What if Deku had his own grimoire from Black Clover

 

 

The world is not an equal place.

 

It was a lesson Izuku Midoriya learned at the tender age of four, sitting in a sterile, white doctor’s office with a poster of All Might grinning down at him from the wall. He remembered the heavy silence that followed the doctor’s blunt diagnosis, the way his mother’s hand had trembled around his own, and the sheer, crushing weight of the word Quirkless.

 

Eighty percent of the global population possessed a genetic mutation, an extra evolutionary step that granted them superhuman abilities called Quirks. They could breathe fire, move objects with their minds, manipulate the weather, or transform into giant beasts. The remaining twenty percent were the anomalies. The left-behinds. The baseline humans stuck in a world that had long since left them in the dust.

 

Izuku was one of the twenty percent. He had the extra joint in his pinky toe to prove it.

 

Now, at fourteen years old, that lesson of inequality wasn't just a memory; it was the suffocating reality of his everyday life.

 

"Since you're all third years, it's time for you to think seriously about your futures!" the homeroom teacher announced, his voice echoing off the chalk-dusted walls of Aldera Junior High. The man held a thick stack of career aptitude papers, though his dismissive tone suggested he already knew where they would end up. "I'll pass out handouts for your future plans now, but… you're all pretty much planning to go into the hero course, right?"

 

The classroom erupted. Desks rattled as students leapt from their seats, cheering and showing off their Quirks. A boy with elongated, rock-like fingers punched the air; a girl with water for hair whipped her head around, sending droplets scattering; a student with a mutated, insectoid jaw clicked his mandibles in excitement. It was a cacophony of genetic marvels.

 

Izuku kept his head down, his dark green curls falling over his eyes. He raised his hand, but only halfway, making himself as small as possible. He didn't want to draw attention. He just wanted to get through the day.

 

"Yes, yes, you all have wonderful Quirks," the teacher sighed, though he was smiling. "But using your powers at school is against the rules!"

 

"Sensei! Don't lump me in with these losers!"

 

The voice cut through the noise like a serrated blade. Katsuki Bakugo leaned back in his chair, his feet propped up on his desk, a sneer twisting his sharp features. The entire class went dead silent, the sudden tension thick enough to choke on.

 

"As if I have anything in common with their crappy Quirks," Bakugo continued, his crimson eyes scanning the room with absolute disdain. "I'm not scraping the bottom of the barrel with the rest of these rejects."

 

Predictably, the class erupted in outrage. "Who do you think you are, Katsuki?!" "Take that back!"

 

Bakugo just laughed, small sparks of nitroglycerin popping like firecrackers in the palms of his hands. "Bring it on, extras!"

 

The teacher adjusted his glasses, consulting his clipboard. "Ah, Bakugo. You're aiming for U.A. High School, aren't you?"

 

A collective gasp swept through the room. U.A. High was the most prestigious hero academy in the nation. Its acceptance rate was abysmal, lower than a fraction of a percent. It was the school that had forged the Symbol of Peace, All Might, into the hero he was today.

 

"That's exactly why you guys are just extras!" Bakugo crowed, jumping onto his desk. "I aced the mock test. I'm the only one at this school who could possibly get into U.A. I'll definitely surpass All Might and become the top hero! My name will be carved into the list of top earners!"

 

"Oh," the teacher interrupted, his eyes scanning further down the clipboard. "Midoriya wanted to go to U.A., too, right?"

 

Time stopped.

 

Izuku froze, his pencil snapping loudly in his grip. The silence that fell over the classroom this time wasn't tense; it was heavy with absolute, unadulterated disbelief. For a split second, nobody moved. Then, the dam broke.

 

Laughter. Cruel, raucous, belly-aching laughter tore through the room.

 

"Midoriya? No way!"

"You can't get into the hero course just by studying!"

"He doesn't even have a Quirk! What's he going to do, take notes at the villains?"

 

Izuku stood up frantically, his face burning hot, his hands waving in front of him in a desperate attempt to defend himself. "T-They got rid of that rule! There's no rule saying you can't get in if you're Quirkless! It's just that there's no precedent—"

 

BOOM!

 

An explosion ripped across Izuku’s desk, the sheer concussive force throwing him backward. He hit the floor hard, his back slamming into the linoleum. Smoke curled in the air, smelling sharply of burnt sugar and ozone. Bakugo stood over him, his right hand smoking, his eyes narrowed into furious slits.

 

"Listen up, Deku!" Bakugo snarled, using the derogatory nickname he had coined for Izuku years ago—a word that meant 'useless.' "You're even worse than the rest of these rejects! You're completely Quirkless! How can you even stand in the same ring as me?!"

 

"N-No, wait, Kacchan!" Izuku scrambled backward like a crab, pressing his spine against the classroom wall. "It's not like I'm trying to compete with you or anything! Believe me! It's just... it's been my dream since I was little. And... there's no harm in trying, right?"

 

"Try?!" Bakugo's voice dropped an octave, dripping with venom. "What can you even do? You're a Quirkless nobody! You’d die in the entrance exam!"

 

The teacher finally stepped in, offering a half-hearted reprimand to Bakugo and telling Izuku to return to his seat. The rest of the day was a blur of whispered insults and lingering glares. Izuku sat at his charred desk, his eyes locked on the clock, waiting for the torture to end.

 

When the final bell rang, Izuku didn't pack his bag immediately. He sat there, staring blankly out the window as the classroom emptied. He pulled out his notebook—Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 13. The cover was slightly frayed from overuse, filled with detailed sketches, combat analysis, and theoretical strategies for various pro heroes. It was his life's work. It was his way of clinging to a world that didn't want him.

 

He was just about to slide it into his yellow backpack when a hand snatched it from his desk.

 

"We ain't done here, Deku."

 

Bakugo held the notebook between his fingers, his two lackeys flanking him.

 

"What's that, Katsuki?" one of the lackeys asked, leaning in. "'Hero Analysis for the Future'? Seriously? He's still delusional!"

 

"Give it back!" Izuku pleaded, rising from his chair.

 

Bakugo didn't even look at him. He simply pressed his palms together, sandwiching the notebook. With a sharp crack, an explosion erupted between his hands. The cover scorched black, the pages curling and singeing at the edges.

 

"Ah!" Izuku cried out, stepping forward, but stopping abruptly as Bakugo tossed the smoldering book out the open third-story window.

 

"Most top first-string heroes have stories about them from their school days," Bakugo said casually, looking out the window as the notebook fell into the koi pond below. "I want the shine of being able to be called the only student to make it into U.A. from this mediocre city junior high school. I mean, I'm a perfectionist."

 

Bakugo placed a smoking, hot hand on Izuku's shoulder. The heat bled through his uniform, burning his skin. Izuku trembled, unable to meet the blonde boy's gaze.

 

"So anyway," Bakugo smiled, a twisted, cruel thing. "Don't apply to U.A., nerd."

 

He turned and walked toward the door, his lackeys laughing behind him. At the doorway, Bakugo paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

 

"If you want to be a hero that badly, there's a quick way to do it. Believe that you'll be born with a Quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof!"

 

Izuku froze. His breath hitched in his throat. The sheer malice in those words paralyzed him. For a moment, a surge of defiant anger bubbled up in his chest. He turned, opening his mouth to yell, to scream, to do something. But as Bakugo released a series of miniature, threatening explosions from his palm, the anger died, replaced by the familiar, cold grip of fear and helplessness.

 

He was silent. Bakugo scoffed and walked away.

 

 

 

The walk home was a solitary one. Izuku stood by the koi pond behind the school, watching the colorful fish nibble at the burnt edges of his notebook.

 

"That's not fish food," he muttered numbly, reaching into the water and pulling the sodden book out. He tried to brush off the dirt and grime, but the pages were ruined, the ink bleeding together into a messy, illegible blur.

 

He didn't cry. He was too tired to cry.

 

Instead of taking his usual route home, Izuku let his feet carry him aimlessly. He needed silence. He needed somewhere he wouldn't be judged by the shape of his pinky toe. He walked past the bustling marketplace, past the towering billboards projecting the smiling faces of Pro Heroes, and ventured toward the older, neglected industrial district of Musutafu.

 

Tucked away between two condemned high-rises was a narrow, overgrown alleyway that led to a small plaza the city had seemingly forgotten. At the center of it stood an old, dilapidated antique shop. The wooden sign hanging above the door was so weathered the kanji was illegible.

 

Izuku had found this place when he was eight. The owner had long since abandoned it, leaving behind a treasure trove of useless, dusty junk. To society, it was an eyesore. To Izuku, it was a sanctuary.

 

He pushed the door open, wincing as the rusted hinges groaned loudly. The inside was dark, illuminated only by the shafts of golden afternoon sunlight piercing through the grimy windows. Dust motes danced in the air like tiny, suspended stars.

 

Shelves lined the walls, stacked haphazardly with tarnished brass compasses, cracked porcelain vases, rusted mechanical gears, and piles of yellowed, moldering books. It smelled of old paper, damp wood, and earth.

 

Izuku walked to a cleared-off spot behind the counter—his spot. He sat down heavily on a threadbare stool and placed his ruined notebook on the wooden surface.

 

"Why...?" he whispered to the empty room.

 

His fingers traced the burned indentations on the cover. Take a swan dive off the roof.

 

Tears finally breached his defenses. They spilled down his freckled cheeks, hot and bitter. He buried his face in his arms, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. It wasn't fair. He had studied harder than anyone. He knew the laws, the combat tactics, the hero rankings, the emergency protocols. He had the heart of a hero. But without that singular, biological lottery ticket—a Quirk—none of it mattered.

 

"I just want to save people," he sobbed to the dust. "I just want to be like him. Like All Might. With a smile."

 

As he cried, his raw emotional output—his grief, his desperate, unwavering desire to protect others, his pure will—seemed to hum in the heavy air of the shop.

 

Unknown to Izuku, behind him, at the very back of the shop, hidden beneath a tarp and a pile of rusted junk, something shifted.

 

It was faint at first. A microscopic vibration. A pulse of energy that had nothing to do with genetics or Quirk Factors. In a world obsessed with mutated DNA, no one remembered the ancient, primal energy that flowed through the earth itself. No one remembered Mana.

 

For centuries, humanity's evolution into Quirk-bearers had mutated their bodies, closing off their natural spiritual pathways to make room for biological powers. But Izuku Midoriya had no Quirk Factor. His DNA was unmutated. His pathways were wide open, pristine, and untainted.

 

And for the first time in millennia, a pure soul was crying out with enough raw will to resonate with the old world.

 

A soft, emerald-green light pulsed beneath the tarp.

 

Thump.

 

Izuku sniffled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He didn't hear it over the sound of his own crying. He took a shuddering breath, trying to collect himself. Crying wouldn't solve anything. He had to go home. His mother would be worried.

 

He grabbed his damp notebook, stuffed it into his yellow backpack, and stood up. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long, eerie shadows across the antique shop. Izuku gave the shop a quiet bow of respect—a habit he had developed over the years—and walked out, pulling the heavy door shut behind him.

 

The green light beneath the tarp pulsed again. Brighter this time.

 

Thump.

 

 

 

Izuku decided to take the shortcut home, which led him through a long, concrete underpass beneath the city's main train line. The tunnel was dark, echoing with the distant sound of traffic overhead. His footsteps slapped rhythmically against the pavement.

 

His mind was wandering, replaying the events of the day, when a strange, gurgling sound echoed from the sewer grate a few feet ahead of him.

 

Izuku stopped. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

 

A thick, putrid smell filled the enclosed space—like rotting garbage mixed with stagnant sewage. Before Izuku could turn around, the manhole cover rattled and then blew entirely off its hinges, clanging loudly against the concrete ceiling.

 

A massive, amorphous blob of dark green slime erupted from the sewer. It towered over Izuku, shifting and churning hideously. Within the sludge, two bulbous, manic eyes and a jagged set of human teeth formed.

 

"A medium-sized invisibility cloak," the Sludge Villain rasped, its voice sounding like thick mud slapping against a wall. "Perfect."

 

Izuku's blood ran cold. His body locked up in absolute terror. He tried to step back, but his legs refused to move. A villain!

 

Before he could scream, the villain lunged.

 

A wave of thick, suffocating sludge slammed into Izuku, knocking him to the ground. The sludge immediately forced its way up his nose and into his mouth. The taste was vile, tasting of rust and decay.

 

"Don't worry," the villain purred, wrapping tendrils of slime tightly around Izuku's arms and legs, pinning him down. "I'm just going to take over your body. It'll only hurt for about forty-five seconds. You'll feel much better once it's over."

 

Izuku thrashed wildly, his hands clawing desperately at the sludge covering his face. His nails scraped against the slimy surface, but it was like trying to grab water. He couldn't find purchase. He couldn't breathe.

 

I can't breathe!

 

Panic, primal and blinding, set in. His lungs burned, screaming for oxygen. Dark spots danced at the edge of his vision.

 

"You can't grab me," the villain laughed, tightening his grip. "I'm fluid! Just let it happen, kid. You're my hero! I didn't think he had tracked me to this city. I need a disguise, fast!"

 

Izuku's movements were growing sluggish. His strength was fading. The terrifying reality washed over him—he was going to die here. In a dark tunnel. Alone. A Quirkless nobody, just like Bakugo said. His mother would wait for him to come home, making dinner, completely unaware that he was suffocating in a sewer.

 

No.

 

The thought of his mother's tears ignited something deep within his chest.

 

No! I don't want to die! Somebody... anybody... help!

 

He tried to scream, but only bubbles of air escaped his lips, swallowed by the sludge.

 

If no one is coming... I have to save myself!

 

Izuku dug his fingers into the sludge, not trying to grab it, but trying to push it away from his mouth. His heart pounded like a war drum. He poured every ounce of his being, every shattered dream, every scrap of willpower into his hands. MOVE!

 

Miles away, in the abandoned antique shop, the tarp exploded.

 

A shockwave of sheer, concussive pressure blew the windows out of their frames, raining glass onto the street. A book, thick and bound in ancient, weathered leather, shot into the air. It hovered for a fraction of a second, glowing with a blinding, radioactive emerald aura.

 

Then, it moved.

 

It tore through the sky like a green comet, moving at supersonic speeds, leaving a trail of shimmering, geometric dust in its wake. It flew over the city, homing in on a singular, massive beacon of pure mana that was crying out in the dark.

 

Back in the tunnel, Izuku’s vision was fading to black. He was losing consciousness. His hands fell away from the villain's sludge.

 

"That's it, kid. Go to sleep," the villain sneered.

 

CRASH!

 

The concrete ceiling of the underpass shattered. Rebar and chunks of asphalt rained down as a streak of emerald light pulverized the street above, plunging straight into the darkness of the tunnel.

 

The Sludge Villain recoiled in shock, momentarily loosening its grip on Izuku's face. "What the hell?!"

 

Izuku gasped, taking in a massive, ragged breath of air. He coughed violently, sludge flying from his mouth. Through tear-blurred eyes, he looked up.

 

Floating in the air, directly between him and the villain, was a book.

 

It was large, its cover made of a strange, dark material that looked like a cross between leather and stone. Intricate, gold-leaf geometric patterns adorned the edges. But the most striking feature was the emblem embossed in the dead center of the cover: a four-leaf clover, glowing with a brilliant, unearthly green light.

 

The air in the tunnel suddenly grew heavy. It crackled with static electricity, but it felt different—older, deeper. The stench of the sewer was instantly overpowered by the smell of ozone, ancient parchment, and fresh pine.

 

"What is this piece of junk?!" the Sludge Villain roared, extending a thick whip of sludge toward the book. "Get out of my way!"

 

Before the sludge could touch it, the grimoire snapped open.

 

The pages flipped at a dizzying speed, a blur of ancient, glowing runes and text that Izuku couldn't possibly read. Yet, as he stared at the flashing pages, something impossible happened.

 

Information flooded his mind.

 

It wasn't a voice, but a profound, instinctive understanding. He didn't know how, but he knew exactly what the book was. He knew what the energy thrumming in his veins was. It wasn't a Quirk. It was Mana.

 

The book stopped flipping, landing on a page near the beginning. The runes on the page flared, projecting a holographic, glowing green geometric circle into the air.

 

Izuku didn't think. He didn't analyze. For the first time in his life, he let instinct take the wheel. He reached his hand out toward the glowing book.

 

"Glyph Magic," Izuku's voice echoed in the tunnel, sounding stronger, deeper, and layered with a strange, reverberating resonance. "Emerald Repulsion!"

 

A massive, intricate magic circle, completely composed of glowing green light and ancient script, manifested directly in front of his outstretched palm. It was three feet in diameter, spinning rapidly.

 

The Sludge Villain's eyes widened in terror. "Wait—!"

 

BOOOOM!

 

A shockwave of pure, concussive kinetic force erupted from the magic circle. It didn't just push the villain; it hit him like a freight train made of solid air. The force was so immense that the sludge was instantly blasted apart, splattering against the concrete walls and ceiling of the underpass in a thousand harmless droplets. The villain's eyes spun dizzily as they slapped against the pavement.

 

The sheer recoil of the blast sent Izuku sliding backward, his sneakers squeaking against the concrete until he fell onto his rear.

 

Silence descended upon the tunnel, broken only by the dripping of sludge and the quiet, rhythmic humming of the floating book.

 

Izuku sat there, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with absolute shock. He looked at his hand. It was trembling. He looked at the walls, plastered with the remains of the villain. Then, he looked at the book.

 

The four-leaf grimoire floated gently toward him, descending until it rested lightly on his lap. The green glow faded to a soft, warm pulse.

 

"What... what did I just do?" Izuku whispered, his voice cracking. He ran a shaking hand over the leather cover, tracing the outline of the four-leaf clover. It felt warm to the touch, comforting, like a missing piece of his soul had finally snapped into place.

 

"FEAR NOT, YOUNG MAN!"

 

A booming, larger-than-life voice echoed from the entrance of the tunnel, shattering the quiet.

 

Izuku jumped, clutching the book to his chest. He snapped his head toward the source of the voice.

 

Standing at the mouth of the underpass, silhouetted by the afternoon sun, was a mountain of a man. He wore a simple white t-shirt and cargo pants, but his musculature was so exaggerated, so iconic, that he was instantly recognizable. Two distinct tufts of blonde hair stood up like rabbit ears on his head. His smile was dazzling, casting away all the shadows in the tunnel.

 

"I AM HERE!" All Might proclaimed, stepping into the darkness.

 

Izuku's jaw dropped. His brain short-circuited. All Might. The Number One Hero. The Symbol of Peace. Here. In front of me.

 

All Might strode forward, holding a plastic grocery bag containing two large bottles of soda. He looked around the tunnel, noting the splattered sludge everywhere. He paused, his iconic smile faltering for a fraction of a second as he took in the scene.

 

"I had been tracking this villain through the sewers," All Might said, his deep voice echoing. He looked down at Izuku, then at the destruction. "I was worried when I lost him, but it seems... you handled it yourself, young man?"

 

All Might's blue eyes locked onto the strange, thick book clutched in Izuku's arms. The Pro Hero had seen thousands of Quirks in his lifetime. He had seen people summon weapons, manipulate matter, and bend the laws of physics. But he had never seen anything that felt quite like the lingering energy in this tunnel. It felt... ancient.

 

"W-W-Wait, All Might?!" Izuku stammered, scrambling to his feet. His legs felt like jelly. The adrenaline was rapidly leaving his system, replaced by severe exhaustion. Using mana for the first time had drained his physical stamina in a way he hadn't anticipated. "Y-You're... you're real! I mean, of course you're real, but you're here! C-Can you sign my notebook?!"

 

Izuku frantically reached for his yellow backpack, dropping the grimoire. Strangely, the book didn't hit the ground. It simply hovered by his hip, following his movements like a loyal pet.

 

All Might's eyebrows shot up. A levitating book? A summoning Quirk? No, the blast radius on the walls suggests a kinetic emission.

 

Izuku pulled out his damp, burnt notebook and thrust it toward the hero, along with a pen.

 

All Might laughed heartily, a booming sound that instantly made Izuku feel safe. "OF COURSE, MY BOY!"

 

With blinding speed, All Might signed the book across a full two-page spread. He handed it back to Izuku, who stared at the enormous signature as if it were a holy relic.

 

"Thank you! Thank you so much! This is a family heirloom! I'll pass it down for generations!" Izuku bowed repeatedly, his head spinning.

 

Between the near-death experience, the sudden manifestation of a mystical floating book, the sheer physical toll of casting a spell, and meeting his lifelong idol, Izuku's fourteen-year-old brain was reaching critical mass.

 

The edges of his vision began to blur. The humming of the grimoire grew faint.

 

"Young man, are you alright?" All Might asked, noticing the boy swaying on his feet. The hero stepped forward, a massive hand extended.

 

"I'm... I'm going to be a hero..." Izuku mumbled, his eyes rolling back into his head.

 

His knees buckled. Before he could hit the concrete, All Might caught him, effortlessly lifting the boy into his arms.

 

The Symbol of Peace looked down at the unconscious teenager. Then, he looked at the grimoire, which was now resting gently on Izuku's chest, its green glow pulsing in time with the boy's heartbeat. All Might reached out to touch the book, curious.

 

The moment his fingers grazed the leather, a spark of green electricity shocked him. It wasn't painful, but it was a clear warning: Mine. Do not touch.

 

All Might pulled his hand back, rubbing his fingers. He narrowed his eyes, his perpetual smile softening into an expression of intense curiosity.

 

"Just who are you, kid?" All Might murmured.

 

He gathered the empty soda bottles from his grocery bag, swiftly scooped up the unconscious Sludge Villain into them, and secured the caps. With the villain detained and the mysterious boy secure in his arm, All Might bent his knees.

 

"Well, first things first," All Might said to himself. "Let's get you to a hospital."

 

With a powerful leap, All Might shot out of the tunnel and into the sky, leaving the shattered concrete and the lingering scent of ozone behind.

 

 

 

Izuku awoke to the smell of antiseptic and the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor.

 

He groaned, his entire body feeling as though it had been run over by a truck. Every muscle ached with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion. He fluttered his eyes open, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital ceiling.

 

"Oh, good. You're awake."

 

Izuku turned his head. Sitting in a plastic chair next to his bed was a police officer, tapping away on a tablet.

 

"W-Where...?" Izuku rasped, his throat incredibly dry.

 

"Musutafu General Hospital," the officer replied, standing up and pouring a cup of water from a pitcher on the bedside table. He handed it to Izuku. "You're lucky the Number One Hero was in the neighborhood, kid. He brought you in. Said you were attacked by a Sludge Villain."

 

Izuku took the cup with trembling hands, downing the water greedily. Memories rushed back to him. The alleyway. The sludge. Suffocating. The green light.

 

The book.

 

Izuku bolted upright, his eyes darting wildly around the room. "Where is it?! My book!"

 

"Whoa, take it easy," the officer said, holding his hands up placatingly. He pointed to the bedside table. "If you mean the glowing thing, it's right there. The nurses tried to move it with your clothes, but it wouldn't budge for anyone but you. It just floated back to the table. Some kind of tethering Quirk, I assume?"

 

Izuku looked. There it was. The four-leaf grimoire, resting innocuously next to a box of tissues, looking like an ordinary, albeit very old, book.

 

Izuku exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding. He reached out. The moment his fingers brushed the leather, the grimoire sprang to life, floating into the air and hovering dutifully at his side.

 

The officer whistled. "Neat trick. Look, kid, I just need to take a quick statement. Name, age, and a description of your Quirk for the incident report. Using your Quirk in public without a license is technically illegal, but given it was self-defense against a villain, the chief is waiving the warning."

 

Izuku froze. "My... Quirk?"

 

"Yeah. The report says you blasted the villain apart with some kind of kinetic energy projection. What's the registered name of your Quirk?"

 

Izuku looked at his lap. He remembered the doctor's visit ten years ago. He remembered his mother crying. He remembered Bakugo's mocking laughter.

 

He's completely Quirkless!

 

"I..." Izuku swallowed hard. "I don't have a Quirk."

 

The officer paused, his pen hovering over his tablet. He looked at Izuku, then at the floating, glowing book, and then back to Izuku. He raised an eyebrow.

 

"Kid. You have a levitating book that shoots concussive blasts. Are you telling me that's not a Quirk?"

 

"I'm registered as Quirkless," Izuku insisted softly. "You can check the database. Izuku Midoriya. I have the extra toe joint. I don't have a Quirk Factor."

 

The officer frowned, tapping his screen. A few seconds later, his eyes widened. "Well, I'll be damned. Midoriya, Izuku. Quirk Status: None. Then what the hell is that?" He pointed at the grimoire.

 

"I... I don't know," Izuku lied.

 

He did know. The moment he had touched the grimoire, the knowledge had been implanted in his mind. It was a Grimoire. It channeled Mana to cast Magic. But how could he possibly explain that to a police officer? Magic didn't exist. It was the stuff of fairy tales and fantasy video games. Quirks were science; they were genetics. If he said he used 'Magic,' they would put him in a psychiatric ward.

 

"Must be a late awakening," the officer muttered, rubbing his chin. "Extremely rare, but not unheard of. Traumatic event triggers a dormant Quirk Factor. We'll have to get you re-tested and update the registry. I'll note it as an 'Unidentified Telekinetic/Summoning' ability for now."

 

"O-Okay," Izuku agreed quickly, eager to avoid further questioning.

 

After a few more routine questions, the officer left the room. Izuku was left alone in the quiet hospital room.

 

He slowly reached out, taking the grimoire in his hands. It felt heavy, substantial. He opened the cover.

 

The first page was blank, save for a single, intricately drawn geometric circle in the center. It was the exact same design that had appeared in the air when he blasted the villain. Beneath the circle, written in elegant, flowing script that Izuku somehow perfectly understood, were the words:

 

Glyph Magic: Emerald Repulsion.

Type: Offensive/Defensive Kinetic Burst.

Mana Cost: Low-Mid.

 

Izuku stared at the page. "Mana..." he whispered.

 

He closed his eyes, focusing inward. Before today, whenever he tried to look inside himself for a power, he found nothing but an empty void. But now, it was as if a dam had burst. He could feel it. A warm, flowing current of energy coursing through his veins, distinct from his heartbeat. It felt natural, like breathing.

 

He opened his eyes and looked at the book.

 

He had no Quirk. He wasn't the next step in human evolution. If anything, he was a throwback to something much, much older.

 

A sudden, jarring thought struck him. If this was magic, and it ran on 'mana', why did he feel so incredibly exhausted? He hadn't run a marathon, he had just stood there and fired a single blast.

 

As if answering his thought, a memory from the knowledge dump surfaced in his mind. Mana flows through the physical vessel. To channel vast amounts of mana, the physical vessel must be strong enough to withstand the current. A weak vessel will fracture under the pressure of immense magic.

 

Izuku looked down at his arms. They were scrawny, devoid of any real muscle mass. He was a twig.

 

"My body," Izuku realized aloud. "My body isn't strong enough to handle the magic."

 

If he wanted to be a hero, if he wanted to use this grimoire to save people, he couldn't just rely on the book. He had to rebuild himself from the ground up. He had to become a vessel worthy of the power he had been given.

 

"Excuse me."

 

The sudden voice made Izuku jump. He slammed the grimoire shut, pulling it to his chest.

 

Standing in the doorway was a tall, gaunt man. He looked sickly, with sharp, angular features, hollow cheeks, and unruly blonde hair. He wore a baggy suit that hung off his skeletal frame like a scarecrow.

 

"I'm sorry to intrude," the skeletal man said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. He coughed violently into his hand, a speck of blood appearing on his palm. He wiped it away casually with a handkerchief. "The police officer outside said you were awake."

 

"Uhm, yes? Are you a doctor?" Izuku asked nervously.

 

The man chuckled, a hollow sound. "No, young Midoriya. I am not a doctor."

 

Izuku's eyes widened. "How do you know my name?"

 

The man smiled, and for a fleeting second, Izuku felt a bizarre sense of déjà vu. The angle of the smile, the shape of the jawline...

 

Suddenly, the gaunt man stood up straighter. Smoke began to billow from his body, thick and obscuring. The sound of shifting bones and expanding muscle filled the small room.

 

When the smoke cleared, the sickly man was gone. Standing in his place, practically brushing the ceiling of the hospital room, was the towering, muscular form of the Number One Hero.

 

"BECAUSE I AM THE ONE WHO BROUGHT YOU HERE!" All Might announced, flashing his trademark smile.

 

Izuku shrieked, scrambling backward on the bed until his back hit the wall. "A-A-ALL MIGHT?! Y-You're the skinny guy?! W-What happened?! Are you a fake?! An imposter?!"

 

"Settle down, settle down!" All Might said, waving his hands. He coughed, and in a puff of smoke, he reverted back to his skeletal form. He slumped into the chair next to the bed, letting out a long, weary sigh. "No, I am the real All Might. The... muscular form you saw is like a guy at the pool sucking in his gut to look good. It's a facade."

 

All Might pulled up his shirt, revealing a horrifying, jagged scar that covered the entire left side of his chest. It looked like a starburst of mangled, purple flesh. Izuku gasped, his hands flying to cover his mouth.

 

"An injury I received from a villain attack five years ago," All Might explained, his tone serious. "Half my respiratory organs were destroyed. I lost my entire stomach. I've become emaciated from repeated surgeries. Right now, I can only do my hero work for about three hours a day. The rest of the time, I look like this."

 

Izuku was stunned. The invincible All Might. The man who always smiled, who always saved the day, was secretly operating on borrowed time, suffering in unimaginable pain.

 

"Why... why are you showing me this?" Izuku asked quietly. "This has to be a top-secret. If the public knew..."

 

"Society would panic," All Might nodded. "The Symbol of Peace cannot be seen as weak. I smile to hide the fear inside, and to trick the fear of the people."

 

All Might leaned forward, his piercing blue eyes locking onto Izuku.

 

"I am showing you this, young Midoriya, because I came here to apologize. And to ask you a question."

 

Izuku blinked. "Apologize?"

 

"In the tunnel," All Might said. "When I saw the sludge on the walls, I realized what had happened. I let my guard down. I dropped the villain, and he nearly killed you. If I had been more careful, you wouldn't have been in danger. And yet, despite being a civilian, despite being pinned, you fought back. You saved yourself before I could even arrive."

 

All Might gestured to the green book resting on Izuku's lap.

 

"I have seen thousands of Quirks, Midoriya. But when I touched your book, it rejected me. It felt... different. The police report outside says you're registered Quirkless. But that blast in the tunnel was real."

 

All Might stood up, looking down at the boy with a mix of awe and intense curiosity.

 

"I want to know the truth. Who are you, Izuku Midoriya? And what is that power?"

 

Izuku looked down at the grimoire. The four-leaf clover seemed to pulse warmly, encouraging him. He had spent his entire life hiding, making himself small to avoid the ridicule of the world. He had lied to the police officer just minutes ago.

 

But this was All Might. The man who inspired him to never give up.

 

If he couldn't trust All Might, he couldn't trust anyone.

 

Izuku took a deep breath. "The police think it's a late Quirk awakening. But it's not."

 

All Might tilted his head. "Not a Quirk? Then what is it?"

 

"It's a Grimoire," Izuku said, his voice surprisingly steady. He lifted the book. "And it doesn't use a Quirk Factor. It uses Mana. It's... Magic."

 

All Might stared at him. For a long moment, the hospital room was completely silent. The only sound was the steady beep-beep of the heart monitor.

 

Then, All Might rubbed his temples, letting out a low chuckle. "Magic. The Symbol of Peace, running on fumes, talking to a kid with a magic book. The world truly is full of surprises."

 

He looked back at Izuku, his gaze softening. "You're telling me the truth. I can see it in your eyes."

 

"I am," Izuku nodded firmly. "I didn't have it until today. It just... appeared when I thought I was going to die. When I realized I still wanted to be a hero, even if I was Quirkless."

 

All Might's expression grew solemn. He remembered the feeling of being powerless. He remembered a time before he received his own power, One For All. He saw a kindred spirit in the bruised, exhausted boy sitting before him.

 

"A hero, huh?" All Might mused. "It's a dangerous path, Midoriya. Especially if your body is not accustomed to this 'Magic'. The entrance exam for U.A. High is in ten months. If you walk into that exam in your current physical state, your power will tear you apart before the robots do."

 

Izuku's eyes widened. "Ten months... you think I can do it? You think I can be a hero?"

 

All Might smiled, not his boisterous camera-ready smile, but a genuine, gentle expression. "I think you already took the first step. You have the heart. Now, you just need the vessel."

 

The Number One Hero reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black business card. He handed it to Izuku. It had a phone number and an address on it.

 

"Dagobah Municipal Beach Park," All Might said. "It's a local beach that has been illegally used as a dumping ground for years. It's covered in trash, heavy appliances, and scrap metal."

 

Izuku looked at the card, confused. "A dump?"

 

"If you want to wield that Grimoire without destroying yourself, you need to build muscle. You need physical stamina to handle the spiritual strain," All Might explained, crossing his arms. "Meet me there tomorrow morning at 6:00 AM. We have ten months to turn you from a twig into a mighty tree."

 

Tears pricked the corners of Izuku's eyes. This wasn't pity. This was acknowledgment. The Number One Hero believed in him.

 

"I'll be there!" Izuku said, wiping his eyes, a determined fire burning in his chest. "I won't let you down, All Might!"

 

"I know you won't," All Might replied. He turned toward the door, his hand on the handle. "Rest up, young Midoriya. Tomorrow, your true training begins."

 

As the door clicked shut, Izuku was left alone in the room once more.

 

He looked down at the grimoire. He opened it, gently turning past the first page with the Emerald Repulsion spell. The rest of the pages were completely blank.

 

"Ten months," Izuku whispered to the empty room.

 

He didn't have a Quirk. He didn't have genetic superiority. But he had a Grimoire, an ocean of untapped mana, and the guidance of the greatest hero in the world.

 

For the first time in his life, Izuku Midoriya was going to write his own story.

 

And it was going to be magic.

 

 

Inko Midoriya was a woman defined by her endless capacity to worry. For fourteen years, that worry had been a heavy, suffocating blanket, woven from the moment a cold-eyed pediatrician had pointed to an X-ray of her son’s pinky toe and declared him Quirkless. From that day on, she had watched Izuku navigate a world that was inherently hostile to his very existence. She had seen the bruises he tried to hide, the burn marks on his uniform he claimed were from "chemistry accidents," and the heartbreakingly forced smiles he wore to assure her he was fine.

 

When the phone call came from Musutafu General Hospital, that blanket of worry had nearly smothered her alive.

 

Izuku heard her before he saw her. The rapid, frantic slapping of sandals against the sterile hospital linoleum echoed down the corridor, followed by the sliding door to his room slamming open with enough force to rattle the windowpanes.

 

"IZUKU!"

 

Tears were already streaming down Inko's face in torrential rivers. She practically flew across the room, wrapping her arms around her son in a vice-like grip, burying her face in his shoulder.

 

"Mom! Mom, I'm okay, I'm okay!" Izuku wheezed, patting her back awkwardly as she squeezed the remaining breath from his lungs. "It's alright! The villain was captured. I'm completely fine."

 

"The police called! They said a Sludge Villain attacked you! They said you were unconscious!" Inko sobbed, pulling back to frantically inspect his face, her hands hovering over his cheeks as if checking for cracks in porcelain. "I was so scared, Izuku! I thought I lost you!"

 

"I'm sorry for making you worry," Izuku said softly, guilt gnawing at his stomach.

 

Inko sniffled, wiping her eyes with a crumpled tissue from her purse. She took a step back to catch her breath, and that was when she noticed it.

 

Hovering just a few inches from Izuku’s right hip was a large, thick book bound in weathered, dark leather. It pulsed with a faint, rhythmic emerald light, humming at a frequency so low it was felt more in the teeth than heard by the ears. The embossed four-leaf clover on its cover seemed to catch the harsh fluorescent light of the hospital room and soften it into something mystical.

 

Inko froze. Her eyes widened, darting between the floating tome and her son. "Izuku... what is that?"

 

Izuku’s heart hammered against his ribs. He had spent the last hour since All Might’s departure staring at the grimoire, trying to formulate a lie. Telling his mother that he had suddenly acquired a mythical, ancient power called 'Magic' that predated Quirks would only give her a heart attack, or prompt her to admit him to a psychiatric ward. He needed a half-truth. Something palatable to the modern, Quirk-obsessed society.

 

"The police and the doctors think... they think it's a late Quirk awakening, Mom," Izuku said, his voice trembling slightly.

 

Inko gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "A... a Quirk? But the doctor said—"

 

"I know," Izuku interrupted gently. "But the police officer said it happens sometimes. Extreme trauma can trigger a dormant factor. It's... it's some kind of telekinetic summoning Quirk. The book just appeared when the villain attacked me. It protected me."

 

Inko reached out a trembling hand toward the grimoire. "A book? It summoned a book?"

 

"Wait, Mom, don't—!"

 

Before Izuku could stop her, Inko's fingers brushed the leather cover. Instantly, the grimoire flared with a bright, defensive green light. A spark of static electricity snapped against Inko's fingertips, harmless but surprising enough to make her yelp and pull her hand back. The grimoire floated a few inches closer to Izuku, as if hiding behind him.

 

"It... it won't let anyone else touch it," Izuku explained, feeling a strange surge of protectiveness over the ancient tome. "It's bonded to me. Only I can open it."

 

Inko stared at her reddened fingertips, then at the floating book, and finally up at her son. For a moment, Izuku braced himself for her to tell him it was dangerous, to demand the doctors take it away, to beg him to give up his foolish dreams of heroism before he got himself killed.

 

Instead, fresh tears welled in Inko’s eyes. But this time, the heavy blanket of sorrow was gone, replaced by a fragile, overwhelming relief.

 

"You have a power," she whispered, her voice cracking. She fell to her knees next to the bed, gripping the sheets. "Oh, Izuku... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I doubted you. I'm so sorry I didn't believe."

 

"Mom, please don't apologize," Izuku said, sliding out of the hospital bed to kneel beside her, wrapping his arms around her shaking shoulders. "It's okay now. Everything is going to be okay. I'm going to be a hero."

 

And as he hugged his weeping mother, the grimoire floated gently above them, its green light casting a halo of hope in the sterile room.

 

 

 

The next morning, the sun had barely crested the horizon, painting the sky in bruised shades of violet and dull orange, when Izuku Midoriya stood before the rusted gates of Dagobah Municipal Beach Park.

 

The crisp morning air carried the sharp scent of the ocean, but it was heavily masked by the pungent stench of oxidized iron, rotting seaweed, and stagnant water. Izuku zipped his light windbreaker up to his chin, his yellow backpack slung over one shoulder, the grimoire hovering dutifully at his side.

 

He stared out at the coastline, his jaw dropping.

 

It wasn't a beach. It was a graveyard.

 

Mountains of refuse stretched as far as the eye could see. Mangled refrigerators, rusted-out husks of vintage cars, shattered television sets, and twisted heaps of industrial scrap metal formed towering, precarious peaks along the shoreline. The sand was barely visible beneath the ocean of illegal dumping.

 

"Ah, you made it!"

 

Izuku jumped, spinning around to see a skeletal, blonde-haired man sitting atop a particularly large, rusted washing machine. All Might, in his true, emaciated form, hopped down, landing with a soft thud. He wore baggy grey sweatpants and an oversized white t-shirt that billowed in the coastal breeze.

 

"Good morning, All Might!" Izuku bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle.

 

"Morning, young Midoriya," All Might smiled, wiping a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief. He gestured expansively toward the miles of garbage. "Welcome to your new training ground!"

 

Izuku blinked, straightening up. "Are we... are we going to use the trash for target practice? To test the magic?"

 

He reached out, his hand hovering over the grimoire. The book flipped open instantly, the glowing green runes of Emerald Repulsion illuminating the dim morning light.

 

"No, no, no! Put the book away, kid," All Might laughed, waving his hands.

 

Izuku frowned, the grimoire snapping shut. "But I need to learn how to use it. I only have ten months until the U.A. entrance exams."

 

All Might's expression grew serious. He walked over to a half-buried refrigerator, patting its rusted surface. "Yesterday, you told me that channeling this 'Mana' through your body left you completely exhausted. A single blast put you in the hospital from physical drain."

 

"Yes," Izuku nodded. "The book gave me the knowledge instinctively. The physical body is the vessel for mana. If the vessel is weak, the sheer pressure of channeling cosmic energy will shatter it. I felt like my bones were vibrating out of my skin."

 

"Exactly," All Might said, pointing a bony finger at Izuku's chest. "You have been given a phenomenal power, Midoriya. But a sports car engine placed inside the chassis of a golf cart will tear itself apart the moment you hit the gas. Right now, you are a golf cart."

 

Izuku flushed with embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. "Right."

 

"The U.A. entrance exam isn't just about flashy powers. It tests endurance, grit, and physical fortitude," All Might explained, pulling a thick stack of stapled papers from his pocket. He handed them to Izuku. "I stayed up all night drawing this up. I call it the 'Aim to Pass: American Dream Plan'!"

 

Izuku looked down at the documents. It was a meticulously detailed, day-by-day schedule. It included exact caloric intake, sleep schedules, macro-nutrient breakdowns, and designated workout zones across the beach.

 

"Your goal for the next ten months is to clean this entire beach," All Might declared, his blue eyes flashing with intensity. "You are going to move every single piece of scrap metal, every broken appliance, every tire, using nothing but your bare hands and your back. No magic."

 

"The whole beach?!" Izuku gawked, looking at the towering mountains of trash. "But that's impossible! It would take a construction crew months!"

 

"Do you want to be a hero, or do you want to be a statistic?" All Might challenged, his voice dropping into a register that commanded absolute authority. "If you want to be a hero, you have to do the impossible. You have to push past your mortal limits. You have to build a body capable of holding a miracle."

 

Izuku looked back at the ocean of trash. The sheer scale of it was terrifying. But then he looked down at the grimoire resting against his hip. He remembered the feeling of utter helplessness beneath the Sludge Villain. He remembered Bakugo’s cruel laughter. Take a swan dive off the roof.

 

He clenched his fists, the paper crinkling in his grip. He looked up at All Might, a fierce, emerald fire burning in his eyes.

 

"I'll do it," Izuku said, his voice devoid of hesitation.

 

All Might's skeletal face broke into a wide, terrifyingly proud grin. "That's what I like to hear! Now, start with that microwave over there. Haul it up to the promenade!"

 

Izuku dropped his backpack, cracked his knuckles, and marched toward a rusted, water-logged microwave half-buried in the wet sand. He grabbed the edges, planted his feet, and pulled.

 

It didn't move an inch.

 

Izuku strained, his face turning red, his scrawny arms trembling like guitar strings. He gritted his teeth, letting out a frustrated groan, but the appliance was filled with wet sand and cemented into the ground. After a solid minute of pulling, his hands slipped, and he fell backward on his rear, gasping for air.

 

All Might sat down on a lawn chair he had miraculously produced from nowhere, cracking open a can of black coffee. "Only nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand items to go, kid! Keep your back straight!"

 

Izuku groaned, rubbing his sore palms. It was going to be a long ten months.

 

 

 

The physical training at Dagobah Beach consumed Izuku's mornings and evenings, leaving his body a bruised, aching testament to his ambition. But physical strength was only half the equation. If he was going to master his grimoire, he needed to understand the mechanics of his magic. And the grimoire wasn't exactly a user manual.

 

On Saturday afternoon of his second week of training, Izuku found himself wandering the cavernous halls of the Musutafu Central Library.

 

He had brought his new notebook, titled Grimoire Analysis & Spellcraft Vol. 1. Inside, he had meticulously drawn the complex geometric runes that made up the Emerald Repulsion spell. He had noticed that the grimoire’s pages were entirely blank to anyone but him. If he wanted help deciphering the ancient script, he had to draw it out by hand.

 

Izuku scanned the aisles, bypassing the massive sections dedicated to Quirk Biology, Genetics, and Hero Laws. He ventured deeper into the library, toward the back corners where the lighting grew dim and the smell of old paper hung thick in the air.

 

He finally stopped in the 'Ancient Mythology & Pre-Quirk History' aisle.

 

Sitting at a cramped wooden desk, surrounded by towering stacks of dusty encyclopedias, was an elderly man. He had wild, tufts of white hair sticking out in every direction, thick coke-bottle glasses that magnified his eyes to comical proportions, and a tweed jacket covered in chalk dust. He was muttering to himself, furiously scribbling notes on a legal pad.

 

"Excuse me?" Izuku asked timidly.

 

The old man jumped, nearly knocking over a stack of books. He peered at Izuku over the rim of his glasses. "Eh? What is it, boy? Can't you see I'm in the middle of unraveling the linguistic divergence of pre-dynastic Sumerian dialects?"

 

"I-I'm sorry to bother you," Izuku stammered, bowing quickly. "I saw your name placard on the desk. Professor Kenjiro Tate, right? The librarian said you were the leading expert on ancient languages and esoteric history."

 

Professor Tate puffed his chest out, adjusting his glasses. "The librarian is entirely correct. Though in this modern age of genetic superpowers, my field is tragically underappreciated. Everyone cares about Quirks. Bah! A biological fluke! They ignore the true mysteries of the cosmos. What do you want, boy?"

 

Izuku stepped forward, placing his open notebook on the desk. "I need help translating these symbols. I think they're some kind of ancient language, but I can't find anything about them in the standard dictionaries."

 

Tate sighed, leaning forward. "Probably just some obscure graffiti you found. Teenagers always think they've discovered—"

 

The professor stopped. His eyes widened behind his thick lenses. He reached out, his trembling, liver-spotted hand hovering over Izuku's meticulous drawing of the Emerald Repulsion magic circle.

 

The circle was an intricate web of overlapping pentagrams, bordered by concentric rings filled with sharp, angular runes that looked like a cross between Norse Futhark and ancient Sanskrit, but infinitely more complex.

 

"Where... where did you find this?" Tate whispered, his voice suddenly devoid of its previous bluster.

 

"I, uh... I saw it in a dream," Izuku lied smoothly. It was becoming easier to lie to protect the grimoire. "I woke up and drew it from memory. What does it mean?"

 

Tate practically shoved his legal pad aside, grabbing a magnifying glass from his desk to inspect the drawing closer.

 

"This isn't a language, boy," Tate said, his voice trembling with academic excitement. "Not in the traditional sense. These are glyphs of intent. Look here." He pointed to the outer ring of runes. "These angular strokes represent kinetic force. Expulsion. Movement away from a central axis."

 

He traced the inner geometric shapes. "And this... this sacred geometry... it's a conduit shape. It's meant to channel something."

 

"Channel what?" Izuku asked, his heart beating faster.

 

Tate looked up at him, a wild gleam in his eyes. "Energy! The ancients called it by many names. Prana. Qi. Odic force. But the oldest texts... they called it Mana. The lifeblood of the universe."

 

Tate stood up, pacing around the cramped aisle, gesturing frantically. "Before Quirks mutated human DNA, there were theories—fringe theories, mind you, scoffed at by modern science—that humanity once had a connection to the Earth's leylines. That certain individuals with unmutated, pure spiritual pathways could draw upon this cosmic energy to manipulate reality. They called them Mages. Sorcerers. Witches."

 

Izuku’s breath hitched. Mages. The word sent a strange thrill down his spine.

 

"But then the glowing baby in Qingqing City was born," Tate continued, his tone turning bitter. "The Quirk phenomenon swept the globe. The human body evolved to house biological superpowers, but in doing so, the genetic mutation slammed the door shut on our spiritual pathways. The Quirk Factor replaced the Mana Core. Humanity traded cosmic magic for genetic party tricks. The old ways were lost, buried beneath the dust of modern science."

 

Izuku stared at his scarred hands. Because he didn't have a Quirk Factor, because his DNA was untouched by the mutation, he was a living relic. He was a pure vessel.

 

"Professor," Izuku said, pointing to a specific cluster of runes near the center of his drawing. "If this circle channels kinetic energy outward, how does it know not to blast the user backward? What keeps the force directed?"

 

Tate leaned in again. "Fascinating question! See this grounding rune here? It acts as an anchor. It tethers the recoil to the user's immediate spatial coordinates. But to invoke something this complex..." Tate looked at Izuku suspiciously. "You couldn't have just dreamed this. The mathematical precision of this geometry is flawless. It’s a spell of repulsion."

 

Izuku carefully closed his notebook, slipping it back into his bag. "Thank you, Professor Tate. You've given me a lot to think about."

 

"Wait!" Tate called out as Izuku turned to leave. "If you find any more of these... 'dreams', bring them to me! The architectural syntax of these glyphs could revolutionize our understanding of proto-mythology!"

 

"I will," Izuku promised with a small smile.

 

Leaving the library, Izuku felt a profound sense of clarity. The grimoire wasn't just giving him random powers. It was a tool of supreme intellect. The magic circles were literal equations of reality. If he could understand the syntax, the language of the mana, he could consciously manipulate his spells.

 

He didn't just need a strong body. He needed a brilliant mind. And if there was one thing Izuku Midoriya possessed in abundance, it was an analytical intellect forged by a decade of obsessively taking notes.

 

 

 

Months 1 to 4: The Crucible

 

The first four months of the American Dream Plan were pure, unadulterated agony.

 

Izuku's hands, once soft, were torn open, blistered, and healed into thick, rough calluses. His muscles ached with a constant, low-grade throb that made getting out of bed feel like a Herculean task. He hauled tires, dragged rusted pipes, and pushed water-logged dressers across the sand under All Might's watchful, demanding eye.

 

At school, he was a ghost. He kept his head down, ignoring Bakugo's taunts and the snickers of his classmates. He was too exhausted to care about junior high drama. He was fighting a war on two fronts: the beach, and the grimoire.

 

Every night, after finishing his homework, Izuku would sit cross-legged on his bedroom floor, the grimoire floating before him.

 

He began to practice what he called Mana Skin.

 

He remembered the recoil of the Emerald Repulsion spell in the tunnel. It had nearly dislocated his shoulder and drained his stamina. He theorized that if mana was an energy that flowed through him, he shouldn't just push it out; he should keep it in.

 

He closed his eyes, focusing on the warm current in his chest. He visualized the mana not as a weapon, but as a blanket. Slowly, he pushed the energy outward, letting it seep into his muscle tissue, his bones, and his skin.

 

When he opened his eyes, he gasped.

 

A faint, translucent green aura was clinging to his skin, hugging the contours of his arms and hands like a second layer of armor. He clenched his fist. The air around his hand crackled softly. He felt an incredible surge of power, as if his physical strength had suddenly multiplied.

 

But almost immediately, his breathing grew ragged. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The mana was burning through his physical caloric reserves at an alarming rate. It was like holding his breath while sprinting underwater. After thirty seconds, the aura shattered like glass, and Izuku collapsed sideways onto his carpet, panting heavily.

 

So that's the trick, Izuku thought, staring at his ceiling as his lungs burned. Mana Skin reinforces the body, allowing it to withstand the recoil of magic and granting superhuman strength. But it drains stamina exponentially. If I use it at the beach, I can move heavier trash, but I'll gas out in minutes.

 

The next morning at Dagobah Beach, Izuku stood before a rusted-out pickup truck half-buried in the sand. He dug his heels in, placed his hands on the tailgate, and pushed. It didn't budge.

 

Temptation whispered in his ear. He could summon his Mana Skin. He could push this truck effortlessly.

 

"Struggling, young Midoriya?" All Might called out from his lawn chair, reading a newspaper. "Remember, true strength isn't built by taking shortcuts!"

 

Izuku gritted his teeth. All Might was right. If he relied on the magic to do the heavy lifting now, his base physical vessel would never grow strong enough to hold the truly powerful spells the grimoire possessed. He had to build his baseline.

 

Izuku let out a primal yell, ignoring the magic, relying entirely on his own tearing muscle fibers. He pushed, the sand shifting under his boots. Slowly, agonizingly, the rusted truck groaned in protest. The wheels broke free of the sand.

 

Inch by inch, the Quirkless boy pushed the truck up the beach.

 

All Might lowered his newspaper, watching the boy's back. A profound sense of respect washed over the veteran hero. The boy had the ultimate cheat code literally hovering at his hip, yet he chose the path of agonizing labor.

 

He truly is worthy, All Might thought.

 

 

 

Months 5 to 8: The Architect of Magic

 

As winter approached, a dramatic shift occurred.

 

The baseline had been established. Izuku was no longer a scrawny twig. His shoulders had broadened, his chest was firm, and his arms were corded with lean, dense muscle. He was moving mountains of trash with terrifying efficiency.

 

And as his body grew stronger, his mind unlocked the grimoire's secrets.

 

It happened during a torrential downpour in late November. All Might had advised him to take the day off, but Izuku refused. He was attempting to drag a massive, water-logged steel I-beam up the slippery stone steps of the promenade.

 

Suddenly, a gust of wind knocked over a towering pile of rusted metal barrels precariously stacked at the top of the stairs. Dozens of heavy steel drums came crashing down the stone steps, hurtling directly toward Izuku.

 

There was no time to dodge.

 

Izuku dropped the I-beam, his heart leaping into his throat. Instinct took over. The grimoire at his hip snapped open, the pages flipping in a blur of green light until they slammed to a halt on a previously blank page. New runes materialized on the parchment as if written by an invisible, burning pen.

 

Izuku slammed his hands forward, visualizing an unbreakable wall of geometric intent.

 

"Glyph Magic: Aegis Ward!"

 

A massive, brilliant green magic circle erupted from his palms. Unlike the single-layered circle of Emerald Repulsion, this spell was a complex, three-dimensional mandala of interlocking pentagrams and thick, glowing barriers.

 

The steel barrels slammed into the magic circle.

 

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

 

Sparks flew, but the barrier didn't yield a single millimeter. The immense kinetic force of the falling barrels was completely absorbed and dispersed by the geometric angles of the shield. The barrels bounced off harmlessly, clattering down the sides of the steps.

 

Izuku stood there, his hands still outstretched, panting heavily. The shield slowly dissolved into green dust. He looked down at his hands. They weren't trembling. His body hadn't buckled under the strain of the mana output. His physical training had worked.

 

"Incredible..."

 

Izuku looked up. All Might was standing at the top of the stairs, holding an umbrella, his jaw hanging slightly slack.

 

"I thought I told you to take the day off, kid," All Might said, shaking his head in disbelief. "But it seems the universe had other plans. That barrier... it completely negated the kinetic impact. It didn't just block it, it absorbed it."

 

Izuku grabbed his grimoire, staring at the newly written page in awe. "It's an Aegis Ward. The runes... they form an architectural dome of mana. It’s purely defensive."

 

Over the next few months, Izuku began visiting Professor Tate more frequently. He would bring complex drawings of his Aegis Ward and Emerald Repulsion spells, discussing the theoretical physics of how the runes manipulated space and energy.

 

Izuku learned that his magic was highly modular. By understanding the runes, he could alter the size, density, and duration of his spells. He began practicing by creating tiny, dinner-plate-sized Aegis Wards and tossing rocks at them, learning how to angle the shields to deflect projectiles rather than just absorbing them.

 

He was no longer just a boy with a magic book. He was becoming a tactical Mage.

 

 

 

Months 9 to 10: The Climax of Training

 

Spring arrived in Musutafu, bringing with it the blooming of cherry blossoms and the final stretch of the American Dream Plan.

 

Izuku had hit a massive growth spurt, both physically and magically. He had mastered maintaining his Mana Skin for up to five minutes at a time without suffering physical backlash. His body was a coiled spring of refined muscle and ancient energy.

 

But the U.A. entrance exam required more than just defense and raw strength. It required mobility. Most heroes had Quirks that allowed them to traverse complex urban environments rapidly. Izuku needed to level the playing field.

 

On a crisp morning, exactly two weeks before the U.A. exam, Izuku stood before the last remaining pile of trash on Dagobah Beach: a towering heap of crushed cars and rusted scaffolding that looked like a jagged metal mountain.

 

He didn't walk toward it. He closed his eyes, centering his breathing.

 

The grimoire opened, pages fluttering to a third, newly inscribed page.

 

"Glyph Magic: Zephyr Step!"

 

Izuku stomped his right foot onto the air above the sand. A small, compact green magic circle—barely larger than his shoe—flashed into existence right beneath his sole. It acted as a solid, physical platform of concentrated mana.

 

Using the magic circle as a foothold, Izuku pushed off violently. He shot forward, launching himself into the air. Before gravity could pull him down, he kicked his left foot out. Another green glyph materialized in mid-air. He bounced off it, zigzagging upward.

 

Left. Right. Left. Right.

 

He was parkouring on thin air, leaving a trail of shattering green geometric glass behind him with every step. He ascended the mountain of trash with breathtaking speed, defying gravity entirely.

 

He reached the apex of the junk pile, leaping off a final glyph to land gracefully atop a crushed sedan.

 

He stood up, looking out over the beach.

 

The sun was rising, casting its golden rays over a pristine, glittering stretch of white sand. The endless mountains of garbage were gone. Over the last ten months, Izuku had personally moved millions of pounds of refuse, clearing the entire coastline. The ocean waves crashed gently against the shore, free of sludge and rust for the first time in a decade.

 

"Hey, kid!"

 

Izuku looked down. All Might was standing on the clean sand, in his muscular, towering hero form. The Symbol of Peace was looking up at him, a massive, genuine smile plastered across his face.

 

"You didn't just finish the plan," All Might boomed, his voice echoing over the waves. "You completed it ahead of schedule! And look at this beach! You've restored a piece of the city before even setting foot in a hero school!"

 

Izuku jumped down, using a single Zephyr Step glyph to break his fall, landing lightly on the sand in front of his mentor.

 

He was shirtless, his windbreaker tied around his waist. His physique was a stark contrast to the scrawny, trembling boy from ten months ago. His core was shredded, his arms thickly muscled, and a faint, healthy sheen of sweat highlighted the sheer physical power he had cultivated. The grimoire floated proudly by his side, its green light pulsing in sync with his steady heartbeat.

 

All Might reverted to his skeletal form in a puff of steam, pulling out a smartphone to show Izuku a picture. It was a photo of Izuku on the first day, crying and struggling to move a single microwave.

 

"Look at where you started, Midoriya," All Might said softly. "You came to me with a magic book and a heart full of doubt. You thought you were a broken vessel. But look at you now. You built the vessel yourself."

 

Tears pricked Izuku's eyes. He looked at his scarred, calloused hands. He thought of his mother's relief, of Professor Tate's awe, of Bakugo's cruel words that no longer held any power over him.

 

"I couldn't have done it without you, All Might," Izuku said, his voice thick with emotion. He bowed deeply. "Thank you. For believing in me."

 

All Might placed a heavy, warm hand on Izuku's shoulder, prompting him to stand straight.

 

"You did the work, Izuku. You own this power now," All Might said, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears of his own. "Your grimoire may be ancient magic, but the hero wielding it is entirely modern. The world isn't ready for a Mage. But they're going to get one."

 

All Might pointed toward the city skyline, where the massive, H-shaped towers of U.A. High School gleamed in the morning sun.

 

"Now, go home, eat a massive breakfast, and rest your muscles," All Might commanded. "Because tomorrow, you prove to the world that you belong at the top!"

 

 

 

The Day of the Exam

 

The gates of U.A. High School were massive, imposing structures of steel and glass that practically radiated prestige. Hundreds of middle school students swarmed the entrance, chattering nervously, showing off subtle flashes of their Quirks to calm their nerves.

 

Izuku stood at the edge of the crowd, taking it all in. He wore his black Aldera Junior High uniform, perfectly pressed. His yellow backpack was securely fastened.

 

And at his right hip, floating silently, was the four-leaf grimoire.

 

He didn't bother trying to hide it. Anyone who looked closely would just assume it was a Support Item or a manifestation of his Quirk. He was done hiding.

 

"Out of my way, Deku!"

 

A gruff, aggressive voice barked from behind him.

 

Izuku didn't flinch. He slowly turned his head. Katsuki Bakugo was stalking toward him, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, his crimson eyes glaring daggers.

 

"Don't stand in front of me," Bakugo snarled, pausing just inches from Izuku's face. "I'll kill you."

 

Ten months ago, Izuku would have scrambled backward, waving his hands defensively, stuttering out an apology. He would have cowed beneath Bakugo's overwhelming presence.

 

But ten months of moving literal mountains and wrestling with cosmic energy had fundamentally altered Izuku Midoriya's posture.

 

Izuku simply looked at Bakugo. He didn't smile, but he didn't shrink, either. He held Bakugo's gaze with calm, unshakeable confidence. The grimoire at his side pulsed, a faint hum of emerald power vibrating in the air between them.

 

Bakugo's eyes darted to the floating book, his brow furrowing in deep confusion. What the hell is that? Some kind of trick? He's Quirkless!

 

"Good luck on the exam, Kacchan," Izuku said evenly, his voice devoid of any tremor.

 

He turned his back on the explosive blonde and began walking toward the massive doors of U.A. High.

 

Bakugo stood rooted to the spot, a sudden, inexplicable chill running down his spine. The 'Deku' he knew was gone. The boy walking away from him didn't look like a pebble in his path; he looked like an immovable wall.

 

As Izuku walked through the towering archway of the school, he placed a hand gently on the leather cover of his grimoire. He felt the mana humming beneath his fingertips, eager and ready.

 

He had the muscles. He had the mana.

 

It was time to write the first chapter of his legend.

 

 

The morning sun hung low over the sprawling, fortress-like campus of U.A. High School. Its massive H-shaped glass towers reflected the golden light, a beacon of hope and prestige for the hundreds of aspiring heroes swarming its gates.

 

Izuku Midoriya stood on the brick pathway leading to the main entrance, watching Katsuki Bakugo’s retreating back. The explosive blonde had just threatened him, an old habit that used to send Izuku into a spiraling panic. But today, the words washed over him like water off a stone. He touched the weathered leather cover of the grimoire floating silently at his right hip, feeling the warm, rhythmic pulse of mana vibrating against his palm. He was ready.

 

He took a step forward, his foot catching the edge of an uneven paving stone.

 

Gravity shifted. Izuku pitched forward, his arms flailing instinctively, bracing for the harsh impact of the concrete. But the impact never came.

 

Instead, he stopped in mid-air, floating inches above the ground, his limbs suspended as if submerged in invisible water.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

Izuku blinked, righting himself as his feet were gently lowered to the pavement. He turned around to see a girl with short, bobbed brown hair and large, warm brown eyes. She wore a thick winter coat and a bright, friendly smile, her fingertips pressed together.

 

"It's my Quirk," she explained cheerfully, pointing to herself. "Sorry I used it without asking first. But it'd be bad luck if you fell right before the exam, wouldn't it?"

 

"O-Oh! Um, yes! Thank you!" Izuku stammered, a blush rising to his cheeks. Ten months of grueling physical training hadn't entirely cured his social anxiety around girls.

 

The girl beamed, pumping her fists in the air. "This is so nerve-wracking, right? Let's both do our best! See ya inside!"

 

With a wave, she jogged off toward the massive double doors of the auditorium. Izuku watched her go, a small, genuine smile breaking across his face. I talked to a girl! Well, she talked to me, but still!

 

He glanced down at his grimoire. The green four-leaf clover emblem seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. A symbol of good luck.

 

"Alright," Izuku whispered, his nervous energy shifting into focused determination. "Let's do this."

 

 

 

The orientation auditorium was colossal, steeped in shadow and illuminated only by the massive screen spanning the stage. Thousands of students sat in the tiered seating, the air thick with nervous anticipation, bouncing legs, and the quiet hum of whispered strategies.

 

Izuku found his assigned seat in the middle row. By a stroke of cosmic irony, seat number 2234 was located directly next to Katsuki Bakugo.

 

Bakugo slouched in his chair, arms crossed, glaring at the empty stage. He didn't even look at Izuku, though his jaw twitched in annoyance when Izuku’s grimoire floated smoothly into the narrow space between their seats, hovering just above Izuku’s lap.

 

"Put that floating piece of garbage away, Deku," Bakugo muttered, his voice barely audible over the crowd. "It's distracting."

 

"It's not garbage, Kacchan," Izuku replied evenly, not looking at him. "And it stays with me."

 

Before Bakugo could fire back, the stage lights blazed to life in a blinding array of colors.

 

"WELCOME TO TODAY'S LIVE PERFORMANCE!"

 

A man with towering, spiked blonde hair, clad in a black leather jacket with a massive directional speaker collar, strutted onto the stage. He struck a dramatic pose, pointing finger guns at the audience. It was the Voice Hero: Present Mic.

 

"EVERYBODY SAY 'HEY'!" Present Mic roared, leaning into his microphone stand.

 

The auditorium was met with dead silence. Not a single student made a sound.

 

"KEEPING IT MELLOW, I SEE! THAT'S FINE, EXAMINEES!" Present Mic recovered seamlessly, his energy unbothered. "I'M HERE TO PRESENT THE GUIDELINES FOR YOUR PRACTICAL EXAM! ARE YOU READY? YEAH!"

 

Again, utter silence.

 

Izuku pulled a fresh notebook from his yellow backpack—Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 14—and a pen. Despite his new magical capabilities, old habits died hard. He couldn't help but fanboy slightly. It's the Voice Hero, Present Mic! I listen to his radio show every week!

 

"As it says in the application materials," Present Mic continued, a map of various urban sectors appearing on the massive screen behind him, "you listeners will be conducting ten-minute mock urban battles after this! You can bring whatever you want with you. After the presentation, you'll head to your specified battle centers, okay?!"

 

Izuku checked his exam ticket. He was assigned to Battle Center B. He glanced over at Bakugo's ticket. Battle Center A.

 

They split up students from the same middle school so we can't work together, Izuku analyzed, nodding to himself. Makes sense. It's a test of individual adaptability.

 

"Three different types of faux villains are stationed in each battle center," Present Mic explained as pixelated silhouettes of robots appeared on the screen, labeled 1, 2, and 3 Points. "You earn points for each of them based on their difficulty level. Your goal, dear listeners, is to use your Quirks to earn points by immobilizing the faux villains! Of course, attacking other examinees and any other unheroic actions are strictly prohibited!"

 

"Excuse me! May I ask a question?"

 

A tall, broad-shouldered boy with slicked-back blue hair and rectangular glasses stood up abruptly, his arm raised straight into the air like a flagpole. A spotlight hit him instantly.

 

"On the handout, there are clearly four types of villains!" The boy spoke with an authoritative, booming voice. "If this is a misprint, then U.A., the most prominent school in Japan, should be ashamed of that foolish mistake! We examinees are here in this place because we wish to be molded into exemplary heroes!"

 

The blue-haired boy then spun around, pointing an accusatory finger directly at Izuku.

 

"In addition, you over there! With the floating green book!"

 

Izuku blinked, pointing to himself. "Me?"

 

"Yes, you! You've been muttering and scribbling in that notebook this entire time! And whatever that glowing object is, it is highly distracting! If you are here on a pleasure trip, then you should leave immediately!"

 

A smattering of snickers echoed through the auditorium. Bakugo scoffed, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.

 

Izuku didn't panic. He didn't wave his hands defensively, and he didn't apologize profusely. Instead, he calmly closed his notebook, capped his pen, and looked the boy directly in the eyes.

 

"I'm writing down the rules and analyzing the point distribution," Izuku projected his voice clearly, ensuring it carried across the silent rows. "As for my 'glowing object,' it is a manifestation of my power, much like a physical mutation. I can't 'put it away' any more than you could put away the engines on your calves. If my quiet note-taking distracted you from the presentation, I suggest you work on your battlefield focus. Villains won't accommodate your attention span."

 

The auditorium went dead silent. The snickers abruptly ceased.

 

The blue-haired boy's jaw dropped slightly. He looked at Izuku, then down at his own legs, where thick, metallic engine exhausts protruded from his calves. He flushed a deep shade of crimson, bowed stiffly, and said, "I... see. I apologize for my assumption!" He quickly sat down.

 

Bakugo stared at Izuku, his crimson eyes wide with genuine shock. The Deku he knew would have crumbled under that public spotlight. The boy sitting next to him was a complete stranger.

 

"Okay, okay, examinee number 7111," Present Mic intervened, clearly amused by the exchange. "Thanks for the great message! The fourth faux villain is worth zero points. That guy's an obstacle, so to speak. There's one in every battle center. An obstacle that will go crazy in narrow spaces. It's not impossible to defeat, but there's no point in doing so. I recommend you listeners try to avoid it."

 

A massive obstacle to test situational awareness and threat assessment, Izuku jotted down quickly. Fight or flight. A true hero test.

 

"That's all from me!" Present Mic shouted, throwing his arms wide. "Finally, I'll give you listeners a present—our school motto! The hero Napoleon Bonaparte once said: 'A true hero is one who overcomes life's misfortunes.' Go beyond. PLUS ULTRA! Now, everyone, good luck suffering!"

 

 

 

Battle Center B was a breathtaking testament to U.A.'s massive budget. It was an entire mock city, complete with skyscrapers, residential blocks, stoplights, and paved streets, all surrounded by a towering, impregnable concrete wall.

 

Izuku stood near the front of the massive crowd of examinees gathered before the colossal steel gates. He wore a dark green, fitted tracksuit he had purchased specifically for the exam. It was durable and allowed for a full range of motion. He stretched his arms, feeling the dense, coiled power of the muscles he had forged on Dagobah Beach over the last ten months.

 

He spotted the nice girl with the bobbed hair standing a few yards away, looking incredibly nervous. He took a step toward her, intending to wish her luck, when a heavy hand clamped onto his shoulder.

 

It was the blue-haired boy with glasses.

 

"She appears to be trying to focus herself," the boy said sternly, his brow furrowed. "What are you going to do? Are you taking this entrance exam to interfere with everyone else?"

 

Izuku sighed, turning to face him. "I was just going to wish her luck. She saved me from tripping at the front gates earlier. It's called basic courtesy. Not everything is a tactical sabotage."

 

The boy was taken aback, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Ah. I... see. I seem to have misjudged your intentions once again. I am Tenya Iida."

 

"Izuku Midoriya," Izuku nodded.

 

Before Iida could say anything else, a deafening screech of static erupted from speakers mounted on the city walls.

 

"RIGHT, LET'S START!" Present Mic's voice boomed from the observation tower above. "WHAT'S WRONG? THERE ARE NO COUNTDOWNS IN A REAL BATTLE! RUN, RUN, RUN! THE DIE HAS BEEN CAST!"

 

The colossal steel gates began to groan open.

 

Most of the examinees hesitated, confused by the lack of a formal "3, 2, 1" countdown. But Izuku’s mind was razor-sharp. He had analyzed Pro Hero engagement times for years. Present Mic was right; villains didn't give countdowns.

 

Before the gates were even fully open, Izuku burst into a sprint. He was a green blur, leaving the paralyzed crowd of examinees in the dust.

 

"Hey, wait! He's cheating!" someone yelled from the back.

 

Izuku ignored them. As he crossed the threshold into the mock city, the grimoire at his hip snapped open, glowing with a brilliant, blinding emerald light. The pages flipped frantically.

 

"I need an aerial vantage point to locate the highest density of targets," Izuku muttered, his eyes scanning the towering buildings ahead.

 

He channeled his mana, feeling the familiar, warm current rush from his core, down his legs, and into the soles of his shoes.

 

"Glyph Magic: Zephyr Step!"

 

Izuku stomped his right foot downward, not into the pavement, but into the empty air. A glowing green geometric circle flashed into existence beneath his sneaker, solidifying into a hard platform of compressed mana. He pushed off it with explosive force, launching himself three stories into the air.

 

"Whoa! What is that?!" a student gasped from the ground below.

 

Izuku didn't look back. He kicked his left foot out, summoning another Zephyr Step glyph in mid-air. He bounced off it, ascending higher and higher, parkouring up the side of a massive glass skyscraper without ever touching the glass. He left a trail of shattering, sparkling green geometric dust in his wake.

 

Within ten seconds, Izuku reached the rooftop of a ten-story building. He landed gracefully, the wind whipping his dark green curls. From up here, the entire mock city was laid out before him like a chessboard.

 

His eyes, trained by years of obsessively analyzing villain attack patterns, immediately identified the choke points. To the north, a wide boulevard connecting two residential blocks. The perfect place for the U.A. faculty to funnel the robotic targets.

 

Below him, the rest of the examinees had finally flooded into the city, Quirks blazing. Explosions, ice, lasers, and physical mutations clashed against the mechanical whirring of the faux villains.

 

"Target acquired," Izuku whispered, his eyes locking onto a squadron of five robots—three 2-pointers and two 1-pointers—rolling down the northern boulevard.

 

Izuku stepped off the ledge of the skyscraper.

 

He plummeted toward the street below, the wind roaring in his ears. He aimed himself directly at the center of the robot squadron. When he was twenty feet from the ground, he flipped his grimoire to a new page.

 

He pushed mana into his skin, casting a low-level Mana Skin to protect his body from the G-forces and impending impact. A faint, translucent green aura wrapped around his physique.

 

He extended his right palm toward the asphalt.

 

"Glyph Magic: Concussive Cannon!"

 

A highly condensed, multi-layered green magic circle materialized in front of his hand. It was smaller than his Emerald Repulsion, but the runes were packed tightly, vibrating with volatile kinetic energy.

 

Izuku fired.

 

A concentrated beam of solid kinetic force shot from the magic circle, slamming into the street with the force of a localized meteor strike. The shockwave blew all five robots apart instantly, sending metallic limbs, sensory arrays, and chassis flying into the walls of the adjacent buildings.

 

Izuku landed perfectly in the center of the crater, his Mana Skin absorbing the remaining impact force. He stood up, exhaling a breath of white steam.

 

"Three 2-pointers and two 1-pointers. That's eight points," Izuku calculated quickly, the grimoire floating obediently back to his side. "Not enough. The cutoff is usually around forty."

 

He didn't pause to celebrate. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, expanding his senses. Over the last few months, he had learned that mana wasn't just inside him; it was an energy that flowed through everything. By projecting his awareness outward, he could feel disruptions in the natural flow of the environment. He could feel the heavy, unnatural weight of the massive machines moving through the city.

 

"Six blocks east. A swarm of 3-pointers."

 

Izuku summoned another Zephyr Step, launching himself diagonally over a three-story building, rocketing toward his next targets like a green comet.

 

 

 

High above the mock cities, in a darkened observation room filled with glowing monitors, the U.A. faculty watched the exams unfold in silence.

 

Pro Heroes in their prime—Midnight, Snipe, Cementoss, Vlad King, and the underground hero Eraserhead—sat in high-backed chairs, evaluating the screens. At the center of the room sat Principal Nezu, a small, impeccably dressed creature that resembled a hybrid of a bear, a mouse, and a dog, sipping calmly from a teacup.

 

Standing in the shadows at the back of the room was the skeletal form of All Might.

 

"We've got an impressive crop this year," Midnight purred, tapping her whip against her thigh as she watched a monitor showing Katsuki Bakugo decimating robots with massive, fiery explosions. "Examinee Bakugo is ruthless. He's completely ignoring the others and focusing purely on destruction. High combat viability."

 

"There's also examinee Iida in Center B," Snipe noted, his drawl thick behind his gas mask. "Excellent mobility. He's utilizing hit-and-run tactics to a tee."

 

"Look at Center C. The Todoroki boy," Cementoss rumbled, gesturing to a screen where an entire city block had been frozen solid in an instant. "His raw output is on the level of a Pro Hero already."

 

Aizawa Shota, also known as Eraserhead, leaned forward in his chair. His bloodshot eyes, framed by dark, heavy bags, were locked onto a different monitor.

 

"What about examinee Midoriya in Center B?" Aizawa asked, his voice a low, raspy drawl.

 

The faculty turned their attention to the screen Aizawa had highlighted.

 

On the monitor, Izuku Midoriya was a blur of calculated, lethal precision. He was currently surrounded by four heavily armored 3-pointers. Instead of blasting them, Izuku cast small, dinner-plate-sized green magic circles in the air, using them as stepping stones to evade the robots' missile fire. As a robot swung a massive mechanical pincer at him, Izuku cast a larger geometric shield—Aegis Ward—blocking the blow completely, before pressing his palm against the robot's chassis and blasting it apart with a point-blank Concussive Cannon.

 

"Seventy-four villain points," Nezu observed, lowering his teacup. "He is currently in first place across all battle centers. And he shows no signs of slowing down."

 

"His Quirk is fascinating," Midnight mused, leaning closer to the screen. "It's highly aesthetic. Those green geometric circles... they look almost like ancient runes. Is it a hard-light construct generation?"

 

"It's not just constructs," Snipe countered, analyzing the playback. "Look at the telemetry data. He's projecting concussive kinetic force, generating physical platforms in mid-air, and creating absorption shields. That's three distinct applications of energy manipulation. It's incredibly versatile."

 

Aizawa narrowed his eyes, squinting at the screen. "It's the book."

 

"The book?" Vlad King asked.

 

"Watch carefully," Aizawa pointed. "The book floating beside him. Whenever he uses a different application of his power, the pages flip. The glowing geometric circles originate from the text within the book. It's some kind of externalized, localized reality-warping tied to a physical tether. But what bothers me is his stamina."

 

Sitting at a medical console nearby, the elderly heroine Recovery Girl adjusted her visor. "Eraserhead is right. We have biometric sensors in the streets measuring the examinees' vitals. A Quirk of that magnitude—projecting solid light and massive kinetic blasts—should be burning through his physical caloric reserves like wildfire. Bakugo's heart rate is spiking. Todoroki's core temperature is dropping. But Midoriya..."

 

She tapped a few keys, pulling up Izuku's vitals.

 

"His physical caloric burn is completely normal for a boy his age engaged in heavy cardio," Recovery Girl noted, baffled. "He's not using his biology to generate that energy. He's pulling it from somewhere else."

 

In the back of the room, All Might allowed a massive, silent grin to stretch across his skeletal face. They don't know what to make of you, my boy. You're completely outside their paradigm.

 

"Regardless of the mechanics, his situational awareness is elite," Nezu said, pouring himself another cup of tea. "He assesses threat levels instantly, eliminates them efficiently, and keeps moving. He is a textbook combatant."

 

Nezu reached out, placing his small paw over a large, glowing red button on his console.

 

"However," the principal's voice took on a slightly darker, philosophical tone. "A hero's true worth is not measured merely by how many villains they can defeat. True heroism is tested in the crucible of absolute despair. Let's see how they handle the true test."

 

Nezu pressed the button.

 

 

 

Izuku landed lightly on the roof of a crushed sedan, panting softly. He dismissed his Mana Skin, letting his body cool down.

 

"Seventy-four points," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "That should be more than enough to secure a spot in the hero course. Now I just need to play defense and wait out the clock."

 

Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet began to tremble.

 

It wasn't a localized vibration. The entire mock city was shaking. The asphalt split open, cracks racing down the streets like jagged lightning. A deafening, metallic groan echoed from the center of the sector, drowning out the sound of the smaller robots.

 

A shadow fell over the city.

 

Izuku looked up, his breath catching in his throat.

 

Rising from the center of the urban landscape was a machine of incomprehensible scale. It was easily taller than the skyscrapers surrounding it. Its body was a massive, heavily armored torso mounted on colossal treads that crushed everything in their path. Two glowing red optical sensors the size of buses glared down at the fleeing examinees.

 

It was the Zero Pointer. The obstacle.

 

"That's... that's not an obstacle," Izuku whispered, his eyes wide with horror as the colossal robot swung a massive arm, completely obliterating a five-story office building. Debris rained down like artillery fire, filling the streets with blinding dust and smoke. "That's a walking natural disaster!"

 

"Run away!"

 

"It's huge! We have to get out of here!"

 

The examinees were in full retreat. Iida sprinted past Izuku, his engines roaring. Other students scrambled over the rubble, their faces pale with terror.

 

Izuku’s tactical mind kicked in instantly. Present Mic said there's no point in fighting it. It's designed to force a retreat. I have enough points. I need to fall back and conserve my mana.

 

He turned on his heel, preparing to summon a Zephyr Step to escape the danger zone.

 

"Ow! Help me!"

 

The cry was faint, almost entirely swallowed by the deafening grind of the robot's treads, but Izuku heard it.

 

He stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around, peering through the thick cloud of concrete dust settling over the street.

 

About fifty yards away, directly in the path of the advancing Zero Pointer, was the girl with the bobbed hair—Uraraka. Her leg was pinned beneath a massive chunk of debris from the building the robot had just destroyed. She was struggling frantically to push it off, tears streaming down her face, but it was far too heavy.

 

Above her, the Zero Pointer raised its massive foot-tread, preparing to step forward and crush the entire intersection.

 

Izuku didn't think. He didn't analyze. He didn't calculate the mana cost or the risk of injury.

 

His body moved on its own.

 

He lunged forward, channeling every ounce of mana he had left into his legs. "Zephyr Step!"

 

He rocketed across the rubble-strewn street, moving faster than he ever had before. He reached Uraraka just as a massive shadow blanketed them, the colossal foot of the Zero Pointer descending rapidly.

 

"A-Aegis Ward!" Izuku roared, throwing both hands up toward the sky.

 

A dome of interlocking green geometric runes erupted around them, forming a glowing, transparent half-sphere.

 

CRASH!

 

The bottom of the robot's tread slammed into the Aegis Ward. The sheer kinetic force of the impact was apocalyptic. The concrete street beneath Izuku and Uraraka cratered instantly, sinking three feet into the earth.

 

Izuku screamed in agony, falling to one knee. His Aegis Ward held, but the pressure was immense. The runes were flickering, whining loudly as they struggled to disperse the millions of pounds of force pressing down upon them. Blood dripped from Izuku's nose. His physical vessel was hitting its absolute limit.

 

"What are you doing?!" Uraraka cried, shielding her head. "You're going to get crushed!"

 

"I won't let you die!" Izuku gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing with a feral, emerald light.

 

He knew he couldn't hold the shield forever. The robot would just keep pressing down until his mana ran dry, and then they would both be paste. He had to destroy the threat. He had to go on the offensive.

 

He looked at his grimoire, floating frantically beside him.

 

"Give me something!" Izuku screamed to the ancient book, pouring his soul, his sheer willpower, and his unwavering desire to save the girl into the glowing pages. "I need more power!"

 

The grimoire reacted. It recognized the absolute purity of his heroic intent. The pages began to turn so fast they created a miniature whirlwind of air in the dome. It stopped on a page near the very back of the book.

 

A massive, intricate array of runes glowed blindingly bright, projecting an entirely new formula into Izuku's mind.

 

It was a spell of absolute destruction. A spell that required a terrifying amount of mana.

 

Izuku dropped his left hand, holding the Aegis Ward up with only his right. The strain doubled, tearing muscle fibers in his shoulder, but he ignored the pain.

 

He pulled his left fist back to his waist. He channeled the deepest, most primal reserves of his mana core, drawing energy not just from himself, but pulling ambient mana from the very earth beneath him. The air inside the dome crackled with violent, green lightning.

 

"Glyph Magic..." Izuku chanted, his voice echoing with a strange, harmonic resonance that seemed to vibrate the very air.

 

A massive magic circle, easily thirty feet in diameter, materialized directly in front of the Zero Pointer's chest plate. It was so complex, so dense with geometric runes, that it looked like a solid wall of emerald glass.

 

Izuku drove his left fist forward, punching the air.

 

"AEGIS CRUSHER!"

 

From the center of the massive magic circle in the sky, a colossal, solid construct of glowing green mana erupted forward. It took the shape of a massive, geometric fist.

 

It hit the Zero Pointer dead center in its armored chest.

 

The impact was catastrophic. A shockwave rippled outward, shattering the glass of every remaining building in a three-block radius. The heavy armor of the Zero Pointer buckled inward like tinfoil. The magical fist didn't just pierce the armor; it carried an immense, concussive payload.

 

With a deafening explosion of tearing metal and erupting circuitry, the entire upper half of the Zero Pointer was blown backward, completely detached from its treads. The headless, chest-less chassis stood paralyzed for a second before the remaining lower half sparked wildly and shut down, collapsing backward into the ruined city block.

 

Silence fell over Battle Center B.

 

The Aegis Ward dissolved. Izuku collapsed onto his hands and knees, gasping for air. His body felt like it was made of lead. His mana core was completely tapped out. Every muscle screamed in protest, but incredibly, as he looked at his arms, they weren't broken. His rigorous physical training had held his vessel together. He had channeled a spell of apocalyptic proportions, and his body had survived.

 

Uraraka stared at him, her mouth hanging open in absolute awe. The massive robot was gone, reduced to a smoking heap of scrap metal by a single punch of glowing light.

 

"T-Thank you," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

 

"Are you... are you okay?" Izuku wheezed, trying to stand up, but his legs refused to cooperate.

 

Before he could help her with the rubble, a loud buzzer echoed across the mock city.

 

"TIME'S UP!" Present Mic's voice rang out.

 

The exam was over.

 

Examinees slowly crept back out from their hiding places, staring at the ruined street, the bisected Zero Pointer, and the boy in the green tracksuit panting on the ground. Whispers broke out among the crowd.

 

"Did he just... one-shot the Zero Pointer?"

"What kind of Quirk is that?"

"He had seventy points, why did he even risk it?"

 

Izuku didn't care about the whispers. He dragged himself over to Uraraka. With the last dregs of his physical strength, he braced his legs and heaved the chunk of debris off her trapped leg.

 

"Very good, very good, good work everyone," a sweet, grandmotherly voice called out.

 

An elderly woman in a nurse's outfit, using a massive syringe as a cane, walked through the crowd, handing out gummies to the exhausted students. It was Recovery Girl, the Youthful Heroine.

 

She approached Izuku and Uraraka. She leaned down, planting a large kiss on Uraraka's bruised leg. The girl's leg glowed briefly, the swelling vanishing instantly.

 

Recovery Girl then turned her attention to Izuku. She looked him up and down, her experienced eyes scanning for fractures or internal bleeding. Finding none, her eyebrows rose in surprise.

 

"You're the boy with the book," Recovery Girl said softly. "You channeled an immense amount of energy. I expected your bones to be pulverized. Yet, you're merely suffering from severe fatigue. You've conditioned your body exceptionally well, young man."

 

She held out a handful of gummies. "Eat these. They'll replenish your blood sugar. Go home and rest. You've done more than enough today."

 

Izuku took the gummies, bowing his head respectfully. The grimoire floated lazily to his side, its glow incredibly faint, resting just as much as he was.

 

As Izuku limped toward the exit gates, the setting sun casting long shadows over the ruined mock city, he allowed himself a small smile.

 

He didn't know if he had passed. He didn't know if his combat points were enough. But as he looked back at Uraraka, who was being helped to her feet by Iida, he knew one thing for certain.

 

He had acted like a hero.

 

 

 

A week passed in agonizing slow motion.

 

Izuku returned to his normal routine, though his physical training on the now-pristine Dagobah Beach was much lighter, focusing purely on maintaining his muscle mass and practicing low-mana control. He didn't hear a word from U.A., nor had he seen All Might since the morning of the exam.

 

The silence was deafening.

 

Inko Midoriya paced the living room, wringing her hands nervously. She had cooked Katsudon, Izuku's favorite meal, three nights in a row, hoping to cheer him up.

 

"Izuku, dear, the mail came," Inko called out, her voice trembling slightly as she walked into his bedroom. She held a thick, stamped envelope bearing the official wax seal of U.A. High School.

 

Izuku, who had been doing push-ups on his floor, shot up immediately. He took the envelope, his hands shaking.

 

"Do you want me to stay?" Inko asked gently.

 

"No," Izuku swallowed hard. "I... I need to open this alone."

 

Inko nodded understandingly, stepping out and closing the door softly behind her.

 

Izuku sat down at his desk. His grimoire sat on the table, currently dormant, looking like nothing more than an antique book. He stared at the envelope for a long minute before taking a deep breath and tearing the top off.

 

He expected a letter. Instead, a small, metallic disc fell out, clattering onto his desk.

 

The disc whirred to life. A holographic projection sprang upward, illuminating the dark room.

 

"I AM HERE AS A PROJECTION!"

 

All Might's booming voice filled the room. The holographic image of the Number One Hero, wearing a sharp yellow suit, pointed directly at Izuku.

 

"All Might?!" Izuku gasped. "You're... wait, is this from U.A.?"

 

"I know it's been a while, young Midoriya!" All Might laughed on the recording. "With great power comes a great amount of paperwork! I apologize for the silence, but I actually came to this city to accept a teaching position at U.A. High!"

 

Izuku's eyes widened. All Might was going to be a teacher?

 

"But let's get down to business," All Might's tone grew serious. "You took the practical exam, my boy. You scored an impressive 74 villain points. A phenomenal score! You dominated the battlefield with precision and tactical genius!"

 

Izuku let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He had passed the written test easily, and 74 points was surely enough.

 

"However," All Might continued, the hologram pausing dramatically. "That is not all there is to the exam."

 

The projection shifted, showing a video recording from a hidden camera in the mock city. It showed Uraraka approaching Present Mic after the exam had concluded.

 

"Excuse me," Uraraka's voice played from the recording. "The boy with the green hair... he saved me. He gave up his chance to get more points to fight that massive robot. If he needs more points to pass, please, take mine! Give them to him!"

 

Tears immediately welled in Izuku's eyes. She had gone out of her way to try and give up her own future for him.

 

The projection shifted back to All Might, who was smiling softly.

 

"A hero course that rejects people who do the right thing is no hero course at all!" All Might proclaimed. "How could a hero course reject someone who puts their life on the line to save others? We aren't just looking for destructive power, Midoriya. We are looking for the heart of a hero!"

 

A scoreboard materialized next to All Might's head.

 

"In addition to your 74 villain points, the panel of judges awarded you a perfect 60 Rescue Points!" All Might shouted, pointing to the top of the board.

 

Izuku Midoriya. 134 Points. 1st Place.

 

Izuku stared at the number. First place. He had beaten everyone. He had beaten Bakugo. He had shattered the expectations of a society that had written him off as a Quirkless nobody.

 

"You passed with flying colors, Midoriya," All Might said, reaching his holographic hand out toward the camera. "Come, young Mage. This is your Hero Academia!"

 

The projection flickered and died, leaving Izuku in the quiet darkness of his room.

 

He didn't cheer. He didn't jump up and down. He simply buried his face in his hands and wept. He wept for the scared, bullied boy he used to be. He wept for the ten months of agony on the beach. And he wept in pure, unadulterated joy for the future that finally lay open before him.

 

The door creaked open. Inko peeked in, tears already streaming down her face. "Izuku...?"

 

Izuku looked up at his mother, a blinding, radiant smile breaking through his tears.

 

"I did it, Mom," Izuku choked out. "I'm going to U.A."

 

On the desk, the grimoire pulsed with a bright, triumphant emerald light, ready for the trials ahead.