformed his arm into a battering ram of timber. The wood twisted and spiraled, slamming into the sludge villain with the force of a truck.


SPLAT.


The sludge scattered, forced away from Katsuki’s face.


"Breath!" Izuku commanded.


The wood didn't stop. It curved, forming a protective shell around Katsuki and ripping him free from the villain's grasp. Izuku yanked his arm back, and the wood retracted, pulling Katsuki across the pavement and sliding him behind Izuku.


"You... you brat!" The sludge villain re-formed, towering over them. "I'll crush you both!"


Izuku stood tall. The fire reflected in his eyes. He wasn't smiling.


"You threaten my friend," Izuku said, his voice low, vibrating with power. The air around him seemed to distort. "You threaten my village."


He bit his thumb.


I don't have enough chakra for the big ones yet. But I have enough for this.


He slammed his hands onto the burning pavement.


"Wood Style: Four Pillar Prison!"


Four massive wooden posts, thick as telephone poles, shot up from the ground around the sludge villain. Beams of wood shot out from them, connecting instantly to form a cage.


The villain slammed against the bars. They didn't budge.


"Kamui Woods!" Izuku shouted, turning to the stunned Pro Hero. "Now! Restrain him while he's contained!"


Kamui Woods snapped out of his daze. "R-Right! Lacquered Chain Prison!"


The pro hero extended his own wood branches, weaving them through the bars of Izuku’s cage to bind the sludge completely.


The fire was still raging.


Izuku looked at the flames. He looked at Backdraft. "The water! Cool the cage!"


The heroes moved. They didn't know why, but they followed the orders of the middle schooler in the tattered uniform. Backdraft doused the cage. The sludge hardened.


It was over.


Izuku exhaled, his knees buckling. Using that much wood on asphalt was exhausting.


Katsuki sat behind him, coughing. He looked at Izuku’s back. He looked at the massive wooden cage that dominated the alleyway.


"Deku..." Katsuki wheezed.


Izuku turned. He was sweating, covered in soot, but he offered a hand to Katsuki.


"Are you okay, Kacchan?"


Katsuki stared at the hand. He slapped it away and stood up on his own, legs shaking.


"I didn't ask for your help!" Katsuki yelled, tears pricking his eyes. "I was fine!"


Izuku smiled. "I know. You are strong. But..."


Izuku looked at his own hand.


"Sometimes, even the strongest trees need the forest to break the wind."


"Shut up with the tree metaphors!"




The Aftermath


The scolding was intense. The heroes yelled at Izuku for being reckless. They praised Katsuki for his bravery (and his strong Quirk).


Izuku took the scolding with a bowed head. "I apologize. I moved without thinking."


"You have a powerful Quirk, kid," Death Arms said, crossing his arms. "But you can't just play hero. You could have gotten killed."


"I understand," Izuku said. Though, technically, I had the tactical advantage, he thought.


As he walked home that evening, exhausted, a familiar figure stepped out from a corner.


"I am here!"


"All Might?" Izuku stopped. "Why are you here? You were surrounded by reporters."


All Might deflated, puffing into his skeletal form. He coughed up a bit of blood.


"Young man. I came to find you."


All Might looked at the boy. He had seen everything. He had seen the boy rush in when the pros hesitated. He had seen the leadership. He had felt the presence.


"I told you earlier that you could be a pro," All Might said. "But I need to correct myself."


Izuku tensed. Was he going to be arrested?


"Top heroes have stories about them from their school days," All Might said, looking at the sunset. "Most of their stories have one thing in common: Their bodies moved before they could think."


Izuku’s eyes widened.


"That was true for you today, wasn't it?"


Izuku clutched his chest. "I... my legs just moved. I couldn't watch him die."


All Might smiled. "You have the heart. You have the power. But more importantly, you have the Will."


All Might pointed a finger at Izuku.


"Young man. I have a secret to tell you. And a proposal."


Izuku looked at the skeletal man. He felt the gravity of the moment. This was a turning point.


"A proposal?"


"My Quirk," All Might said. "It is a torch passed down from one generation to the next. And I have chosen you to be the next holder."


Izuku stared. A torch passed down. A legacy.


The Will of Fire.


Izuku smiled. It was the smile of Hashirama Senju, mixed with the hope of Izuku Midoriya.


"I am listening, All Might."


Within him, the soul of the First Hokage stirred. The story was beginning again. But this time, he wouldn't fail. This time, he would save everyone.


Even the angry blonde boy with the explosion quirk. Especially him.


Madara... no, Katsuki. I won't let you fall into darkness this time.





The streetlamp flickered overhead, casting a sickly yellow light onto the sidewalk where the Symbol of Peace and the middle schooler stood. The adrenaline of the Sludge Villain incident had faded, leaving behind the cool, damp air of the evening and a silence that felt heavier than the concrete beneath their feet.


All Might had deflated. The glorious, muscular titan was gone, replaced by the gaunt, skeletal figure of Toshinori Yagi. He wiped a trickle of blood from his chin, watching the boy with an intensity that belied his fragile appearance.


"A successor?" Izuku repeated. The words tasted strange in his mouth.


In his mind, a memory that wasn't his own rippled. A dying brother passing a helmet. A title passed from one leader to another.


"Yes," All Might rasped, sitting on the guardrail. "My Quirk, One For All, is unique. It is not something I was born with. It was passed to me like a sacred torch. And now, I am looking for the next holder."


He went on to explain the history—the stockpiling of power, the transfer from person to person, the cultivation of strength to fight a great evil. It was a compelling speech. To any other fanboy, this would be the moment of a lifetime. The heavens parting. The dream realized.


But Izuku Midoriya was not just a fanboy anymore.


He stood with his arms crossed, his posture straight, his feet planted shoulder-width apart. He listened not with the wide-eyed wonder of a child, but with the critical, contemplative ear of a general listening to a war report.


"It is a power that cultivates the hopes of those who came before," Izuku summarized, his voice unusually deep. "A collective will."


"Exactly!" All Might beamed, though it looked more like a grimace on his skeletal face. "And you, Young Midoriya, have proven yourself. You moved when others stood still. You built a cage to protect, not just to destroy. You are worthy."


All Might extended his hand. "Accept my power. inherit my will, and become the next Symbol of Peace!"


The wind rustled the leaves of a nearby ornamental cherry tree. Izuku looked at All Might’s hand. He looked at his own hands—hands that could summon forests, hands that remembered the feeling of weaving signs to bind demons.


Izuku closed his eyes. He looked inward.


Inside him, there was a vast, verdant landscape. A source of energy that felt like a roaring river, ancient and inexhaustible. It was his chakra. It was the legacy of the Senju. But alongside it, he felt something else—a spiritual density. His soul felt... occupied. Full.


"I cannot," Izuku said softly.


All Might froze. He blinked, his jaw going slack. "E-Excuse me? I think the wind messed with my hearing. Did you just say..."


"I cannot accept it," Izuku said, opening his eyes. They were gentle, filled with a profound sadness. "All Might, your power... it is a collection of souls, is it not? A stockpiling of will?"


"In a sense, yes, but—"


"My vessel is already full," Izuku placed a hand over his heart. "I can feel it. If I were to take your power, the energies would conflict. Two tigers cannot share one mountain. My body... it is already holding a power that demands all of my focus to control. If I added yours, I fear I would either explode, or the power would be wasted."


All Might stared at the boy. He had expected excitement. He had expected tears of joy. He had even prepared for fear. He had not prepared for a metaphysical rejection based on spiritual capacity.


"I see," All Might deflated further, looking like a stepped-on juice box. "That is... unexpected. And slightly disappointing."


Izuku’s face instantly crumbled. The stoic general vanished. He dropped into a deep squat, hugging his knees, a dark cloud practically materializing over his head.


"I disappointed All Might..." he muttered into his knees, rocking back and forth. "I am a failure of a fan... I should just go turn into a mushroom in a dark cave... I’m sorry, All Might... I’m trash..."


All Might panicked, waving his hands. "No! No, stop that! You’re not trash! It’s a very mature decision! Very responsible! Please stop growing fungi on the sidewalk, it’s a public hazard!"


Izuku sniffled, the mushroom that had sprouted near his shoe withering away as he stood up. "Really?"


"Yes! Really!" All Might coughed. "But... this presents a problem. I still wish to mentor you. Even if you cannot take my power, you have the mindset of a true hero. You need guidance. That wood power of yours... it’s formidable, but wild."


Izuku smiled, and the street seemed to brighten. "You would train me? Even without the torch?"


"A hero is not defined by the Quirk, but by the spirit!" All Might declared, giving a thumbs up. "We have ten months until the UA entrance exam. We will mold your body and your mind! Meet me at Dagobah Municipal Beach Park tomorrow morning!"


"I will be there!" Izuku bowed, a perfect ninety-degree angle. "I will not let you down, Lord Seventh—I mean, All Might!"


"Lord Seventh?" All Might muttered as Izuku turned to leave. "What an odd child."




The Next Morning: Dagobah Municipal Beach


The beach was a graveyard of human neglect.


Miles of trash obscured the sand. Tires, broken refrigerators, rusted cars, and mountains of plastic waste stretched as far as the eye could see. The ocean waves lapped sadly against a wall of debris.


All Might stood atop a pile of old microwaves, striking a pose.


"This, Young Midoriya, is your training ground! This beach was once beautiful, but currents bring the trash here, and people take advantage of it to dump their illegal waste. The heroes ignore it because it’s not 'glamorous' work."


Izuku stood at the edge of the trash heap, wearing a green tracksuit. He wasn't looking at All Might. He was looking at the ground.


"It is suffocating," Izuku whispered.


"Exactly!" All Might nodded. "It chokes the coastline! Your job, over the next ten months, will be to clean this entire section! It will build your muscles, your stamina, and your spirit!"


Izuku knelt. He placed his palm on the dirty sand, finding a small patch between a tire and a shattered television.


The earth is crying.


"Hey, Young Midoriya? Are you listening?"


Izuku stood up. His expression was serious. "I understand the mission. We are not just moving objects. We are restoring the land."


"Yes! That’s the spirit! Now, let me draw up a schedule—"


Izuku clapped his hands together. Snake. Ram. Hare. Dog. Snake.


The air pressure dropped.


"Wood Style: Underground Roots Technique!"


Rumble.


All Might yelped as the pile of microwaves he was standing on shifted. Beneath the mountains of trash, massive roots surged upward, churning the sand. They didn't destroy the trash; they sifted it. The roots acted like a chaotic conveyor belt, pushing the heavy debris to the surface and loosening the compacted soil.


"Young Midoriya! No Quirks! The point is to build muscle!"


Izuku looked up, sweat beading on his forehead. "Physical labor is good, All Might. But a leader must also know how to terraform. I am separating the compostable from the non-compostable."


"You're what?"


Izuku pointed. A thick root wrapped around a rusted car chassis, crushing it into a compact cube with a sickening crunch of metal. Another root gently lifted a pile of rotting driftwood and pulled it underground to decompose and enrich the soil.


"Metal to the left. Plastic to the right. Nature takes the rest," Izuku grunted, maintaining the hand seal.


All Might watched in horror and awe as the fourteen-year-old boy coordinated a massive botanical excavation. It wasn't just power; it was precision. Izuku was multitasking on a level that pro heroes struggled with.


"Fine!" All Might sighed. "But you have to haul the metal cubes yourself! No using roots to carry them to the truck!"


Izuku released the jutsu, panting heavily. He wiped his brow. "Agreed. Manual labor builds character."


He walked over to the compressed cube of car parts—easily 400 pounds. He didn't use a Quirk. He squatted, grabbed the edges, and lifted.


His muscles strained. His legs shook. But he lifted it.


"He's... he's doing it without the Quirk?" All Might’s eyes widened. "His base strength is already this high?"


Izuku marched toward the road, muttering. "Hashirama... could lift... more... must... get... stronger..."




Aldera Junior High: The Cauldron


School became a strange place for Izuku.


Since the Sludge Incident, the whispers had changed. They used to be mocking. "There goes Deku, the Quirkless loser." Now, they were fearful, confused.


"Did you see the news? They said he made a cage out of trees."

"I heard he almost crushed the villain."

"Is that really Midoriya?"


And then, there was Katsuki Bakugo.


Katsuki had been quiet for three days. The silence was unnerving. He didn't yell. He didn't explode things. He sat at his desk, staring at the chalkboard with eyes that burned with a quiet, seething fury.


It came to a head during lunch.


Izuku was sitting outside, eating his bento under a tree (he insisted the food tasted better near photosynthesis). The shadow of Katsuki fell over him.


"Deku."


Izuku looked up, chewing a piece of broccoli. "Hello, Kacchan. Would you like a tomato?"


Katsuki slapped the bento box out of Izuku’s hand. The rice scattered. The tomato rolled sadly into the grass.


Izuku didn't flinch. He watched the tomato roll. He sighed. "That was unnecessary aggression against perfectly good agriculture."


"Stop looking down on me," Katsuki hissed. His voice was trembling. "You think you're better than me? You think because you pulled me out of that sludge, you've won?"


Izuku stood up. He dusted off his knees.


"Won?" Izuku tilted his head. "Kacchan, we were not competing. You were dying. I saved you. That is what neighbors do."


"I DIDN'T ASK TO BE SAVED!" Katsuki roared, explosions popping in his palms. "Especially not by a nerd who’s been lying to me for ten years! You had a Quirk this whole time! You laughed at me behind my back!"


"I never laughed," Izuku said, stepping forward. His presence seemed to expand, pressing against Katsuki’s heat. "And I did not lie. My power... it woke up late. Like a seed that takes winter to crack."


"Shut up with the seeds!" Katsuki swung.


It was a right hook, enhanced by an explosion. Fast. Lethal.


Izuku didn't block with wood this time.


His hand shot up. He caught Katsuki’s wrist.


BAM.


The explosion detonated against Izuku’s palm, but his grip didn't falter. Smoke curled from his fingers, but the skin was unbroken, healing instantly as it blackened.


Katsuki’s eyes widened. He tried to pull back. He couldn't. Izuku’s grip was like iron.


"You are strong, Kacchan," Izuku said, his voice dropping into that strange, archaic timbre. "Your battle instincts are sharp. But your heart is clouded by ego."


Izuku stepped in, invading Katsuki’s personal space. He looked down at the blonde boy, and for a split second, Katsuki didn't see Deku. He saw a titan. He saw a man in red armor standing atop a mountain, looking down not with malice, but with pity.


"Let go!" Katsuki blasted again with his free hand.


Izuku sidestepped, fluid as water, and swept Katsuki’s legs.


Katsuki hit the grass hard. Before he could recover, Izuku was crouching over him—not pinning him, just looking.


"Power is not for proving you are the strongest," Izuku whispered. "It is for protecting those who cannot stand. Until you learn that... you will never beat me."


Izuku stood up and walked away, leaving Katsuki lying in the grass, staring at the sky.


"Damn it!" Katsuki punched the ground, tears of frustration stinging his eyes. "DAMN IT!"


As Izuku walked away, he rubbed his temples. A headache throbbed behind his eyes.


Flashback.


A river. A flat stone skipping across the water. One, two, three, four jumps. It reaches the other side.

"Nice throw, Madara!"

A boy with spiky black hair turns, scowling. "I could throw it farther if I wanted to, Hashirama! I'm just warming up!"

"Hahaha! Of course! You're the best at stone skipping! But I'm better at climbing!"

"Shut up! Next time, I'll bury you!"


Izuku leaned against the school wall, sliding down until he hit the ground.


"Madara..." he whispered. "Why do we always have to fight?"


He looked at his hand, where he had caught the explosion.


"He is not Madara," Izuku reminded himself. "He is Katsuki. But the cycle... it feels the same."




Month 3: The Forest of Trash


The training at Dagobah Beach intensified.


All Might had planned for Izuku to just clear the trash. Izuku had other plans.


"Young Midoriya, why is there a bonsai garden on top of the rusted refrigerator pile?"


Izuku was currently hanging upside down from a tree branch he had grown out of a pile of tires, doing crunches.


"Aesthetics, All Might," Izuku grunted. "Ninety-eight... ninety-nine... Besides, the roots help stabilize the pile so it doesn't collapse on pedestrians."


All Might watched him. The boy was a monster. He had cleared almost half the beach in three months. His physique was changing rapidly. The baby fat was gone, replaced by dense, corded muscle. He looked like a statue carved from oak.


But it was the mindset that baffled All Might.


"Take a break, kid," All Might said, tossing him a water bottle.


Izuku caught it, flipped right-side up, and landed silently in the sand. "Thank you."


"I want to talk about the entrance exam," All Might said, sitting on a clean patch of sand. "The written portion will be tough, but you're smart. The practical... that's where you'll shine. But you have a weakness."


Izuku blinked. "My lack of long-range offensive jutsu beyond the Wood Dragon?"


"Your... what? No." All Might sweatdropped. "Your lack of aggression. You hesitate to hurt your opponents. In the exam, you'll be fighting robots, but in the real world, villains won't stop because you asked them politely."


Izuku took a sip of water. He looked out at the ocean.


"All Might. Do you know why I want to be a hero?"


"To save people. Like me."


"Yes. But also..." Izuku grew a small flower in his palm, watching it twirl. "I dream of a village. A place where children don't have to be soldiers. In this society, heroes are soldiers. We fight a never-ending war against crime. It’s a stalemate."


He crushed the flower, his expression darkening.


"I don't want to just win battles, All Might. I want to end the war. To do that, I cannot just be a hammer. I must be the shield. I must be the roots that hold the soil together so it doesn't wash away."


All Might stared. This kid was fifteen going on fifty.


"You remind me of an old friend," All Might said softly. "Nana... she had big dreams too."


"Nana?" Izuku looked up. "Was she strong?"


" The strongest."


"Then she lives on," Izuku tapped his chest. "In the Will of Fire."


"The Will of... Fire?" All Might chuckled. "You have a way with words, Young Midoriya. But for now, let's focus on passing the exam. You can change the world after you get your license."


"Fair point," Izuku laughed, his mood swinging back to sunny optimism. "Hah! You are right! I am getting ahead of myself! Back to the tires!"




Month 8: The Sage of the Dump


By month eight, the beach was unrecognizable.


It wasn't just clean. It was terraformed. Izuku had used the organic trash to create compost heaps that were now sprouting wild vegetation. He had stacked the scrap metal into neat, artistic ziggurats waiting for municipal pickup.


And Izuku had unlocked something new.


It happened during a meditation session. Izuku was sitting perfectly still atop a pile of scrap metal. He was trying to "feel the nature energy," as he called it.


All Might arrived with groceries. "Hey, Midoriya, I brought lunch—"


He stopped.


Izuku was sitting cross-legged. But around his eyes, red pigmentation had appeared, outlining them. His presence had vanished—not that he was invisible, but that he felt exactly like the wind and the water. He didn't feel human.


"Midoriya?"


Izuku opened his eyes. The irises were yellow. The pupils were horizontal slats.


"All Might," Izuku said. His voice echoed, sounding like two voices speaking at once.


"What... what is that face paint?" All Might asked, freaking out. "And your eyes!"


Izuku touched his face. "Ah. I entered Sage Mode."


"Sage... Mode?"


"I gathered the natural energy of the atmosphere and blended it with my chakra," Izuku explained as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "It enhances my physical strength and sensory perception. But I can only hold it for about five minutes. I am still a novice."


He stood up. The red markings faded. His eyes returned to green. He wobbled and fell face-first into the sand.


"Too... much... nature..." he groaned.


All Might rushed over. "Kid! You're pushing too hard! What kind of Quirk mutation is this?!"


"It feels... right," Izuku mumbled, spitting out sand. "Like I've done it a million times. But my body isn't ready. I need more durability."


"More durability?!" All Might yelled. "You just bench-pressed a Toyota Yaris yesterday!"




Month 10: The Completion


The day before the exam.


The sun was rising over Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. It was breathtaking. The trash was gone. In its place was a pristine coastline. The sand was white. The water was clear. And along the promenade, a row of cherry blossom trees—which Izuku had definitely "encouraged" to grow—were blooming out of season.


All Might stood on the seawall. He looked at the beach. He looked at Izuku.


Izuku stood shirtless in the surf. His body was a masterpiece of functional muscle. Scars from training littered his arms. He looked strong. Not bulky like All Might, but sturdy. Like a tree trunk that could weather a hurricane.


"You did it," All Might said. "You actually finished early."


Izuku waded out of the water, shaking his hair dry. "The beach is happy now. Can you feel it?"


"I... I think I can," All Might admitted. "You've done an incredible job, Izuku Midoriya."


All Might jumped down to the sand. "You are ready. You have the strength. You have the heart. Go to UA. Show them the power of—well, of Arbor!"


Izuku pulled on his shirt. He smiled, a genuine, blinding smile that rivaled All Might’s own.


"I will. Thank you, Toshinori-sensei."


All Might choked up. "Toshinori-sensei... I like the sound of that."




The Morning of the Exam


The gates of UA High towered over the students. It was the gateway to the future.


Izuku walked toward the entrance, his yellow backpack slung over one shoulder. He felt calm. He felt prepared.


"Out of my way, Deku."


The voice was low, dangerous.


Izuku stopped. He didn't turn around. "Good morning, Kacchan."


Katsuki walked past him, bumping his shoulder hard. Katsuki didn't look back. He was vibrating with intensity.


"Don't think you're safe just because you got strong," Katsuki said. "I'm going to get the top score. I'm going to show you and the rest of the world that I'm the only one who matters."


Izuku watched him go.


"He is so lonely," Izuku murmured.


"Who's lonely?"


Izuku jumped. A girl with a round face and brown hair was standing next to him. Ochako Uraraka.


"Oh! Um, no one!" Izuku stammered, the "Deku" persona surfacing through the "Hashirama" composure. He blushed, waving his hands. "Just... talking to myself! Nervous! Very nervous!"


"Me too!" Ochako beamed. "I'm Uraraka! Let's do our best!"


"Y-Yes!"


As she walked away, Izuku slapped his cheeks. Focus. No time for girls. Mito would be jealous. Wait, who is Mito?


He shook his head and walked through the gates.




The Written Exam


The written exam was... odd.


Izuku stared at the history question: Describe the impact of Quirks on the geopolitical landscape of the 21st century.


Izuku wrote: The fragmentation of central power mirrors the Warring States period. The rise of individual Warlords (Villains) necessitated the creation of a centralized Shogunate (Hero Commission). However, this reliance on individual strength creates instability. True peace requires a system where clans cooperate...


He stopped. Wait, this is supposed to be modern history. He erased "Shogunate" and wrote "Government."


He finished the English section quickly (Present Mic was loud, but understandable) and moved to the Math section. He drew a diagram of a suspension bridge made of wood in the margin.


Structural integrity analysis. If I use Four Pillar House here...


He looked up. Katsuki was scribbling furiously three rows ahead. Izuku smiled.




The Practical Exam: Battle Center B


The bus ride to the battle center was quiet. The tension was thick.


Izuku stood in front of the massive gates of Battle Center B. He was wearing a simple green tracksuit with metal plating on the knees and elbows (he had made them himself from the beach scrap).


Present Mic’s voice boomed over the speakers. "START!"


The other students hesitated.


Izuku didn't.


He took a deep breath. First gate open.


He dashed forward. He wasn't the fastest runner—that was the boy with engines in his legs (Iida)—but his stride was powerful.


"HEY! THERE'S NO COUNTDOWN IN REAL FIGHTS!" Mic shouted.


The others scrambled to follow.


Izuku ran down the main street of the mock city. A 3-Pointer robot—a massive drone with missiles—rolled around the corner.


"Target acquired," the robot droned.


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


He clasped his hands as he ran.


"Wood Style: Binding Nest!"


Roots burst from the concrete beneath the robot. They didn't strike; they entangled. The roots wrapped around the robot's wheels and weapon arms, locking it in place.


Izuku jumped. He landed on the robot's head.


"Sorry about this," he whispered.


He channeled chakra into his palm and slammed it onto the robot's central casing. A thick branch shot out of his hand, piercing the metal casing and severing the internal wiring. The robot powered down instantly.


"Six points," Izuku counted, jumping off.


He moved through the city like a ghost.


A 2-Pointer appeared. Izuku grew a wall of wood to block its laser, then collapsed the wall onto the robot.


A group of 1-Pointers swarmed him. Izuku stomped his foot. "Wood Style: Cutting Sprigs!" sharp wooden spikes erupted from the ground, impaling the bots (non-destructively to the environment, mostly).


In the observation room, the teachers were watching.


"Who is that kid?" Midnight asked, leaning forward. "His Quirk is... artistic."


"Izuku Midoriya," Nezu chuckled, sipping his tea. "The one All Might has been... observing."


"He's not using brute force," Aizawa noted, his eyes narrowed. "He's disabling them. Efficient. He's treating the battlefield like he owns it."


"He's planting trees in the middle of a warzone," Cementoss noted. "Look."


Indeed, everywhere Izuku fought, greenery was left behind. The destroyed robots were covered in moss and vines. The mock city was slowly turning into a jungle.


10 Minutes Left.


Izuku had 50 points. He was safe.


He stood atop a building, surveying the chaos. He saw Uraraka floating robots. He saw Iida kicking them. He saw the laser boy shooting them.


"They are fighting well," Izuku nodded. "But they lack coordination. They are fighting as individuals, not a unit."


Then, the ground shook.


RUMBLE.


The asphalt cracked. Buildings swayed.


From the center of the city, the Zero Pointer emerged.


It was colossal. Taller than the skyscrapers. Its mere movement generated wind pressure that knocked students over.


"This is crazy!"

"Run!"

"It's huge!"


The students fled in panic. The "heroism" evaporated in the face of overwhelming power.


Izuku stood on the roof, his cape (it was just a towel he tied around his neck) flapping in the wind.


He looked at the giant robot.


A Tailed Beast? No... just a machine.


He was about to turn away—it was worth zero points, after all—when he heard it.


"Ouch!"


He looked down. Uraraka was trapped under debris. The robot was looming over her. The massive track was seconds away from crushing her.


The other students were running away. Even Iida was too far.


Izuku didn't think.


The "Hashirama" calm vanished, replaced by a fierce, protective fire.


He leaped from the building.


He fell through the air, wind rushing past his ears. He needed something big. Something strong enough to stop a mountain.


He clapped his hands together with a force that created a shockwave.


"Secret Wood Style..."


He landed on the ground between Uraraka and the Robot. He slammed his hands onto the pavement.


"...WOOD DRAGON TECHNIQUE!"


The ground exploded.


It wasn't a root. It was a serpent. A dragon made of gnarled, ancient timber, thick as a train, erupted from the earth. It had a nose, eyes, and a mouth filled with wooden teeth.


It roared—the sound of a thousand trees snapping at once.


The Wood Dragon shot upward, spiraling around the Zero Pointer's arm. It constricted. Metal groaned and buckled.


"W-What?!" Uraraka stared, eyes wide, forgetting her pain.


The Dragon continued its ascent, wrapping around the robot's torso. The Zero Pointer’s engines whined as it tried to push back, but the wood was absorbing its energy, draining the battery power directly through the contact points.


Izuku stood on the head of the Wood Dragon as it rose. He looked the giant robot in its optical sensor.


"Sit. Down."


The Wood Dragon slammed the Zero Pointer into the ground.


CRASH.


Dust billowed. Silence fell over the battle center.


The Zero Pointer lay immobilized, wrapped in a massive wooden serpent that was slowly sprouting flowers.


Izuku stood atop the wreckage, panting. His chakra was drained. His knees felt weak.


He looked down at Uraraka.


"Are you hurt?" he called out, his voice hoarse.


Uraraka shook her head, speechless.


Izuku gave a thumbs up. Then, the exhaustion hit.


"Instant... depression..."


Izuku collapsed face-first onto the wooden dragon. "I showed off... I was too flashy... I'm sorry, environment... I broke the road..."


A dark cloud formed over the unconscious boy atop the giant wooden dragon.


In the observation room, the silence was deafening.


"Did he..." Present Mic took off his sunglasses. "Did he just suplex the Zero Pointer with a tree?"


All Might, hiding in the corner, wiped a tear from his eye. "That's my boy. A bit excessive... but my boy."


Nezu cackled. "I want him. Put him in Class 1-A immediately. This year is going to be entertaining."




The Gates: After the Exam


Izuku walked out of the infirmary, Recovery Girl having given him some gummies for the exhaustion.


Katsuki was waiting by the gate. He wasn't looking at Izuku. He was looking at his hands.


"Kacchan?"


Katsuki didn't look up. "That dragon... was that you?"


Izuku hesitated. "Yes."


Katsuki was silent for a long time. The usual rage wasn't there. Instead, there was something colder. Calculating.


"You're not a pebble anymore," Katsuki said quietly.


He turned to look at Izuku. His eyes were red, intense.


"You're a boulder. A roadblock." Katsuki grinned, but it wasn't a nice grin. It was the grin of a man who had found a war worth fighting. "And I'm going to blow you into sawdust."


Izuku smiled back. A sad, knowing smile.


"I'll be waiting, Madara."


"STOP CALLING ME THAT!"





The silence of the Midoriya apartment was broken only by the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of a forehead gently hitting a desk.


Izuku Midoriya sat in his room, the lights dim. The adrenaline of the Entrance Exam had long since faded, replaced by the crushing weight of what he called "The Post-Battle Reflection," and what his mother, Inko, called "The Sulking Phase."


"I was too boisterous," Izuku muttered to the wood grain of his desk. "I summoned a dragon. A dragon. In a residential combat zone. Who does that? Only a megalomaniac. I probably destroyed the sewage infrastructure of Battle Center B. The repair costs... the tax yen... I am a burden on the economy."


A small mushroom popped out of the corner of his desk, sensing his gloom.


"Izuku?" Inko knocked gently on the door. "Honey, you’ve been in there for two days. You need to eat. I made katsudon."


Izuku lifted his head. His eyes were baggy. The use of the Wood Dragon Technique had drained his chakra reserves dangerously low. Unlike the stamina of his previous life, this teenage body was still adapting to the sheer volume of energy required for high-level Wood Release.


"I am unworthy of katsudon, Mother," Izuku sighed, standing up and stretching. His joints popped—a sound like snapping twigs. "But... sustenance is required for regeneration."


He opened the door. Inko looked at him with a mix of worry and awe. Her son had come home from the exam covered in dust, smelling like a lumberyard, and had promptly passed out for fourteen hours.


"Did... did it go well?" Inko asked hesitantly as they moved to the kitchen.


Izuku sat at the table, clasping his hands. "I neutralized the threats. I protected the ally. But my methods were... archaic. I fear the institution of UA may not appreciate a student who rearranges their landscaping without a permit."


"Oh, Izuku," Inko smiled nervously, placing the bowl down. "I'm sure you did fine. You always worry too much."


Izuku picked up his chopsticks. He looked at the steam rising from the pork cutlet.


Food. Life.


"It is not worry, Mother," Izuku said softly, his voice dropping into that strange, resonant baritone that always gave Inko goosebumps. "It is the burden of the architect. To build a village, one must be mindful of every stone. I fear I placed a boulder where a pebble should have been."




The Meeting of Minds


Three days later, the letter hadn't arrived yet. But a visitor did.


Izuku was at Dagobah Beach. The park was pristine now, a testament to his ten months of labor. He sat on the seawall, legs dangling over the crystal-clear water. He was meditating, trying to balance the natural energy of the ocean with his own internal chakra.


"Young Midoriya."


Izuku didn't flinch. He opened one eye. The iris was green, no trace of the Sage Mode pigmentation.


"All Might," Izuku said, standing up and bowing respectfully. "You look well. Your respiratory sound is slightly improved."


All Might stood on the sand, wearing a yellow suit that hung loosely on his skeletal frame. He wasn't smiling his trademark grin. He looked serious. Contemplative.


"I saw the footage," All Might said, stepping closer. "The Zero Pointer. That... thing you summoned."


"The Wood Dragon," Izuku corrected gently. "A technique designed to suppress Tailed Beasts. It was... excessive against a machine. I apologize."


"Excessive?" All Might let out a dry laugh. "Midoriya, you stopped a collapse that would have killed Miss Uraraka. You saved her. That isn't excessive. That is heroism."


All Might sat on the wall next to him. He looked out at the horizon.


"But we need to talk. Properly this time. About what you said before the exam. About my offer."


Izuku nodded. He sat back down. "One For All."


"Yes," All Might said. "When I offered it to you, you rejected it. You said your 'vessel' was full. At the time, I thought you were speaking metaphorically. But watching you during the exam... feeling the sheer pressure of your presence..."


All Might turned his hollow eyes toward the boy.


"Who are you, Izuku Midoriya? Because no Quirk awakening creates a warrior with the tactical mind of a general and the soul of a monk overnight."


Izuku looked at his hands. They were scarred from moving metal and wood.


"I am Izuku Midoriya," he began slowly. "But... I am also an echo."


He closed his eyes.


"I remember a time before quirks," Izuku said. The atmosphere around them shifted. The wind seemed to stop. "I remember a world of war. Clans fighting clans. Children dying before they could learn to read. I remember standing on a cliff with my best friend, dreaming of a place where we didn't have to kill each other."


All Might listened, entranced. The boy wasn't lying. The conviction in his voice was absolute.


"I built that place," Izuku whispered. "I built the village hidden in the leaves. I became its leader. I was called the First... the God of Shinobi."


He opened his eyes, and for a moment, All Might saw an overlay—a man with long black hair and red armor, radiating a power that felt ancient and warm.


"I died protecting that village. And then... I woke up here. In Musutafu. Four years old. Defending a crying boy."


Silence stretched between them. A seagull cried overhead.


"Reincarnation," All Might breathed. "I... I have heard stories. There are Quirks that store consciousness. One For All is one of them. But to be reborn entirely..."


"It is my reality," Izuku said simply. "And that is why I cannot take One For All. My chakra... my life force... it is the spirit of Hashirama Senju. It fills every corner of my being. If I introduced the spirits of your predecessors into this mix... it would be chaos. My soul is a completed painting. One For All requires a blank canvas."


All Might nodded slowly. He didn't understand the metaphysics completely, but he trusted the boy's instinct.


"Then... what is your goal?" All Might asked. "You have the power of a past legend. Why become a hero? Why go to UA?"


Izuku turned to All Might, and his face broke into a smile—not the terrifying smile of a warrior, but the goofy, blindingly optimistic smile of Hashirama.


"Because the work isn't done, All Might!"


Izuku gestured to the city skyline.


"This society... it is amazing! There is peace! There is law! But... I see the cracks. I see people like Kacchan, consumed by the need to be stronger than others. I see villains born from neglect. I see heroes fighting for rankings instead of the people."


Izuku placed a hand on his chest.


"You asked me about my philosophy. You call it being a Symbol of Peace. I call it the Will of Fire."


"The Will of Fire?" All Might repeated.


"It is the belief that love is the key to peace," Izuku explained, his voice passionate. "The village is not the walls. It is not the government. The village is the people. Every child, every elderly person, every quirkless citizen... they are the 'King.' They are the ones we protect. The strong exist to shield the weak until the weak can grow strong. That is the duty of the Hokage. That is the duty of a Hero."


Izuku stood up, the wind catching his curly green hair.


"I don't want to be the Number One Hero because I am the strongest. I want to be the Number One Hero so I can plant a forest where everyone is safe. I want to be the roots that hold this society together."


All Might stared. He felt tears pricking his eyes. He had been looking for a successor to his power. But he had found something else.


He had found a peer.


"Young Midoriya," All Might stood up, wiping his eyes. "You... you really are something else."


All Might placed a hand on Izuku’s shoulder.


"I respect your decision to reject One For All. In fact... I think you are right. You don't need it. You have a fire burning inside you that rivals it."


All Might grinned, transforming into his muscular form for just a moment, steam hissing.


"But you still have much to learn about this era! About laws! About not destroying city property! And as a teacher at UA... I will make sure you learn it!"


Izuku beamed. "Thank you, All Might! I will not let you down!"


"Now," All Might deflated. "Do you have any idea how we’re going to explain 'reincarnated ninja warlord' to the registration office?"


"We stick with 'Mutation Quirk: Arbor,'" Izuku said with a wink. "It’s simpler."




The Letter and the Shadow


The letter arrived a week later.


Izuku sat at his desk. Inko was pacing in the hallway, muttering prayers. Izuku tore the envelope open. A metal disk slid out.


Hologram.


"I AM HERE AS A PROJECTION!"


All Might’s image sprang to life. Izuku smiled politely. He had seen the man yesterday at the grocery store buying discount eggs; the projection lacked the same domestic charm.


"Young Midoriya! You passed the written exam with flying colors! Your essay on 'The Ethics of Power' was apparently so dense that Principal Nezu wants to publish it in an academic journal!"


Izuku scratched his cheek. I just quoted Tobirama's administrative policies.


"But the practical! You had 50 Villain Points! A respectable score! But that is not all!"


The video shifted. It showed Uraraka in the negotiation room, pleading with Present Mic.


"Please! Give him my points! He saved me!"


Izuku’s expression softened. "Uraraka-san..."


"A hero's job is to risk their life! To put their money where their mouth is!" All Might shouted. "Rescue Points! A hidden metric! For your actions against the Zero Pointer... for risking your own safety to save a comrade..."


The screen flashed.


Izuku Midoriya: 60 Rescue Points.

Total: 110 Points.


"First place!" All Might declared. "Welcome, Izuku Midoriya. This is your Hero Academia!"


The hologram faded.


Izuku stared at the empty space. First place.


In the hallway, Inko burst in, crying tears of joy. "Izuku! I heard! You did it!"


She hugged him, her tears soaking his shirt. Izuku hugged her back, feeling the warmth of her small form.


This, he thought. This is what I protect.


But as he held his mother, a shadow flickered in his mind. A memory.


A dark cave. A stone tablet. A brother turning his back on the village.


Madara.


Izuku pulled away gently. "Mom, I'm going to go for a walk. I need to... process."


"Okay, sweetie! I'll make red bean rice!"


Izuku walked out into the twilight. He walked past the park, past the convenience store, until he reached the edge of the urban district where the forest preserve began.


He walked into the trees. Here, he could breathe.


He stopped in a clearing. He sensed it before he saw it.


"You're loud," a voice growled.


Izuku turned. Leaning against a tree, hands in his pockets, was Katsuki Bakugo.


"Kacchan," Izuku nodded. "I didn't expect to see you here."


"I saw you walking," Katsuki spat. "You looked... smug."


"I was just thinking about dinner," Izuku said honestly.


Katsuki pushed off the tree. He walked toward Izuku. The air grew tense. Katsuki stopped three feet away.


"I got in," Katsuki said. "77 points. No Rescue Points. Just pure destruction."


"Congratulations," Izuku said. "That is a high score."


"Don't patronize me!" Katsuki snarled. "You got first, didn't you? That giant wooden snake... they must have given you a fortune for that."


"I suppose," Izuku admitted.


Katsuki glared at him. His hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from a volatile mix of anger and inferiority.


"How long?" Katsuki asked. His voice cracked. "How long have you been looking down on me? Was it all a joke to you? Following me around? 'Kacchan, you're so cool'? Was that just you laughing at the weakling?"


Izuku’s eyes widened. "No. Never."


Izuku stepped forward. "Kacchan, you are amazing. Your drive... your tenacity... it shines brighter than anyone else's. When I followed you, it was because I wanted to see where that fire would lead you."


Izuku looked Katsuki in the eye.


"But fire without a hearth burns the house down. You are strong. Maybe stronger than me in raw power. But you are fighting alone. And those who fight alone... they lose their way."


He saw the image of Madara again. The solitude. The madness born of isolation.


"I won't let you fall, Katsuki," Izuku said, using his real name. "Even if you hate me. Even if you try to burn me down. I will be the wall that stops you from going too far."


Katsuki stared at him. For a moment, he looked like he was going to scream. Then, he scoffed, turning his back.


"Do whatever you want, Deku. But when we get to UA... I'm going to crush you. I'm going to show you that the only thing that matters is being the absolute winner."


Katsuki walked away into the darkness.


Izuku watched him go. A single leaf fell from the tree above and landed in Izuku’s hand. He crushed it, feeling the dry crunch.


"We shall see," Izuku whispered.




The Month of Silence


There was a month gap between the acceptance letter and the first day of school.


Most students spent this time buying supplies, celebrating, or resting.


Izuku spent it in the mountains.


"I need to refine the Sage Mode," he told his mother. "I'm going camping."


He found a secluded spot in the mountains outside Musutafu. It wasn't Mount Myōboku, but it had good energy.


He sat under a waterfall, the cold water pounding against his shoulders.


Focus. Be still.


The problem with his reincarnated body was the balance. Hashirama’s spirit was powerful, but Izuku’s body was young. When he drew in nature energy, it rushed in too fast.


During the beach cleanup, he had turned into a tree twice. It was embarrassing.


Breathe in. Become one with the water.


Izuku closed his eyes. He visualized the energy. It wasn't just power; it was information. He could feel the deer moving three miles away. He could feel the hikers on the trail. He could feel the roots of the trees drinking from the soil.


Balance.


Orange pigmentation began to form around his eyes. A black circle appeared on his forehead.


"Too fast," Izuku grunted. The wood on his shoulders began to sprout.


"Control it!"


He flared his chakra, pushing the nature energy back, tempering it. The wood receded. The markings stabilized.


He opened his eyes. The world was high-definition. He could see the dust motes dancing in the air. He felt strong. Infinitely strong.


"Five minutes," he noted. "I can hold it for five minutes before the nature energy overwhelms my human biology."


He stood up, stepping out of the waterfall. He didn't dry off. The water simply evaporated off his skin from the heat of his chakra.


He clasped his hands.


"Wood Clone Jutsu."


Two copies of Izuku pulled themselves out of his shoulders. They looked identical, solid.


"Right," the real Izuku said. "We need to work on the Hobi Technique. The defense against the Zero Pointer was sloppy. If that had been a Tailed Beast Bomb, we would have been vaporized."


"Agreed," Clone 1 said. "Also, we need to work on suppression. We can't just crush everything."


"And math," Clone 2 added. "I forgot how to do quadratic equations."


"Quadratic equations first," Izuku sighed. "Then sparring."




The Day of Beginning


April arrived. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom—partially because it was spring, and partially because Izuku walked down the street leaking life energy because he was nervous.


Izuku stood in front of the mirror. The gray UA uniform looked sharp. He tied his red tie. It was crooked.


"Let me get that," Inko said, stepping in. She fixed the tie, patting his chest. She looked older, tired, but happy.


"You look handsome, Izuku."


"Thanks, Mom."


"Do you have your tissues? Your notebook?"


"Yes."


"Your... fertilizer?"


Izuku laughed. "Mom, I don't need fertilizer. I make my own... wait, that came out wrong. I mean, my chakra provides the nutrients."


Inko giggled. She hugged him one last time. "Go be a hero."


Izuku grabbed his yellow backpack. He walked to the door. He put on his red shoes.


He paused, hand on the doorknob.


This is it. The Academy.


In his past life, the Academy was a place to train child soldiers. He had built it to keep them safe, but it had ultimately become a tool for war.


Not this time.


He opened the door. The sun was blinding.


"I'm off!"




Class 1-A


The halls of UA were massive. The doors were tall.


Izuku found the door marked 1-A. It was huge.


Designed for gigantic students, he noted. Inclusive architecture. Good.


He stood before the door. He could hear voices inside.


"Remove your foot from the desk! It is disrespectful to the upperclassmen who crafted it!"


"Hah? Stop telling me what to do, Four-Eyes! You want me to blow you up?"


Izuku sighed. Of course.


He slid the door open.


The class went silent.


Tenya Iida, the boy with glasses, froze mid-chop. Katsuki Bakugo, feet on the desk, stopped scowling. Ochako Uraraka, chatting in the back, gasped.


All eyes were on Izuku.


He didn't look like the nervous wreck he used to be. He stood with his back straight, his presence filling the room. He radiated a calm, earthy warmth.


"Good morning," Izuku said, bowing slightly.


"It's him!" Iida marched over, robotic and stiff. "Midoriya! The one who figured out the true nature of the exam!"


"True nature?" Izuku blinked. "I just didn't want the girl to get squashed."


"Humble too!" Iida vibrated. "I am Tenya Iida from Somei Private Academy!"


"I heard," Izuku smiled. "You have strong legs, Iida-kun. Good for rapid transport of civilians."


Iida looked confused but flattered. "Thank you?"


"Deku," Uraraka ran over. "You made it! That punch—I mean, that tree dragon—was amazing! Are you okay? You looked super tired!"


"I am fully recovered, thank you, Uraraka-san," Izuku beamed. Then, instantly, he slumped, a dark cloud forming. "Though I realized I forgot to thank Recovery Girl properly... I am an ungrateful patient..."


"He's doing it again!" Uraraka panicked.


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


The voice came from the floor.


Everyone looked down. A man in a yellow sleeping bag was lying in the doorway like a caterpillar. Shota Aizawa.


"This is the hero course," Aizawa said, unzipping the bag and standing up. He looked exhausted. He looked at Izuku with a piercing, analytical gaze.


The boy with the wood, Aizawa thought. Nezu’s favorite. Let's see if he has potential or if he's just a gardener.


"It took you eight seconds to quiet down," Aizawa muttered. "Time is limited. You're not rational enough."


He pulled a gym uniform out of his bag.


"Put these on and meet me on the grounds."


"The grounds?" Uraraka asked. "What about the entrance ceremony? Orientation?"


Aizawa grinned, a shark-like expression.


"If you're going to be heroes, you don't have time for such leisurely events."


He turned to leave.


"UA's selling point is freedom of style. That applies to the teachers as well."


Aizawa stopped and looked back over his shoulder, his eyes locking directly onto Izuku.


"Softball throw. Standing long jump. 50-meter dash. Endurance run. Grip strength. Upper-body lift. Seated toe-touch. Sit-ups."


"A Quirk Apprehension Test," Izuku whispered.


"Exactly," Aizawa said. "The country still uses averages from quirkless students. It’s not rational. The Ministry of Education is procrastinating."


Aizawa’s hair floated up. His eyes glowed red.


"Bakugo. You finished first in the entrance exam. How far could you throw a softball in middle school?"


"67 meters," Katsuki grunted.


"Try it with your Quirk."


They moved outside. The sun was hot.


Katsuki stepped into the circle. He stretched his arms. He looked at Izuku.


Watch this, Deku.


"DIE!"


BOOM.


The ball rocketed into the sky, propelled by a massive explosion.


"705.2 meters," Aizawa read from his device.


The class gasped.

"Awesome!"

"This looks like fun!"


"Fun?" Aizawa’s voice dropped. The temperature seemed to plummet. "You have three years to become heroes. You think it's going to be fun?"


He smiled again.


"Right. Whoever comes in last place in all eight tests will be judged to have no potential..."


Aizawa lifted a finger.


"...and will be punished with expulsion."


"Ehhh?!" The class screamed.


"Expulsion?!" Uraraka cried. "On the first day?! That's not fair!"


"Natural disasters aren't fair," Aizawa said. "Villains aren't fair. It is our job to correct that unfairness."


Izuku stood silently in the back. He watched Aizawa.


He is testing our resolve, Izuku analyzed. He is like Tobirama. Strict. ruthless. But... he cares about the survival rate.


Izuku clenched his fist.


I cannot rely on Wood Release for everything. If I use it too much, I'll destroy the field. I need to show them...


He looked at his hand.


...the strength of the Senju body.


"Midoriya," Aizawa called out. "You're next."


Izuku stepped forward. He felt the eyes of the class on him. He felt Katsuki’s burning glare.


He picked up the ball. It felt light.


Aizawa narrowed his eyes. Let's see what you do, Problem Child.


Izuku breathed in. He didn't clasp his hands. He didn't summon wood.


He channeled chakra into his muscles. The same chakra that allowed Hashirama to fight for twenty-four hours straight. The same chakra that allowed him to catch a Tailed Beast Sword with his bare hands.


Chakra Enhanced Strength.


He winded up. His form was perfect.


"Hah!"


He threw the ball.


There was no explosion. Just a sonic boom as the ball broke the sound barrier, tearing through the air with pure kinetic force.


It vanished into the clouds.


Aizawa looked at the device. He blinked.


"709 meters."


Katsuki’s jaw dropped. "What?!"


Izuku turned around, dusting off his hands. He smiled at Aizawa.


"Is that rational enough, Sensei?"


Aizawa’s scarf twitched. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.


"It's a start."





The morning of the UA Entrance Exam did not begin with a blaring alarm clock or a panicked rush for toast. It began with silence.


Izuku Midoriya sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, the early morning light filtering through the blinds to illuminate the dust motes dancing in the air. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow and rhythmic. In his lap rested a small, potted bonsai tree—a miniature pine he had grown from a seed two days ago.


Inhale. The energy of the waking city was faint, drowned out by the concrete and steel, but the earth beneath the foundation still hummed. Exhale.


"Today is the day," he whispered to the bonsai.


The plant seemed to shiver in acknowledgement, a tiny needle dropping onto his knee.


Izuku opened his eyes. They were clear, devoid of the nervous trembling that had plagued him for most of his childhood. Today, the jittery, quirkless boy was quiet. In his place sat the soul of a man who had founded a village to end an era of war.


"Izuku!" Inko’s voice drifted from the kitchen, laced with the high-pitch frequency of maternal anxiety. "Breakfast is ready! Do you have your pencils? Your admission ticket? Your lucky underwear?"


Izuku stood up, his joints popping with a sound like snapping twigs. He smiled, a calm, beatific expression that looked slightly out of place on a fifteen-year-old’s face.


"I am ready, Mother," he called back.


He dressed slowly. The black gakuran uniform of Aldera Junior High felt tight across his shoulders. He had grown broader in the last ten months, his training at Dagobah Beach layering dense, corded muscle onto his frame. It wasn't the bulky, showy muscle of All Might; it was the functional, enduring strength of the Senju bloodline reawakening.


He walked into the kitchen. Inko was vibrating, holding a spatula like a weapon.


"Eat! You need energy!" She shoved a plate of fish and rice in front of him. "Oh, my baby is going to the big scary school! What if you trip? What if the robots are too loud?"


Izuku took a bite of rice, chewing thoughtfully. "Mother, panic is a waste of chakra. If I trip, I will simply grow a root to catch myself. If the robots are loud, I will grow earplugs."


Inko stared at him, then burst into tears. "You sound just like your grandfather when he watched historical dramas! My baby is an old man!"


Izuku sweat-dropped, the mystical aura vanishing instantly as he hunched over his bowl. "I’m not an old man, Mom! I’m just... focused!"


After breakfast, he stood at the door. He laced up his oversized red boots. He looked at his hands.


Hashirama Senju built a village from dreams and timber. Izuku Midoriya will build a future from hope and... well, probably also timber.


"I’m off!"




The Written Test: The Strategist in the Classroom


The lecture hall at UA was massive, a tiered coliseum of academia designed to intimidate. Hundreds of students sat in silence, the scratching of pencils the only sound.


Present Mic stood at the podium, looking bored, occasionally adjusting his headphones.


Izuku sat in the middle row. He looked at the test paper.


Section 1: English.

Section 2: Mathematics.

Section 3: Hero Ethics and Strategic Response.


He breezed through the English and Math. Equations were universal; whether it was calculating the trajectory of a kunai or the velocity of a falling robot, the math remained the same.


Then came Section 3.


Question 42: A villain has taken three hostages in a dense urban environment. The villain possesses a volatile Emitter-type Quirk. The police have established a perimeter. As a Pro Hero, how do you proceed to minimize collateral damage and ensure hostage safety?


Izuku stared at the paper. The pencil felt small in his hand.


Standard Answer: Wait for backup, analyze the Quirk, negotiate.


Izuku’s Brain (Hashirama Mode):


"A volatile enemy in a dense area constitutes a threat to the clan—I mean, the public. Waiting allows the enemy to entrench. Negotiation is preferred, but from a position of strength."


He began to write, his hand moving in a blur.


Response:

First, establish a suppression barrier. Utilizing localized containment (e.g., Cementoss or Wood Release), cut off the villain's line of sight to the perimeter. This reduces their perceived leverage. Second, infiltrate beneath the structure. A frontal assault risks the hostages. By entering from below, one can utilize the element of surprise. Isolate the hostages using protective barriers before engaging the target. If the villain’s Quirk is explosion-based, dampen the blast with porous materials. If the villain surrenders, offer leniency in exchange for information regarding their organization. If they resist, suppress non-lethally using binding techniques. The priority is the preservation of the 'Seedlings' (Hostages).


Izuku stopped. He looked at the margins of the paper. He still had ten minutes left.


His hand drifted on its own. He began to sketch.


He didn't draw All Might. He didn't draw heroes.


He drew a cliff face. He drew four faces carved into the stone. He drew a sprawling village nestled in a forest, with a large, circular building in the center marked with the kanji for "Fire."


"Detailed topographic map..." he muttered to himself. "Defensive perimeter here... Watchtowers here... Access to the river for irrigation..."


Up at the podium, Present Mic squinted behind his sunglasses. He leaned over to Midnight, who was proctoring the next aisle.


"Yo, check out listener number 2234," Mic whispered. "Is he... is he redesigning the city zoning laws on the back of his exam?"


Midnight glanced over. "He's drawing a feudal castle. And... are those little ninja running on the roofs? Cute."


"He looks so serious," Mic noted. "Like he's planning a coup."


"Time's up!" Ectoplasm announced, his clones snatching papers from desks with terrifying efficiency.


Izuku blinked, snapping out of his trance. He looked at his drawing.


"Ah... instant depression..."


He slumped forward, his forehead hitting the desk. "I defaced the official exam paper... I am a vandal... I am unworthy of the hero course... I should go live in a hollow log..."


"Hey, buddy, you okay?" the guy next to him asked nervously. "You're growing moss on the desk."


"I'm fine," Izuku mumbled, wiping the moss away.




The Practical Exam: The Gates of Judgment


The written exam was a mental warm-up. The practical exam was the true test.


Izuku stood in front of the towering gates of Battle Center B. He had changed into his green tracksuit, metal plating sewn onto the knees and elbows—scavenged scraps from the beach cleanup.


Around him, other examinees were stretching, vibrating with nervous energy.


"That's the guy who stopped the sludge villain," someone whispered.

"I heard he has a nature quirk."

"He looks kinda... spaced out."


Izuku wasn't spaced out. He was listening.


He could feel the vibrations of machinery behind the heavy metal gates. He could hear the hum of electricity, the grinding of gears.


Hundreds of them. Metal puppets.


"Out of my way, Deku."


Izuku didn't turn. He knew that voice. Katsuki Bakugo walked past him, shoulders hunched, radiating killing intent.


"Good luck, Kacchan," Izuku said calmly.


"I don't need luck," Katsuki spat. "I'm going to crush them all. Don't get in my way, or I'll crush you too."


"We are in different battle centers," Izuku noted. "So that would be logistically difficult."


Katsuki twitched, growled, and stomped off toward Battle Center A.


Izuku turned back to the gate. A girl with brown bobbed hair was standing nearby, looking like she was about to throw up. Ochako Uraraka.


"Deep breaths," Izuku said, stepping beside her. "Oxygen helps the chakra flow... I mean, the nerves."


"Oh! You're the boy from the entrance!" Uraraka squeaked. "I'm so nervous! I feel like my heart is going to explode!"


"If your heart explodes, you cannot take the exam," Izuku said with deadpan seriousness. "Try visualizing a calm stream. Or a really boring rock."


"A... boring rock?" Uraraka blinked, then giggled. "You're funny. I'm Uraraka, by the way."


"Midoriya."


"AND START!"


Present Mic’s voice boomed from the observation tower, startling the crowd.


"WHAT'S WRONG? THERE ARE NO COUNTDOWNS IN REAL FIGHTS! RUN! RUN! DIE! I MEAN, GO!"


The crowd hesitated for a fraction of a second, the sudden command causing a collective stumble.


Izuku did not stumble.


He didn't sprint like a track star. He leaned forward, channeled energy into his legs, and pushed off.


Crack.


The concrete beneath his red boot spider-webbed.


He was a blur of green. While the others were just starting to accelerate, Izuku was already through the open gates. He didn't run with the frantic energy of a teenager; he moved with the fluid, terrifying efficiency of a shinobi using the Body Flicker technique.


"Whoa! Look at that guy go!" someone yelled.


The rest of the pack surged forward, a stampede of quirks and desperate ambition.




The Urban Jungle


Izuku was alone on the main street of the mock city for exactly three seconds.


Then, the enemy appeared.


A 3-Pointer. A massive, tank-treaded robot with missile launchers for arms rolled out from an alleyway. Its single red eye locked onto him.


"TARGET ACQUIRED."


It raised a weapon arm.


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


He clapped his hands together. The sound was sharp, like a gunshot.


"Wood Style: Four Pillar Prison!"


He didn't shout it; he didn't need to. The words were a focus, a trigger for the memory of the technique.


The asphalt street exploded.


Four massive wooden beams, thick as telephone poles, shot up from the ground around the robot. They were faster than the machine’s targeting system. Before the robot could fire, crossbeams shot out, locking together to form a perfect, inescapable cage.


The robot fired its missile. Boom. The explosion rattled the wooden bars, scorching them, but the wood held. It was enhanced with chakra, dense as iron.


Izuku leaped. He landed on top of the cage.


"Target immobilized," he whispered.


He placed a palm on the top of the cage. A single, sharp stake of wood shot down from his hand, piercing the robot's central processing unit with surgical precision.


The light in the robot’s eye died.


Izuku jumped off and kept running.


"That's... that's not a Quirk! That's construction work!" a student yelled, running past the wooden cage.


Izuku ignored them. He was in the zone.


He turned a corner. Two 1-Pointers (speed types) and a 2-Pointer (heavy blocker) blocked the road.


"Target! Target!"


They charged.


Izuku stopped. He took a deep breath.


Too many to cage individually. Area denial.


He stomped his right foot.


"Wood Style: Cutting Sprigs Technique!"


It started as a rumble. Then, spikes of wood—sharp, jagged spears—erupted from the ground in a wave. They didn't just pop up; they surged forward like a wooden tsunami.


The robots were skewered. Lifted into the air on a forest of spikes, their wheels spinning uselessly.


Izuku walked through the field of impaled machinery. He reached out and touched a struggling 1-Pointer. A vine shot from his sleeve, crushing its power supply.


"Rest now," he murmured.


Behind him, the other students caught up. They stopped dead in their tracks.


The street wasn't a street anymore. It was a twisted, thorny thicket of wooden spikes and caged robots.


"How... how are we supposed to get points if he turns the map into a forest?!" a student with lasers cried out.


"Go around!" another screamed. "He's terraforming the level!"




The Observation Room


In a dark room lined with screens, the faculty of UA High watched the chaos unfold.


"Battle Center A is proceeding as expected," Vlad King grunted. "Bakugo is... enthusiastic. A bit violent, but effective."


"Battle Center C has a good mix," Midnight noted.


"But look at Center B," Sniper pointed a finger.


On the main screen, a drone feed showed a sector of the city that had gone green.


"Is that... vegetation?" Cementoss leaned forward. "I didn't authorize any landscaping Quirks."


"That is Examinee 2234," Nezu, the principal, squeaked happily, climbing onto the console. "Izuku Midoriya. The one All Might has been looking at."


"He's not fighting the robots," Aizawa spoke from the back of the room, his eyes narrowed. "He's changing the battlefield. Look."


On screen, Izuku was surrounded by three 3-Pointers. Instead of punching them, he created a curved wall of wood—Wood Style: Domed Wall—that deflected their missiles back at them. As the smoke cleared, he grew a bridge to the second story of a building, flanking them from above.


"Efficiency," Aizawa muttered. "He's conserving energy while maximizing control. He's treating this like a siege."


"It's terrifying," Present Mic shivered. "The kid is turning downtown Tokyo into the Amazon Rainforest. Imagine the property damage claims!"


"Or the rescue potential," Nezu countered, his tail twitching. "Look how the wood supports the crumbling infrastructure. He's reinforcing the buildings as he fights. He is instinctively protecting the environment."


Nezu took a sip of tea.


"But let's see how he handles... true despair."


Nezu’s paw hovered over a large red button.


"Release the Villain."




The Zero Pointer


Izuku stood atop a four-story building. He was panting slightly.


45 points. Maybe 50.


He surveyed his handiwork. The street below was a mess of roots and broken metal. He had unintentionally created a small park in the middle of the intersection.


"I might have overdone it with the weeping willow," he critiqued a particularly large tree he had summoned to crush a 2-Pointer. "It clashes with the urban brutalism."


Suddenly, the world shook.


It wasn't a vibration. It was an earthquake.


BOOM.


BOOM.


Birds flew into the air. The glass in the windows shattered.


From the center of the city, a shadow rose. It eclipsed the sun.


The Zero Pointer.


It was colossal. A mechanical titan that made the surrounding skyscrapers look like toys. Its green painted metal groaned as it moved, its massive tread crushing a building into dust.


"DESTROY," the robot broadcasted, its voice shaking the bones of everyone in a three-mile radius.


On the ground, the students froze.


"That's... that's huge!"

"It's the gimmick! It's worth zero points!"

"Run! We're gonna die!"


Panic. Pure, unfiltered panic. The examinees turned and fled, screaming, tripping over each other in a desperate bid to escape the avalanche of metal.


Izuku stood on the roof, his towel-cape flapping in the wind created by the robot's movement.


He looked up at the behemoth.


A mechanical Golem.


In his past life, he had fought the Nine-Tailed Fox. He had fought a Susanoo-clad Kurama. He had fought mountains that walked.


This robot was big. But it lacked soul. It lacked chakra.


"It is just a puppet," Izuku said, his voice calm amidst the screaming.


He turned to leave. It was worth zero points. There was no strategic value in engaging it. It was a waste of chakra.


Then, he heard it.


"Ow... help..."


A small, pained voice.


Izuku stopped. His sensory perception flared.


He looked down. In the middle of the main street, right in the path of the Zero Pointer, a girl was trapped. Ochako Uraraka. Her leg was pinned under a slab of concrete—debris from the building the robot had just crushed.


She was struggling, her face pale, looking up at the tread that was descending toward her like the foot of a god.


The other students were running away. Iida was too far. The laser kid was crying.


No one was turning back.


The Seedling.


The calculation in Izuku’s mind changed instantly.


Strategic Value: Zero.

Moral Value: Infinite.


The "exam" was over. The war was back.


Izuku didn't jump. He launched himself.


He channeled chakra into his feet—so much that the roof of the building he was standing on collapsed as he took off. He was a green missile, soaring through the air.


He landed in front of Uraraka with a heavy thud, dust billowing around his red boots.


"M-Midoriya-kun?" Uraraka gasped, eyes wide.


Izuku didn't look at her. He looked at the robot. It was fifty meters away. Forty. Thirty.


He could feel the heat radiating from its engines.


"Cover your eyes," Izuku commanded. His voice wasn't the nervous teen anymore. It was the Hokage. It was absolute authority.


He brought his hands together.


Clap.


The sound cut through the chaos. It resonated, a deep, earthen thrum that felt like the heartbeat of the planet.


Izuku’s eyes snapped open. Green energy flared around him, visible, tangible.


"I have avoided using this because it frightens people," Izuku muttered, his hair rising as the chakra pressure spiked. "But for a monster like you... I must use a dragon."


He wove signs. Snake. Ram. Hare. Dog. Snake.


He slammed his palms onto the broken pavement.


"Wood Style: Wood Dragon Technique!"


The ground didn't just crack; it dissolved.


A roar erupted—not from the robot, but from the earth.


A massive, serpentine head burst from the concrete. It was made of gnarled, ancient timber, with glowing yellow eyes and a snout like a dragon. It was enormous—easily half the size of the Zero Pointer itself.


"GO!" Izuku roared.


The Wood Dragon lunged. It didn't breathe fire; it breathed life. It coiled through the air, moving with a fluid grace that defied physics.


The Zero Pointer raised a massive arm to swat it away.


The Dragon opened its wooden jaws and bit down on the robot's arm.


CRUNCH.


Metal screamed as the wood sheared through steel plating.


The Dragon didn't stop. It coiled around the robot, winding its body around the torso, the legs, the neck. It constricted.


"Binding!" Izuku shouted, sweat pouring down his face. This technique drained massive amounts of chakra.


The Wood Dragon tightened. The Zero Pointer’s chassis buckled. Sparks flew as the internal mechanisms were crushed. But the Dragon did more than crush—it absorbed. The glowing nodes on the Dragon’s body pulsed as it drained the electrical energy from the robot’s battery packs.


The Zero Pointer’s eyes flickered. The "DESTROY" broadcast distorted into a low groan.


Izuku stood in front of Uraraka, his hands still clasped, controlling the beast.


"Sit. Down."


With a final, terrible screech of tearing metal, the Wood Dragon slammed the Zero Pointer into the ground.


BOOM.


The impact shook the entire battle center. Dust rose like a mushroom cloud.


Silence followed.


As the dust settled, the students who had stopped running turned to look. Their jaws hit the floor.


The terrifying Zero Pointer was lying on its side. It was completely immobilized, wrapped in the coils of a gigantic wooden dragon. And—most bizarrely—flowers were blooming along the dragon's spine, fed by the stolen energy.


Izuku exhaled, his arms dropping to his sides. The green aura faded.


He turned to Uraraka. The concrete slab on her leg was lifted gently by a small root that had sprouted near her ankle.


"Are you injured?" Izuku asked, offering a hand. He was pale, shaking slightly from the exertion.


Uraraka stared at the giant dragon, then at the robot, then at Izuku.


"You... you..." she stammered. "You made a dragon out of trees!"


Izuku scratched the back of his head, the "Hashirama" persona fading into a sheepish "Deku."


"Ah... yes. It’s... um... very sturdy wood?"




The Aftermath


"TIME'S UP!"


The siren wailed. The exam was over.


Izuku fell over.


"Midoriya-kun!" Uraraka caught him.


"I'm okay," Izuku mumbled, his face in the dirt. "Just... low blood sugar. And instant depression."


A dark cloud formed over him. "I destroyed the road... The infrastructure bill will be astronomical... I am a menace to civil engineering..."


"Stop worrying about the road!" Uraraka cried.


Recovery Girl arrived shortly after, shuffling through the stunned crowd of students.


"Alright, alright, move aside," she grumbled. She saw the Zero Pointer wrapped in the Wood Dragon. She stopped. She looked at the robot. She looked at Izuku.


"Well," she said. "That’s new."


She handed Izuku some gummies. "You didn't break any bones, sonny. Just exhausted. Eat these."


"Thank you, Ma'am," Izuku chewed weakly.


As he walked toward the exit, supported by a very enthusiastic Uraraka ("That was so cool! It was like ROAR and then CRUNCH!"), Izuku felt eyes on him.


He looked up.


On a rooftop nearby, Katsuki Bakugo stood. He wasn't yelling. He wasn't sparking. He was just staring at the Wood Dragon, his face unreadable.


Izuku gave a tired wave.


Katsuki didn't wave back. He turned and walked away.




The Faculty Room


The teachers were gathered around the screen, replaying the footage of the Wood Dragon.


"He stopped the Zero Pointer," Midnight said, fanning herself. "And he made it look... majestic."
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