What if Deku was the species of humungousaurs

 

The alarm clock did not stand a chance.

 

It was 6:00 AM, and the shrill, obnoxious blare of the mechanical bell reverberated through the Midoriya apartment. In the dimly lit room, a massive mound beneath an oversized, reinforced quilt shifted. A hand emerged from the darkness.

 

It was not a human hand.

 

It was a massive, three-fingered appendage, covered in thick, tan-and-brown leathery scales, ending in blunt but undeniably dangerous black claws. The hand, easily the size of a standard microwave, fumbled blindly in the dark, searching for the source of the noise.

 

Clack.

 

The claws brushed the plastic casing of the alarm clock. Izuku Midoriya, still half-asleep, attempted to press the snooze button. He tried to be gentle. He truly, deeply tried. He focused on using just the very tip of his massive index finger, trying to exert no more than a few ounces of pressure.

 

CRUNCH.

 

The plastic shattered instantly, springs and gears flying across the room with a pathetic boing sound. The shrill ringing died instantly, replaced by the heavy, echoing sigh of a giant.

 

"Not again..."

 

The voice was deep, resonant, and rumbled with a natural bass that vibrated the floorboards, though its tone was incredibly timid.

 

The heavy quilt was pushed aside, revealing Izuku Midoriya in all his imposing glory. He sat up, and as he did, he instinctively ducked. Even sitting on the edge of his custom-built, reinforced steel-frame bed, his head came perilously close to the ceiling of his bedroom.

 

Izuku was twelve feet tall.

 

He was a Vaxasaurian—a mutant classification that the Quirk registry had struggled to properly name when he was four years old. He possessed the physiology of a bipedal dinosaur, specifically resembling a massive, humanoid humungousaur. His skin was a tough, armored hide of earthy browns and tans. His chest and arms were corded with thick, dense musculature that looked capable of snapping steel girders like dry twigs. He had a short, thick tail that counterbalanced his immense weight, and a face characterized by a blunt snout, a strong jaw lined with sharp, flat teeth, and a thick brow ridge.

 

By all conventional metrics, Izuku Midoriya looked like a villain. He looked like the kind of monster that a Pro Hero would be called in to vanquish in the climax of a comic book.

 

But as Izuku looked down at the crushed remains of his third alarm clock this month, his large, expressive green eyes filled with a comical, watery despair.

 

"Mom's going to be so mad," he whimpered, burying his massive, scaly face in his hands.

 

This was the daily reality of Izuku Midoriya. He was a cinnamon roll trapped in the body of a kaiju.

 

He carefully stood up, his digitigrade legs—thick as ancient tree trunks—taking his weight. The floorboards groaned softly in protest. The Midoriya apartment had been specially modified by a government grant for mutant Quirks, reinforcing the floors and widening the doorways, but it still felt like a dollhouse to him.

 

Walking to his closet, Izuku carefully opened the doors using the very tips of his claws. He pulled out his school uniform. Getting dressed was a meticulously slow process. His Aldera Junior High uniform was a custom order, tailored from highly elastic, durable fabrics meant to stretch over his massive frame. Even so, sliding his arms through the sleeves required him to contort his broad shoulders, and buttoning the shirt was an agonizing test of fine motor skills.

 

His fingers were simply too large for the brass buttons. He spent five whole minutes squinting, his tongue sticking out slightly from the corner of his saurian mouth, as he delicately pinched the buttons and coaxed them through the holes.

 

Once dressed, he grabbed his yellow backpack—which looked more like a fanny pack slung over his massive shoulder—and ducked down low to exit his room.

 

"Izuku? Is that you, sweetie?"

 

The sweet, melodic voice of his mother echoed from the kitchen.

 

Izuku lumbered down the hallway, keeping his shoulders hunched and his tail tucked tightly against his legs so as not to knock over the framed pictures on the walls. He entered the kitchen, filling the space entirely.

 

Inko Midoriya stood by the stove, flipping pancakes. Compared to her son, she was incredibly petite, standing at a mere five feet and four inches. The contrast between them was always jarring to strangers. How this small, soft-spoken woman had given birth to a twelve-foot dinosaur was a mystery often attributed to the unpredictable nature of mutant genetics. (Though Inko often blamed it on a distant great-grandfather who allegedly had a quirk that gave him reptilian skin, combined with her husband Hisashi's fire-breathing, resulting in some prehistoric genetic throwback).

 

"Good morning, Mom," Izuku rumbled softly, taking his seat at the kitchen table. The chair was actually a reinforced steel stool bolted to the floor.

 

"Good morning, dear," Inko smiled warmly, bringing over a stack of pancakes. It wasn't a normal stack. It was a platter piled high with fifty pancakes, drenched in syrup. A Vaxasaurian's metabolism required an astronomical caloric intake just to maintain basic functions.

 

"I heard a crunch this morning," Inko noted, raising an eyebrow.

 

Izuku flinched, his non-existent ears flattening against his head as a blush visibly darkened the brown scales on his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Mom. I broke the clock again. I really tried to be gentle this time!"

 

Inko sighed, reaching up to pat his massive forearm. "It's alright, Izuku. I bought a six-pack of them from the discount store yesterday. Just try to use the flat of your finger next time, okay?"

 

"I will," Izuku promised earnestly, picking up a fork. He held the utensil delicately between two massive fingers, like a human holding a sewing needle, and began to eat.

 

"Are you excited for today?" Inko asked, pouring him a bucket-sized mug of milk. "They're handing out the career aptitude forms, right?"

 

Izuku paused, a pancake halfway to his mouth. "Y-Yeah. I am."

 

"You're going to put down U.A. High School, right?" Inko's smile faltered slightly, a familiar shadow of worry crossing her features.

 

Izuku noticed it immediately. He swallowed his food and offered her a wide, toothy smile. To anyone else, the sight of those razor-sharp teeth would be terrifying, but Inko only saw her sweet boy. "Of course! I'm going to be a hero, Mom. Just like All Might."

 

Inko looked at her son's massive, armored frame. She knew he was strong. She knew he possessed physical power that rivaled some of the top Pro Heroes. But she also knew his heart. She knew that her son cried when he saw a stray kitten in the rain. She knew he apologized to inanimate objects when he accidentally bumped into them. The world of heroics was brutal, violent, and unforgiving. She feared not that her son would be broken physically, but that the harshness of the world would break his gentle spirit.

 

"I know you will, Izuku," she said softly, though the worry never quite left her eyes. "Just... please be careful. And remember not to let people's stares bother you."

 

Izuku's smile tightened just a fraction. "I know, Mom. I'll be fine."

 

 

 

The morning commute was, as always, an exercise in social isolation.

 

Izuku walked down the sidewalk of Musutafu, his heavy footsteps creating rhythmic thud-thud-thud sounds on the pavement. Despite his massive size, he walked with a perpetual slouch, trying to make himself look as small as possible. He kept his head down, his gaze fixed on the concrete, his hands shoved into the oversized pockets of his uniform pants.

 

He could feel the eyes on him. He didn't need to look up to know what the morning commuters were doing.

 

Ahead of him, a businessman in a tailored suit glanced over his shoulder, saw Izuku approaching, and visibly paled. The man quickly sidestepped off the sidewalk, pretending to be very interested in a storefront window display until Izuku passed by.

 

On the other side of the street, a mother tightly gripped her toddler's hand. The child pointed a small, chubby finger at Izuku. "Look, Mommy! A monster!"

 

"Hush, Kenji! Don't look at him, he might get angry," the mother whispered fiercely, practically dragging the child into a nearby bakery to get out of sight.

 

Izuku heard every word. His Vaxasaurian senses were surprisingly acute. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, a familiar ache that he had learned to live with over the years.

 

I'm not a monster, he thought to himself, though his expression remained carefully neutral. I'm just a guy going to school. I want to save people. I want them to look at me and feel safe, like they do with All Might.

 

But All Might was a towering figure of golden muscle, bright colors, and a smile that radiated hope. Izuku was twelve feet of brown, armored scales, spikes, and claws. People looked at him and saw a villain waiting to happen. In a society governed by Quirks, mutant-types—especially those with predatory or intimidating features—often faced a subtle, pervasive discrimination. They were profiled by police, avoided by civilians, and often pushed to the fringes of society.

 

Izuku refused to be pushed to the fringes. He compensated by being the most painfully polite person on the planet.

 

He paused at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. An elderly woman with a cane stood next to him, trembling slightly as she cast fearful glances up at his massive, shadowed silhouette.

 

Izuku turned to her, forcing his facial muscles to soften, offering a bright, closed-mouth smile to hide his sharp teeth. "Good morning, ma'am! Lovely weather we're having today, isn't it?"

 

The elderly woman blinked, startled by the gentle, almost boyish tenor of his deep voice. "O-Oh. Yes. Quite lovely, young man."

 

The light turned green. Izuku took a step forward, then paused, gesturing politely with one massive hand. "After you, ma'am."

 

The woman relaxed slightly, offering a small nod before hobbling across the street. Izuku let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Small victories.

 

As he continued his walk, his attention was diverted by the sound of explosions and shouting near Tatooin Station. A villain attack!

 

Izuku’s posture instantly changed. The slouch vanished. His eyes widened with excitement, and he broke into a jog, his massive strides eating up the distance in seconds. The ground trembled slightly under his weight, causing a few pedestrians to yelp and scatter, but Izuku was too focused to notice.

 

He arrived at the scene just in time to see a massive villain with a Shark-like mutation swatting away the wooden branches of the rising Pro Hero, Kamui Woods.

 

Izuku quickly dug into his backpack, carefully extracting a charred, heavily used notebook labeled Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 13. He clicked a comically small pen between his claws and began to write furiously. His muttering habit kicked in, though because of his vocal cords, it sounded like a continuous, low-pitched growl that sent shivers down the spines of the bystanders next to him.

 

"Kamui Woods is playing to his strengths, using his Lacquered Chain Prison to bind the target, but the villain's shark-skin mutation provides a micro-abrasive defense that wears down the wood. Kamui needs to focus on blunt force or structural restraint rather than direct binding..."

 

Before Kamui Woods could finish his special move, a colossal figure leaped from the skyline.

 

"Canyon Cannon!"

 

Mt. Lady, a giant blonde hero, delivered a devastating flying kick to the shark villain, knocking him unconscious instantly. The crowd of onlookers cheered as paparazzi snapped photos of her, uh, assets.

 

Izuku’s eyes sparkled. He scribbled faster, his massive claws moving with surprising dexterity. "Mt. Lady! A gigantification quirk. Incredible! Assuming she can grow up to 67 feet, her mass-to-power ratio must be exponential. But wait, how does her gigantification compare to my Vaxasaurian biology?"

 

He paused, looking down at his own massive hands.

 

Unlike Mt. Lady, who could turn her Quirk on and off, Izuku was always huge. Twelve feet was his base form. But Izuku had a secret. A secondary aspect of his Quirk that he had discovered when he was eight years old.

 

He could grow.

 

If he pushed his Quirk to its limits, his body would expand, his muscle mass would quadruple, and thick, stegosaurus-like plates of armor and spikes would erupt along his back and tail. In his maximum state, he could reach a staggering sixty feet tall—nearly the exact same height as Mt. Lady.

 

But Izuku never used that power. The one time he had accidentally triggered it during a childhood tantrum, he had completely destroyed a local playground and terrified the entire neighborhood. The Pro Heroes had been called, and a twelve-foot, sobbing Izuku had to be talked down by his weeping mother.

 

Since that day, Izuku had promised himself he would never grow again. He was already too big, too scary, too destructive. A hero was supposed to minimize damage, not cause it. He would become a hero just using his base form, relying on strategy and control rather than overwhelming, monstrous power.

 

"Hey, kid," a voice interrupted his thoughts. A middle-aged man with a star-shaped head looked up at Izuku, grinning. "You taking notes? You wanna be a hero too, big guy?"

 

Izuku blushed, scratching the back of his scaly neck. "Y-Yes, sir! That's the dream!"

 

The man chuckled. "Well, with a body like that, I'm sure you'll be a great meat-shield for the pros! Good luck!"

 

Izuku's smile froze. Meat-shield. It wasn't an insult, but it stung all the same. People only ever saw him as a physical object. A wall. A brute. No one saw the brain behind the scales.

 

"T-Thank you," Izuku stammered politely, closing his notebook and tucking it away. "I better get to school."

 

 

 

Aldera Junior High was not built for Vaxasaurians.

 

When Izuku first enrolled, the school board had pitched a fit, claiming they couldn't accommodate his mutation. It took a threat of a discrimination lawsuit from Inko and the involvement of the local mutant advocacy board to force the school to make adjustments.

 

They had replaced the door to Classroom 3-A with a double-wide, extra-tall sliding frame. They had removed three desks in the back corner of the room to make space for a single, massive steel table and a heavy-duty stool.

 

When Izuku ducked through the door and squeezed into the classroom, the usual morning chatter died down for a brief second. It always did. Even after three years, his classmates were still instinctively intimidated by the twelve-foot dinosaur entering the room.

 

Izuku kept his head down, murmuring quiet apologies as his tail accidentally brushed against a classmate's desk, rattling their pencils. He folded himself into his seat in the back corner, pulling out his notebooks and trying to make himself invisible.

 

It was impossible. He was a mountain in a room full of molehills.

 

A few minutes later, the homeroom teacher walked in, slapping a stack of papers on the podium.

 

"Alright, settle down," the teacher said lazily. "Since you're all third-years, it's time to start thinking seriously about your futures. I'm supposed to hand out these career aptitude tests, but..." The teacher suddenly grabbed the stack of papers and threw them into the air like confetti. "I know you all want to go to the hero track!"

 

The classroom erupted in cheers. Students activated their Quirks, showing off glowing hands, extendable eyes, and minor telekinesis.

 

Izuku didn't cheer. He just smiled nervously and raised his massive, clawed hand a few inches off his desk, trying to participate without drawing attention.

 

"Yes, yes, you all have wonderful Quirks," the teacher sighed, though he was smiling. "But remember, no Quirk usage in school! Now, let's see... Bakugo, you're aiming for U.A. High, aren't you?"

 

The classroom fell silent as all eyes turned to a boy sitting near the front. Katsuki Bakugo leaned back in his chair, his feet propped up on his desk, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face.

 

"Don't lump me in with these background characters, teach," Bakugo sneered, his red eyes sweeping over the classroom with disdain. "They'd be lucky to end up as sidekicks to some busted D-lister. I'm the only one here with the right stuff. I aced the mock exams, and I'm the only one from this crappy middle school who's gonna get into U.A. I'm gonna surpass All Might and become the top hero!"

 

The class murmured in awe and annoyance. Bakugo's Quirk, Explosion, was incredibly powerful and flashy. He was arrogant, but he had the talent to back it up.

 

"Oh, right," the teacher said, glancing down at a clipboard. "Midoriya, you're applying for U.A. too, aren't you?"

 

The silence that followed was heavy, thick, and suffocating.

 

Every single head in the room slowly turned to the back corner, looking up, up, up at the towering, reptilian teenager who was suddenly sweating profusely.

 

Then, the laughter started.

 

It wasn't mocking laughter. It was nervous, unsure laughter.

 

"Midoriya? U.A.?" one student whispered loudly.

 

"I mean... he's big enough, I guess," another muttered.

 

"Yeah, but... can you imagine him trying to save a hostage? The villain would crap their pants, but so would the hostage!"

 

"He's got the strength, but... he's so clumsy. He tripped in the hallway last week and put a crater in the linoleum."

 

Izuku shrank in his seat, wrapping his thick arms around his chest and looking down at his desk. He hated this. He hated being the center of attention.

 

Suddenly, the smell of burnt sugar and nitroglycerin filled the air.

 

BANG!

 

A massive explosion went off directly in front of Izuku. Smoke billowed through the back of the classroom. The other students shrieked and covered their ears.

 

When the smoke cleared, Katsuki Bakugo was standing on Izuku's steel desk, his hand smoking. He glared down—well, he tried to glare down, but even standing on the desk, he was only barely eye-level with Izuku's massive chest. Bakugo had to tilt his head back to look into Izuku's frightened green eyes.

 

The explosion had done absolutely no damage to Izuku. His leathery, Vaxasaurian scales were incredibly durable, capable of withstanding small-arms fire and localized explosions without a scratch. The blast hadn't even singed his uniform, which was made of fire-retardant fibers for this exact reason.

 

But Izuku still flinched, pulling his hands up to protect his face. "K-Kacchan! What are you doing?"

 

Bakugo's eye twitched. His rage was not born out of a desire to bully the weak. No, his hatred for Izuku Midoriya was far more complex, and in some ways, far more toxic.

 

Bakugo hated Izuku because Izuku was strong.

 

By all laws of nature, Izuku should have been the alpha of their generation. He was a twelve-foot titan with the strength to lift a bus. If Izuku wanted to, he could crush Bakugo's skull with a single squeeze of his massive hand.

 

But Izuku never fought back. He never flexed his power. He constantly apologized, constantly yielded, constantly made himself small.

 

To Bakugo, whose entire worldview was based on the absolute supremacy of strength and dominance, Izuku's pacifism was a personal insult. Bakugo saw Izuku's gentle nature not as kindness, but as pity. He believed Izuku was looking down on him, thinking that Bakugo was so weak that he wasn't even worth fighting back against.

 

"You listen to me, you overgrown lizard," Bakugo snarled, sparks popping from his palms. "You think you can just waltz into U.A.? You think you can stand in the same arena as me?"

 

"K-Kacchan, no!" Izuku waved his massive hands frantically, carefully making sure not to accidentally swat Bakugo off the desk. "I don't want to compete with you! I just... I want to try! It's always been my dream, you know that!"

 

"Your dream?" Bakugo barked a harsh laugh. "You think heroics is a fairytale? Look at yourself, Deku! You're a walking natural disaster! You don't have the spine to be a hero. You have all that power, and you're too much of a coward to use it! You think you're better than me because you hold back?!"

 

"No! That's not it at all!" Izuku pleaded, his large green eyes welling with tears. "I just don't want to hurt anyone, Kacchan!"

 

"THAT'S WHAT HEROES DO, IDIOT!" Bakugo roared, slamming another explosion onto Izuku's armored shoulder. Again, it did nothing but leave a smudge of soot on his scales. "Heroes hurt villains! They destroy the bad guys! You can't even stand up for yourself against me! You're a giant, useless Deku!"

 

Bakugo leaped off the desk, landing gracefully on the floor. He glared at Izuku one last time, his crimson eyes burning with a mixture of fury and complex frustration.

 

"Don't apply to U.A., Deku. If you show up to the entrance exam, I'll blow you to pieces."

 

Bakugo stalked back to his seat. The teacher, who had conveniently ignored the entire altercation, cleared his throat and resumed the lesson.

 

Izuku slowly lowered his arms. He wiped the soot off his shoulder with a heavy sigh. His chest ached, and not from the explosion.

 

Bakugo's words echoed in his head. You don't have the spine to be a hero.

 

Was he right? Izuku had the body of a monster, but the heart of a coward. Whenever violence erupted, his first instinct was to de-escalate, to protect, to shield. He hated the idea of using his overwhelming strength to crush someone, even a villain. He was terrified of his own power. He was terrified of crossing the line and becoming the monster everyone already thought he was.

 

He looked down at his massive, clawed hands.

 

Can someone like me... really become a hero?

 

 

 

The final bell of the day rang, signaling the end of classes. The students packed up quickly, eager to start their weekend. Izuku was always the last to leave. He meticulously packed his notebooks into his tiny yellow backpack, moving slowly to avoid accidentally tearing the paper.

 

He was just about to zip up his bag when a hand snatched his Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 13 notebook off his desk.

 

Izuku blinked, looking down. Bakugo stood there, tossing the notebook lightly in his hand. Two of Bakugo's lackeys stood behind him, smirking up at the giant.

 

"We're not done talking, Deku," Bakugo said, his voice dangerously low.

 

"Kacchan, please give that back," Izuku said softly, extending one massive, pleading hand. "That's my notebook."

 

"Hero Analysis for the Future?" Bakugo read the cover, sneering. "Are you kidding me? You really think taking notes on the pros is going to make you one?"

 

Before Izuku could react, Bakugo slammed his palms together, sandwiching the notebook.

 

BOOM.

 

The notebook was caught in a point-blank explosion. The covers charred black, the pages crisping and smoking.

 

"Ah!" Izuku gasped, his eyes wide in horror.

 

Bakugo casually tossed the ruined notebook out the open window.

 

"H-How could you?" Izuku whispered, his voice trembling. He didn't raise a hand. He didn't growl. He just looked at Bakugo with a heartbreaking expression of pure sorrow.

 

Bakugo's jaw clenched. That look. That pathetic, sad look on the face of a twelve-foot titan. It made Bakugo want to scream.

 

"Stop looking at me like that!" Bakugo snapped. "You're a giant! Act like it! Get mad! Hit me!"

 

Izuku just shook his head slowly. "No, Kacchan. I'm not going to hit you."

 

Bakugo growled in sheer frustration. "You make me sick, Deku. You're a waste of a good Quirk. Just give it up. If you want to be a hero so badly, maybe you should hope for a different Quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof!"

 

It was a cruel, vicious thing to say. Bakugo turned on his heel and marched out of the classroom, his lackeys trailing nervously behind him. "Damn, Bakugo, wasn't that a little harsh? What if the giant actually snaps and comes after you?" one of them whispered.

 

"He won't," Bakugo scoffed loudly, making sure Izuku heard him. "He's a spineless loser."

 

Izuku stood alone in the empty classroom. The silence was deafening. He felt a lump form in his throat. He slowly walked over to the window, ducking his head to look down at the courtyard. His notebook was floating in the small koi pond below, being nibbled on by the fish.

 

He let out a long, rumbling sigh that fogged the glass.

 

A few minutes later, Izuku retrieved the soggy, burnt notebook from the water. He carefully patted it dry with his massive fingers, wincing as a few charred pages crumbled away.

 

"Stupid fish... that's not food," he muttered sadly, tucking the ruined book into his pocket.

 

He began the long walk home. He didn't take the main streets this time. He was feeling too raw, too vulnerable, to deal with the stares and whispers of the public. Instead, he took a detour, walking through a series of shaded, narrow alleyways and underpasses. It was a tighter fit for his massive frame, requiring him to turn sideways occasionally, but it was quiet.

 

Maybe Kacchan is right, Izuku thought, his heavy tail dragging slightly on the pavement, creating a soft scraping sound. I have a villain's body. I scare people just by existing. I break things by accident. How can I be a symbol of peace when my very presence causes panic?

 

He paused, looking up at a faded billboard of All Might on the side of a building. The number one hero was striking his signature pose, laughing boldly into the face of danger.

 

All Might saves people with a smile. He makes them feel safe.

 

Izuku tried to mimic the smile. He bared his razor-sharp, flat teeth, his thick brow ridge contorting. He looked into a dirty puddle on the ground to see his reflection.

 

He didn't look reassuring. He looked like he was about to eat someone.

 

Izuku dropped the smile, his shoulders slumping. "It's no use..."

 

He approached a dark underpass beneath a major roadway. The shadows were thick here, the air smelling of stagnant water and mildew. Izuku hunched his shoulders and prepared to squeeze through.

 

Suddenly, he heard a strange, wet, squelching sound behind him.

 

He turned, his heavy boots grinding against the gravel.

 

From the manhole cover a few yards away, a massive puddle of dark, viscous green slime was bubbling and rising. It defied gravity, pooling upward and coalescing into a towering, shapeless mass. Two large, manic eyes and a jagged mouth formed in the sludge.

 

"A medium-sized invisibility cloak..." a wet, gargling voice hissed.

 

Izuku froze. His heart hammered against his ribs. A villain. A real villain, right here, right now.

 

The Sludge Villain paused, its manic eyes locking onto Izuku's towering, twelve-foot Vaxasaurian frame. The villain seemed to calculate Izuku's mass, taking in the dense musculature, the thick armored scales, the spiked tail.

 

"Wait... no," the villain's grin widened into something truly grotesque. "Not a cloak. A tank. Look at the size of you! With a body like that, I could crush that blonde bastard into paste! You'll be the perfect meat-suit, kid!"

 

Before Izuku could process what was happening, the Sludge Villain lunged.

 

A tidal wave of thick, foul-smelling slime crashed over Izuku. The sheer kinetic force of the impact made Izuku stumble backward, his claws carving deep grooves into the concrete as he braced himself.

 

"W-What are you doing?!" Izuku yelled, raising his massive arms to shield his face.

 

But the slime wasn't trying to punch him. It was trying to enter him. Thick tendrils of sludge slithered around his wrists, binding his arms to his sides. A massive glob of the substance shot forward, wrapping around Izuku's snout and forcing its way into his mouth and nostrils.

 

"Don't fight it, kid!" the villain cackled, his voice echoing from the liquid mass surrounding Izuku's head. "It'll only hurt for about 45 seconds! Then you won't feel a thing! Thanks for the vessel! You're my hero!"

 

Izuku's eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated terror. He couldn't breathe.

 

The slime was forcing its way down his throat, thick, tasting like sewage and rotting garbage. It burned his lungs. Panic set in. Pure, primal panic.

 

He thrashed wildly.

 

"Whoa, strong one, aren't you?" the villain grunted as Izuku's struggling shook the very foundations of the bridge above them. "Doesn't matter! You can't hit me! I'm fluid! Just go to sleep!"

 

Izuku's vision began to spot with black. He was suffocating. He was going to die here, in a dirty underpass, taken over by a villain. He would become the monster everyone thought he was. This villain would use his body to hurt people, to destroy the city. Kacchan had been right. He was useless.

 

No.

 

An image flashed in Izuku's mind. His mother, Inko, smiling softly, handing him a plate of pancakes. His mother, weeping in apologies when he was diagnosed with a mutant Quirk. His mother, who loved him despite the monster he appeared to be.

 

If I die here... who will protect Mom?

 

Izuku's eyes snapped open. The panic was still there, but it was suddenly eclipsed by something else. A spark of pure, undeniable survival instinct.

 

The Sludge Villain had made a massive miscalculation. He had assumed that because Izuku was a teenager, he would panic and succumb to asphyxiation within a minute like a normal human.

 

But Izuku was not a normal human. He was a Vaxasaurian.

 

His lungs were the size of industrial bellows, designed to oxygenate a massive, twelve-foot frame of pure muscle. And his raw, physical strength was not something to be bound by mere fluid tension.

 

Izuku planted his massive, digitigrade feet into the concrete. His claws shattered the pavement, anchoring him to the earth like an old-growth tree. He stopped thrashing.

 

"That's it, kid. Give up," the villain purred.

 

Izuku didn't give up. He focused.

 

He flexed his chest. The dense, corded muscles beneath his armored scales expanded with a terrifying sound, like thick ropes pulling taut under immense tension. The slime binding his chest began to bulge and stretch, groaning under the pressure.

 

Then, Izuku flexed his arms.

 

"What the—?!" the villain gasped.

 

With a guttural roar that rattled the windows of the buildings on the street above, Izuku ripped his arms free. The sheer brute force of his movement tore the slime tendrils apart, splattering them against the walls.

 

Izuku brought his massive hands up to his face. He didn't try to punch the villain. He knew that wouldn't work. Instead, he dug his thick, black claws into the mass of sludge covering his snout.

 

He gripped the villain tightly, the sludge squelching uselessly as it tried to slip through his fingers.

 

And then, Izuku inhaled.

 

He didn't just breathe. He drew in air with the force of a jet turbine. The suction was so immense that the sludge inside his throat was pulled backward, fighting against the villain's control. Izuku's massive chest expanded to an almost comical degree, his ribs pushing outward against his scales.

 

"Hey! Stop that! What kind of lung capacity is that?!" the villain shrieked in panic.

 

Izuku clamped his jaw shut, severing the connection between the slime in his throat and the main body outside. He swallowed the small amount in his throat—disgusting, but necessary—and then focused all his overwhelming physical power on his hands.

 

With a violent, twisting motion, Izuku literally ripped the main body of the Sludge Villain off his face.

 

"AAGH!" the villain screamed as its fluid form was stretched and torn by the terrifying physical strength of the dinosaur boy.

 

Izuku dropped to one knee, coughing violently. He sucked in massive, greedy lungfuls of fresh air.

 

"You little brat!" the Sludge Villain roared, reforming its mass a few feet away. "You think you can rip me apart?! I'll just go in through your ears!"

 

The villain lunged again, a tidal wave of green sludge rushing toward Izuku.

 

Izuku's instincts took over. He didn't think. He just reacted.

 

He planted his feet wide, pulled his arms back, and clapped his massive hands together with every ounce of physical strength he possessed in his base form.

 

CLAP!

 

It sounded like a cannon firing in an enclosed space. The concussive shockwave generated by the sheer mass and velocity of his hands meeting displaced the air with violent force. A miniature hurricane blasted forward, tearing the asphalt off the ground and slamming into the Sludge Villain.

 

The villain's fluid body was caught in the shockwave. "NOOOOO!" it screamed as the concussive force scattered its liquid form.

 

Splatter.

 

Thick globs of green slime hit the walls, the ceiling, and the ground, completely dispersed. The main body of the villain was reduced to a puddle of trembling, incoherent goo.

 

Izuku stood there, panting heavily, his massive chest rising and falling. His hands stung from the force of the clap. He stared down at the splattered remains of the villain.

 

I... I did it.

 

He hadn't needed a Pro Hero. He had survived. For the first time in his life, his monstrous body had actually saved him.

 

But the victory was short-lived.

 

Izuku stepped forward, intending to find a bottle or a container to scoop the villain into, just like he had seen pros do in his notebooks. But as he took a step, a sudden, blinding pain erupted in his chest. A massive coughing fit took hold of him, a delayed reaction to the toxic sludge he had swallowed and the violent strain on his lungs.

 

Izuku fell to his hands and knees, hacking and coughing loudly. His massive frame shook, his eyes watering. It felt like his throat was lined with sandpaper.

 

While Izuku was incapacitated, choking on his own ragged breaths, the scattered globs of sludge began to twitch.

 

Slowly, stealthily, the largest puddle of slime slid toward the edge of the underpass, dripping down into an open storm drain.

 

"I'll remember you, kid..." the villain hissed faintly from the grate, its voice weak but venomous. "You're a freak... but you ain't a hero..."

 

With a wet plop, the villain vanished into the sewers.

 

It took Izuku a full five minutes to recover. His coughing finally subsided, leaving him trembling and exhausted. He wiped his snout with the back of his massive hand and slowly stood up, his knees shaking slightly.

 

"I have... to catch him..." Izuku rasped, his voice sounding like two boulders grinding together.

 

He looked around the underpass. The walls were splattered with residue, the asphalt was cracked from his shockwave, but the main body of the villain was gone.

 

Izuku stared at the open storm drain. A cold chill ran down his spine, settling heavily in his gut.

 

He had let the villain get away.

 

Because he was weak. Because he couldn't handle a little bit of slime in his throat without breaking down into a coughing fit. He had fought back, yes, but he had failed to secure the threat.

 

And now, a villain that was desperate for a meat-suit, a villain that had just tried to kill him, was loose in the city.

 

He's going to find someone else, Izuku realized, his green eyes widening in horror. Someone smaller. Someone who can't rip him off. Someone who doesn't have the strength of a Vaxasaurian.

 

If someone died today because this villain took their body, it would be Izuku's fault.

 

Just then, a massive metallic CLANG echoed from the street above. A manhole cover flew into the air, spinning like a coin, before clattering onto the asphalt.

 

A towering figure dropped down into the underpass.

 

He was massive—not as tall as Izuku, perhaps standing at seven foot two—but his musculature was utterly absurd, bulging beneath a tight white T-shirt and cargo pants. He possessed a chiseled jawline, deep shadows over his eyes, and two massive tufts of blonde hair that stood up like rabbit ears.

 

"HAVE NO FEAR, CITIZEN!" the man boomed, his voice echoing with absolute authority and a radiant, booming joy. "FOR I AM—!"

 

The man froze, his legendary smile faltering slightly as he looked at the scene before him.

 

He saw cracked asphalt. He saw green slime plastered to the walls. And standing in the center of it all was a terrifying, twelve-foot-tall reptilian monster, panting heavily, looking like it had just unleashed a path of destruction.

 

Toshinori Yagi, known to the world as All Might, clenched his fist, preparing for a brutal fight against this massive villain.

 

Izuku froze, his heart stopping in his chest.

 

It was him. It was really him. The Number One Hero. The Symbol of Peace. All Might was standing right in front of him.

 

All Might took a step forward, his blue eyes narrowing, his muscles tensing. "VILLAIN! STAND DOWN AND SURRENDER!"

 

Izuku's jaw dropped. All Might thought he was a villain. Of course he did. He looked like a monster. He looked like the kind of creature All Might fought on a daily basis.

 

Panic, absolute and overwhelming, seized Izuku's brain. He raised his massive, clawed hands in a gesture of frantic surrender, his non-existent ears flattening against his head.

 

"N-No! Wait! I'm not a villain!" Izuku shrieked, his deep, rumbling voice cracking into a high-pitched, comical squeak that completely ruined his intimidating visage. "I'm a middle schooler! I'm a victim! The slime guy attacked me! I'm a huge fan! Please don't punch me, All Might, sir! I have a notebook!"

 

All Might paused, his fist suspended in mid-air. He blinked.

 

The terrifying, twelve-foot dinosaur monster was cowering, trembling like a frightened chihuahua, and rambling about middle school and autographs.

 

All Might slowly lowered his fist, his legendary smile returning, though it was now tinged with genuine confusion.

 

"A... middle schooler?" All Might asked, looking up at the towering beast.

 

Before Izuku could explain, a loud, concussive explosion echoed from the distance.

 

BOOM!

 

Both of them turned their heads toward the sound. A thick plume of black smoke began to rise over the skyline, coming from the direction of Tatooin Shopping District.

 

Another explosion followed, this one louder, rattling the street lamps.

 

Izuku recognized that sound. He recognized the specific, rhythmic cadence of those blasts. He had grown up flinching away from them.

 

Kacchan.

 

Izuku looked back at the storm drain, then at the smoke. The horrifying realization slammed into him with the force of a freight train.

 

The Sludge Villain had escaped through the sewers. The sewers that ran directly beneath the shopping district.

 

The villain had found a new vessel. A vessel with an incredibly powerful, explosive Quirk.

 

"The slime villain..." Izuku whispered, his massive hands curling into tight fists. "He got away. He's got someone."

 

All Might's expression darkened. He touched his side, where a hidden wound ached with agonizing pain. His time limit was running perilously low. But a hero didn't make excuses.

 

"STAY HERE, YOUNG MAN!" All Might commanded, bending his knees. "I WILL HANDLE THIS!"

 

With a mighty leap, All Might vanished, rocketing into the sky and leaving a crater in the asphalt behind him.

 

Izuku stood alone in the underpass.

 

He was safe. The number one hero was on the case. All Might would save Kacchan. All Izuku had to do was go home, eat his giant plate of dinner, and hide in his room like a good, gentle monster.

 

He took a step toward his apartment.

 

But his foot wouldn't move.

 

You have all that power, and you're too much of a coward to use it!

 

Kacchan's words echoed in his mind.

 

Izuku looked down at his massive, scaly hands. These hands had just ripped a villain apart through sheer force of will. These hands were strong enough to lift cars, shatter concrete, and move mountains.

 

He had always hated his body. He had always wanted to be smaller, softer, more human. He had spent his entire life apologizing for being strong.

 

But right now, his childhood friend was suffocating in the grip of a monster, entirely because Izuku hadn't been strong enough to finish the job.

 

Izuku turned around. He looked toward the rising column of black smoke.

 

For the first time in his life, Izuku Midoriya stopped trying to shrink himself down. He stood to his full, towering twelve-foot height. He rolled his massive shoulders, his thick tail thrashing behind him with newfound agitation.

 

His green eyes, usually wide and anxious, narrowed with a fierce, burning determination.

 

He wasn't going to hide. Not today.

 

With a thunderous, earth-shaking step, Izuku broke into a sprint toward the smoke.

 

The Gentle Titan was coming.

 

The pavement of Musutafu groaned under the rhythmic, concussive impacts of twelve-foot strides.

 

THUD. THUD. THUD.

 

Izuku Midoriya was running.

 

For a Vaxasaurian, running was not a quiet endeavor. It was a localized seismic event. Each time his massive, three-toed digitigrade feet struck the asphalt, spiderweb cracks bloomed beneath his soles. His thick, spiked tail whipped through the air behind him, acting as a heavy counterbalance that allowed him to lean forward and achieve terrifying momentum. The dense musculature of his thighs and calves corded and released with the power of industrial pistons.

 

He didn't want to cause damage. He actively tried to step lightly, trying to distribute his immense, multi-ton weight evenly across his footpads, but gravity and physics were unforgiving masters. He was a force of nature barreling down the street.

 

"Whoa! What the—?!" a pedestrian shrieked, diving behind a mailbox as Izuku blew past.

 

"Is it a villain attack?!" another yelled, shielding their face from the gust of wind generated by his passage.

 

Izuku heard them. His non-existent ears, represented by the sensitive auditory canals hidden beneath the thick ridges of his skull, picked up every gasp of fear, every panicked shout. Under normal circumstances, Izuku would have immediately stopped, shrunk into himself, and offered a thousand frantic, stuttered apologies, bowing so low his snout touched the pavement.

 

But not today.

 

Today, the sky ahead was stained with ugly, billowing clouds of black smoke. Today, the smell of sulfur, burning plastics, and the distinct, sharply sweet odor of caramelized nitroglycerin hung heavy in the air.

 

Kacchan.

 

The name echoed in Izuku’s mind, overriding his anxiety, overriding his social conditioning, overriding his lifelong fear of his own monstrous body.

 

Izuku knew that smell. He had grown up with it. It was the smell of Katsuki Bakugo’s sweat igniting. But the sheer volume of the scent, carried on the wind blocks away, meant Bakugo wasn't just showing off. He was fighting for his life. And he was fighting the very monster that Izuku had failed to stop.

 

It's my fault, Izuku thought, his heart hammering against his ribs like a war drum. I let him go. I was too weak. I couldn't handle it, and now he's got Kacchan. If Kacchan dies...

 

Izuku pushed his legs harder. His lungs—the massive, bellow-like organs that had just survived being filled with toxic sludge—burned with exertion. He rounded a corner, his heavy claws tearing gouges into the side of a brick building as he used the wall to bank his turn without losing speed.

 

He arrived at the Tatooin Shopping District.

 

The scene was pure, unadulterated chaos. A perimeter had been established, but it was barely holding. A massive crowd of onlookers pressed against yellow police tape, their faces illuminated by the flickering, hellish glow of a raging inferno. Several storefronts in a narrow shopping alley were engulfed in flames.

 

Izuku skidded to a halt on the edge of the crowd. He towered over the sea of civilians, giving him a perfect, unobstructed view of the disaster.

 

In the center of the alleyway, a horrific amalgamation of fluid green slime and violent, uncontrolled explosions writhed and thrashed. The Sludge Villain had grown massive, feeding on the panic and the explosive Quirk of its hostage.

 

And trapped within that churning, sickening mass of sewage was Katsuki Bakugo.

 

Only Bakugo’s face and one arm were visible. He was struggling like a wild animal, his teeth bared in a snarl of pure fury and terror. He was firing off explosions blindly, completely untethered, trying to blast himself free. But his Quirk was only making things worse. Every blast set another building on fire, shattering windows and sending shrapnel raining down onto the street. The explosions merely rippled through the villain's fluid body, causing no lasting damage.

 

Izuku’s breath caught in his throat. His massive hands gripped the brick wall of a nearby building, his claws inadvertently digging into the mortar.

 

Where are the heroes? Izuku thought frantically, his eyes darting around the perimeter.

 

They were there, but they were entirely paralyzed.

 

Izuku’s encyclopedic knowledge of Pro Heroes—honed by years of meticulous, obsessive note-taking—instantly analyzed the battlefield.

 

Death Arms, a hero with incredible physical strength, was standing near the police line, gritting his teeth in frustration. He relies on physical brawling, Izuku thought. But you can't punch a liquid. He’d just get his arms stuck.

 

Kamui Woods, the rising star who had arrested the shark villain earlier, was trying to reach the alley, but he was holding back. Wood and fire don't mix. The explosions and the burning buildings are keeping him at bay. If he uses his Lacquered Chain Prison, he’ll just catch fire and become a liability.

 

Backdraft, the water-based rescue hero, had his hands full simply trying to keep the flames from spreading to the civilian crowd. He didn't have the water pressure to blast the villain apart, nor could he abandon the fire suppression without risking hundreds of lives.

 

And then there was Mt. Lady.

 

The giantess hero was standing at the entrance to the shopping district, her hands on her hips, a look of profound annoyance on her face. "I need at least a two-lane road to operate in!" she complained, looking down at the narrow, claustrophobic alleyway. "If I go in there, I'll destroy the buildings and crush the hostage!"

 

Izuku stared at her, his massive heart sinking.

 

She's right, his analytical mind whispered. The alley is too narrow. A gigantification Quirk is useless here. The collateral damage would be catastrophic. If Mt. Lady can't fit... neither can I.

 

Izuku looked down at his own massive, twelve-foot frame. He was practically a small building himself. His shoulders were broader than a car. His tail was long and heavy. If he tried to run into that alley, he would knock over the street lamps, crush the signs, and potentially bring the burning facades of the buildings crashing down onto Bakugo.

 

I'm too big, Izuku thought, a familiar, crushing wave of despair washing over him. I'm too clumsy. I'm a liability. Just like everyone always says.

 

"It's no good!" Death Arms shouted over the roar of the flames, confirming Izuku’s worst fears. "None of us have the right Quirks for this! We have to wait for someone with a specialized Quirk to show up! Just focus on damage control until then!"

 

Wait? Izuku's eyes snapped back to the center of the alley.

 

Bakugo’s explosions were getting weaker. The fiery blasts that usually carried the concussive force of a mortar shell were degrading into sputtering sparks. The sludge was creeping higher, covering Bakugo’s mouth, sliding into his nostrils.

 

The Sludge Villain noticed the heroes holding back. His manic, liquid eyes widened in a sickening grin. "That's right! Just sit there and watch! This kid's power is unbelievable! Once I fully take over his nervous system, I'll be unstoppable! And you heroes can't do a damn thing about it!"

 

Bakugo’s crimson eyes darted around frantically. The arrogance, the superiority, the unshakeable confidence that defined Katsuki Bakugo had completely vanished.

 

In that fleeting second, through the smoke and the flames, across the sea of helpless civilians and paralyzed Pro Heroes, Katsuki Bakugo’s eyes locked onto Izuku Midoriya’s.

 

It was just a glance. A fraction of a second.

 

But Izuku saw it.

 

Bakugo wasn't glaring. He wasn't sneering.

 

He was pleading.

 

He was suffocating. He was terrified. He was dying.

 

Something inside Izuku Midoriya snapped.

 

It wasn't a conscious decision. There was no rational thought process, no weighing of the pros and cons, no risk assessment regarding property damage or the legality of unlicensed Quirk usage.

 

There was only the overwhelming, primal, undeniable imperative of a true hero: Save him.

 

Before his brain could even register what his body was doing, Izuku moved.

 

"Hey! What are you doing?!" a police officer screamed as a massive, brown, scaly blur suddenly shoved past the barricade.

 

Izuku burst through the crowd. He didn't trample anyone; despite his chaotic charge, he possessed a terrifying spatial awareness born from years of trying not to bump into people. He waded through the sea of humans like a giant moving through tall grass, his massive hands gently but firmly sweeping civilians aside.

 

"What is that thing?!"

 

"Is it a villain?!"

 

"Look at the size of it!"

 

The Pro Heroes turned in shock. Death Arms stepped forward, raising his fists. "Hey! Stop right there, you big freak! This is a restricted—"

 

Izuku didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. He lowered his thick, armored shoulder and simply bulldozed past Death Arms. The sheer disparity in mass was laughable; the Pro Hero was spun around like a top, completely unable to halt the twelve-foot titan's momentum.

 

"Wait, you idiot! You'll bring the buildings down!" Mt. Lady shrieked, reaching out to grab him, but Izuku was already past her, diving straight into the blazing alleyway.

 

The heat was instantaneous and oppressive. The flames licked at his Vaxasaurian scales, the temperature hot enough to melt standard asphalt. But Izuku barely felt it. His leathery hide was incredibly thick, evolved to withstand extreme environmental hazards. The fire merely felt like a hot summer day to his reptilian biology.

 

However, Mt. Lady’s warning rang in his head. The buildings.

 

The alley was too narrow. Izuku’s shoulders scraped against the brick walls on either side. Debris from Bakugo's explosions littered the path—fallen signs, shattered concrete, twisted metal grates.

 

Izuku didn't panic. His analytical mind, which had spent years studying hero tactics, suddenly fused flawlessly with his monstrous physical instincts.

 

I can't run wildly. I have to control my mass.

 

Instead of swinging his arms, Izuku tucked them tightly against his chest, making himself as narrow as possible. He dropped his center of gravity, lowering his head and pointing his blunt, heavily armored snout forward. He used his thick tail not just for balance, but as a rudder, guiding his massive frame through the labyrinth of debris.

 

When a fallen steel beam blocked his path, he didn't smash it aside. He simply stepped on it, his multi-ton weight flattening it into the pavement instantly, clearing the road without sending shrapnel flying.

 

He's... he's not destroying anything, Death Arms realized, watching in stunned silence from the perimeter. He's navigating a tight zone with the precision of a thread through a needle, despite his size!

 

Izuku reached the center of the inferno.

 

The Sludge Villain looked down, its manic grin faltering as the towering, twelve-foot dinosaur loomed over it.

 

"YOU?!" the villain shrieked, the sludge bubbling in pure, unadulterated rage. "You again?! You little brat! I'll drown you this time!"

 

The villain whipped two massive, blade-like tendrils of compressed sludge toward Izuku’s face.

 

Izuku didn't flinch. He didn't dodge. He simply lowered his head.

 

SMASH! SMASH!

 

The sludge blades struck the thick, reinforced bone ridge of Izuku’s brow. The impact was entirely absorbed by his Vaxasaurian skull. The slime splattered harmlessly against his brown scales. Izuku didn't even blink.

 

"W-What?!" the villain gasped.

 

Izuku reached out. He plunged his massive, clawed hands directly into the churning mass of sludge.

 

"Deku...?" Bakugo choked out, his eyes wide with shock and humiliation as the giant, terrifying face of his childhood punching bag hovered over him.

 

"Kacchan!" Izuku roared, his deep voice shaking the burning alley. "I've got you!"

 

Izuku's massive fingers clamped down around Bakugo’s shoulders. He tried to pull, to rip Bakugo out of the slime just as he had ripped the slime off his own face earlier.

 

But the villain had learned.

 

"Oh no you don't!" the Sludge Villain hissed.

 

The slime suddenly hardened around Bakugo, changing its viscosity to act like a Chinese finger trap. The more Izuku pulled, the tighter the sludge gripped Bakugo's torso.

 

"GAAH!" Bakugo screamed in pain as the pressure threatened to crush his ribs.

 

Izuku instantly stopped pulling. If I use my full strength, I'll rip Kacchan in half! I can't just pull him out!

 

"Hahaha! See?!" the villain cackled. "You've got all that muscle, you big dumb freak, but you can't use it! You punch me, you crush the kid! You pull him, you tear him apart! You're useless!"

 

Izuku froze. His massive hands, capable of lifting tanks, were completely impotent. The villain was right. His strength was useless here. He was just a giant, clumsy brute who couldn't—

 

Wait.

 

Izuku’s eyes widened. A memory flashed through his mind. A memory from exactly thirty minutes ago, in a dark underpass.

 

How did I defeat him before? Izuku thought, his mind racing at superhuman speeds. I didn't punch him. I didn't grab him. I changed the environment. I used physics.

 

Izuku looked down at the Sludge Villain. Then, he looked at his own massive, leathery hands, still gripping Bakugo's shoulders.

 

He knew exactly what to do.

 

"Kacchan," Izuku rumbled, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a tone of absolute, unshakeable command that Bakugo had never, ever heard from him before. "Close your eyes. Hold your breath. And brace yourself."

 

Bakugo, too stunned to argue, instinctively squeezed his eyes shut and locked his jaw.

 

Izuku let go of Bakugo.

 

"Giving up?" the villain laughed. "Good! Now back off before I—"

 

Izuku didn't back off. Instead, he took a step back, planting his massive, digitigrade feet firmly into the cracking asphalt. He widened his stance, anchoring his multi-ton weight to the earth.

 

He pulled his arms back, stretching them as wide as the narrow alleyway would allow. His massive chest expanded as he sucked in a colossal breath. The corded muscles in his arms, chest, and back bulged, the scales shifting and groaning under the immense physiological tension.

 

He channeled every single ounce of his Vaxasaurian strength, every fiber of his being, into his arms.

 

"What are you—?!" the villain started.

 

Izuku swung his arms forward.

 

He didn't aim for the villain. He aimed slightly above and in front of the sludge mass, ensuring Bakugo was out of the direct line of impact.

 

His massive palms collided.

 

THOOOOOM!

 

The sound was apocalyptic. It was not a clap; it was the detonation of a sonic bomb. The air between his massive, leathery hands was compressed and expelled with such violent, concussive force that it created a visible, rippling shockwave.

 

The physics were brutally simple. An object of immense mass and density, moving at terrifying speed, instantly displacing a localized pocket of air.

 

The shockwave blasted forward like a hurricane-force wall of wind.

 

It hit the Sludge Villain like a freight train.

 

Because the villain was fluid, the concussive pressure didn't just push him; it violently dispersed him. The sheer aerodynamic force ripped the slime apart on a molecular level.

 

"GYYYAAAAAHHHHH!" the villain shrieked as his body was literally blown away, splattering into a thousand tiny, harmless droplets against the brick walls and the pavement.

 

The shockwave didn't stop there.

 

The blast of wind swept through the alleyway, completely starving the roaring fires of oxygen. In a single, massive gust, the raging inferno that had paralyzed the Pro Heroes was snuffed out like a birthday candle.

 

Silence descended over the Tatooin Shopping District.

 

The smoke cleared.

 

In the center of the devastated alleyway, Katsuki Bakugo dropped to his knees, coughing violently, covered in a thin, harmless layer of scattered slime. He was completely free.

 

Standing over him, his massive arms still outstretched from the clap, was Izuku Midoriya. He was panting heavily, steam rising from his overheated Vaxasaurian scales.

 

The crowd of civilians was dead silent. The Pro Heroes were frozen in shock, their jaws practically hitting the floor.

 

A twelve-foot-tall teenager had just effortlessly navigated a hazard zone, neutralized a hostage situation, defeated a villain, and extinguished a class-three fire... all with a single clap of his hands.

 

Somewhere in the crowd, a tall, gaunt man with messy blonde hair and sunken blue eyes was clutching a bleeding wound on his side. Toshinori Yagi stared at the massive, brown titan in the alleyway.

 

He... he analyzed the situation, All Might thought, his heart pounding with a feeling he hadn't experienced in years. He realized his size was a danger, so he minimized his footprint. He realized physical force would harm the hostage, so he used a concussive air pressure attack to disperse the fluid body safely. He didn't just act on instinct. He acted with incredible, tactical brilliance.

 

All Might’s grip on his shirt tightened.

 

He has the body of a monster... but the mind and heart of a true hero.

 

 

 

The aftermath was a blur of flashing sirens, shouting police officers, and angry Pro Heroes.

 

Once the initial shock wore off, the reality of the situation set in. The sludge villain was quickly scooped up into containment bottles by the authorities. Paramedics rushed in to check on Bakugo.

 

And Izuku Midoriya was backed into a corner by a furious group of Pro Heroes.

 

Izuku had completely reverted to his usual, timid self. The towering, intimidating titan who had just commanded the battlefield was gone, replaced by a twelve-foot teenager who was hunching his shoulders, tucking his tail between his legs, and sweating profusely.

 

"Do you have any idea how reckless that was?!" Death Arms shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Izuku’s chest. "You're lucky you didn't collapse the buildings with that wind blast! You could have killed the hostage!"

 

"I-I'm sorry!" Izuku squeaked, his massive claws nervously twiddling together. "I calculated the wind pressure! I aimed slightly above the target zone to ensure the lateral force wouldn't cause structural failure to the surrounding brickwork, and—"

 

"I don't care about your calculations!" Kamui Woods interrupted sternly. "You used your Quirk illegally! You're a civilian! Leave the hero work to the professionals. With a mutation that destructive, you're a walking hazard if you don't have a license!"

 

"Y-Yes, sir. I'm very sorry, sir," Izuku bowed repeatedly, his snout almost touching the pavement.

 

On the other side of the alley, Bakugo was being praised by the paramedics and other heroes.

 

"That's an incredible Quirk you have there, kid!" a police officer said, patting Bakugo’s shoulder. "To hold out that long against a villain like that? You're going to be an amazing Pro Hero one day!"

 

Bakugo didn't answer. He sat on the back of an ambulance, a towel draped over his shoulders. His crimson eyes were locked onto Izuku.

 

Bakugo watched as the giant, powerful titan who had just saved his life was scolded like a disobedient puppy. He watched Izuku shrink back, apologize, and accept the verbal abuse without a single word of defiance.

 

Bakugo’s hands clenched into fists in his lap, trembling slightly. The emotion swirling in his chest was a toxic cocktail of humiliation, anger, confusion, and something he refused to acknowledge as gratitude.

 

He had been weak. He had been helpless. And the one person who had saved him was the person he had tormented for years. The person he had told to take a swan dive off a roof just hours earlier.

 

Deku hadn't hesitated. He hadn't gloated. He had just charged into the fire.

 

Bakugo looked away, gritting his teeth so hard they felt like they would crack.

 

Eventually, the heroes finished their lecture. Izuku was given a stern warning and told to go home.

 

The sun was beginning to set, casting long, dramatic orange shadows over the streets of Musutafu as Izuku began his slow walk back to his apartment.

 

His massive shoulders were slumped. His tail dragged heavily on the ground.

 

Despite having saved a life, despite having defeated a villain, he felt entirely defeated.

 

The heroes were right, Izuku thought miserably, staring down at his large, scaly feet. I was reckless. I could have hurt Kacchan. I'm just too big. My Quirk is too dangerous for rescue work. I'm a bulldozer trying to do a surgeon's job. Kacchan's the one with the amazing Quirk. He's the one who's going to be a hero.

 

He let out a long, rumbling sigh that rattled the windows of a nearby parked car.

 

"DEKU!"

 

The sharp, angry shout made Izuku flinch. He turned around slowly.

 

Katsuki Bakugo was jogging down the street behind him, his school uniform singed and smelling of smoke. He stopped a few feet away, panting slightly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

 

Izuku blinked. "K-Kacchan? Should you really be out of the hospital? The paramedics said—"

 

"Shut up!" Bakugo barked, his face flushed with anger.

 

Izuku instantly fell silent, bracing himself for an explosion.

 

But the explosion never came. Instead, Bakugo glared up at Izuku, his crimson eyes burning with intense, complicated frustration.

 

"Listen to me, you giant idiot," Bakugo snarled, pointing a finger up at Izuku's snout. "I didn't need your help. Got it?! I was fine! I had that sludge bastard right where I wanted him! I was just about to blow him to kingdom come!"

 

Izuku knew that was a lie. He had seen the terror in Bakugo’s eyes. But he didn't point it out. He just nodded slowly. "I know, Kacchan."

 

"You didn't do anything! You didn't save me!" Bakugo continued, his voice cracking slightly. "Don't you dare think this changes anything! You're still a Quirk-wasting, cowardly Deku! You think you can look down on me just because you clapped your hands?! I'm the one going to U.A.! I'm the one who's gonna be number one! Not you!"

 

Bakugo stood there for a second, breathing heavily, as if waiting for Izuku to argue back. To finally use his massive size to intimidate him.

 

But Izuku just looked at him with those large, gentle green eyes. "I know, Kacchan. I'm just... I'm really glad you're okay."

 

Bakugo’s eye twitched. He let out a frustrated growl, turned on his heel, and stomped away down the street, not looking back.

 

Izuku watched him go. He smiled sadly. That's Kacchan for you. I guess he's back to normal.

 

Izuku turned back around to continue his walk home.

 

"I AM HERE!"

 

A massive figure suddenly shot out from a side alley, landing directly in Izuku’s path with a dramatic flourish.

 

Izuku yelped, jumping backward with a heavy thud that shook the street. He recognized the towering, muscular physique, the bright blue and red costume, and the signature golden hair instantly.

 

"All Might?!" Izuku gasped, his jaw dropping. "W-What are you doing here?! How did you get away from the reporters?!"

 

All Might stood tall, flashing his legendary, blinding smile. "HAHAHA! Escaping the press is a piece of cake for the Symbol of Peace! Why, I simply leaped over—!"

 

Suddenly, All Might froze. His face contorted.

 

POOF.

 

A massive cloud of steam exploded from the number one hero's body.

 

Izuku shielded his eyes, waving his large hands to clear the smoke. When the air cleared, All Might was gone.

 

In his place stood a skeletal, gaunt man in comically oversized clothes. He looked sickly, coughing up a small puddle of blood onto the pavement.

 

Izuku stared. He rubbed his eyes with his massive claws. He stared again.

 

"EHHHHH?!" Izuku screamed, his voice reaching a pitch that shouldn't have been physically possible for a Vaxasaurian. "Wh-Where did All Might go?! Who are you?! Did you eat him?!"

 

The skeletal man sighed, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "Calm down, kid. I didn't eat anyone. I am All Might."

 

Izuku’s brain short-circuited. "N-No you're not! All Might is huge! He's muscular! He doesn't look like a... a..."

 

"A deflated pool float?" All Might offered dryly. He pulled up his oversized T-shirt, revealing a horrific, jagged scar that covered the entire left side of his chest and stomach. The skin was twisted and sunk deeply inward.

 

Izuku gasped, his eyes widening in horror.

 

"I got this in a big fight five years ago," All Might explained, his voice losing its booming theatricality, replaced by a quiet, somber tone. "My respiratory system was nearly destroyed, and I lost my whole stomach. After all the surgeries, I can only do hero work for about three hours a day. The rest of the time... I look like this."

 

Izuku processed the information slowly. His encyclopedic brain raced through the timeline. "Five years ago... was it the fight with Toxic Chainsaw?"

 

"Wow, you know your stuff," All Might chuckled softly. "But no, that punk couldn't bring me down. This fight was kept under wraps to prevent mass panic. The Symbol of Peace cannot be seen as vulnerable."

 

All Might leaned against a nearby streetlight, looking up at the towering, twelve-foot dinosaur standing before him.

 

"I'm telling you this, Young Midoriya, because I need you to understand the reality of what it means to be a hero. And because... I need to apologize."

 

Izuku blinked, pointing a massive claw at himself. "A-Apologize to me?"

 

"Earlier today, in that underpass," All Might said, looking Izuku directly in the eyes. "When I saw you, I made an assumption based on your appearance. I saw a giant, intimidating creature, and I assumed you were a villain. I didn't see the frightened middle schooler underneath. I profiled you, just like society profiles so many with mutant-type Quirks. For that, I am deeply sorry."

 

All Might bowed his head.

 

Izuku was entirely flustered. The number one hero in the world was apologizing to him. He waved his hands frantically. "N-No! It's okay! Really! I'm used to it! I look scary, I know I do! It's fine!"

 

"It is not fine," All Might said firmly, raising his head. "And what happened in the alleyway today proved exactly how wrong I was."

 

All Might took a step closer. Despite being a fraction of Izuku's size and looking incredibly frail, the aura he projected commanded absolute respect.

 

"The Pro Heroes out there today... myself included... we made excuses. We said the alley was too narrow. We said we didn't have the right Quirks. We stood there and watched that young man slowly suffocate because we were afraid of the risks."

 

All Might pointed a bony finger squarely at Izuku’s massive chest.

 

"But you... you didn't have the right Quirk either. You were too big. You were a walking hazard. By all logic, you should have stayed out of it. But your legs moved on their own, didn't they?"

 

Izuku gasped, his green eyes widening.

 

"Top heroes have stories about them from their school days," All Might continued, his voice building with quiet intensity. "Most of their stories have one thing in common: their bodies moved before they had a chance to think."

 

Tears, thick and heavy, began to well up in Izuku’s eyes.

 

"You ran into that fire," All Might said. "And you didn't just smash everything in sight. I saw what you did. You tucked your arms. You used your tail to navigate. You controlled your incredible mass to protect the civilians, and you used a non-lethal, concussive pressure wave to defeat a villain you couldn't touch. You fought with the strength of a titan, but the tactical restraint of a master."

 

Izuku’s lower lip trembled. The tears spilled over, tracing tracks down his brown scales.

 

"Young Midoriya," All Might said, offering a gentle, genuine smile. "You can become a hero."

 

Those words.

 

Those were the words Izuku had waited his entire life to hear. He had wanted his mother to say them. He had wanted Kacchan to say them. He had wanted the world to say them. But coming from All Might, they carried a weight that completely shattered Izuku’s emotional dam.

 

Izuku Midoriya dropped to his knees. The impact sent a tremor through the sidewalk. He buried his massive, scaly face in his hands and sobbed.

 

He didn't just cry. He wept with the sheer volume and intensity of a Vaxasaurian. Comically massive streams of tears erupted from his eyes, hitting the pavement with the force of a garden hose.

 

"Woah, hey, careful!" All Might yelped, side-stepping to avoid being washed away by the deluge of tears.

 

"I-I'm s-sorry!" Izuku wailed, his voice a distorted, booming rumble of pure emotion. "I just... I'm just so happy!"

 

All Might waited patiently for the earthquake-inducing sobs to subside. Eventually, Izuku wiped his face with the back of his arm, sniffling loudly.

 

"I deem you worthy," All Might declared, his tone turning serious once more. "Worthy of inheriting my power."

 

Izuku stopped sniffling. He stared at All Might, entirely perplexed. "H-Huh? Inheriting your power?"

 

"Haha! Look at that face!" All Might laughed, pointing at Izuku's utterly bewildered expression. "It's a proposal! The true nature of my Quirk is a closely guarded secret. The media calls it super strength, or a physical enhancement. But it's not something I was born with. It is a sacred torch, passed down from one person to the next."

 

All Might raised his hand, opening his palm. "My Quirk is called One For All. One person cultivates the power, and passes it to another, who cultivates it further. It is a crystallization of power, spun together by the voices of those who cry out for help, and the courageous hearts that answer them."

 

Izuku’s analytical brain immediately kicked into overdrive. "A transferable Quirk? That defies all known biological laws regarding Quirk genetics. If it's true, it means Quirk factors can be externally grafted onto existing DNA. But wait, if you pass it on, what happens to you? And why me? There are thousands of Pro Heroes with better foundational skills and..."

 

"Stop muttering! Your voice is vibrating my teeth!" All Might groaned, covering his ears.

 

Izuku slapped a hand over his mouth, blushing profusely under his scales.

 

"I have been searching for a successor for a long time," All Might said softly. "I considered many students. I considered Pro Heroes. But then I saw you. A young man who society views as a monster, who possesses incredible, overwhelming physical power, yet refuses to use it for anything other than absolute necessity. You have the ultimate restraint, Young Midoriya. You know the weight of power."

 

All Might looked up at Izuku’s towering frame.

 

"One For All requires a strong vessel. Most normal humans would explode if they tried to take on my power without months of intensive physical conditioning. Their limbs would shatter. But you..." All Might grinned, eyeing Izuku’s dense, Vaxasaurian musculature and thick, armored scales. "You are already a fortress. Your body is uniquely suited to handle the immense backlash of One For All. If we combine the raw, kinetic output of my Quirk with the impenetrable durability of your Vaxasaurian biology... you won't just be the next Symbol of Peace. You will be an unstoppable force for good."

 

Izuku looked down at his hands.

 

His whole life, he had viewed his massive body as a curse. A liability. Something that made him a freak, a bulldozer, a monster.

 

But All Might saw it differently. All Might saw his body as a gift. A vessel capable of holding the greatest power in the world. A shield that could protect everyone.

 

Izuku looked back up at All Might. The fear, the anxiety, the self-doubt that usually clouded his green eyes was gone, burned away by the radiant light of All Might's belief in him.

 

Izuku didn't hesitate. He didn't stutter.

 

"I accept," Izuku said, his deep voice ringing with absolute, unshakeable conviction.

 

"No reluctance! I like that!" All Might beamed. "However, the U.A. Entrance Exam is in exactly ten months. Even with your impressive physique, One For All is incredibly volatile. I need to make sure you have the fine motor control and the cardiovascular endurance to handle the transfer, otherwise, you might still blow your arms off!"

 

Izuku gulped, his eyes widening slightly. "B-Blow my arms off?"

 

"Just a possibility! Haha!" All Might coughed up another small speck of blood. "Meet me at Takoba Municipal Beach Park tomorrow at 6:00 AM sharp! We begin your training!"

 

"Yes, sir!" Izuku saluted, standing up straight. He was so excited he accidentally flexed, his tail whipping behind him and cleanly snapping a metal stop sign clean in half.

 

Izuku froze. He looked at the broken sign on the ground. He looked at All Might.

 

"I... I can weld that back together," Izuku whispered.

 

All Might sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We're going to work on spatial awareness first."

 

As All Might walked away, blending into the shadows of the evening, Izuku Midoriya stood alone on the street.

 

He looked up at the stars beginning to prick through the twilight sky. He clenched his massive hand into a fist, feeling the dense, powerful muscles in his forearm flex.

 

He was going to U.A. High School. He was going to inherit the power of the Symbol of Peace.

 

He was going to show the world that a monster could be a hero.

 

The air at Takoba Municipal Beach Park smelled of salt, rusted iron, and decay. The early morning mist clung to the towering mountains of illegally dumped garbage, casting long, eerie shadows across the sand.

 

It was 6:00 AM, precisely ten months before the U.A. High School Entrance Exam.

 

Izuku Midoriya stood at the top of the concrete stairs leading down to the beach, his massive twelve-foot frame clad in a custom-made, heavily reinforced gray tracksuit. The fabric stretched tightly over his corded, Vaxasaurian muscles. His thick, spiked tail rested on the steps behind him, thumping nervously against the concrete.

 

"I am here!" a booming voice echoed over the crashing waves.

 

Izuku looked down to see All Might, in his fully powered muscle form, standing atop a rusted-out refrigerator. The Number One Hero struck a heroic pose, pointing a massive finger toward the horizon as the sun began to peek over the ocean.

 

"Good morning, All Might, sir!" Izuku rumbled politely, making his way down the stairs. The concrete groaned under his immense weight.

 

All Might leaped down from the fridge, landing softly in the sand. With a plume of steam, his muscular form vanished, replaced by the skeletal, gaunt figure of Toshinori Yagi. He coughed lightly, pulling out a sheaf of papers from his oversized pocket.

 

"Good morning, Young Midoriya," Toshinori said, smiling warmly. "Welcome to your training ground."

 

Izuku blinked, his large green eyes scanning the horizon. The beach was completely invisible. From the seawall to the water's edge, it was a solid landscape of broken appliances, rotting tires, rusted car chassis, and twisted metal. It looked less like a beach and more like the aftermath of an apocalyptic earthquake.

 

"It's... really dirty," Izuku noted, his deep voice vibrating in his chest.

 

"Indeed!" Toshinori said, holding up the papers. "This is Takoba Municipal Beach. For years, the ocean currents have washed debris ashore, and illegal dumpers have taken advantage of it. The city has given up on it. But we haven't!"

 

Toshinori shoved the papers into Izuku's massive, clawed hands. Because of the size disparity, Toshinori had to reach up to Izuku's chest height just to hand them over. Izuku delicately pinched the packet between his thumb and index finger, squinting at the tiny font.

 

"The Aim to Pass: American Dream Plan!" Toshinori announced proudly. "A meticulously calculated workout regimen designed to push your body to its absolute limits, allowing you to become a suitable vessel for One For All! Over the next ten months, you are going to clean this entire beach!"

 

Izuku looked at the papers, then at the mountains of trash, and then down at his own massive, heavily armored body.

 

"Cleaning the beach," Izuku muttered, his analytical brain immediately running the numbers. "Okay. Physical labor to build muscle mass, increase cardiovascular endurance, and acclimate the body to sustained heavy lifting. For a standard human, this would be a grueling, transformative ordeal. But..."

 

"No buts, Young Midoriya!" Toshinori interrupted, coughing up a tiny speck of blood. "I know you already have a formidable physique, but One For All is the accumulated power of eight generations of heroes! It is a torrential wave of pure kinetic energy! If your body isn't pushed to its absolute breaking point in preparation, your limbs will still shatter from the backlash! We must temper your muscles!"

 

"Right. Temper the muscles," Izuku said, nodding slowly. "Um... where should I start?"

 

Toshinori pointed to the rusted-out refrigerator he had been standing on earlier. "Start with that! It's filled with waterlogged sand and scrap metal. It must weigh at least five hundred pounds! Haul it to the designated drop-off zone by the road!"

 

"Yes, sir," Izuku said obediently.

 

He lumbered over to the refrigerator. He didn't bend his knees or brace his core. He simply reached down with one hand, pinched the top of the rusted appliance between his massive thumb and index claw, and lifted it.

 

The refrigerator came off the sand as easily as a normal person lifting an empty soda can.

 

Izuku didn't even flex. His breathing didn't change. He held the five-hundred-pound, sand-filled appliance dangling from his fingers, looking at All Might with a slightly confused, highly apologetic expression.

 

Toshinori blinked. He rubbed his sunken eyes. "Ah."

 

"Should I... throw it, sir?" Izuku asked gently. "Or carry it?"

 

"O-Okay, well, that's just a fridge," Toshinori stammered, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe his brow. "Let's try something heavier! See that rusted pickup truck half-buried in the sand? That's easily two tons of dead weight! Try pulling that!"

 

Izuku set the fridge down delicately, careful not to crush it. He waded through the trash, his massive legs effortlessly kicking aside washing machines and microwave ovens. He reached the rusted pickup truck. He wrapped his thick, leathery hands around the front bumper.

 

This time, Izuku did brace his legs, digging his digitigrade claws into the sand. He gave a gentle pull.

 

With a horrific screech of tearing metal, the entire front bumper, engine block, and front axle ripped cleanly off the chassis. Izuku stumbled backward with a startled yelp, holding half a truck in his hands.

 

"Oh no! I broke it!" Izuku panicked, his ears flattening against his head. "I'm so sorry, All Might! I applied too much localized pressure to a structurally compromised frame! I should have lifted from the center of gravity—!"

 

Toshinori stared at the twelve-foot teenager holding two tons of twisted metal like a child holding a broken toy.

 

The American Dream Plan fluttered out of Toshinori's hand, landing in the sand.

 

"Young Midoriya," Toshinori said slowly, his voice completely flat. "Exactly how strong are you?"

 

Izuku set the engine block down, blushing beneath his brown scales. "Um... well, my pediatrician, Dr. Tsubasa, estimated that my base Vaxasaurian physiology allows me to comfortably lift about twenty tons before experiencing any real muscular strain. If I push myself, or if I trigger my growth response... it's a lot more."

 

Toshinori stared at him in profound silence. Twenty tons. Comfortably. Without One For All.

 

I am an idiot, Toshinori thought, dragging a hand down his skeletal face. I looked at a twelve-foot dinosaur and thought, 'Yes, let's make him do some heavy lifting.' He's not a normal teenager. He's a biological siege engine.

 

"All Might?" Izuku asked nervously, his tail drooping. "Did I fail the training?"

 

"No, no, my boy," Toshinori sighed, a small smile creeping onto his face. "You didn't fail. I simply miscalculated. I was trying to train a tank like it was a sports car. Cleaning this beach won't build your muscles. It would just be a mild inconvenience to your schedule."

 

Toshinori walked over to the discarded American Dream Plan, picked it up, and dramatically tore it in half.

 

"We are changing tactics," Toshinori announced, his blue eyes flashing with a sharp, terrifying intensity that made Izuku gulp. "Your body is already a fortress. It is more than capable of housing One For All without exploding. But that introduces a much more terrifying problem."

 

"What problem?" Izuku asked.

 

"Control," Toshinori said gravely. "If a normal human inherits One For All and uses one hundred percent of its power, they break their arm and create a massive gust of wind. But you... your base strength acts as a multiplier. If you use one hundred percent of One For All behind a punch that can already shatter a building... the resulting shockwave won't just break your arm. It will level the entire city block."

 

Izuku's green eyes widened in horror. "L-Level a city block?!"

 

"Exactly," Toshinori nodded. "You have the power of a natural disaster tucked inside your DNA, Young Midoriya. Add my Quirk to that, and you become a walking apocalypse if you aren't careful. Therefore, we are not going to train your strength. We are going to train your finesse, your agility, and your absolute, unbreakable control over your own body."

 

All Might pointed a bony finger at Izuku. "For the next ten months, you are not going to be a Humungousaur. You are going to be a ninja."

 

 

 

The training regimen that followed was, in many ways, far more agonizing for Izuku than purely physical labor.

 

It started with an overhaul of his diet. A Vaxasaurian required roughly 25,000 calories a day just to maintain mass, especially during adolescence. To fund this, All Might secretly provided Inko Midoriya with a generous "U.A. preparatory scholarship grant," completely alleviating her financial stress. Izuku's meals consisted of massive quantities of lean meats, vegetables, and complex carbohydrates, served in mixing bowls.

 

But it was the physical exercises at the beach that truly tested his sanity.

 

"Again!" Toshinori barked, standing on top of a rusted car with a bucket of golf balls.

 

Thwack!

 

Toshinori threw a golf ball straight at Izuku's face.

 

Izuku, standing fifty feet away in the sand, his massive frame hunched defensively, snapped his arm up. His massive, three-fingered hand closed around the projectile.

 

CRUNCH.

 

A small puff of white dust erupted from between his claws.

 

Izuku opened his hand, staring sadly at the pulverized remains of the golf ball. "I squeezed too hard again."

 

"Seventy-three destroyed, zero caught cleanly," Toshinori sighed, marking a clipboard. "Young Midoriya, you are anticipating the impact and bracing your muscles! You must relax! Your scales are tough enough to stop a bullet; a golf ball won't hurt you. You need to catch it like you are catching a fragile egg! Try again!"

 

Thwack! Another ball flew through the air.

 

Izuku focused entirely on his fingertips, trying to suppress his natural reptilian reflex to crush whatever entered his grip. He snatched at the air, closing his fingers gently.

 

The ball hit his palm, bounced off the tough scales, and fell into the sand.

 

"Better!" Toshinori cheered. "Now, try doing that while balancing!"

 

Over the next few months, Takoba Beach transformed into a bizarre obstacle course of precision.

 

By month three, Izuku was no longer allowed to just pick up the trash to clear the beach. Toshinori made him practice martial arts katas, using the heavy appliances as weights, but with a terrifying twist. Izuku had to move a rusted washing machine from point A to point B by balancing it on the tip of his massive snout, walking across a tightrope made of old ship mooring cables.

 

By month five, Toshinori introduced agility training.

 

"A fast giant is a terrifying giant," Toshinori explained, holding a stopwatch. "Villains expect you to be slow. They expect you to be a lumbering brute. We are going to shatter that expectation. You are going to run across this beach, from the pier to the seawall, without making a single sound."

 

"S-Sir, I weigh over three tons," Izuku pointed out nervously.

 

"Then you better learn to distribute your weight, my boy!"

 

And so, Izuku learned. He spent weeks practicing the precise biomechanics of his digitigrade legs. He learned how to land on the balls of his padded, three-toed feet, absorbing the kinetic impact through the dense shock-absorbers in his knees and thighs rather than letting the force hit the ground. He learned how to use his heavy tail to counterbalance his momentum, allowing him to turn on a dime without sliding out.

 

It was grueling. His brain constantly ached from the sheer, hyper-focused concentration required just to exist without breaking the world around him.

 

But it worked.

 

In school, his classmates began to notice a change.

 

"Hey... did Deku get quieter?" a student whispered to Bakugo during homeroom in their final semester.

 

Bakugo scowled, looking toward the back corner of the room. Izuku was sitting at his massive steel desk, quietly writing in a new notebook (Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 14).

 

The student was right. Usually, Izuku's presence was a constant, low-level earthquake of nervous tapping, heavy breathing, and creaking metal. But now, the twelve-foot dinosaur was eerily still. His movements were fluid, precise, and completely silent. When he turned the page of his notebook, his massive claws barely brushed the paper.

 

Bakugo felt a vein throb in his temple. He stood up, marching over to Izuku's desk.

 

"Hey, Deku," Bakugo sneered, slamming his hands onto the steel table, sparking a small explosion. "What are you playing at? You've been ignoring me all year. You think you're hot stuff just because you survived that sludge guy?!"

 

Izuku looked up from his notebook.

 

In the past, Izuku would have immediately flinched, stuttered, and apologized. He would have shrunk into his seat, terrified of the loud noise.

 

But now, Izuku just looked at him.

 

Izuku was exhausted. He had spent the last five hours before school balancing on a single toe while juggling rusted engine blocks. He simply did not have the excess energy required for a panic attack.

 

"Good morning, Kacchan," Izuku said, his deep voice smooth, calm, and utterly devoid of fear. He didn't blink. He just stared down at the explosive blonde with the serene, unbothered gaze of an ancient reptile.

 

Bakugo froze. A sudden, involuntary shiver ran down his spine.

 

For the first time in his life, Bakugo realized exactly how small he was compared to the twelve-foot titan sitting in front of him. The sheer, quiet confidence radiating off Izuku was suffocating.

 

"Tch," Bakugo clicked his tongue, taking a step back and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Whatever, freak. Just don't get in my way at the exam."

 

Bakugo stalked back to his seat, his heart beating slightly faster than he'd ever admit.

 

Izuku watched him go, completely unbothered, and went back to his notes.

 

 

 

By month nine, Takoba Beach was unrecognizable.

 

The mountains of trash were gone, hauled away piece by piece to the recycling centers. The white sand gleamed under the sun, the ocean waves crashing against a pristine shoreline.

 

In the center of the clean beach, a twelve-foot dinosaur was performing a handstand on a single, massive index finger.

 

Izuku was sweating, his thick chest rising and falling in slow, controlled rhythms. His eyes were closed in deep concentration. He wasn't just balancing; he was perfectly still, fighting against the heavy ocean breeze that threatened to topple his massive frame.

 

"Excellent, Young Midoriya!" Toshinori called out, walking down the steps in his skeletal form. "Your core strength and spatial awareness have improved exponentially! You are no longer just a blunt instrument. You are a finely tuned machine!"

 

Izuku gently lowered himself, flipping backward with a surprising, terrifying grace for a creature of his size, landing silently on his feet.

 

"Thank you, All Might!" Izuku smiled, wiping his brow.

 

"The U.A. Entrance Exam is tomorrow," Toshinori said, his expression turning serious. "You have cleared the beach, mastered your body, and proven your heart. It is time."

 

Toshinori suddenly tensed. Steam erupted from his body, and the skeletal man ballooned outward, transforming into the towering, hyper-muscular figure of the Symbol of Peace.

 

"IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO INHERIT MY POWER!" All Might boomed, raising a hand to the sky.

 

Izuku gasped, stepping forward, his heart pounding with overwhelming anticipation. This was it. Ten months of agonizing precision training, of learning to cage the beast inside him. He was ready to receive the sacred torch of One For All. He imagined a brilliant flash of light, a transfer of raw, crackling energy from All Might's glowing hands into his own chest.

 

All Might reached up to his head. He plucked a single, golden strand of hair from his brow.

 

He held it out to Izuku.

 

"EAT THIS!" All Might declared dramatically.

 

Izuku stared at the tiny strand of hair hovering in front of his massive snout.

 

The wind blew. A seagull cawed in the distance.

 

"Eat... what?" Izuku asked, his deep voice cracking slightly.

 

"The hair!" All Might said, his smile unmoving. "To inherit the Quirk, you must ingest my DNA! It doesn't matter what it is, really, but a hair is the easiest way! Go on, down the hatch!"

 

Izuku stared at the hair. Then he looked at his own massive, three-fingered hands, which were roughly the size of a standard kitchen table.

 

"All Might, sir," Izuku said politely. "I... I literally cannot pinch that. It is too small. My claws will just clip it in half."

 

All Might blinked. "Ah. Excellent point regarding your physiology."

 

All Might carefully pinched the hair and brought it up to Izuku's mouth. "Open wide!"

 

Izuku sighed, resigning himself to the indignity. He opened his massive, terrifying jaws, revealing rows of flat, bone-crushing teeth. All Might delicately dropped the tiny hair onto Izuku's massive, rough tongue.

 

Izuku closed his mouth. He swallowed loudly.

 

"Did you feel it?" All Might asked eagerly.

 

"I... I don't feel anything," Izuku admitted, patting his massive chest. "Just hungry. When does the power activate?"

 

"Usually within a few hours, as the stomach acids break down the DNA and the Quirk Factor integrates into your system," All Might explained, returning to his skeletal form with a cough of blood. "But remember what we discussed, Young Midoriya. You are not to use One For All unless it is a last resort. Rely on your base Vaxasaurian strength and your new agility. If you activate my power, you risk causing unimaginable collateral damage. Treat One For All like a nuclear button."

 

"Only as a last resort," Izuku repeated solemnly, nodding his massive head. "I promise, All Might."

 

 

 

The morning of the U.A. Entrance Exam was crisp and cold, a typical February chill that made the breath of the examinees fog in the air.

 

Standing before the towering, imposing gates of U.A. High School was Izuku Midoriya.

 

He was wearing his standard Aldera Junior High uniform, heavily modified to stretch over his immense frame. Around his neck, a massive red scarf his mother had knitted him wrapped three times over, providing a splash of color against his brown scales.

 

This is it, Izuku thought, his heart hammering in his chest. The first step to becoming a hero. I can do this. I've trained with All Might. I've mastered my body. I am in complete control.

 

He took a deep, steadying breath, and took a step forward.

 

As his massive foot descended, a tiny, brilliant blue butterfly fluttered directly into his path, landing perfectly on the pavement where his boot was about to strike.

 

Izuku's eyes widened in sheer panic. His Vaxasaurian instincts screamed, but his ninja training kicked in.

 

To avoid crushing the butterfly, Izuku forcefully shifted his center of gravity backward, contorting his massive torso. He tried to swing his heavy tail to counterbalance, but in his panic, his tail clipped his own left ankle.

 

His legs tangled. Over three tons of armored dinosaur lost their battle with gravity.

 

Izuku fell forward, his massive arms windmilling comically. "WAAAAAAH!"

 

He braced himself for the earth-shattering impact, closing his eyes tightly.

 

But the impact never came.

 

Izuku opened his eyes. He was hovering exactly two inches off the pavement. His entire twelve-foot, multi-ton body was suspended in mid-air, floating weightlessly.

 

"W-Whoa!" Izuku gasped, flailing slightly.

 

"Release!" a strained, high-pitched voice cried out.

 

Gravity instantly reasserted itself. Izuku dropped the remaining two inches, his chin hitting the concrete with a loud clack.

 

He scrambled to his feet, turning around to see a petite girl with round cheeks and short brown hair panting heavily, her hands on her knees. She looked like she had just sprinted a marathon.

 

"Are you okay?" the girl gasped, wiping a line of sweat from her brow. "I used my Quirk on you, but... wow, you are really, really heavy! I think I almost threw up my breakfast!"

 

Izuku's entire face turned completely red beneath his scales. He immediately dropped into a frantic, ninety-degree bow, his snout grazing the floor.

 

"I am so sorry!" Izuku rumbled, his voice shaking. "I tripped over my own feet trying to avoid a butterfly, and you had to exert immense Quirk stamina to lift my body mass, and I've caused you undue physical stress right before the exam, and I'm a terrible person, please forgive me!"

 

The girl blinked, staring up at the terrifying, spiked monster who was currently apologizing like a frightened toddler.

 

Suddenly, she burst into giggles.

 

"You don't have to apologize!" she smiled brightly, completely unfazed by his appearance. "It's my fault for not asking before using my Quirk on you! I'm Ochaco Uraraka. It's nice to meet you... um..."

 

"Izuku! Izuku Midoriya!" he blurted out, standing back up to his full height, feeling a strange, fluttery sensation in his chest. A girl was talking to him. A girl who wasn't screaming and running away.

 

"Well, Midoriya, let's do our best today!" Uraraka cheered, pumping a fist in the air before jogging off toward the auditorium.

 

Izuku stood there, frozen in awe. I talked to a girl... well, she talked to me, and I mostly babbled, but it counts!

 

The written portion of the exam was a breeze. Izuku's encyclopedic knowledge of hero laws, physics, and strategy allowed him to tear through the test with ease, his massive claw delicately holding a specially ordered, reinforced pencil.

 

Next came the orientation for the practical exam.

 

The auditorium was massive, designed to accommodate Quirks of all shapes and sizes. Izuku sat in the back row, occupying a heavy-duty bench that took up the space of three normal seats. Next to him, Katsuki Bakugo slouched in his chair, glaring at the stage.

 

"WELCOME TO TODAY'S LIVE PERFORMANCE!" Pro Hero Present Mic screamed into the microphone, his Voice Quirk echoing off the walls. "EVERYBODY SAY HEY!"

 

Silence.

 

Izuku nervously tapped his claws together.

 

Present Mic explained the rules. It was a mock urban battle. Examinees would be dropped into a replica city and tasked with destroying three types of "Villain Bots," each worth a different amount of points (1, 2, and 3).

 

"Excuse me! May I ask a question?"

 

A tall, broad-shouldered boy with glasses stood up in the middle of the auditorium, his arm raised rigidly. "On the handout, there are clearly four types of villains! If this is a misprint, U.A., the most prominent school in Japan, should be ashamed of that foolish mistake!"

 

The boy then turned, his glasses flashing as he pointed directly at the back row.

 

"Furthermore! You, the large applicant in the back!"

 

Izuku flinched, pointing a claw at himself.

 

"You have been muttering and tapping your claws this entire time!" the boy scolded strictly. "It is incredibly distracting! If you are here on a pleasure trip, I suggest you leave immediately!"

 

Izuku shrank back, covering his snout with his massive hands. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered softly, mortified.

 

Bakugo, annoyed by the interruption, shot a glare at the glasses boy. "Shut up, extra. He's just breathing."

 

"Alright, alright, examinee number 7111," Present Mic interjected smoothly. "Thanks for the great message! The fourth villain type is the Zero Pointer! It's an obstacle! There's one in every battle center. It's not impossible to defeat, but there's no reason to try! I recommend you listeners try to avoid it!"

 

Izuku nodded slowly, processing the information. So it's an environmental hazard. A test of threat assessment and evasion. Got it.

 

 

 

Battle Center B was a breathtaking feat of engineering. It was a fully functional, to-scale replica of a major urban district, surrounded by towering concrete walls.

 

A massive crowd of examinees stood before the closed gates, stretching, nervously chattering, and sizing each other up.

 

Izuku stood at the back of the pack. He had taken off his scarf and the top half of his uniform, leaving him clad only in his custom-made, heavily reinforced gray sweatpants. His twelve-foot Vaxasaurian physique was on full display. The earthy brown scales of his chest, back, and arms were scarred and thick. The heavy spikes along his spine and tail looked incredibly sharp.

 

The other examinees gave him a wide berth, whispering fiercely.

 

"Look at that guy... is he a villain in disguise?"

 

"He's huge! He's going to steal all the points just by stepping on the robots!"

 

"I don't want to get anywhere near him."

 

Izuku ignored them. He closed his eyes, centering himself. He remembered All Might's training. Control. Precision. Finesse. Do not use One For All. Rely on your base strength.

 

"START!"

 

Present Mic's voice blasted over the loudspeakers.

 

The gates hadn't even fully opened when Izuku moved.

 

He didn't lumber. He didn't stomp.

 

Izuku exploded off the starting line with terrifying, silent velocity. His thick legs propelled his multi-ton frame forward, kicking up a massive cloud of dust that blinded the examinees behind him. He squeezed through the opening gates, entirely frictionless, a brown blur of scales and muscle.

 

"What are you waiting for?!" Present Mic yelled from the watchtower. "There are no countdowns in real battles! The big guy's already gone!"

 

The other students panicked and surged forward, but Izuku was already a block away.

 

As Izuku rounded the first corner of the fake city, a 3-Pointer tank-bot rolled out of an alleyway, its targeting lasers locking onto his massive chest.

 

"TARGET ACQUIRED."

 

Izuku didn't slow down. He analyzed the robot instantly. Heavy frontal armor, missile pods on the shoulders, slow turning radius.

 

The 3-Pointer fired a volley of rubber-tipped missiles.

 

Izuku dropped his center of gravity. He slid across the pavement, sparks flying from the thick scales on his knees. The missiles harmlessly impacted the brick wall behind him. As he slid past the robot, he planted his massive hands on the ground and whipped his thick, spiked tail in a vicious arc.

 

CRASH.

 

The sheer kinetic force of a three-ton tail striking the 3-Pointer's treads shattered its lower chassis instantly. The robot violently flipped over, sparking and smoking, completely immobilized.

 

Three points, Izuku thought.

 

He vaulted off his hands, landing lightly on top of a streetlamp post. It bent significantly under his weight, but he used the flex of the metal to launch himself to the roof of a nearby three-story building.

 

From this vantage point, he could see the entire battlefield.

 

Two 2-Pointers were cornering a student with a tail mutation below.

 

Izuku dropped from the sky like a meteor. He landed squarely between the robots, bending his knees to absorb the colossal impact, barely making a sound as his feet hit the pavement.

 

He reached out, his massive hands wrapping around the heads of both 2-Pointers simultaneously.

 

Remember the golf balls, Izuku thought. Don't crush. Just neutralize.

 

He gave a sharp, precise twist. The necks of the robots snapped cleanly, their optical sensors fading to black. He gently set their three-ton metal bodies down onto the street, ensuring they didn't block the evacuation route.

 

Seven points.

 

"Whoa... thanks, man!" the tailed student gasped, staring in awe.

 

"You're welcome!" Izuku gave a polite thumbs-up before bounding away.

 

For the first five minutes, Izuku was an absolute terror on the battlefield. He moved like a ghost, a twelve-foot ninja possessing the strength of a wrecking ball. He didn't use flashy energy blasts or wide-scale destruction. He systematically dismantled the robots with terrifying, clinical precision. A flick of a wrist here, a tail sweep there, a gentle squeeze that crushed a motherboard without shattering the casing.

 

Twenty-five points. Thirty-four points. Forty-one points.

 

He was racking up the score effortlessly. But then, he started to notice the other students.

 

Many of them were struggling. A girl with a plant Quirk was pinned behind a car by a 3-Pointer. A boy with laser eyes was exhausted, cornered by a pack of 1-Pointers.

 

Izuku's hero complex took over.

 

Instead of hunting for points, he started playing defense. He jumped in front of the plant girl, letting the 3-Pointer's rubber missiles bounce harmlessly off his armored chest while she escaped. He grabbed the 1-Pointers harassing the laser boy and tied their metal limbs together into a knot, leaving them immobilized but uncredited to his score.

 

He was so busy making sure everyone else was safe, making sure his own massive body didn't accidentally crush a fellow examinee, that he stopped counting his points entirely.

 

In the observation room high above the city, the U.A. teachers were watching the monitors in stunned silence.

 

"Look at Examinee 7111," Midnight, the R-Rated Hero, murmured, leaning closer to the screen. "With a mutant physique like that, you'd expect him to be causing catastrophic collateral damage. But his property damage score is... zero. He hasn't broken a single window."

 

"His spatial awareness is phenomenal," Snipe, the cowboy hero, agreed. "He's pulling his punches at the exact microsecond of impact to neutralize the bots without causing shrapnel bursts. It's like watching a surgeon operate with a sledgehammer."

 

Sitting in the darkest corner of the room, All Might, in his skeletal form, smiled proudly. You've mastered the vessel, Young Midoriya. You are a true hero.

 

"He's certainly impressive," a small, squeaky voice came from a creature that looked like a mix between a mouse, a bear, and a dog. Principal Nezu pressed a large red button on his control console. "But true heroism isn't just about efficiency. It's about how you react to insurmountable despair."

 

In Battle Center B, the ground suddenly began to violently shake.

 

Izuku paused, standing in the middle of a wide intersection. He looked down at his feet. The asphalt was trembling. A deep, guttural grinding noise echoed from the far end of the city.

 

The buildings at the end of the street suddenly exploded outward, reduced to dust and rubble.

 

Through the smoke emerged a towering, metallic monstrosity.

 

The Zero Pointer.

 

It was a robot so massive it defied logic. It stood over two hundred feet tall, a colossal, heavily armored titan equipped with tank treads the size of apartment buildings. As it rolled forward, its sheer mass crushed a five-story building like an empty soda can.

 

"LESS THAN TWO MINUTES REMAINING!" Present Mic announced over the loudspeakers.

 

Panic erupted. The examinees dropped everything and fled in the opposite direction.

 

"Run!"

 

"Are they insane?! That thing will kill us!"

 

"Get away from it!"

 

Izuku took a step back, his instincts screaming at him to run. He was huge, yes. Twelve feet tall and weighing three tons. But compared to the Zero Pointer, he was nothing but an insect. His base Vaxasaurian strength was incredible—he could easily lift twenty tons. But that robot weighed thousands of tons. If he tried to punch it, his bones would shatter against its armor.

 

He turned to run, following the crowd.

 

"Ow!"

 

A sharp, pained cry cut through the sound of the grinding treads.

 

Izuku froze. His sensitive Vaxasaurian ears picked up the sound instantly. He whipped his head around, looking back toward the encroaching mechanical titan.

 

Trapped beneath a massive slab of concrete rubble, directly in the path of the Zero Pointer's relentless treads, was the girl with the round cheeks. Uraraka.

 

Her leg was pinned. She was struggling furiously, her Quirk useless on an object she couldn't fully touch due to her angle.

 

The Zero Pointer raised a massive, hydraulic fist, preparing to bring it down and crush the entire street.

 

The other examinees kept running. No one looked back. No one was coming to help.

 

Izuku's legs moved before he had a chance to think.

 

He spun around, planting his massive, digitigrade feet into the asphalt with such force that the street cracked violently beneath him. He didn't run. He lunged.

 

He cleared a city block in two massive bounds, landing directly over Uraraka.

 

"Midoriya?!" Uraraka gasped, her eyes wide with terror as the twelve-foot dinosaur suddenly cast a massive shadow over her.

 

Izuku didn't look at her. He looked up at the Zero Pointer. The hydraulic fist was descending, blocking out the sun.

 

I can't just lift the rubble, Izuku's mind raced at superhuman speeds. If I pull her out, the shockwave of the punch will still hit us. I can't clap to deflect it; it's too massive, the air pressure won't be enough. My base Vaxasaurian strength is completely useless here. If I want to save her... I have to destroy it.

 

Izuku remembered All Might's warning. You have the power of a natural disaster tucked inside your DNA. Add my Quirk to that, and you become a walking apocalypse. Treat it like a nuclear button.

 

Izuku clenched his massive, clawed hands.

 

It's time to press the button.

 

Izuku reached deep within himself, searching for the strange, dormant energy he had ingested that morning. He found it resting in his core, like a tiny, dying ember.

 

He seized that ember, and he poured gas on it.

 

"ONE FOR ALL!" Izuku roared.

 

The activation of the Quirk was usually invisible, or marked by subtle red lines on a human body. But inside a Vaxasaurian, the reaction was catastrophic.

 

Brilliant, blinding streaks of golden-red lightning erupted from beneath Izuku's thick brown scales. The energy coursed through his massive, corded muscles, expanding them even further. The air around him suddenly superheated, the asphalt melting beneath his feet.

 

He felt like a dying star was attempting to go supernova inside his chest. The power was agonizing, tearing at his muscle fibers, but his dense, mutated physiology held it contained. Barely.

 

"Midoriya...?" Uraraka whispered, shielding her eyes from the blinding light radiating off his body.

 

Izuku dropped his center of gravity. He channeled every single ounce of the accumulated, multi-generational kinetic energy into his massive, tree-trunk-thick legs.

 

He jumped.

 

The launch was apocalyptic. The sheer kinetic recoil of his jump completely atomized the street beneath him. A crater twenty feet deep and fifty feet wide was carved into the earth instantly, tossing cars and debris into the air.

 

Izuku shot into the sky like a hyper-sonic missile.

 

The Zero Pointer's sensors barely had time to register the anomaly.

 

Izuku soared upward, climbing past the robot's waist, its chest, reaching eye level with its massive, armored head. He was two hundred feet in the air, the wind roaring in his ears.

 

If I use 100% on my arm... even my bones might not hold, Izuku realized, feeling the terrifying pressure building in his right limb. But I don't care. I have to smash it!

 

Izuku pulled his right arm back. The golden-red lightning concentrated entirely in his fist, shining brighter than the sun. The muscles in his forearm bulged to an unnatural, horrific size, the tough brown scales beginning to crack and bleed under the sheer internal pressure.

 

He locked eyes with the robot's optical sensor.

 

"SMASH!" Izuku bellowed, a roar that shook the very foundations of U.A. High School.

 

He threw the punch.

 

When a Vaxasaurian enhanced by One For All at 100% strikes a target, physics simply breaks.

 

Izuku's fist didn't just dent the Zero Pointer's head. It didn't just punch a hole through it.

 

The punch generated a concussive, localized hurricane of such unimaginable kinetic violence that the entire top half of the two-hundred-foot robot was instantly vaporized into shrapnel and dust.

 

The shockwave blasted forward, tearing through the clouds above the fake city, splitting the sky in two.

 

In the observation room, the monitors viewing Battle Center B completely shorted out, bursting into static as the cameras were blown away by the wind.

 

All Might stood up, his sunken eyes wide with shock and terror. He... he didn't just break the robot. He changed the weather!

 

High in the sky, time seemed to freeze for Izuku Midoriya.

 

He hung suspended in the air, surrounded by the falling, raining debris of the obliterated metal titan. The adrenaline of the moment faded, replaced instantly by an agonizing, blinding pain.

 

Izuku looked at his right arm.

 

It was utterly ruined.

 

His Vaxasaurian durability had saved his arm from completely blowing off into a mist of blood and gore, but it had not saved him from the recoil. The incredibly dense, reinforced bones of his forearm and bicep were completely pulverized. His arm hung limply, twisted at a horrifying, unnatural angle. The tough brown scales were split open in deep fissures, smoking and oozing dark reptilian blood.

 

He had survived using 100%, but the cost was devastating.

 

And now, he was falling.

 

He was two hundred feet in the air, weighing over three tons, with a broken arm and shattered legs from the jump.

 

I can't land, Izuku thought, his massive body tumbling through the air. If I hit the ground with this much mass at terminal velocity, I'll die. Or I'll crush someone else.

 

He flailed his good, left arm, trying to aim for a building, trying to grab a ledge, but he was completely out of control. The ground was rushing up to meet him.

 

I'm sorry, All Might. I guess I wasn't...

 

SLAP.

 

A sudden, stinging pain hit the snout of his massive face.

 

Izuku's eyes snapped open.

 

Gravity vanished. His multi-ton body came to an abrupt, jarring halt in mid-air, floating entirely weightlessly, just ten feet above the pavement.

 

He looked down.

 

Uraraka was standing on a piece of a destroyed robot, her hand outstretched, having slapped him in the face as he fell past her.

 

"Release!" she gasped, pressing her fingertips together.

 

Izuku fell the remaining ten feet, crashing onto his back with a heavy thud that knocked the wind out of his massive lungs.

 

Uraraka immediately collapsed, vomiting a rainbow-colored stream onto the pavement. Lifting three tons once was hard enough; doing it twice under extreme stress had completely broken her limits.

 

"TIME IS UP!" Present Mic's voice echoed through the destroyed city.

 

A loud siren blared, signaling the end of the exam.

 

Izuku lay on the ruined asphalt, his breathing ragged, his ruined right arm throbbing with white-hot agony. The golden lightning of One For All had completely faded, leaving him empty and exhausted.

 

He turned his massive head slightly, looking at the clear blue sky, perfectly visible now that the massive robot was gone.

 

I didn't get any points in the last five minutes, he thought, his vision beginning to blur at the edges. I probably failed. I'm sorry, Mom.

 

Footsteps approached. An elderly woman in a nurse's outfit, wielding a large syringe like a walking cane, hobbled through the crowd of stunned examinees.

 

"Oh, my goodness," Recovery Girl muttered, looking at the massive, twelve-foot dinosaur lying broken on the street. "What on earth did Toshinori do to you, child?"

 

She walked over and planted a kiss directly on Izuku's scaly snout.

 

Izuku felt a sudden, exhausting surge of warmth. His Vaxasaurian cellular regeneration kicked into hyper-drive, fueled by his remaining stamina. He felt his shattered bones forcibly grinding back together, sealing beneath his scales. The pain was immense, but fleeting.

 

Before he could process the healing, the sheer exhaustion claimed him.

 

Izuku Midoriya closed his massive green eyes, letting out a deep, rumbling sigh, and fell unconscious with a small, satisfied smile on his face.

 

He may have failed the exam, but he had saved her. That was enough.