what if deku was Yusuke urameshi

 

The sky over Musutafu was a mocking, pristine shade of blue. It was the kind of day the news anchors chirped about, the kind of day heroes loved because their capes looked majestic flapping in the gentle breeze, and the kind of day Izuku Midoriya absolutely hated.

He was currently lying on his back on the concrete roof of Aldera Junior High, one arm thrown over his eyes to block out that irritatingly cheerful sun. The concrete was warm, baking through the fabric of his black school uniform—the jacket of which he wore unbuttoned over a white t-shirt, completely against regulations.

Down below, three floors of education were happening. Students were scribbling notes about history, mathematics, and Hero Law. They were discussing their Quirks, comparing mutations, and dreaming about the UA entrance exams.

Izuku didn't care. He popped his knuckles, the sound cracking like a pistol shot in the quiet air.

"Midoriya!"

The screech of the rusty roof access door being shoved open ruined his peace. Izuku didn't move his arm. He didn't even flinch. He just let out a long, ragged sigh that rattled in his chest.

"I know you’re up here, you delinquent trash!"

It was Mr. Tsubasa, the history teacher. The man had a Quirk that allowed him to extend his earlobes, which was grotesque, but mostly he used it to eavesdrop on students. Right now, he was red-faced and panting from the stairs.

Izuku slowly lowered his arm, revealing emerald green eyes that didn't hold a spark of fear. They were cold, sharp, and looked far older than his fourteen years. "Yo, Teach. You’re gonna pop a blood vessel yelling like that. Bad for the heart."

"Get down to class immediately!" Tsubasa roared, pointing a shaking finger. "You’ve missed homeroom and first period! Do you think you can just do whatever you want because you’re..."

"Because I'm what?" Izuku sat up, resting his elbows on his knees. He shot the teacher a glare that made the man swallow his words. "Because I'm Quirkless? Because I'm the 'Useless Deku'?"

Izuku stood up. He wasn't particularly tall, nor was he visibly muscular under the loose uniform, but he carried an aura of heavy, suffocating pressure. It was the posture of someone who had been hit a thousand times and decided he was done being the punching bag.

"I’m skipping," Izuku said flatly. "Material is boring. And if I sit in that chair one more day, I’m going to put someone through a window."

"You... I'm calling your mother!" Tsubasa threatened, retreating slightly as Izuku took a step forward.

Izuku froze. The apathy on his face flickered, replaced by a momentary flash of guilt, before hardening into iron again. "Do what you want."

He walked past the teacher, not toward the door, but toward the edge of the roof.

"Midoriya! What are you doing?"

Izuku stepped up onto the ledge. The wind whipped his messy, unkempt green hair around his face. He looked down. It was a three-story drop to the dumpster filled alleyway below.

"Taking the express exit," Izuku muttered. "Later."

He stepped off.

Mr. Tsubasa screamed, rushing to the edge, only to see Izuku land in a crouch atop a pile of garbage bags, roll smoothly onto the asphalt, and shove his hands into his pockets. The boy didn't even look back as he strolled out of the alleyway, disappearing into the bustling streets of Musutafu.

Izuku Midoriya had a reputation.

In a world where eighty percent of the population possessed superpowers known as Quirks, being in the twenty percent who didn't was a social death sentence. Usually, the Quirkless were pitiable. They were the victims, the frail, the ones who needed saving.

Izuku was the exception.

At four years old, the doctor told him he was broken. At five, Katsuki Bakugo told him he was trash. At six, the bullying started.

But at ten, something snapped. Izuku stopped crying. He stopped analyzing heroes in his notebooks with wide-eyed wonder. He realized that in a world of superpowers, the only thing people respected was force. If he didn't have a Quirk, he would have to be stronger, faster, and meaner than everyone else.

He got into fights. A lot of them. He fought bullies, he fought seniors, he fought thugs from the neighboring districts. He came home bruised, bloody, and broken more times than he could count, but he always left the other guy looking worse.

They called him the "Green Punk of Aldera." The Quirkless monster.

Izuku walked through the downtown shopping district, ignoring the glares of shopkeepers who recognized his uniform. He wasn't looking for trouble, but trouble had a magnetic attraction to him.

He turned a corner into a narrower street, intending to cut through to the arcade, when he heard a noise. A wet, pathetic mewling sound.

Izuku stopped. He sighed, tilting his head back. "Don't do it, Izuku. Just keep walking. It’s not your problem."

He took a step forward.

Mew! Hiss!

"Dammit."

He spun on his heel and marched down the alley.

Three guys, looking to be about sixteen or seventeen, were crowded around a cardboard box. They wore the uniforms of a technical high school a few towns over—generic tough guys with bad haircuts and minor mutation Quirks. One had spikes on his elbows; another had skin that looked like sandpaper.

"Look at it squirm," Spike-Elbows laughed, poking a stick into the box. "Think it bounces if I drop it from the roof?"

"Let's burn it," Sandpaper-Skin suggested, lighting a cigarette. "My cousin has a fire quirk, I bet I can make a spark if I rub my hands together fast enough."

Izuku stopped ten feet behind them. "Hey."

The three turned around. They saw a middle schooler with messy green hair, hands in his pockets, looking bored.

"Get lost, junior," Sandpaper sneered. "Grown-ups are talking."

"I see three pieces of trash and a cat," Izuku deadpanned. "No grown-ups here."

The third guy, a tall lanky teen with extendable fingers, cracked his knuckles. "You got a death wish, kid? Do you know who we are?"

"No," Izuku said, taking one hand out of his pocket to scratch the back of his neck. "And I don't care. Step away from the cat."

"Or what?" Spike-Elbows stepped forward, grinning. "You gonna cry for a Hero? There ain't no heroes down here."

"Good," Izuku said. A dark grin spread across his face—a terrifying expression that didn't reach his eyes. "That means I don't have to hold back."

Spike-Elbows lunged. It was a sloppy attack, reliant entirely on the intimidation factor of the bone spikes protruding from his arms. He expected the kid to flinch.

Izuku didn't flinch. He stepped inside the guard.

Before the thug could register the movement, Izuku’s fist buried itself in the guy's solar plexus. It wasn't a superhero punch. It was a street brawl gut-check, compact and vicious. The air left the older boy’s lungs with a wheeze, his eyes bulging.

Izuku grabbed the back of the thug's head and slammed his knee into the guy's nose. Crunch.

Spike-Elbows hit the ground, out cold before he touched the pavement.

The other two froze. They looked at their fallen leader, then at the quirkless middle schooler who was shaking out his hand.

"That felt solid," Izuku muttered. He looked at the other two. "Well? Are we dancing, or are you running?"

"Get him!" Sandpaper roared. He charged, swinging wild haymakers. His skin was rough enough to tear flesh on contact.

Izuku ducked under a wide swing, the rough skin grazing his cheek and drawing a line of blood. He ignored the sting. He pivoted on his back foot, using the momentum to drive a hard kick into the back of the guy's knee. The thug buckled. Izuku followed up with a stiff uppercut to the jaw that snapped the guy's head back.

The lanky one with long fingers tried to grab Izuku from behind, wrapping his digits around Izuku’s throat. "I got him! Kill him!"

Izuku gagged, clawing at the fingers. He couldn't breathe. The grip was unnatural, like a vice.

Think. Don't panic.

Izuku stomped down hard on the guy's instep, grinding his heel. The grip loosened for a fraction of a second. That was all he needed. Izuku grabbed one of the elongated fingers and bent it backward. Hard.

A high-pitched scream echoed in the alley. Izuku threw the guy over his shoulder, slamming him onto the concrete next to his friends.

Silence returned to the alley, save for the heavy breathing of the green-haired boy and the groans of three high schoolers.

Izuku wiped the blood from his cheek with his thumb. He walked over to the cardboard box. Inside, a small black kitten with white paws was shivering, terrified.

Izuku’s expression softened. The hard edge vanished, replaced by something incredibly gentle. He crouched down. "Hey there. It's okay. The trash is taken out."

He reached out a hand. The kitten hissed initially, but upon sniffing Izuku's fingers—which smelled of sweat and ozone—it licked him.

"You're a tough one, huh?" Izuku whispered. He picked up the kitten and tucked it into his open uniform jacket. "Go find somewhere safe. I can't keep you. My mom would freak."

He set the kitten down near the fire escape of a restaurant where he knew they left scraps. As the cat scurried away, Izuku stood up and lit a cigarette—no, wait, he didn't smoke. He just reached into his pocket and pulled out a lollipop. Strawberry flavor. He unwrapped it and stuck it in his mouth.

"Midoriya!"

The voice was like a thunderclap. An explosion echoed at the mouth of the alley.

Izuku stiffened. He didn't turn around immediately. He crunched the lollipop. "Can't a guy get five minutes of peace?"

Standing at the entrance of the alley was a boy with ash-blond spiky hair, wearing the same uniform but with his pants sagging low. His hands were smoking, little pops of nitroglycerin sparking in his palms. Behind him were two lackeys, looking nervous.

Katsuki Bakugo. The King of Aldera.

"I heard you were skipping, you damn nerd," Bakugo growled, stalking forward. The unconscious bodies of the high schoolers didn't even register to him. "And then I hear you're fighting extras on my turf?"

"Your turf?" Izuku turned around, hands back in his pockets. "I didn't see your name on the dumpster, Kacchan. Though you do smell like it sometimes."

Bakugo’s eye twitched. "What did you say, Deku?"

"You heard me."

This was their ritual. For years, Bakugo had tried to beat Izuku into submission, to force him to accept his place as a stepping stone. But Izuku was the one stone that refused to be stepped on. He was the pebble in Bakugo’s shoe that wouldn't go away.

"You think you're tough because you beat up some weaklings?" Bakugo shouted, lunging forward with an explosion-propelled right hook.

Izuku didn't dodge this time. He crossed his arms, taking the brunt of the blast.

BOOM.

Smoke filled the alley. Izuku slid back three feet, his uniform jacket scorched, his arms smoking. It hurt. It hurt like hell. But he gritted his teeth and locked eyes with Bakugo through the smoke.

"Is that all?" Izuku taunted.

"Don't look down on me!" Bakugo screamed. He swung again, a left hook.

Izuku caught Bakugo’s wrist.

It was a move that shouldn't have been physically possible. Bakugo had the strongest Quirk in the district. Izuku had nothing. And yet, for a second, they were deadlocked. Izuku’s grip was iron.

Bakugo’s red eyes widened. He felt it again. That weird pressure. Whenever he fought Deku lately, it didn't feel like fighting a normal person. It felt like standing next to a static-charged TV screen. The air around the nerd felt heavy.

"Let go!" Bakugo set off an explosion point-blank in Izuku’s grip.

Izuku was forced to release him, shaking his burned hand. "You’re annoying, Kacchan."

"Why won't you just stay down?!" Bakugo panted, steam rising from his palms. "Why do you keep acting like you can stand on the same stage as me? You’re Quirkless! You’re nothing!"

"Maybe," Izuku spat, looking at his burned palm. "But I'm not gonna let you win just because you were born lucky."

Bakugo stared at him. There was frustration in the blonde’s eyes, but also... something else. Confusion? Respect? It was buried deep under layers of anger.

"Tch." Bakugo straightened up, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You’re boring me today, Deku. You look like crap. Go home and cry to your mommy."

"Run away then," Izuku retorted.

"I'm not running!" Bakugo yelled over his shoulder as he walked away. "I just don't want to get suspended before the UA entrance exam for killing a bug like you! Don't die in a gutter somewhere!"

Izuku watched him go. Once Bakugo was out of sight, Izuku slumped against the brick wall, sliding down until he hit the ground. He clutched his burned arm, his face twisting in pain.

"Damn it," he whispered. "He's getting stronger."

Izuku looked up at the strip of blue sky between the buildings. He was tired. So tired. He was fighting a war he couldn't win, against a world that had decided his value at birth.

By the time Izuku got home, it was late afternoon. The apartment was quiet.

"I'm home," he called out, toeing off his shoes.

Inko Midoriya rushed out of the kitchen. She looked smaller these days, perpetually worried. "Izuku! The school called! They said you skipped classes again and... oh my god, your face! Your clothes!"

She reached out to touch the bandage on his cheek (which he had applied himself in a public restroom) and the scorch marks on his jacket. Izuku pulled away gently.

"It's nothing, Mom. Just fell."

"You didn't fall! You were fighting again!" Inko cried, tears welling up in her eyes. "Izuku, please. Why do you do this? You’re going to get yourself killed. You’re not... you’re not invincible."

I know, he wanted to say. I know I'm weak. That's why I have to fight.

"I'm fine," he said instead, his voice rough. "Leave me alone."

"Izuku, wait! I made katsudon..."

"I'm not hungry."

He walked past her into his room and shut the door. He leaned against the wood, listening to his mother sobbing softly on the other side.

Izuku slid down the door, burying his face in his hands. He hated this. He hated making her cry. But he didn't know how to be the son she wanted. The sweet, innocent Izuku died the day the doctor told him he was Quirkless. The only thing left was this angry, hollow shell that only felt alive when a fist was flying at his face.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he whispered to the empty room.

He grabbed his bag. He couldn't stay here. The guilt was suffocating.

Izuku wandered the streets of Musutafu as the sun began to set. The city was bathed in orange and purple hues. The shadows stretched long and thin.

He found himself near the riverbank, a place where kids often played. He sat on the grassy slope, watching the water flow. It was peaceful.

He pulled a notebook out of his bag. It wasn't his old "Hero Analysis for the Future" journals. He had burned those years ago. This one was just a sketchbook. He drew the river. He drew the skyline. He drew the stray cat from earlier.

"Hey! Pass it here!"

Izuku looked up. On the road above the embankment, a young boy—maybe six or seven—was playing with a soccer ball. He was laughing, chasing the ball as it bounced along the sidewalk.

Izuku watched, a faint, wistful smile touching his lips. He remembered being that young. He remembered smiling like that.

The ball took a bad bounce. It skittered off the curb and rolled into the street.

"I got it!" the kid yelled, chasing after it.

Izuku’s eyes shifted. The traffic light down the road had turned red, but a truck was barreling down the lane, not slowing down.

The driver was looking backward, shouting into a phone. He was wearing a mask. A villain? A robber fleeing a scene? It didn't matter.

The truck was massive. The kid was tiny.

The kid was in the middle of the street, bending down to pick up the ball. He looked up. The headlights were blinding.

Time seemed to slow down.

Izuku saw the frozen terror on the child's face. He saw the truck driver finally turn his head, eyes widening in panic, slamming on the brakes. But it was too late. The momentum was too great.

Izuku didn't think about his lack of a Quirk. He didn't think about his mother crying at home. He didn't think about Bakugo or UA or his reputation as a delinquent.

His body just moved.

He was fast. Faster than he had ever been in a fight. He vaulted over the guardrail, his sneakers gripping the asphalt. He sprinted.

Move!

He reached the kid just as the grill of the truck loomed like a wall of steel.

"Get back!" Izuku screamed.

He shoved the boy. He put every ounce of his limited strength into the push, sending the child flying toward the safety of the sidewalk. The boy tumbled onto the grass, safe.

Izuku turned his head.

The truck filled his vision.

There was no pain. Just a massive, earth-shattering impact. The world spun violently—sky, asphalt, truck, sky—and then, darkness.

"Hey. Hey, kid. Wake up."

The voice was cheerful. Annoyingly so.

Izuku groaned. He felt light. Weightless.

"Five more minutes, Mom," he mumbled.

"I'm not your mom, unless your mom is incredibly cute and thousands of years old."

Izuku snapped his eyes open.

He was floating. Literally floating. He looked down.

Below him, a crowd had gathered on the street. Police sirens were wailing in the distance. There was a crushed truck, steam hissing from its radiator. And there, lying in a pool of red on the asphalt, was a body.

It was a boy in a black school uniform. One sneaker was missing. His green hair was matted with blood. His limbs were twisted at unnatural angles.

Izuku blinked. He looked at his hands. They were translucent.

"Holy crap," he whispered. "That's me."

"Yep. That's you. Pretty gnarly wreck, huh?"

Izuku turned around in the air.

Hovering next to him, sitting sideways on a wooden oar like it was a broomstick, was a girl. She looked to be about his age, maybe older. She wore a bright pink kimono with a blue sash. Her hair was a vibrant, impossible shade of blue, tied up in a ponytail.

She was smiling at him.

"Who the hell are you?" Izuku asked, his voice echoing strangely. "Are you a villain? Is this a mental quirk?"

"Rude!" The girl puffed out her cheeks. "I'm your guide! The grim reaper! The ferryman of the River Styx! Well, sort of." She winked. "My name is Botan."

" grim reaper?" Izuku looked back down at his body. The paramedics were covering it with a sheet. He saw the kid he saved crying on the sidewalk, pointing at the body and sobbing, 'He pushed me! He saved me!'

A strange feeling washed over Izuku. Relief? Regret?

"So... I'm dead," Izuku said. He was surprised by how calm he sounded. "I really died."

"You sure did," Botan said, floating closer. She poked his ghostly cheek. "Splat. Game over."

"Okay," Izuku said. He looked at the sky. "So, what now? Hell? Heaven? I've punched a lot of people, so I'm guessing downstairs?"

Botan giggled. "You're taking this well. Most people scream and cry. But here's the thing, Izuku Midoriya..."

She flew around him, looking him up and down.

"You weren't supposed to die today."

Izuku frowned. "What?"

"The Spirit World manages the flow of souls," Botan explained, counting on her fingers. "We have a schedule. A book of destiny. And nowhere in that book did it say 'Izuku Midoriya dies getting hit by a truck saving a kid who wasn't even going to get hit.'"

Izuku blinked. "Wait. The kid wasn't going to get hit?"

"Nope!" Botan chirped. "The kid would have tripped on the ball and the truck would have passed right over him. He would have gotten a nasty scrape on his knee, but he would have lived. You jumped in for no reason."

Izuku stared at her. The silence stretched out.

"Are you telling me," Izuku said, his voice trembling with rage, "that I died... for nothing?"

"Well, not nothing!" Botan waved her hands defensively. "The act was noble! Very heroic! But yeah, completely unnecessary. It was a cosmic glitch. A surprise."

Izuku put his ghostly face in his ghostly hands. "My life is a joke. Even my death is a joke. Useless Deku to the very end."

"Hey, don't be like that!" Botan patted his shoulder. It felt cold. "Because it was such a surprise, the Spirit World is in a bit of a bind. We don't have a place for you. You were a delinquent—skipping school, fighting, disrespecting teachers—so you were headed for, well, not the nice place. But! You died performing an act of ultimate self-sacrifice."

She leaned in close, her eyes sparkling.

"So, King Enma's son, Koenma, has a proposition for you."

"A proposition?"

"A second chance," Botan said. "A trial. If you pass, you come back to life."

Izuku looked down at the scene below. He saw a woman running through the police tape. It was Inko. She fell to her knees beside the covered body, her scream tearing through the air. It was a sound of pure, shattered heartbreak.

Izuku felt a pang in his chest that hurt more than the truck impact. Mom.

He looked at Botan. The apathy was gone. The delinquent mask was gone. His eyes burned with determination.

"Tell me what I have to do," Izuku said.

Botan grinned, twirling her oar. "That's the spirit! Literally! Hop on, Green Punk. We're going to see the boss."

She offered him a hand.

Izuku took it.

"By the way," he asked as she pulled him onto the oar. "Is there fighting where we're going?"

Botan laughed. "Oh, Izuku. You have no idea."

With a whoosh of spectral energy, they shot upward into the sky, leaving the tragedy of the mortal world behind.

Scene Break: The Midoriya Apartment (That Night)

The apartment was filled with the heavy, suffocating silence of grief.

Inko was sedated, asleep in her room, watched over by a neighbor.

In the living room, a figure stood looking at a framed photo of a young, smiling Izuku.

Katsuki Bakugo stood there, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He was shaking. He hadn't changed out of his uniform. He still smelled like smoke and sweat.

"Stupid Nerd," Bakugo whispered, his voice cracking.

He picked up the photo. A tear hit the glass. Then another.

"I told you not to die," he choked out. "I told you..."

He slammed the photo down on the table, creating a crack in the glass.

"Dammit, Deku! You can't just leave me like this! You were supposed to be my punching bag! You were supposed to be watching me reach the top!"

Bakugo fell to his knees, clutching his head.

"You saved someone?" he laughed, a bitter, wet sound. "Of course you did. You always... you always tried to be a hero. Even without a Quirk."

The air in the room suddenly grew cold. The lights flickered.

Bakugo looked up. He wiped his eyes. He felt it again. That pressure. That static.

"Deku?" he whispered to the empty room.

For a second, he thought he saw a green blur near the ceiling. But when he blinked, it was gone.

Bakugo grit his teeth. "If you're haunting me, you bastard... you better not stop."

The Spirit World

Izuku stood before a massive desk. The room was endless, filled with stacks of paperwork that reached the clouds.

Sitting on the desk was... a toddler. A baby with a pacifier in his mouth and a hat with the kanji for 'King' on it.

"So," the toddler said, his voice surprisingly deep and mature despite the pacifier. "You're the punk who broke the timeline."

"And you're a baby," Izuku said bluntly.

Botan gasped. "Izuku! That's Lord Koenma!"

"It's fine, Botan," Koenma waved a chubby hand. "He has attitude. I like that. We need attitude."

Koenma hopped off the desk and waddled over to Izuku.

"Here's the deal, Izuku Midoriya. You have a massive amount of spiritual energy. It's dormant, but it's there. That's why you could survive hits from Quirk users. Your soul was reinforcing your body unconsciously."

"My soul?" Izuku looked at his hands.

"Yes. In your world, they obsess over genetics and biology. Quirks. But there is an older power. Spirit Energy. Reiki." Koenma looked up at him seriously. "And demons are starting to notice your world again. They hide among the quirked, eating souls."

Koenma snapped his fingers. A large, blue egg appeared in Izuku’s hands.

"This is a Spirit Beast egg," Koenma explained. "You will take this back to the human world as a ghost. Your actions, your feelings, and the energy you emit will feed it."

"If I do good deeds?" Izuku asked.

"It will hatch into a beast that will help you return to your body."

"And if I'm a jerk?"

"It will hatch into a monster and eat your soul. Permanent death. No Heaven, no Hell. Just non-existence."

Izuku stared at the egg. It pulsed with a faint heartbeat.

"High stakes," Izuku muttered. He smirked. "I like it."

"There is one more thing," Koenma said. "If you succeed... if you come back to life... I have a job for you. Being a delinquent is fine, but how would you like to be a Detective?"

"A Spirit Detective?" Izuku raised an eyebrow.

"Protecting the human world from the supernatural. Fighting demons. Bashing heads." Koenma grinned around his pacifier.

Izuku thought about the helpless feeling of being Quirkless. He thought about the look on Bakugo's face when he realized Izuku wouldn't stay down. He thought about the kid he saved.

"Fighting demons, huh?" Izuku shifted the egg to one arm and made a finger gun with his free hand. He didn't know why, it just felt right.

"Bang," he whispered.

"I'm in."

The waiting room of the Spirit World did not have magazines. It did not have a water cooler. It did not even have uncomfortable plastic chairs. Instead, it had clouds—endless, rolling banks of cumulus that stretched out into a twilight infinity, bathed in a perpetual, eerie violet glow.

And it had a very bored, very dead teenager floating in the middle of it.

Izuku Midoriya stared at his hands. They were translucent, shimmering with a faint blue outline. If he concentrated, he could make them look solid, but the moment his focus drifted, they went fuzzy, like a TV channel losing signal.

"So," Izuku said, his voice echoing in the void. "I’m dead. I’m a ghost. And I’m currently being babysitted by a girl on a flying stick and a toddler who runs the afterlife."

Botan, who was currently doing loop-de-loops on her oar a few hundred feet away, swooped down. "It’s an oar, Izuku! The Oar of the Ferryman! Show some respect for the tools of the trade."

"Right. The oar," Izuku deadpanned. He crossed his legs in mid-air, adopting a meditation pose he’d seen in a manga once. "How long do I have to wait here? I have a funeral to attend. My own."

"Patience is a virtue, Green Punk," Botan chided, landing lightly on a particularly dense cloud. "Lord Koenma is preparing the artifact. It’s a very delicate procedure."

"Delicate?" Izuku scoffed. "He’s a baby. He’s probably napping."

"I heard that!"

The booming voice came from everywhere and nowhere. The clouds parted, revealing the massive mahogany desk of King Enma’s son, Koenma. The toddler-prince was sitting atop a stack of paperwork that was taller than a skyscraper, looking down at Izuku with a pacifier firmly planted in his mouth.

"I am not napping," Koenma declared, his voice deep and resonant, completely at odds with his chubby cheeks. "I was calibrating the Spirit Beast Egg. Do you have any idea how much paperwork is involved in an Unscheduled Resurrection? You’ve ruined my weekend, Midoriya."

"Sorry to inconvenience you with my death," Izuku muttered, floating closer. "Next time I save a kid, I’ll check your schedule first."

Koenma narrowed his eyes. "Sarcasm will not help your case. But your Spirit Energy... that might."

Koenma snapped his fingers. A flash of golden light erupted from the center of the desk. When the spots cleared from Izuku’s vision, he saw a large, heavy-looking egg resting there. It was pale blue with pulsating golden veins running through it, roughly the size of a basketball.

"This," Koenma said, pointing a tiny finger, "is your lifeline."

Izuku drifted closer, inspecting it. It hummed. A low, thrumming vibration that he could feel in his phantom teeth. "It looks like something a radioactive ostrich would lay."

"It is a Spirit Beast Egg," Koenma explained. "It feeds on the energy of the soul holding it. Specifically, the energy generated by your actions and your heart."

"My heart?" Izuku raised an eyebrow. "I thought I didn't have one anymore. Stopped beating and all that."

"Metaphorically, you dimwit," Koenma sighed. "Here are the rules. Listen closely, because I’m only going to say this once. You will take this egg back to the Human World. You will remain there as a ghost. You must perform good deeds. You must help people. You must show genuine altruism."

"Okay," Izuku said slowly. "Basically, be a hero. I can do that."

"There’s a catch," Botan interjected, her face serious for the first time.

Koenma nodded. "Indeed. The egg is a mirror. If you perform good deeds, it absorbs Positive Spirit Energy. It will hatch into a Holy Beast that will guide your soul back into your body, resurrecting you. However..." Koenma leaned forward, the shadows around him deepening. "If you give in to despair, anger, hatred, or evil... the egg will absorb Negative Spirit Energy."

Izuku swallowed. "And if it absorbs too much negative energy?"

"It will still hatch," Koenma said darkly. "But it will hatch into a Monster. A Devourer. And the first thing it will eat... is you."

The silence that followed was heavy. Izuku looked at the egg. It suddenly looked less like a lifeline and more like a time bomb.

"So," Izuku said, forcing a grin that didn't reach his eyes. "If I screw up, I don't just stay dead. I get eaten by my own bad vibes. That’s metal."

"It is the only way," Koenma said, hopping down from his paperwork throne. "Your death was an anomaly. The universe has already closed the door on 'Izuku Midoriya.' To pry it back open requires a massive surge of positive energy. You have to prove that the world needs you back."

Koenma picked up the egg and tossed it.

Izuku scrambled in the air, flailing his arms to catch it. He bobbled it twice before hugging it to his chest. It was warm. Uncomfortably warm.

"Don't drop it," Koenma warned. "And don't let it get cold. Botan will be your handler. She keeps a communication line open with me. Now, get out of here. I have a backlog of souls to judge."

"Wait," Izuku said, clutching the egg. "How long do I have?"

"Until your body becomes uninhabitable," Koenma said, turning back to his papers. "Or until you get cremated. whichever comes first. I suggest you hurry."

Izuku paled. "Cremated?!"

Botan grabbed Izuku by the back of his spectral uniform. "Time to go, Detective! Next stop: Musutafu!"

With a scream that trailed off into the distance, Izuku was yanked downward, plummeting through the clouds, clutching the golden egg for dear life.

The Wake

Returning to the human world was a jarring experience. One moment, he was in the violet haze of the Spirit World; the next, he was standing in his own living room.

The apartment was dim. The curtains were drawn. The air smelled of incense and stale sorrow.

Izuku stood in the corner, the egg tucked under his arm. He looked around. It was the same apartment he had left that morning, but it felt alien. The color seemed drained from the walls.

In the center of the room, a small altar had been set up. A photo of him—one from his middle school entrance ceremony, where he was smiling awkwardly—was framed in black ribbon. Incense sticks burned slowly, their smoke curling into the stagnant air.

And there was his mother.

Inko Midoriya was sitting on the floor in front of the altar. She wasn't moving. She wasn't crying, not anymore. She was just... existing. Her eyes were red and swollen, staring at nothing. She looked tiny. Frail. Like a breeze could blow her away.

"Mom," Izuku whispered.

He stepped forward. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder.

His fingers passed through her cardigan like smoke.

Inko shivered. She rubbed her arms, pulling her shawl tighter. "It's cold," she murmured to the empty room. "Izuku always complained it was cold in here..."

Izuku pulled his hand back as if burned. A sharp pain lanced through his chest—a phantom ache of guilt so potent it almost brought him to his knees.

I did this, he thought. I died playing hero, and this is what I left behind. She’s all alone.

The egg in his arms suddenly lurched.

Izuku looked down. The pale blue shell was darkening. A web of black veins began to spread from the bottom, pulsating with a sickly purple light. The warmth turned into a biting chill.

"Izuku! Stop!"

Botan appeared next to him, floating cross-legged in the air. She slapped his cheek. Her hand made contact—ghost on ghost physics.

"Ow! What the hell?" Izuku rubbed his face.

"Look at the egg!" Botan pointed. "You're pouring Negative Energy into it! Guilt, self-loathing, despair... that thing is like a sponge! If you keep thinking like that, it's going to hatch into a Goblin and chew your face off right here!"

"I can't help it!" Izuku snapped, gesturing to his mother. "Look at her, Botan! She’s broken! How am I supposed to feel 'positive' when I see what I did to her?"

"You have to turn that feeling into resolve," Botan said softly. "You can't change that you died. But you can change whether you stay dead. If you want to dry her tears, you have to come back. Wallowing in guilt helps no one. It just feeds the beast."

Izuku looked at the egg. The black veins were receding slowly as his panic subsided, but the shell remained a duller grey than before.

"Resolve," Izuku repeated. He looked at Inko again. He hardened his expression, channeling that delinquent toughness he used to survive at school. "Right. I’m not gonna let this beat me. I’m coming back, Mom. I promise."

"Good," Botan said. "Now, we need to charge that egg. We need good deeds. Let's go find someone to help."

"I can't leave her," Izuku argued.

"You can't help her like this," Botan countered. "You can't cook for her, you can't hug her, and you can't talk to her. The best thing you can do for Inko Midoriya is to go out there, be a hero, hatch that egg, and walk back through that front door on your own two feet."

Izuku gritted his teeth. She was right. She was annoying, but she was right.

"Fine," he grunted. "Let's go."

The School of Hard Knocks

Izuku floated through the halls of Aldera Junior High. It was strange being here during school hours and not being yelled at.

"Why are we at school?" Izuku asked, drifting through a locker. "I thought I was supposed to be saving cats or helping old ladies cross the street."

"School is a hotbed of emotional energy," Botan explained, consulting a small, compass-like device. "Plus, you have unfinished business here, don't you?"

Izuku scowled. "If by unfinished business you mean people I wanted to punch but didn't, then yes."

They arrived at Class 3-A. The door was closed. Izuku phased his head through the wood.

The class was in session. Mr. Tsubasa was droning on about algebra. But the atmosphere in the room was wrong. It was too quiet.

Izuku looked at his desk. It was still there, in the back. But someone had placed a small vase of white flowers on it.

"Gross," Izuku muttered, pulling his head back out into the hallway. "They’re pretending they liked me. That’s even worse than the bullying."

"Is it?" Botan asked. "Or are you just refusing to see the good in people?"

"These people told me to kill myself on a daily basis, Botan. I think I know where they stand."

Suddenly, the door to the classroom slammed open.

Katsuki Bakugo stormed out. He didn't ask for a hall pass. He didn't excuse himself. He just kicked the door open and marched into the hallway, his face a mask of thunderous fury.

"Bakugo!" Mr. Tsubasa called out. "Where do you think you're going?"

"To the bathroom!" Bakugo roared back without stopping. "Unless you want me to explode this desk!"

He stomped down the hall, his shoulders hunched.

Izuku watched him go. "Same old Kacchan. Always charming."

"He has a very... intense aura," Botan noted, looking at her compass. the needle was spinning wildly. "It's not just anger. It's grief. It's practically radioactive."

"Grief?" Izuku snorted. "Please. He’s probably just mad he didn't get to deliver the finishing blow."

But curiosity got the better of him. "Come on. Let's see what he breaks."

Izuku and Botan followed Bakugo. He didn't go to the bathroom. He went to the back of the school, near the incinerator—a secluded spot where delinquents usually smoked.

But Bakugo wasn't smoking. He was pacing. Like a caged tiger.

He kicked a metal trash can, sending it flying against the brick wall with a deafening CLANG.

"DAMMIT!" Bakugo screamed. He ignited an explosion in his palm, blasting a scorch mark into the wall. "DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!"

Izuku floated onto the roof of the incinerator shed, setting the egg down next to him. "See? Just a temper tantrum."

Bakugo leaned his forehead against the cool brick wall. His breathing was ragged.

"Why did you have to go and play hero?" Bakugo whispered. His voice was shaking. "You Quirkless idiot. You useless... stupid..."

He slid down the wall until he was crouching, hands clutching his hair.

"I told you to take a swan dive," Bakugo choked out. "I said it. And then you go and get hit by a truck. If anyone finds out what I said... if I remember what I said..."

Izuku froze.

He had expected anger. He had expected Bakugo to be celebrating his status as the undisputed top dog. He hadn't expected... this.

"He's blaming himself," Botan whispered. "Because he bullied you. He thinks his words drove you to be reckless. That guilt is eating him alive."

Izuku looked at his childhood friend. He saw the trembling shoulders.

"Idiot," Izuku said softly. "I didn't do it because of you, Kacchan. I did it because the kid needed help."

He floated down from the shed. He stood in front of Bakugo.

"Hey! Sparky!" Izuku shouted, waving a hand in front of Bakugo’s face. "Stop crying! It's weird! You look like a kicked puppy!"

Bakugo flinched. His head snapped up. His red eyes darted around the empty yard.

"Who's there?" Bakugo growled, sparks popping in his hands.

"He heard you?" Botan gasped. "That shouldn't be possible. You're on a different wavelength!"

"I guess he's just that loud," Izuku muttered. He leaned in closer to Bakugo’s face. "I said, stop moping! It doesn't suit you! You're supposed to be the King of Aldera, aren't you?"

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed. He looked straight at where Izuku was standing. He couldn't see him—not really—but his gaze was locked on Izuku’s position.

"Deku?" Bakugo whispered.

The air around Bakugo seemed to vibrate. The static charge of his Quirk was reacting to Izuku’s spirit energy.

"Yeah, it's me," Izuku said, feeling a strange tug in his chest. "I'm not gonna haunt you, so chill out."

"If you're there..." Bakugo stood up slowly, his eyes wild. "If you're a ghost or whatever... then fight me!"

Izuku blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Fight me!" Bakugo swung a wild right hook at the empty air. His fist passed right through Izuku’s chest. The momentum spun Bakugo around. "Don't just die and leave me behind! You promised you'd challenge me! You promised you'd try for UA!"

"I can't fight you, you moron! I'm intangible!" Izuku yelled back.

"SHUT UP!" Bakugo screamed at the silence. "Don't ignore me!"

He swung again. And again. Fighting an invisible enemy. Tears were streaming down his face now, mixing with the sweat.

Izuku watched, stunned.

"He can't hear your words," Botan realized. "He just feels your presence. And his way of communicating... is violence."

"That's the only language we ever spoke," Izuku murmured.

He looked at the egg in his arms. It was glowing faintly. Not dark, but not gold either. A soft, pulsing white.

Connection, Izuku realized. Even if it's messy, it's a connection.

"Fine," Izuku said. He stepped into Bakugo’s guard.

Bakugo swung.

Izuku didn't dodge. He threw a punch of his own. Ideally, it should have passed through. But Izuku focused. He poured his frustration, his rivalry, and his "delinquent pride" into his fist.

Connect!

For a millisecond, the veil between worlds thinned.

THWACK.

Izuku’s spectral fist connected with Bakugo’s cheek. It wasn't a hard hit—more like a slap with a wet towel—but it made contact.

Bakugo stumbled back, eyes wide, clutching his cheek. The spot was cold, freezing cold.

"You..." Bakugo stared at the empty space. A twisted, relieved grin broke across his face. "You hit like a girl, Deku."

"Shut up," Izuku smiled, though Bakugo couldn't see it. "You leave your chin wide open."

Bakugo wiped his face. He seemed to calm down. The manic energy dissipated, leaving him exhausted.

"I'm gonna be the Number One Hero," Bakugo said to the air. "And when I do... I'll make sure everyone knows I was better than you. So don't go to Hell yet. Watch me."

He turned and walked back toward the school building, his hands in his pockets.

"That went well," Botan said, hovering over Izuku. "In a dysfunctional, aggressive sort of way."

"That's us," Izuku said. He looked at the egg. It had turned a pale, pearlescent yellow. "Hey. It changed color."

"Good!" Botan cheered. "Validation of existence! Resolving emotional baggage! That's good energy! But we need more. We need a 'Big Good Deed' to fully hatch it."

Izuku looked at the setting sun. "Let's go back to Mom's. I have a bad feeling."

The Arsonist

Night had fallen over Musutafu. The streetlights flickered with a rhythmic buzz.

Izuku sat on the railing of the balcony outside his apartment. Inside, the lights were off. Inko had finally fallen asleep on the sofa, clutching one of Izuku’s old All Might hoodies.

"It's peaceful," Botan said, sitting next to him.

"Yeah," Izuku said. He was stroking the egg, keeping it warm. "It's quiet. Too quiet."

Down on the street, a shadow moved.

Izuku’s eyes, sharpened by his years of watching out for ambushes, snapped to the movement. A man was skulking near the entrance of the apartment complex. He wore a hooded raincoat and carried two heavy jerrycans.

"Who's that?" Izuku narrowed his eyes.

The man looked up. Under the hood, Izuku recognized the face. It was the thug with the Sandpaper Skin—the one he had beaten up the day he died. The one whose cousin had a fire quirk.

Wait. No. This wasn't the sandpaper guy. This was the cousin. The one they mentioned.

"He looks like he's up to no good," Botan said.

The man sneaked around the side of the building, toward the external gas mains. He began pouring the liquid from the cans onto the pipes and the piles of trash near the back door.

"Gasoline," Izuku realized. Horror washed over him cold and fast. "He's going to torch the building."

"Why?" Botan gasped.

"Revenge? Looting? Because he's a psychopath? Does it matter?" Izuku stood up on the railing. "We have to stop him!"

He leaped off the balcony, floating down three stories in seconds.

"Hey! Stop!" Izuku yelled, running at the man.

The arsonist didn't hear him. He finished pouring the gas. He pulled out a lighter. He grinned, revealing yellow teeth. "This is for my cousin, you little green-haired punk. Heard your mom lives here all alone now. Maybe she has some jewelry worth stealing once the smoke clears."

"Don't you dare!" Izuku swung a fist at the man's head.

His hand passed straight through the man's skull.

The man shivered. "weird draft." He flicked the lighter.

"No!"

The flame caught the gasoline.

WHOOSH.

A wall of fire erupted instantly, climbing the side of the building, licking at the gas mains. The heat was intense, distorting the air.

"Fire!" Izuku screamed, looking up at the apartment complex. "Mom! MOM!"

He flew upward, phasing through the wall into the living room.

"Mom! Wake up!"

Inko was stirring, coughing. Smoke was already seeping under the door. The fire alarm blared—a piercing, shrieking sound.

"Izuku?" Inko murmured, dazed. She sat up, seeing the orange glow outside the window. "Fire?"

She stood up, but she stumbled. The grief and lack of food had left her weak. She fell to her knees, coughing violently.

"Get up! You have to get out!" Izuku screamed, trying to grab her arm. His hands passed through her. He couldn't grip her. He couldn't lift her.

"It's no use!" Botan flew in through the window. "You can't move physical objects of that weight! The Poltergeist Effect isn't strong enough!"

"So what do I do?!" Izuku yelled, panic rising in his throat. The egg in his arms was vibrating violently, flashing red and black. "I can't let her die! Not after I died! That's not fair!"

The fire shattered the glass of the balcony door. flames licked the curtains. The heat was unbearable. Inko curled up on the floor, overwhelmed by the smoke.

"Someone!" Izuku flew through the wall, out onto the street. "ANYONE! HELP!"

The arsonist was running away down the alley.

People were looking out of their windows, calling the fire department, but they were too far away.

Then, an explosion.

BOOM.

A figure launched itself from a neighboring rooftop, propelled by blasts of light.

Bakugo.

He lived two blocks over. He must have seen the smoke.

Bakugo landed on the pavement, skidding to a halt. He looked up at the burning building.

"Deku's place..." Bakugo’s eyes widened. "Auntie Inko!"

"Kacchan!" Izuku flew right in front of him. "She's inside! Second floor! She's passed out!"

Bakugo couldn't hear the words, but he felt the chill. He felt the desperation.

"Out of my way!" Bakugo roared at the gathered crowd. He charged toward the burning entrance.

"Kid, don't! It's too dangerous!" a bystander yelled.

Bakugo ignored them. He blasted the front door off its hinges and ran into the inferno.

Izuku followed him.

The stairwell was a chimney. Smoke was thick, black, and poisonous. The heat was melting the plastic light fixtures.

Bakugo coughed, pulling his shirt over his nose. He blasted debris out of his way, but the fire was spreading fast. The gas main was groaning.

"Auntie!" Bakugo yelled.

He reached the second floor. The door to the Midoriya apartment was jammed by a fallen beam.

"Die!" Bakugo screamed, hitting the beam with an explosion. It splintered, but didn't move enough. He hit it again. His hands were blistering from the overuse and the ambient heat.

He squeezed through the gap.

Inko was on the floor, unconscious.

"I got you," Bakugo wheezed. He grabbed her arm. He tried to pull her.

But then, the ceiling above them groaned. A massive support beam, wreathed in flame, crashed down between Bakugo and the exit. It blocked the path.

Bakugo coughed violently. He fell back. The smoke was getting to him. His vision blurred.

"Dammit," Bakugo rasped. "Can't... breathe..."

He looked at Inko. He looked at the wall of fire closing in.

"I'm sorry, Deku," Bakugo whispered. "I'm... too weak."

Izuku hovered over them. He saw Bakugo failing. He saw his mother dying.

The egg was burning his chest. It felt like it was cracking.

"No," Izuku said. "No, no, no."

"Izuku!" Botan yelled. "There's one way! But it's dangerous! It could kill you both!"

"Tell me!"

"Possession!" Botan shouted. "Synchronize with him! Your soul energy is compatible! You have a bond! If you enter his body, you can lend him your spirit energy! But if you aren't in sync, his soul will reject you and burn you out of existence!"

"Compatible?" Izuku looked at Bakugo. The bully. The rival. The friend.

"We've been fighting since we were five," Izuku said. "We're compatible enough."

Izuku clutched the egg tight to his chest. He dove.

"KACCHAN! MOVE YOUR ASS!"

Izuku slammed into Bakugo’s back.

The Fusion

The world turned white.

For Bakugo, it felt like being dunked into a bucket of ice water in the middle of a volcano. The heat vanished, replaced by a cool, electric surge that ran through every nerve ending.

His mind, which had been fading into the grey fog of smoke inhalation, snapped into razor-sharp clarity.

And he heard a voice. Not from the outside, but from the inside.

Get up, you spikey-haired bastard.

Bakugo’s eyes snapped open. The red irises seemed to glow with a faint green luminescence.

"Deku?" Bakugo said, but it was two voices layered over each other.

He stood up. The pain in his hands was gone. The fatigue was gone. In its place was a wellspring of power he had never felt before. It wasn't just nitroglycerin. It was something deeper. Something ancient.

Grab her, Izuku’s voice commanded within his mind. I’ll handle the barrier.

Bakugo moved. But he moved with Izuku’s fluidity. He scooped Inko up into his arms effortlessly.

The flaming beam blocked their path.

"That's in the way," Bakugo/Izuku said in unison.

Bakugo raised his right hand. He didn't open his palm for an explosion. Instead, he pointed his index finger.

Focus energy to the tip, Izuku thought.

Just blow it up! Bakugo thought.

The energies mixed. Bakugo’s explosive sweat combined with Izuku’s Spirit Energy.

A small ball of light gathered at the fingertip. It was blue, wrapped in sparks of orange.

"SPIRIT GUN!"

BANG.

A beam of concentrated energy, thick as a tree trunk, erupted from the finger. It didn't just break the wooden beam; it disintegrated it. It punched a hole through the burning debris, through the wall, and out into the night sky, clearing a tunnel of safety.

Bakugo stared at his finger. "What the hell was that?"

Run now, ask later!

Bakugo adjusted his grip on Inko and sprinted. He leaped through the hole, propelled by a blast of green-tinged fire from his feet.

They soared through the air, clearing the burning building, and landed in the park across the street.

Bakugo rolled, cradling Inko to protect her from the impact. He came to a stop on the cool grass.

Paramedics were rushing over.

"We need a medic!" Bakugo yelled. His voice was hoarse again. The green light faded from his eyes.

He felt a sudden emptiness in his chest. A vacuum where a moment ago there had been a presence.

Bakugo fell back onto the grass, panting. "Get out of my head, nerd."

The Hatching

Izuku rolled onto the grass a few feet away. He was back in his ghost form. He was exhausted. He felt transparent, barely there.

But he was smiling.

"We did it," he whispered.

Inko was coughing as the paramedics put an oxygen mask on her. She was alive.

Botan floated down, her face beaming. "That was... incredible! That was a complete Synchronization! And look!"

She pointed to Izuku’s arms.

The Golden Egg was cracking.

Bright, blinding beams of light shot out from the fissures. The shell crumbled away like dust.

"Is it a monster?" Izuku asked, bracing himself. "Did I screw it up?"

"No," Botan whispered. "Look."

From the remains of the egg emerged a small creature. It looked like a cross between a penguin and a puppy, with bright blue fur, a beak, and large, floppy ears. It had a little tuft of green hair on its head that matched Izuku’s.

"Puu!" the creature chirped.

It flew—using its large ears as wings—and nuzzled Izuku’s face.

"A Spirit Beast," Botan confirmed. "A Holy Beast. You did it, Izuku! You fed it the ultimate energy: Self-Sacrifice and Protection."

The beast glowed brighter. It landed on Izuku’s chest.

"Puu!"

The creature dissolved into pure light. The light didn't fade; it sank into Izuku.

Izuku felt a warmth spreading through his spectral body. It was pulling him. Tugging him.

"What's happening?" Izuku asked, his vision blurring.

"It's hatching!" Botan cheered. "Not the beast... YOU! The beast is guiding your soul back! Go, Izuku! Go back to where you belong!"

The world spun. The park, the fire, Bakugo, his mom—it all twisted into a vortex of color.

Izuku closed his eyes and let go.

The Morgue

The room was cold. Stainless steel and tile.

On a metal table, a body lay covered by a white sheet. It had been processed, cleaned, and was awaiting transport to the funeral home the next morning.

Silence.

Then, a finger twitched.

A chest rose, drawing in a sharp, ragged breath.

The boy on the table sat up violently, the sheet falling away. He gasped, his hands clutching his chest, his eyes wide and frantic.

He looked at his hands. They were solid. He touched his face. He felt skin, warmth, pulse.

He was wearing a white burial robe.

"Alive," he rasped.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty."

Izuku jumped, looking to his left.

Botan was sitting on top of a filing cabinet, filing her nails. She winked at him.

"You cut it close," she said. "Another hour and they were going to embalm you. That would have been awkward to reverse."

Izuku slid off the table. His legs were shaky, but they held him. He walked over to a mirror on the wall.

He looked the same. Green hair, freckles. But there was something different in his eyes. A sharpness. A depth that hadn't been there before.

He flexed his hand. He pointed his finger at the wall. He felt the energy there—humming beneath his skin, familiar now.

"So," Izuku said, turning to Botan. "I'm back. Does this mean I'm done?"

"Done?" Botan laughed. She hopped off the cabinet and floated over to him. "Oh, no, Izuku. You just passed the entrance exam."

She pulled a badge out of her kimono sash and tossed it to him.

He caught it. It was a heavy, metallic badge with the Spirit World emblem on it.

Spirit Detective: Earth Division.

"Koenma is very impressed with that 'Spirit Gun' stunt you pulled with the blond kid," Botan grinned. "He says you're hired. Permanent position. No benefits, terrible hours, and high risk of death. Again."

Izuku looked at the badge. He thought of the demons hiding in the shadows. He thought of the fire. He thought of Bakugo’s face when they fought together.

He gripped the badge tight.

"When do I start?"

Botan pointed to the door. "Right now. You have to explain to your mother why you're not dead. That might be the hardest mission yet."

Izuku groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Can I fight a demon instead? It sounds easier."

"Nope! Get moving, Detective!"

Izuku Midoriya pushed open the heavy doors of the morgue and stepped out into the hallway.

The Green Punk of Aldera was back. And this time, he was packing heat.

The sensation of being alive was aggressive.

That was the only way Izuku could describe it. Death had been floaty, cold, and monochromatic. It was a world of muted greys and violets, where sound traveled through cotton and gravity was a suggestion rather than a law.

Life, by comparison, was an assault.

It was the scratchy fabric of the white burial robe against his skin. It was the smell of antiseptic and ozone in the air. It was the thumping rhythm of his own heart, which felt slower, heavier, and infinitely more powerful than the fluttering bird that used to live in his chest.

Izuku Midoriya stood outside the heavy double doors of the Musutafu General Hospital’s viewing chapel. He cracked his neck. Pop. Pop.

"You know," he muttered, glancing at the floating girl beside him. "Walking into my own wake feels a little narcissistic. Do I have to make a speech?"

Botan bobbed in the air, looking invisible to everyone else in the hallway but vivid to him. She was filing her nails with a spectral emery board. "It's standard procedure, Izuku! You can't just sneak back into society. You need a grand entrance! Besides, look at the bright side."

"Which is?"

"You get to see who actually liked you."

Izuku snorted. "Short list. Mom. You. Maybe the cat."

He reached for the door handle. His hand trembled slightly. Not from fear of what was inside, but from a strange surplus of energy. He felt like a coiled spring. The "Spirit Beast" energy he had absorbed was buzzing under his skin, looking for an outlet.

"Here goes nothing."

The Wake

The viewing room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of electric candles and the morning sun filtering through heavy drapes. The air was thick with the scent of lilies and incense—a smell Izuku would forever associate with headaches.

It was a small gathering. Inko was there, of course. She was sitting in the front row, slumped over, looking so small that she seemed to be disappearing into her black dress. Her eyes were red, dry, and vacant. She had run out of tears hours ago.

Beside her sat the Bakugo family. Mitsuki was rubbing Inko’s back, her usually loud voice reduced to a soft murmur. Masaru looked uncomfortable, staring at his shoes.

And then there was Katsuki.

He wasn't sitting. He was standing by the wall, arms crossed, staring at the closed casket with a look of pure, unadulterated fury. He looked like he wanted to blow the casket up, just to prove there was nobody inside.

A few teachers from Aldera were there, looking more obligated than sad. The principal was checking his watch.

"We are gathered here today," the officiant began, his voice droning and impersonal, "to mourn the tragic and untimely loss of Izuku Midoriya. A boy who..."

The officiant paused, looking at his notes. He realized he didn't actually know anything about the boy other than 'Quirkless.'

"...A boy who was full of... potential."

"Liar," Bakugo growled under his breath. It was loud enough to echo in the silent room.

"Katsuki!" Mitsuki hissed.

"He didn't have potential!" Bakugo snapped, his voice cracking. "He was a Quirkless idiot who didn't know when to stay down! He was..." Bakugo’s hands smoked, small sparks popping. "He was too stubborn to die! So why is he in a box?!"

"Because," a voice cut through the tension.

The double doors creaked open.

Every head in the room turned.

Izuku stood in the doorway. The white burial kimono hung loosely on his frame. His green hair was messy, unwashed, and defying gravity. He had a bandage on his cheek from where the truck had hit him, and another on his forehead.

He leaned against the doorframe, hands tucked into the sleeves of the robe.

"Because the traffic was terrible coming back," Izuku finished. He offered a small, lopsided grin. "Sorry I'm late. Did I miss the snacks?"

Silence. absolute, suffocating silence.

The officiant dropped his book.

Mitsuki’s jaw unhinged.

Bakugo’s eyes went so wide the whites were visible all around his irises.

Inko slowly turned her head. She blinked. Once. Twice.

"Izuku?" she whispered.

"Hey, Mom," Izuku said softly, stepping into the room. "I told you I was just going for a walk."

"GHOST!" the principal shrieked, diving behind a row of chairs.

"I'm not a ghost," Izuku sighed, walking down the aisle. He felt the gazes of everyone on him. It was heavy. "I mean, I was for a bit. But I got better."

He reached the front row and knelt in front of his mother. Up close, the devastation on her face broke his heart all over again.

"Mom," he said, reaching out to take her hands. His skin was warm. "I'm real. I'm here."

Inko touched his face. Her fingers trembled against his cheek. She felt the heat. She felt the pulse in his neck.

"You... the doctor said..." Inko stammered. "No heartbeat. Flatline. Cold."

"Doctors make mistakes," Izuku lied smoothly. "Maybe my heart just... took a break. It was tired."

"Izuku!"

Inko launched herself at him. The force of her hug knocked him backward onto the carpet. She wailed, a sound of pure relief that shook the walls.

"I thought I lost you! Don't you ever, ever do that again!"

"I promise, Mom," Izuku said, hugging her back. He buried his face in her shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm not going anywhere."

Across the room, Bakugo was shaking. He wasn't crying. He was vibrating.

He stormed over, stomping his feet loud enough to crack the floor tiles. He grabbed Izuku by the collar of the burial robe and hauled him up, dragging Inko up with him.

"You bastard!" Bakugo screamed, right in Izuku’s face. "You were dead! I felt you die! I felt you... I felt you in my head!"

Izuku looked at Bakugo. He saw the confusion and the fear masked by aggression.

"You have an overactive imagination, Kacchan," Izuku said coolly. "In your head? That sounds like a mental issue. You should get that checked."

"Don't lie to me!" Bakugo shook him. "At the fire! You were there! You used my quirk! You..."

"Katsuki, stop it!" Mitsuki grabbed her son's arm. "He just came back from the dead! Give him a minute before you try to kill him again!"

Bakugo shoved Izuku away. He glared at him, panting. "This isn't over, Deku. You're hiding something. You're different."

Izuku straightened his robe. He met Bakugo’s gaze with a calmness that unnerved the blonde. The old Izuku would have flinched. The old Izuku would have stuttered.

This Izuku just stared back, his eyes dark and unimpressed.

"Maybe I am," Izuku said. "Dying changes a guy. You should try it sometime."

"Izuku!" Inko gasped.

"Joking. Mostly." Izuku looked around the room. "Now, can we get out of here? This place gives me the creeps, and I'm starving. I could eat a horse. Or a katsudon. Preferably the katsudon."

The Aftermath: 24 Hours Later

The medical explanation was "Lazarus Syndrome." Spontaneous return of circulation after failed resuscitation. A miracle. One in a billion.

The doctors poked him, prodded him, and ran blood tests.

"It's fascinating," Dr. Tsubaki muttered, looking at Izuku’s chart. "Your vitals are... robust. Your heart rate is resting at forty beats per minute, like an elite athlete. Your bone density has increased. And your brain activity is showing spikes in the theta waves usually associated with deep meditation, even when you're awake."

"So I'm healthy?" Izuku asked, sitting on the exam table, swinging his legs.

"Healthier than you were yesterday, certainly," the doctor said. "But the Quirk Factor test is still negative. You're still Quirkless, Midoriya. Whatever happened, it wasn't a late manifestation."

"Figured," Izuku said.

He hopped off the table. He didn't need a Quirk. He had something else.

He walked over to the mirror in the exam room. He looked at his reflection. He looked the same, but the air around him seemed to ripple.

Botan popped her head through the wall. "All clear! Koenma faxed the paperwork to the hospital administration. Your death certificate has been rescinded. You are officially a living citizen again!"

"Great," Izuku muttered. "Back to school on Monday?"

"And back to work," Botan said, tossing him a heavy, leather-bound wallet.

Izuku caught it. He flipped it open. inside was a gold badge.

SPIRIT DETECTIVE.

"Your first assignment is already in," Botan said. "Meet me on the roof. We have a briefing."

The Briefing

The hospital roof was windy. It offered a panoramic view of Musutafu—the gleaming hero agencies in the distance, the smoke from the industrial district, and the sprawling suburbs.

Izuku leaned against the railing, his green school jacket unbuttoned over a white t-shirt. He had ditched the stiff collar of the uniform; it felt choking now.

"Okay, spill it," Izuku said. "What's the job? Fighting ghosts? Exorcising haunted toilets?"

"Nothing so glamorous," Botan said. She held up a device that looked like a compact mirror. The glass shimmered, and the face of Koenma appeared.

"Good afternoon, Detective," the toddler-prince said. He was wearing a judge's wig today. "I trust your resurrection was pleasant?"

"Peachy," Izuku said. "Everyone thinks I'm Jesus or a zombie. So, what's the deal?"

"The deal," Koenma said, his expression hardening, "is that the barrier between the Human World and the Demon Plane is weakening. It has been for decades. The rise of Quirks has created a chaotic energy atmosphere on Earth, making it easier for lower-class demons to slip through the cracks."

"Demons," Izuku repeated. "Like... horns, pitchforks?"

"Some," Koenma nodded. "Others look like insects. Others look like shadows. But they all hunger for one thing: human souls. In the past, they had to be subtle. But now? In a world where people have mutations, horns, and tails naturally... demons can hide in plain sight."

Izuku’s eyes widened. "They disguise themselves as Quirk users."

"Exactly," Koenma said. "There are criminals in your city right now who aren't 'Villains' in the biological sense. They are monsters. Pro Heroes attack them physically, which works to an extent, but unless the demon's core energy is destroyed, they will just regenerate or possess a new host."

"And that's where I come in," Izuku guessed.

"You are the Spirit Detective," Koenma said. "You have the ability to see them for what they are. You have the spiritual strength to hurt them. Your job is to hunt the ones the Heroes can't kill."

"Sounds violent," Izuku grinned. "I like it."

"Your first target," Botan interrupted, tapping the screen, "is a Class D Demon known as a 'Gouki.' It's a brute. It eats souls to increase its muscle mass. It’s been responsible for a string of 'disappearances' in the downtown district. The police think it's a kidnapper with a warping quirk. It's not."

"Where is he?"

"Patrolling the shopping district," Botan said. "Looking for lunch."

Izuku pushed off the railing. "Let's go take out the trash."

The Hunt

Musutafu’s shopping district was bustling. Heroes were patrolling—Death Arms and Kamui Woods were signing autographs near the station. Teenagers were loitering near the arcade.

Izuku walked through the crowd, his hands in his pockets.

To anyone else, it looked normal. But to Izuku, the world was layered.

He could see little blue wisps floating in the air—stray spirits. He could see the aura of people. Most were dim, pale yellow or grey. Some, like the Heroes, burned brighter, a strong orange.

"Keep your eyes peeled," Botan whispered, floating beside him disguised as a regular high school girl (visible only to those with high spiritual sensitivity, which was currently zero people in this crowd). "A Gouki demon smells like rotten eggs and old blood."

"I smell crepe shops and exhaust fumes," Izuku muttered. "This spiritual sensitivity thing needs a manual."

Suddenly, a scream cut through the noise.

"Villain! It's a Villain!"

People began to scatter. The crowd surged away from a jewelry store down the block.

Izuku didn't run away. He ran toward it.

"There!" Botan pointed.

Standing in the middle of the street, tossing a car aside like it was a cardboard box, was a giant.

He was at least eight feet tall, with skin like grey stone and jagged tusks protruding from his lower jaw. He wore a torn biker vest and had spikes growing out of his shoulders.

"Raaargh!" the creature roared. "Fresh meat! I need more!"

Kamui Woods swung in from a lamppost. "Halt, Villain! Your rampage ends here!"

"Lacquer Chain Prison!" Kamui shouted, extending his wooden limbs to wrap around the giant.

The wood coiled around the giant's torso.

The giant laughed. A deep, guttural sound that vibrated in Izuku’s chest.

"Wood?" the giant scoffed. "You think sticks can hold me?"

The giant flexed. A pulse of dark purple energy—demon energy—erupted from his body.

SNAP.

The wood shattered like dry twigs. Kamui Woods was thrown backward, slamming into a storefront.

"What?" Kamui gasped. "My wood is harder than steel! How did he break it with just pressure?"

"He's using Rei energy to disrupt the physical bonds," Izuku noted, stopping at the police line. "It's not strength. It's an aura burst."

"Correct!" Botan said. "That's a Gouki alright. Physical attacks from humans are dampened against his hide because he reinforces his skin with energy. You need to hit him with something that hurts his soul."

The giant grabbed a bystander—a young woman frozen in fear.

"You look tasty," the demon growled. He opened his mouth. It unhinged, revealing rows of shark-like teeth. He wasn't going to bite her; he was inhaling. A faint blue mist began to rise from the woman's mouth.

"He's eating her soul!" Botan shrieked.

Izuku didn't wait.

He ducked under the police tape.

"Hey! Kid! Get back!" a police officer yelled. "It's too dangerous!"

Izuku ignored him. He sprinted into the clearing.

"Hey! Ugly!"

The demon paused. He closed his mouth, the woman dropping to the ground, unconscious but alive. He turned his massive head toward Izuku.

"Who are you?" the demon rumbled. "Another hero wannabe? You look like a snack."

"I'm the guy who's gonna kick your ass," Izuku said. He stopped ten feet away. He adopted a boxing stance—loose, delinquent style, chin tucked. "Let the lady go."

"A quirkless brat?" The demon sniffed the air. Then his eyes widened. "Wait. You smell... delicious. You smell like pure energy."

The demon dropped the woman and turned fully toward Izuku.

"I'm going to eat you whole!"

The demon charged. The ground shook with every step.

Izuku didn't flinch. He waited.

Wait for it... wait for it...

The demon swung a massive fist.

Izuku ducked. The wind of the punch ruffled his hair.

Izuku drove a fist into the demon's gut.

BAM.

It felt like punching a concrete wall. Izuku’s wrist jarred painfully.

The demon didn't even flinch. He looked down at Izuku. "Was that a tickle?"

"Crap," Izuku muttered.

The demon backhanded him.

Izuku flew. He tumbled across the asphalt, skidding twenty feet before crashing into a mailbox.

"Ow," Izuku groaned, standing up. He wiped a trickle of blood from his lip. "Okay. That hurt. Why didn't my punch work? I beat up Bakugo!"

"Bakugo is human!" Botan yelled from the sidelines. "This guy has a Spirit Armor! You can't just punch him with physical muscle! You have to coat your fist in Reiki!"

"I don't know how to do that!" Izuku yelled back, dodging another car thrown by the demon.

"Focus!" Botan coached. "Remember the egg! Remember the feeling of the fire! Pull that heat from your gut and push it to your hands!"

The demon was closing in. "Stop hopping around, little flea!"

Izuku scrambled back. He needed a weapon. He needed something.

He looked at his hands. He felt the energy inside him. It was chaotic, swirling like a storm.

"Focus it," Izuku whispered. "Like a bullet."

He remembered watching old gangster movies. He remembered Yusuke Urameshi from the manga he used to read (wait, did that manga exist here? No matter).

He extended his right hand. He folded his middle and ring fingers, leaving his index finger pointing at the demon and his thumb cocked like a hammer.

"A gun?" The demon laughed, looming over him. "You're going to shoot me with a finger? Bang bang?"

"Yeah," Izuku grit his teeth. "Bang bang."

He closed his eyes for a microsecond. He visualized the energy in his body—the raw, blue power. He grabbed it mentally and shoved it all down his arm, through his wrist, and into the tip of his index finger.

His fingertip began to glow. A bright, cyan light.

The air around his hand distorted. A high-pitched whining sound, like a charging capacitor, filled the street.

The demon stopped laughing. "What?"

"Spirit..." Izuku muttered.

He opened his eyes. They were glowing with the same cyan light.

The demon lunged, panic setting in.

"...GUN!"

BOOM.

It wasn't a laser. It was a concussive blast of solid spirit energy. A beam of blue light, thick as a telephone pole, erupted from Izuku’s finger.

The recoil was massive. It dug Izuku’s heels into the asphalt, cracking the pavement beneath him.

The blast hit the demon square in the chest.

The demon didn't even have time to scream. The Spirit Gun tore through his Spirit Armor like paper. It lifted the eight-foot giant off his feet and launched him backward down the street.

The demon crashed through a bus stop, through a brick wall, and finally came to rest in a pile of rubble inside a convenience store.

Smoke rose from Izuku’s finger.

Silence fell over the street.

The heroes—Death Arms, Kamui Woods, Mt. Lady (who had just arrived)—stared with their mouths open.

The civilians were stunned.

Izuku stood up, shaking out his hand. "Hot, hot, hot!" he hissed, blowing on his finger.

"You got him!" Botan cheered, doing a backflip in the air. "Bullseye!"

Izuku looked at the destruction. "Did I overdo it?"

"Just a tad! But he's down!"

The demon groaned in the rubble. He was shrinking, his stone skin fading away to reveal a scrawny, naked man underneath—the human host the demon had possessed. The demon spirit itself—a small, bat-like shadow—tried to fly away from the body.

Izuku saw it. He walked over, grabbed the shadow by the wing, and stuffed it into a small jar Botan handed him.

"Gotcha," Izuku whispered.

"Hey! Kid!"

Death Arms ran over, pushing through the debris. "That was... amazing! What caught him? Was that a kinetic blast? An energy beam?"

Izuku turned around. He saw the cameras flashing. He saw the Pro Heroes looking at him with respect.

For a second, he wanted to say it. I'm a Spirit Detective.

But Koenma’s rules echoed in his head: Keep the Spirit World secret. Humans aren't ready.

"It's... uh..." Izuku scratched his head. "Yeah. Something like that."

"I've never seen a Quirk manifest like that!" Kamui Woods said. "You're a student? Which school?"

"Aldera," Izuku said, backing away. "Look, I gotta go. Homework. You know how it is."

"Wait! What's your name?" Mt. Lady asked, posing for the press. "The world wants to know the new hero!"

Izuku paused. He looked at the smoking trail of destruction he had caused. He looked at his hand.

He smirked. A true, delinquent smirk.

"Call me Deku," he said.

And then he ran. He vaulted over a fence with enhanced agility and disappeared into the alleyways before they could stop him.

The Rivalry Renewed

The next morning at Aldera Junior High was chaos.

The news was everywhere. "Mystery Student Stops Villain with Massive Energy Blast!"

The footage was blurry, but the green hair was unmistakable.

When Izuku walked into Class 3-A, the room went silent.

He walked to his desk—the one that had flowers on it yesterday. The flowers were gone.

He sat down, kicked his feet up onto the desk, and leaned back in his chair.

"Morning," he said to the stunned room.

"Midoriya!" One of the extras, the guy with the long fingers, pointed. "Was that you? On the news? I thought you were Quirkless!"

"I thought I was dead," Izuku shrugged. "Life is full of surprises."

"So you have a Quirk?" another student asked. "A blast quirk?"

"Something like that," Izuku waved it off. "It's a hassle, really."

The door slammed open.

Bakugo stood there. He marched into the room, grabbed Izuku’s collar, and dragged him out of the chair.

"We need to talk," Bakugo growled.

"Buy me dinner first," Izuku quipped.

Bakugo didn't laugh. He dragged Izuku out of the classroom, down the hall, and out into the courtyard behind the gym.

He threw Izuku against the wall.

"Talk," Bakugo demanded. "Start talking and don't stop until I understand."

Izuku straightened his jacket. He looked at his childhood friend. He saw the desperation in Bakugo’s eyes. Bakugo needed to know. He needed to know if his worldview—that Izuku was a pebble—was shattered.

"I can't tell you everything, Kacchan," Izuku said honestly. "But I can tell you this: I'm not the same Deku you used to beat up."

"You have a Quirk now?" Bakugo asked, his voice tight. "Did you lie to me for ten years?"

"No," Izuku said. "I didn't have a Quirk. I still don't, technically. This power... it's different. It's something I earned by dying."

"By dying..." Bakugo looked at his hands. "The fire. The possession. That energy."

He looked up at Izuku.

"Fight me."

"What?" Izuku sighed. "Again? We have homeroom in five minutes."

"Fight me!" Bakugo roared, explosions popping in his palms. "Right now! Use that finger-gun thing! Prove it! Prove you're not just a bug anymore!"

Izuku looked at him. He saw the challenge. He realized that this was the only way Bakugo knew how to communicate. He was asking for reassurance. He was asking for a rival.

Izuku smiled. He stepped back. He raised his right hand, cocking his finger.

"Fine," Izuku said. Spirit energy began to crackle around his body, blowing the dust off the ground. "But don't cry when you lose, Kacchan."

Bakugo grinned. A feral, terrified, excited grin.

"Bring it on, Ghost Boy."

Bakugo launched himself forward with a massive explosion.

Izuku didn't flinch. He channeled the energy. Not into a gun this time, but into his legs for speed.

He vanished.

Bakugo hit the wall where Izuku had been. "What?"

"Over here," Izuku called from atop the basketball hoop.

Bakugo spun around.

"This is gonna be fun," Izuku thought.

Up on the roof of the school, Botan watched them, eating a bento box she had stolen from the faculty lounge.

"Boys," she shook her head. "They communicate through brain damage. Typical."

She looked at her compass. It was spinning again.

"Oh dear," she muttered. "Another reading. And this one is coming from... inside the school?"

She looked down at the courtyard, where the green and orange lights of the two boys were clashing.

"You better get strong fast, Detective," Botan whispered. "Because the demons are going to school."

Scene: The Shadows

In the Principal's office of UA High, miles away.

All Might sat on the sofa, deflated in his skeletal form.

"Did you see the news, Toshinori?" Principal Nezu asked, pausing a video on a large screen. It was the footage of Izuku blasting the demon.

"I did," All Might coughed blood. "Young... Midoriya, was it? The boy who died saving the child."

"He returned," Nezu said, his eyes gleaming. "And he returned with a power that matches the output of a Pro Hero. But look at the energy signature."

Nezu pulled up a graph.

"It's not biological," Nezu said. "It doesn't match any known Quirk factor. It's... pure energy. Life force."

All Might leaned forward. "Life force? Like..."

"Like One For All," Nezu finished. "Or something very similar. Or perhaps... something much older."

Nezu tapped the desk.

"I want him at UA," Nezu said. "If there is a new power source awakening in this world, we need to guide it. Before the Villains do."

All Might looked at the screen, at the green-haired boy standing amidst the rubble.

"He has the heart of a hero," All Might whispered. "He sacrificed himself without hesitation. Perhaps... perhaps he is the one I've been waiting for."

The waiting room of the Spirit World was, as usual, a bureaucratic nightmare of endless clouds and stacked paperwork. But today, the atmosphere was different. It was tense.

Izuku Midoriya sat in a floating chair—which was actually just a cloud molded into a recliner—doing one-armed pushups. He was wearing a green tank top and loose martial arts pants, sweat dripping from his forehead.

"Ninety-eight... ninety-nine... one hundred."

He flipped upright, wiping his face with a towel. "Okay, Koenma. I’m fit. I’m alive. I’ve busted three low-level demons this week. Can I go home? I have a math test."

Lord Koenma, the toddler-prince of the Afterlife, sucked thoughtfully on his pacifier. He was sitting on his massive mahogany desk, looking grave. beside him, Botan was unusually quiet, clutching her oar.

"Math can wait, Detective," Koenma said, his voice deep and booming. "We have a situation. A Code Red."

Izuku stopped toweling off. "Code Red? Is that worse than the giant bat thing I fought in the sewer on Tuesday?"

"Much worse," Koenma said. He snapped his fingers, and a holographic screen appeared in the air. It displayed a map of Japan, zooming in rapidly on a specific location in Musutafu.

A massive, glass-walled campus shaped like an 'H'.

"UA High School," Izuku said, narrowing his eyes. "The Hero school."

"Precisely," Koenma nodded. "Our Spirit Scanners have picked up a disturbing concentration of demonic energy accumulating directly beneath the campus. It’s subtle, masked by the high density of Quirk users in the area, but it’s there. And it’s growing."

"A demon at UA?" Izuku crossed his arms. "That’s suicide. That place is crawling with Pro Heroes. All Might teaches there now, doesn't he?"

"That is exactly the problem," Koenma said. "Demons are attracted to strong spiritual pressure. All Might is a beacon. But this energy... it feels organized. It’s not just a hungry beast wandering in. It’s an infiltration."

Botan stepped forward. "If a high-level demon—or worse, a portal opener—is hiding among the students or faculty, they could cause a massacre. The barrier between the Human World and the Demon Plane is thinnest where large amounts of power clash."

Koenma pointed a tiny finger at Izuku. "Your mission, Spirit Detective, is to infiltrate UA High School. You must identify the source of this demonic energy and neutralize it before it hatches."

Izuku stared at the toddler. "Infiltrate? You mean..."

"I mean you’re going to school," Koenma smirked around his pacifier. "You applied months ago, didn't you? Before you died?"

"Yeah, as a joke," Izuku muttered. "A Quirkless kid applying to the Hero Course. Everyone laughed."

"Well, nobody is laughing now," Koenma said. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out two heavy, metallic wristbands. They were black, engraved with sealing runes that glowed with a faint violet light.

He tossed them to Izuku.

Izuku caught them. They were incredibly heavy, dragging his hands down. "What are these? Weights?"

"Spirit Cuffs," Koenma explained. "They are limiters. Right now, your Spirit Energy is raw and volatile. If you walk into UA flaring your aura like you did against that Gouki, every sensor in the building will go off. You’ll be exposed immediately."

Izuku clasped the cuffs onto his wrists. Click.

Instantly, he felt a wave of exhaustion hit him. It was like trying to breathe through a straw. His massive reserves of energy were clamped down, leaving him with just a trickle.

"Whoa," Izuku swayed. "This feels... heavy."

"They suppress eighty percent of your power," Koenma said. "You will wear them at all times. It will force you to refine your martial arts and control your energy efficiency. Only take them off if your life—or the mission—is in absolute jeopardy."

Izuku looked at the black bands. He clenched his fists, feeling the resistance. It was like moving underwater.

"Undercover at a hero school," Izuku smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Beats algebra."

"Don't get cocky," Botan warned. "You have to pass the entrance exam first. And you can't use your Spirit Gun unless absolutely necessary. You have to make it look like a physical enhancement Quirk."

Izuku threw his green school jacket over his shoulder. "Piece of cake. I’ll punch my way to the top."

The Gates of Judgment

The day of the entrance exam, the sky was a piercing, cloudless blue. The entrance to UA High was a river of nervous teenagers.

There were kids with wings, kids with engines in their legs, kids made of rock, and kids who were invisible. The air buzzed with excitement and the static electricity of a thousand Quirks.

And then there was Izuku Midoriya.

He walked against the flow of anxiety. While others were frantically checking their notes or hyperventilating, Izuku strolled with his hands in his pockets, chewing on a toothpick. He wore the standard middle school uniform, but in true delinquent fashion: the top button was undone, the collar popped, and he wore no tie. His green hair was a messy halo of defiance.

"Out of the way," a familiar voice growled behind him.

Izuku didn't turn around. He knew that gravelly voice anywhere. "Morning, Kacchan. You sound chipper."

Katsuki Bakugo stomped past him, his shoulders hunched. He paused, glaring back at Izuku. The redhead’s eyes narrowed at the black wristbands on Izuku’s arms.

"You actually came," Bakugo spat. "I thought you'd be too busy playing ghostbuster."

"Koenma insisted," Izuku shrugged. "Said I needed an education. Something about 'social skills.'"

"Tch." Bakugo looked him up and down. Since the incident at the fire, and their subsequent 'talk' (fight) in the schoolyard, the dynamic had shifted. Bakugo wasn't bullying him anymore. He was watching him. Like a hawk watching a snake. "Don't get in my way, Deku. If we end up in the same battle center, I'll blast you to hell."

"Love you too, buddy," Izuku deadpanned.

Bakugo scoffed and marched ahead.

Izuku sighed, looking up at the massive glass structure of the main building. Okay. Scan the area.

He closed his eyes for a second, extending his senses outward. Even with the Spirit Cuffs on, he could feel the ebb and flow of energy.

It was chaotic. Too many Quirks. It was like trying to hear a whisper in a rock concert.

I can't pinpoint it, Izuku thought, frustrated. Koenma was right. The ambient noise is too loud. I’ll have to get inside.

He took a step forward, his foot catching on an uneven paving stone.

Usually, Izuku had cat-like reflexes. But the Spirit Cuffs threw off his center of balance. He stumbled forward.

Crap. Face plant in front of the elites. Great start, Detective.

He braced for impact.

It never came.

Suddenly, he was weightless. He floated inches above the concrete.

"Are you okay?"

Izuku looked up. A girl with a round face, rosy cheeks, and brown bobbed hair was smiling at him. She had her hand placed gently on his backpack.

"It's bad luck to trip on the first day," she chirped. "I used my Quirk to stop you. Sorry I didn't ask first!"

She pressed her fingertips together. Release.

Izuku dropped the last two inches, landing on his feet.

He looked at her. Her aura was... bright. Cheerful. A soft pink light that felt warm, unlike the cold violet of the Spirit World.

"Thanks," Izuku said, dusting off his pants. "Nice reflex."

"I'm Ochako Uraraka!" she beamed. "You seem really calm. Everyone else is shaking!"

"I've seen scarier things than a test," Izuku said, thinking of the Gouki demon's teeth. "I'm Midoriya. Izuku."

"Well, good luck, Midoriya-kun! Let's do our best!"

She waved and ran off toward the entrance.

Izuku watched her go. "Nice girl," he muttered. "Too nice. Probably going to get eaten alive in there."

"Izuku!" Botan’s voice hissed in his ear. She was invisible, floating beside him. "Stop flirting and get inside! The written exam starts in ten minutes!"

"I wasn't flirting," Izuku grumbled, walking toward the doors. "I was gathering intel."

The Written Exam

The written portion was boring. Painfully, soul-crushingly boring.

Izuku sat in the back row, spinning his pencil. The questions were standard: Hero Law, Mathematics, quirk theory.

Question 4: If a Villain with a water-based Quirk causes a flood in a district with 40% electrical infrastructure, what is the priority of the responding Hero?

Izuku scribbled: Turn off the power grid first, or everyone fries. Then punch the guy.

He finished early. While the other students sweated over equations, Izuku leaned back, staring at the ceiling. He could see small, harmless spirits—little orbs of light—drifting through the ventilation ducts.

Nothing malicious here, he noted. The demonic signal isn't in the main building. It must be underground. Or in the training grounds.

He looked at the boy sitting two desks over—a stiff-looking guy with glasses and blue hair who was vibrating with intensity as he wrote.

That guy needs to relax, Izuku thought. He's radiating stress like a heater.

The Presentation

"EVERYBODY SAY HEY!"

Present Mic’s voice boomed through the auditorium, amplified by his Quirk to ear-shattering levels.

Silence.

"Tough crowd!" Mic shrugged.

Izuku sat with his arms crossed, slouching low in his seat. The noise was giving him a headache. Spirit Detectives relied on hearing the subtle whispers of the dead; this guy was drowning everything out.

Mic began explaining the Practical Exam. Ten minutes. Mock city. Robots.

"Three types of faux villains!" Mic shouted, pointing to the screen. "1-Pointer, 2-Pointer, 3-Pointer! Accumulate points by destroying them!"

Izuku yawned. Smash robots. Simple.

Suddenly, a hand shot up in the row in front of him. It was the stiff guy with glasses.

"Sir!" the boy shouted, standing up rigidly. "The printout clearly lists four types of villains! If this is a mistake, it is highly shameful for a top-tier institution like UA! And you!"

The boy spun around, pointing a finger directly at Izuku.

"Me?" Izuku blinked, pointing to himself.

"Yes, you! The one with the unbuttoned jacket and the messy hair! You've been muttering to yourself and slouching this entire time! It's distracting! If you're not taking this seriously, you should leave!"

The auditorium went quiet. Everyone looked at Izuku.

Izuku slowly stood up. The Spirit Cuffs clinked softly against the desk. He locked eyes with the boy.

"Hey, Four-Eyes," Izuku said, his voice cool and carrying effortlessly through the quiet hall. "Maybe if you focused on your own preparation instead of policing my posture, you wouldn't be so stressed. I'm here to fight, not to join a choir."

The boy—Tenya Iida—flushed red. "I— I am simply ensuring the integrity of the exam!"

"Okay, okay!" Present Mic interjected. "Examinee 7111, nice catch! The fourth robot is a Zero-Pointer! It’s an obstacle! A gimmick! There’s no point in beating it, so just run away!"

Run away, Izuku thought. That's not really my style anymore.

Battle Center B

The gates to the mock city were massive. Behind them lay a sprawling urban landscape, complete with skyscrapers, streets, and traffic lights.

Izuku stood in the crowd of examinees. He recognized the girl, Uraraka, standing nearby, looking nervous. He also saw the glasses guy, Iida, stretching his calves.

Izuku tightened the straps of his wristbands. Remember, keep them on. Use physical force amplified by Reiki. Don't use the Gun unless necessary.

"START!"

Present Mic’s voice screamed from the observation tower.

"There's no countdown in a real battle! GO! GO! GO!"

The other students hesitated for a split second, confused.

Izuku didn't.

He exploded off the line.

Even with the weights, his initial dash was blindingly fast. He channeled a burst of Spirit Energy into his legs—a technique Botan called Spirit Dash. He left a cloud of dust in his wake, leaving the other students coughing.

"He's fast!" someone yelled.

Izuku rounded the first corner. A 3-Pointer—a massive robot resembling a scorpion—rolled out from an alley, its sensors glowing red.

"TARGET ACQUIRED," the robot droned.

Izuku didn't break stride. He leaped into the air.

"Target this," Izuku growled.

He pulled his right arm back. He focused his energy into his fist. Not enough to create a blast, but enough to harden his skin like diamond. Reiki Punch.

He slammed his fist into the robot's metallic faceplate.

CRUNCH.

The metal crumpled like foil. The force of the blow sent a shockwave through the chassis. The robot’s head was torn clean off, sparks showering the street.

Izuku landed on the robot's collapsing body and vaulted off it to the next building.

"Three points," he counted.

The Observation Room

In a dark room lined with monitors, the UA faculty watched.

"This year's batch is promising," Midnight commented, licking her lips. "Look at that explosion boy in Center A. Ferocious."

"Indeed," Ectoplasm nodded. "But look at Center B. That green-haired student."

On the screen, Izuku was a blur of motion. He wasn't using flashy elemental attacks. He was brawling. He was tearing the plating off robots with his bare hands, kicking through steel reinforced legs, and using the debris as projectiles.

"He fights like a street brawler," Snipe noted, tipping his cowboy hat. "No wasted movement. Brutal efficiency. What's his Quirk?"

Eraserhead—Shota Aizawa—narrowed his eyes at the screen. He held Izuku’s file.

"Quirk: None," Aizawa read aloud.

The room went silent.

"None?" All Might, standing in the back corner in his buff form, leaned forward. "But look at him! He just threw a 2-Pointer through a brick wall!"

"The file says 'Quirkless,'" Aizawa muttered. "But Nezu's sensors are picking up strange readings from him. It's not a mutation. It's... enhancement. But the energy source is anomalous."

"Whatever it is," Principal Nezu chirped, sipping tea, "he is certainly efficient. He has 45 points already. But... how will he react to threat?"

Nezu pressed a large red button.

The Zero Pointer

Izuku stood atop a pile of scrap metal. He had 52 points. He was sweating, breathing heavy. The Spirit Cuffs felt heavier with every punch. His muscles burned.

"That should be enough to pass," Izuku muttered. "Now, where is that demon signature?"

He scanned the chaos. He felt faint pings of dark energy, but they were elusive.

Is it one of the students? No... the energy feels older.

Suddenly, the ground shook.

BOOM. BOOM.

The vibration knocked students off their feet. Dust rose from the center of the city.

Izuku turned.

Looming over the skyscrapers was a monstrosity. The Zero-Pointer. It was larger than Godzilla, a towering colossus of green metal and treads. Its massive hand crushed a building as it moved forward.

"What the hell is that budget?" Izuku yelled over the noise. "That's excessive!"

The other students screamed.

"It's the Zero-Pointer!"

"Run! There's no points for fighting it!"

"It's huge!"

The crowd stampeded away from the robot, running past Izuku.

"Move it, greenie!" a student yelled.

Izuku prepared to run. Koenma’s mission was to infiltrate, not to die fighting a giant toy.

But then he heard it.

"Owww!"

A cry of pain.

Izuku stopped. He looked back toward the robot.

In the middle of the ruined street, Ochako Uraraka was trapped. She had tripped (again) and her leg was pinned under a heavy chunk of concrete debris.

The Zero-Pointer was looming directly over her. Its massive tread was descending. It would crush her in seconds.

"Help..." she whimpered, struggling to lift the rock.

The other students were too far away. They were fleeing.

Iida paused, looking back, but he was too far.

Izuku froze.

It's a test, his mind reasoned. They won't let her die. The teachers will stop it.

But what if they don't make it in time?

What if she dies because I hesitated? Again?

The image of the boy in the street flashed in his mind. The truck. The impact.

"Dammit," Izuku growled.

He turned around and sprinted toward the robot.

"Botan! I'm taking the limiters off!"

"Izuku, no!" Botan’s voice screamed in his ear. "You'll blow your cover! The energy spike will go off the charts!"

"I don't care!" Izuku roared.

He reached Uraraka. He grabbed the concrete slab. With a grunt, he heaved it off her leg.

"Get up!" he yelled.

"Midoriya-kun?" she gasped. "My leg... it's stuck..."

The shadow of the robot fell over them. The massive metal fist was coming down.

Izuku looked up.

"Okay, you big tin can," Izuku snarled. "You want a piece of me?"

He raised his arms. He grabbed the black wristbands.

CLICK. CLICK.

He threw the Spirit Cuffs to the ground. They hit the pavement with a heavy thud, cracking the asphalt.

"RELEASE!"

The sensation was explosive.

A torrent of Spirit Energy, suppressed for days, flooded his system. His aura flared visible—a roaring, violet-blue flame that enveloped his body. His hair stood on end. The air around him distorted with heat.

Uraraka stared at him, eyes wide. "What... what is that?"

The pressure was immense. The wind picked up, swirling around Izuku as the epicenter.

Izuku crouched. He channeled all that power. Not into a finger. That wouldn't be enough for something this size.

He brought both hands together, palms facing out, fingers spread.

"Botan said to be subtle," Izuku grinned maniacally. "Oops."

The energy coalesced between his palms. It wasn't a beam. It was a cluster of smaller, high-intensity orbs. A spread shot.

"SPIRIT... SHOTGUN!"

He thrust his hands forward.

BLAM!

It sounded like a cannon firing. A massive volley of spirit blasts erupted from his hands. Dozens of projectiles of pure blue energy sprayed outward like buckshot.

The blasts hit the Zero-Pointer.

BANG! BANG! CRASH!

The impacts were devastating. The robot’s faceplate shattered. Its shoulder joint was blown clean off. The force of the barrage lifted the multi-ton machine, tilting it backward.

The robot groaned, metal screeching, and then toppled away from them, crashing into the buildings behind it with an earth-shaking thud.

Silence.

Smoke rose from Izuku’s hands. The violet aura slowly faded, leaving him standing there, panting heavily.

He turned to Uraraka. He offered her a hand.

"You okay, Floaty Girl?"

Uraraka just stared at him, her mouth agape. "You... you destroyed it."

Izuku shrugged, picking up his Spirit Cuffs and clipping them back on. The exhaustion hit him instantly, but he hid it.

"It was in my way."

The Faculty Room: Chaos

The monitors in the observation room were glitching from the electromagnetic interference caused by Izuku’s blast.

"What on earth was that?!" Present Mic yelled, his glasses crooked.

All Might was standing, gripping the windowsill until it bent. "That power... it wasn't just strength. It was a projectile. A scattershot."

Aizawa was staring at the readings on his tablet. "His energy output just jumped 500% for three seconds. And look at the waveform."

He turned the screen to Nezu.

The waveform wasn't the jagged, chaotic line of a Quirk. It was a smooth, rhythmic sine wave.

"It's life energy," Nezu whispered, his whiskers twitching. "Pure, concentrated life energy. It's similar to Chi, or Reiki from old legends."

"Is he dangerous?" Midnight asked.

"Very," Aizawa said. "He concealed that power the entire exam. He wore limiters."

"He saved the girl," All Might said softly. "He risked disqualification and revealed his trump card to save a fellow examinee. Dangerous or not... that is the act of a Hero."

Recovery Girl's Office

The exam was over. Izuku sat on a bed in the infirmary while Recovery Girl bandaged Uraraka’s leg.

"You're a reckless boy," Recovery Girl scolded Izuku, handing him a gummy. "Your energy levels are depleted. You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I'm fine," Izuku mumbled, chewing the gummy.

"Midoriya-kun," Uraraka said from the next bed. "Thank you. You saved my life."

"Don't mention it," Izuku said, looking away. "Just paying it forward."

The door opened. A tired-looking man with messy black hair and a scarf walked in.

Eraserhead.

Izuku stiffened. Pro Hero. Keep your guard up.

Aizawa looked at Izuku. His dark eyes seemed to peel back the layers of Izuku’s soul.

"Midoriya Izuku," Aizawa said flatly.

"That's me," Izuku said.

"You caused significant damage to school property today."

"It was a big robot," Izuku defended.

"You also saved an applicant." Aizawa tossed a folder onto the bed. "The judges were impressed. But I have questions. Your file says Quirkless. That blast was not Quirkless."

"Late bloomer," Izuku lied. "Woke up in the morgue with it."

Aizawa stared at him for a long, uncomfortable minute. He activated his Quirk—Erasure. His eyes glowed red.

Izuku felt... nothing.

Usually, when Aizawa used his quirk, the victim felt their power vanish. But Izuku’s power was Spirit Energy, not a Quirk Factor. It wasn't biological. It couldn't be erased by Aizawa.

Aizawa blinked. His hair fell back down. A flicker of surprise crossed his face.

It didn't work, Aizawa thought. I couldn't erase it. Which means... it's not a Quirk.

"Interesting," Aizawa muttered.

"Can I go?" Izuku asked. "My mom worries."

"Go," Aizawa said. "We'll be in touch."

As Izuku grabbed his bag and left, Botan appeared next to him in the hallway.

"That was close," she whispered. "He suspects something."

"Let him suspect," Izuku said, walking out into the sunset. "I passed. I'm in."

"And the demon?"

Izuku stopped. He looked back at the main building.

"I felt it again," he whispered. "When I used the Spirit Shotgun. The flare of energy... something answered it. Deep underground."

"What did it feel like?"

Izuku shivered. "Hunger."

The Acceptance Letter

A week later.

Izuku sat at his desk in his room. Inko was pacing outside the door.

On the desk was a letter from UA.

"Open it, Izuku!" Inko yelled through the door.

Izuku ripped the envelope open. A holographic disc fell out.

It activated. A projection of All Might appeared.

"I AM HERE!" All Might shouted. "AS A PROJECTION!"

"Great," Izuku muttered. "No volume control."

"Young Midoriya!" All Might boomed. "You passed the written exam with decent marks! But the practical! You scored 52 Villain Points! A respectable score!"

The video cut to clips of Izuku smashing robots.

" But that is not all! A hero's job is to save others!"

The video changed. It showed Izuku lifting the rock off Uraraka. It showed him standing against the Zero-Pointer.

"Rescue Points! 60!" All Might announced. "Total Score: 112! You passed with flying colors!"

Izuku leaned back in his chair.

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

The hologram faded.

Suddenly, the screen glitched. Static filled the air. Then, Koenma’s face appeared, replacing the UA logo.

"Congratulations, Detective," Koenma said. "You have access. Phase One is complete."

"Phase Two?" Izuku asked the hologram.

"Phase Two," Koenma said ominously. "Find the traitor. There is a teacher or a student who is acting as a host for the Demon. Find them. And exorcise them."

"Before or after homeroom?" Izuku asked.

"Don't be glib. The fate of the Human World rests on your shoulders. Don't fail."

The hologram clicked off.

Izuku stared at the blank disc.

"I'm going to UA," he whispered.

He looked at the Spirit Gun finger on his right hand.

"Time to go to school."