What if deku had the Ultimatrix power's from ben 10

 

The smell of burnt sugar and ozone hung heavy in the stifling afternoon air of the Aldera Junior High classroom. It was a scent Izuku Midoriya knew all too well. It was the scent of a warning. The scent of a threat. The scent of Katsuki Bakugo.

 

"Since you're all third years, it's time for you to think seriously about your future!" the homeroom teacher announced, a stack of career aptitude papers resting in his hands. He paused, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips. "I'll pass out these handouts, but I know you're all planning to go into the hero course!"

 

He threw the papers into the air. The classroom erupted. Teenagers leaped from their desks, showing off an array of minor mutations, elemental sparks, and bodily transformations. Quirks. The supernatural abilities that defined eighty percent of the human population. The golden ticket to relevance in a superhuman society.

 

Izuku kept his head down, his hand clamped over his notebook, Hero Analysis for the Future No. 13. He tried to shrink into the worn wood of his desk. He didn't want to be noticed. He didn't want to cause a scene.

 

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

 

The loud, arrogant voice cut through the cacophony like a knife. Katsuki Bakugo leaned back in his chair, his feet kicked up onto his desk, a sneer plastered across his face. "As if I had anything in common with these crappy Quirks. I’m going to U.A. High School. I’ve aced all the mock tests. I’m the only one here with the stuff to surpass All Might and become the top hero!"

 

The class murmured in awe and annoyance. U.A. was the national academy for heroes, boasting an acceptance rate of less than two percent. But before the teacher could validate Bakugo's boasting, he adjusted his glasses and looked at his clipboard.

 

"Oh, yeah. Midoriya, don't you want to go to U.A. too?"

 

The classroom went dead silent. And then, the laughter started. It wasn't a gentle chuckle; it was a roaring, derisive cacophony that rattled Izuku’s bones.

 

"Midoriya? No way!"

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

"He doesn't even have a Quirk! He's Quirkless!"

 

Izuku stood up, his face burning red, his hands waving frantically in front of him. "T-They got rid of that rule! There's no rule against entering the hero course without a Quirk! I could be the first—"

 

A massive explosion shattered the wood of Izuku’s desk, sending him tumbling backward onto the hard linoleum floor. The smoke cleared to reveal Bakugo, his palm still smoking, his red eyes narrowed in absolute disgust.

 

"Listen up, Deku," Bakugo growled, using the childhood moniker that meant 'useless'. "You’re even worse than the rest of these rejects. You're Quirkless. A regular, powerless human. What can you even do?"

 

Izuku scrambled backward, his back hitting the wall. "Kacchan, it's not like I'm trying to compete with you! Believe me! It's just... it's been my dream since I was little. And there's no harm in trying, right?"

 

"Try? What can you try?!" Bakugo snatched the notebook from Izuku's trembling hands. He read the cover. Hero Analysis for the Future. Bakugo scoffed. "You're delusional."

 

With a sickening sizzle, Bakugo clapped his hands together, sandwiching the notebook. Izuku screamed as his hard work was charred to a crisp. Without a second thought, Bakugo casually tossed the smoking ruins out the open third-story window.

 

"Most top-tier heroes have stories about their greatness from their school days," Bakugo said, leaning in close, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper. "I want to be the only one from this garbage junior high to make it to U.A. So, forget about applying, nerd." He turned to leave, but paused at the door, tossing a cruel glance over his shoulder. "If you want to be a hero so badly, there's a quick way to do it. Take a swan dive off the roof and pray for a Quirk in your next life."

 

Izuku froze. The words echoed in his head, a cold, heavy weight settling in his stomach. He wanted to speak, to yell, to fight back. But his throat was tight, and his limbs felt like lead. He was powerless. He was exactly what the world said he was: nothing.

 

 

 

The walk home was a blur of gray concrete and distant sirens. Izuku retrieved his ruined notebook from the school’s koi pond, shaking the water from its charred pages. The ink was smeared, illegible in places. Just like his future.

 

He decided to take a shortcut under a massive concrete bridge. The shadows here were long, offering a brief respite from the glaring afternoon sun. He tilted his head back, forcing a shaky laugh, trying to mimic his idol's booming chuckle.

 

"Ha... haha... I can't let him get to me. I'll just keep trying. I'll just keep..."

 

A strange, squelching sound interrupted his pathetic pep talk. Izuku stopped. He turned slowly. Bubbling up from the rusted manhole cover behind him was a mass of dark, putrid green sludge. It shifted and coalesced, forming into a towering, gelatinous mound with two bulging eyes and a jagged, manic grin.

 

"A medium-sized invisibility cloak," the Sludge Villain gurgled, its voice wet and guttural. "Perfect."

 

Izuku didn't even have time to scream. The sludge surged forward, crashing over him like a tidal wave of raw sewage. It forced its way into his mouth, down his throat, filling his nose.

 

I can't breathe! Izuku thrashed violently, his fingernails clawing at the thick, suffocating fluid. His lungs burned, screaming for oxygen. He was drowning on dry land.

 

"Don't fight it, kid," the villain coaxed, its voice echoing from all around him. "It'll only hurt for about 45 seconds. Then, it'll all be over. I'm just hijacking your body. You're my hero."

 

Tears streamed down Izuku's face, mixing with the foul sludge. His vision began to darken at the edges. His arms grew heavy, his struggles weakening. Is this it? Am I going to die here? Someone... anyone... please...

 

The manhole cover clattered loudly against the concrete.

 

"Fear not, kid!"

 

The voice was like a clap of thunder. The sludge villain whipped around in panic. Even through the hazy, fading veil of his vision, Izuku saw the massive silhouette blocking the sunlight at the end of the tunnel. Two towering strands of blond hair. A muscular physique that defied logic.

 

"I am here!" All Might roared.

 

The Sludge Villain lashed out with a tendril of muck, desperate to strike the number one hero. All Might merely planted his feet, cocking his massive fist back. The air pressure around him seemed to warp and compress.

 

"TEXAS... SMASH!"

 

The punch didn't even make contact with the villain. The sheer concussive force of the air pressure generated by the strike hit the sludge like a hurricane. The villain exploded into a thousand droplets of harmless goo. The gale-force wind blew Izuku backward, his lungs violently clearing the sludge as he gasped for sweet, precious air.

 

He hit the ground hard, his vision spinning. The last thing he saw before the darkness took him was the towering, smiling figure of his lifelong idol stepping forward.

 

 

 

When Izuku slowly regained consciousness, the first thing he felt was a massive hand lightly slapping his cheek.

 

"Hey! Hey! Wake up! Ah, good! You're alright!"

 

Izuku’s eyes snapped open. Standing over him, hands on his hips, was the Symbol of Peace. All Might in the flesh. The man whose posters covered every square inch of Izuku's bedroom walls.

 

Izuku screamed, scrambling backward until he hit the tunnel wall. "A-A-All Might?! You're here?! In person?! Oh my god, I need an autograph! Where is my notebook?!"

 

He frantically searched the ground, finding his charred notebook. He flipped it open, only to find an oversized, sprawling signature taking up a massive two-page spread. Izuku bowed so deeply his forehead nearly scraped the concrete. "Thank you! It will be a family heirloom! I will pass it down for generations!"

 

"Glad you like it!" All Might boomed, a wide, unchanging grin on his face. He held up two large soda bottles, completely filled with the struggling, contained remnants of the Sludge Villain. "Well, I must be off! Gotta get this villain to the police! See you on the flip side!"

 

"Wait!" Izuku panicked. "Already? But I... I have so many questions!"

 

"Pro heroes are constantly fighting time as well as enemies!" All Might said, stretching his powerful legs. He bent his knees, preparing to launch himself into the stratosphere.

 

No. Not yet. I need to know. Izuku’s body moved before his brain could process the terrible idea. As All Might leaped, Izuku lunged, wrapping his arms around the hero's thick, muscular leg.

 

The wind roared in Izuku's ears. The G-force pressed his skin back, his eyes watering so violently he couldn't see the city blurring past them.

 

"Hey, hey, hey!" All Might yelled over the roaring wind, looking down in shock. "What are you doing? Let go! Your fanaticism is too much!"

 

"If I let go now, I'll fall and die!" Izuku screamed, his grip tightening like a vise.

 

All Might realized the logic in the kid's panic. "Right, right! Just close your eyes and hold your breath!"

 

The hero altered his trajectory, scanning the city skyline before spotting an empty rooftop. He adjusted his landing, hitting the roof of a three-story office building with a heavy thud that cracked the concrete tiles.

 

Izuku collapsed onto the roof, shaking uncontrollably, his stomach doing somersaults.

 

"Good grief," All Might sighed, wiping a sudden line of sweat from his brow. "If you knock on the door down there, someone will let you in. Now, I really must go."

 

"Wait!" Izuku scrambled to his feet. "Please! Just one question!"

 

"No time!"

 

"Can someone without a Quirk be a hero like you?!"

 

The question ripped out of Izuku's throat, raw and desperate. All Might stopped dead in his tracks, his back turned to the boy.

 

Izuku clenched his fists, staring at the broad, muscular back of his idol. "People think I don't have a chance. That I'm useless. I've never had a Quirk. But I want to save people. I want to save people with a fearless smile, just like you! So... can a Quirkless nobody ever become a hero?!"

 

Silence hung in the air. For a moment, the city below seemed to go completely quiet.

 

Suddenly, a thick cloud of steam erupted from All Might's body. Izuku coughed, waving his hands to clear the smoke. When the air cleared, the towering, muscular god was gone. In his place stood a skeletal, emaciated man in baggy clothes, his cheekbones sharp, blood dripping from his chin.

 

Izuku shrieked. "An impostor?! A fake?! Where is All Might?!"

 

"I am All Might," the skeletal man sighed, wiping the blood from his mouth. He walked over to the edge of the roof and sat down, looking exhausted. "You know how guys at the pool suck in their gut to look buff? I'm like that."

 

Izuku’s mind short-circuited. "No way..."

 

"A fake, huh?" All Might chuckled bitterly. He lifted the oversized white t-shirt, revealing a massive, mangled scar that took up the entire left side of his chest. It looked like purple, twisted roots radiating from a central crater. "Five years ago, an enemy did this to me. My respiratory system was nearly destroyed. I lost my whole stomach. After countless surgeries, I can only do hero work for about three hours a day."

 

"Five years ago?" Izuku muttered, trying to process the horrifying revelation. "Was it... Toxic Chainsaw?"

 

"You know your stuff. But no. I kept this fight under wraps. The public doesn't know." All Might pulled his shirt down, looking out over the sprawling city of Musutafu. "A Symbol of Peace who saves people with a smile must never be daunted by the forces of evil. I smile to hide the fear inside. To hide the pain."

 

He turned his sunken, hollow eyes toward Izuku. The weight of reality crashed down on the rooftop.

 

"Pro heroes are always putting their lives on the line," All Might said softly, yet with a devastating finality. "Some villains simply can't be beaten without a Quirk. So, no. I honestly don't think you can become a hero without a Quirk."

 

Izuku stopped breathing. The words felt like physical blows. The foundation of his entire existence, the dream he had nurtured through ten years of bullying, abuse, and isolation, fractured and collapsed into dust.

 

"If you want to save people," All Might continued, standing up and opening the roof access door, "become a police officer. They get crap because the villains are usually captured by heroes, but it's a fine profession. It's not bad to dream, kid. But you have to make sure your dreams are realistic."

 

The heavy metal door clicked shut. Izuku was left alone on the roof. The silence was deafening.

 

He didn't cry. He couldn't. He was too empty. Bakugo had told him to jump. All Might had told him to give up. The universe had spoken. Izuku Midoriya was not meant to be a hero. He was a mistake. A leftover from a bygone era of human evolution. A quirkless, useless relic.

 

 

 

Izuku didn't take the train home. He walked. He didn't know where he was going, and he didn't care. His feet dragged against the pavement. He passed crowds of people, but they all looked like blurs of color. He heard a massive explosion in the distance, followed by screams and sirens. His body instinctively twitched to run toward the commotion—to take notes, to analyze the heroes' Quirks.

 

But he stopped himself. What's the point? he thought, his eyes dead and hollow. All Might was right. I'm just getting in the way. I'm just a liability.

 

He turned his back on the smoke rising in the distance and kept walking until the asphalt turned to sand.

 

He found himself at Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. Calling it a beach was a sick joke. For years, the ocean currents had washed up illegal dumping and debris, turning the beautiful coastline into a towering, stinking mountain range of rusted refrigerators, broken tires, twisted metal, and rotting garbage. It was a wasteland. A forgotten place where broken things were discarded and ignored.

 

It was fitting, Izuku thought, stepping onto the sand. He belonged here. Among the trash.

 

The sun began to set, painting the sky in deep hues of purple and bruised orange. Izuku sat on a rusted washing machine, burying his face in his hands. The tears finally came. They didn't fall gracefully. He sobbed, his chest heaving with violent, gasping breaths. Ten years of suppressed agony poured out of him. The insults, the burns, the patronizing looks from teachers, his mother's tearful apology when he was four years old.

 

I'm sorry, Izuku. I'm so sorry.

 

"I just wanted to help," Izuku whispered to the empty, trash-filled beach. "That's all I ever wanted."

 

Above him, the twilight sky began to darken. The first stars poked through the smog. But one star was moving.

 

It was a brilliant, unnatural shade of emerald green. It streaked across the atmosphere, growing larger and brighter by the second. Izuku wiped his eyes, looking up. The green light was hurtling downward, entirely too fast, entirely too close.

 

A thunderous sonic boom shattered the quiet of the beach. The air pressure suddenly shifted, popping Izuku's ears.

 

CRASH!

 

The impact was cataclysmic. A shockwave rippled out from the center of the trash mountains, sending a tidal wave of sand, rusted metal, and debris flying in all directions. Izuku threw his arms over his head as he was knocked off the washing machine, tumbling down the sand dune.

 

Silence fell over the beach again, save for the crackle of fire and the hiss of superheated metal touching the cold ocean water.

 

Izuku groaned, spitting sand from his mouth. He sat up, his entire body bruised and aching. A few dozen yards away, right in the center of the largest pile of trash, a deep crater glowed with an eerie green light. Smoke billowed from the impact zone.

 

His heart hammered in his chest. A villain attack? Here? No, that didn't make sense. Why would a villain attack a garbage dump? Was it a meteorite?

 

His innate curiosity, the same curiosity that drove him to analyze every hero in Japan, overrode his depression and his fear. Izuku carefully picked his way through the scattered debris, climbing up the lip of the newly formed crater. The heat radiating from the center was intense, making the air shimmer and warp.

 

At the bottom of the crater sat a metallic sphere, about the size of a large beach ball. It looked like a piece of advanced technology, entirely alien to the rusted junk surrounding it. It was gunmetal gray, etched with glowing green circuitry lines.

 

As Izuku slid down the sandy slope of the crater to get a closer look, the sphere emitted a mechanical hiss. A seam opened along the center of the pod, steam venting out in a harsh hiss. The top half slid back with a heavy, metallic clank.

 

Inside the pod, resting on a pedestal of intricate machinery, was a device.

 

It looked like a massive, heavily armored gauntlet or bracer, designed to encase the forearm. It was primarily dark green and black, with silver accents. At the center of the device, resting right where the wrist would be, was a dial with a glowing green hourglass symbol. It hummed with a strange, pulsing energy, casting long, emerald shadows across Izuku's freckled face.

 

"What... is this?" Izuku murmured. "Some kind of support gear? Who dropped it?"

 

He reached out. His hand hovered just inches above the device. He had no intention of touching it. He knew better than to touch unknown support items. But the moment his shadow fell across the glowing green dial, the device seemed to come alive.

 

The green hourglass symbol flashed blindingly bright. Before Izuku could pull his hand back, the gauntlet leapt from its pedestal. It didn't just fall; it lunged like a living predator.

 

Izuku screamed as the cold metal clamped onto his left wrist. The device immediately expanded, thick bands of black and green metal snaking up his forearm, locking into place with a series of sharp, painful clicks. Microneedles shot from the underside of the gauntlet, piercing his skin and directly interfacing with his nervous system and DNA.

 

A sharp, searing pain shot up his arm, settling deep into his chest. Izuku fell backward into the sand, grasping his left arm with his right hand. He yanked at the device with all his might, his boots kicking against the sand.

 

"Get off! Get off me!" he yelled frantically. He wedged his fingers under the thick metal bands, but there was no seam, no buckle, no release mechanism. It was as if the metal had fused to his flesh. It felt entirely solid, yet strangely symbiotic. The pain faded as quickly as it had arrived, replaced by a strange, thrumming warmth that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

 

Izuku sat in the sand, hyperventilating, staring at the bulky green gauntlet strapped to his arm. "What the hell is this? What did it do to me?"

 

Before he could investigate further, the distant roar of a massive explosion reached his ears. It was much closer this time. He looked toward the city skyline. Black smoke was billowing into the sky from the Tatooin Shopping District. Sirens wailed in a chaotic symphony of panic.

 

The shopping district. That's just a few blocks away.

 

Normally, Izuku would run toward the scene to watch the heroes work. But today, the weight of All Might's words still chained him down. You can't be a hero.

 

BOOM!

 

Another explosion rattled the ground beneath his feet. Izuku saw a flash of orange fire lick the sky. Fire. Explosions.

 

A cold dread washed over him. The Sludge Villain had escaped. All Might had dropped the bottles when Izuku had grabbed his leg. The realization hit him like a freight train. It was his fault. Because he had been so selfish, because he couldn't take 'no' for an answer, a mass-murdering villain was loose in the city.

 

Izuku didn't think. He ran. He scrambled out of the crater, his legs pumping with desperate speed, the heavy gauntlet on his left arm swinging wildly. He sprinted through the quiet residential streets, following the rising pillar of black smoke.

 

As he ran, he accidentally brushed his right hand against the central dial of the device.

 

BEEP.

 

The dial abruptly popped up, extending an inch from the gauntlet. A holographic ring projected from the center, hovering in the air. Outlined in green light was a silhouette of a strange, humanoid figure surrounded by what looked like flames.

 

Izuku stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet. He stared at the hologram in confusion, but the screams of civilians pulled his attention back to reality. He pushed the strange hologram out of his mind and kept running.

 

He burst into the main intersection of the shopping district. The scene was pure chaos. Fire raged on all sides, consuming storefronts and overturning cars. A massive crowd of onlookers was held back by the police.

 

In the center of the inferno, towering three stories high, was the Sludge Villain.

 

"I won't let you heroes get in my way again!" the villain roared, swinging massive tendrils of muck that smashed into buildings.

 

Izuku pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He scanned the area for heroes. Death Arms was there, but he was holding back the crowd, unable to get close due to the fire. Kamui Woods was incapacitated, his wooden body dangerously vulnerable to the flames. Mt. Lady couldn't enter the narrow street in her giant form. They were all standing there. Watching. Waiting for someone with a suitable Quirk to arrive.

 

Why aren't they doing anything? Izuku thought, terror gripping his heart. Where is All Might?

 

He remembered All Might's time limit. Three hours. He had used it up saving Izuku under the bridge. All Might couldn't intervene. It was all Izuku’s fault.

 

Then, the smoke shifted, and Izuku saw the villain's hostage.

 

Trapped within the suffocating, gelatinous body of the Sludge Villain was a boy in a middle school uniform. The boy was thrashing violently, setting off massive explosions from his palms in a desperate attempt to break free. But the explosions only fueled the fires around them, making it impossible for the heroes to approach.

 

The boy stopped struggling for a fraction of a second. His red eyes met Izuku's green ones through the crowd.

 

It was Katsuki Bakugo. And his eyes were screaming for help.

 

Something broke inside Izuku Midoriya. In that singular, terrifying moment, the logic, the fear, the reality of his Quirkless existence completely vanished. He didn't think about All Might's rejection. He didn't think about his lack of power. His legs moved on their own.

 

He vaulted over the police barricade, sprinting full speed into the inferno.

 

"Hey! Kid! Stop! You'll get yourself killed!" Death Arms roared, reaching out to grab him, but Izuku was already gone.

 

"Deku?!" Bakugo gurgled through the sludge, his eyes widening in disbelief.

 

"You again?!" the Sludge Villain snarled, recognizing the boy who had caused him so much trouble under the bridge. "I'll deal with you permanently!"

 

A massive, spiked tendril of solidifying muck whipped down toward Izuku. Izuku panicked. He had no plan. He had thrown his backpack at the villain, but it harmlessly bounced off. He was going to die here.

 

In a moment of blind, desperate instinct, Izuku raised his left arm to shield his face. His right hand slammed down on the popped-up dial of the alien device.

 

VWOOSH.

 

A blinding flash of emerald light erupted in the center of the street. The intense illumination forced the heroes, the civilians, and even the Sludge Villain to shield their eyes.

 

For Izuku, the world slowed to an agonizing crawl. He felt a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced. It wasn't pain, exactly, but a profound, molecular shift. His cells felt like they were vibrating at a million miles an hour. His flesh turned dense, hardening into dark, jagged rock. Deep within his chest, a spark ignited. It spread through his veins not as blood, but as liquid, superheated magma. Fire erupted from the fissures between the dark rocks of his new skin. His head ignited, a continuous column of roaring yellow and orange flame shooting upward into the sky.

 

The green light faded.

 

Where the small, trembling, quirkless boy had stood, a towering, bipedal humanoid made of cracked volcanic rock and raging fire now stood. A silver dial bearing a green hourglass symbol was embedded squarely in the center of his chest.

 

The heavy sludge tendril crashed down on the fiery figure.

 

Instead of crushing the boy, the sludge instantly boiled upon contact. A massive cloud of foul-smelling steam erupted into the air. The villain shrieked in agony, pulling the tendril back. It was completely dried out, flaking away into dust.

 

"What... what the hell?!" the villain screamed.

 

Izuku opened his eyes. Everything was different. He didn't see the world normally; he saw heat signatures, fluctuating temperatures. The blazing fires around the alleyway felt cold compared to the nuclear furnace burning within his own core. He looked down at his hands. They were massive, three-fingered claws made of magma rock, radiating intense heat.

 

Did... did that device give me a Quirk? Izuku thought. But when he spoke, his high-pitched, nervous voice was gone, replaced by a deep, resonant, crackling rumble that sounded like a roaring bonfire.

 

"Whoa. I'm... I'm on fire!" Izuku yelled, patting his chest, panic setting in. "I'm on fire! Put me out! Put me out!"

 

"A fire Quirk?" Kamui Woods gasped from the sidelines. "But he just ran in there with nothing! Where did that come from?"

 

"Die, you freak!" the Sludge Villain roared. He swung three more tendrils at the fiery rock-man, aiming to smother the flames with sheer volume.

 

Seeing the attack coming, Izuku raised his hands defensively. "Wait, stop!"

 

As he threw his hands forward, a massive, concentrated torrent of pure fire blasted from his palms. The sheer force of the flames hit the incoming sludge tendrils like a plasma cutter, instantly vaporizing the liquid and turning the muck into hardened, brittle clay.

 

Izuku stumbled backward, staring at his smoking palms. "Did I... did I just do that?"

 

He looked at the raging fires consuming the buildings around him. He felt an innate, instinctual connection to the flames. It wasn't just that he could produce fire; he could control it. He reached out with his mind, pulling his hands back toward his chest.

 

To the absolute shock of the pro heroes watching, the wild, chaotic fires burning the storefronts suddenly detached from the wood and brick. The flames swirled through the air like liquid, drawing directly into Izuku’s outstretched hands, absorbing into his rocky body. In seconds, the collateral fires were completely extinguished.

 

"Incredible," Death Arms muttered. "He absorbed the ambient flames..."

 

Bakugo, still trapped in the villain's main body, stared at the magma creature in pure shock. Who the hell is this guy?

 

The Sludge Villain was panicking now. The heat radiating from this new enemy was drying out his liquid body just by standing near him. "Stay back! Stay back or I'll snap this kid's neck!" he threatened, tightening his grip on Bakugo.

 

Izuku’s fiery eyes narrowed. He knew he had to act fast, but he couldn't use a massive blast like before, or he would incinerate Bakugo. He needed precision.

 

"Let him go," Izuku ordered, his deep voice carrying a terrifying authority.

 

Izuku slammed his hands onto the asphalt. A trail of fire zipped across the ground, moving like a homing missile. It struck the ground directly beneath the Sludge Villain. Instead of an explosion, a geyser of localized, intense heat erupted upward, creating a ring of fire around the villain.

 

The heat was suffocating. The moisture in the Sludge Villain's body rapidly evaporated. His form began to bubble and hiss, thickening from liquid to sluggish mud, and finally to hardened, immobile dirt.

 

"No! I can't move! I'm drying out!" the villain screamed, his grip on Bakugo slackening.

 

"Now!" Izuku roared. He sprinted forward, his heavy, rocky footsteps cracking the pavement. He reached into the crumbling, dried dirt and grabbed Bakugo by the collar of his uniform, ripping him free with immense, superhuman strength.

 

Izuku tossed Bakugo backward toward the police line. Death Arms caught the coughing, gasping teenager.

 

With the hostage safe, Izuku turned his attention back to the villain. The sludge monster was desperately trying to re-liquefy himself by pulling moisture from the sewers below.

 

"Oh no you don't." Izuku brought his hands together, charging a massive sphere of concentrated fire between his palms. It glowed with the intensity of a miniature sun. "Take this!"

 

He threw the fireball directly into the villain's open, screaming mouth. The heat instantly vaporized the last remaining moisture in the villain's body. With a hollow, dusty cough, the Sludge Villain collapsed into a pile of dry, brittle flakes, completely immobilized and defeated.

 

Silence fell over the Tatooin Shopping District. The fires were gone. The villain was neutralized. The hostage was safe. And standing in the center of the destruction was a creature of living fire and rock, smoke billowing from his shoulders.

 

The crowd erupted into deafening cheers.

 

"Did you see that?!"

"He took out that villain in seconds!"

"What a crazy Quirk! What agency is he from?"

 

The pro heroes cautiously approached. Kamui Woods stepped forward, looking up at the towering alien. "That was incredibly reckless, but... excellent work. I've never seen you around here before. Are you a new sidekick?"

 

Izuku froze. The adrenaline was fading. He realized what he had just done. He had used an unregistered, unknown Quirk—or rather, alien technology—in public. That was illegal. It was vigilantism. If they arrested him, they would take the device. He would lose his only chance.

 

"I... uh... I have to go!" Izuku stammered, his deep voice cracking slightly.

 

Before the heroes could press him further, a sharp, repetitive noise echoed from his chest.

 

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

 

The hourglass symbol on his chest was flashing crimson red. Izuku felt his energy rapidly draining. The intense heat of his body was cooling. He didn't know what the red light meant, but instinct told him it wasn't good.

 

"Look out! Super move!" Izuku yelled, throwing his hands down. He blasted two massive jets of fire at the ground, launching himself into the air like a rocket. He flew over the rooftops, leaving a trail of smoke and a crowd of bewildered heroes and civilians behind.

 

He flew chaotically, struggling to control his trajectory. The red flashing sped up.

 

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

 

He spotted a dark, empty alleyway near the edge of the shopping district and cut his thrust, tumbling ungracefully into a pile of cardboard boxes.

 

As soon as he hit the ground, a blinding flash of red light consumed him. The intense heat vanished. The solid rock flesh melted away, replaced by soft, bruised skin.

 

Izuku Midoriya lay groaning in the trash, gasping for air. He was back in his middle school uniform, his normal, human body entirely intact, save for a lingering sensation of phantom heat in his hands.

 

He sat up, his back against the brick wall of the alley. He was exhausted, sweating profusely, his muscles aching as if he had just run a marathon. He looked down at his left arm. The bulky, militaristic green gauntlet was still there. The dial had receded, no longer glowing bright green, but maintaining a dull, dormant emerald hue.

 

He had done it. He had fought a villain. He had saved Katsuki Bakugo. He had controlled fire and flown through the sky.

 

Izuku raised his trembling right hand, tracing the cool metal of the device. He remembered the feeling of power. The feeling of absolute, undeniable capability. The helplessness that had defined his entire life was gone, vaporized in a flash of green light.

 

All Might had told him a Quirkless nobody couldn't be a hero. He had said it was impossible.

 

Izuku looked at the Ultimatrix. A slow, tentative smile spread across his face, breaking through the dirt and soot.

 

He didn't have a Quirk. He had something else. Something entirely different. Something from the stars.

 

"A hero..." Izuku whispered to the empty alleyway, his grip tightening into a determined fist. "I can be a hero."

 

The morning light filtered through the curtains of Izuku Midoriya’s bedroom, casting a warm, golden glow over the dozens of All Might posters plastering his walls. For a fleeting second, wrapped in the comfort of sleep, Izuku thought the events of the previous day had been a fever dream. The Sludge Villain, All Might’s devastating rejection, the falling star, the fire.

 

Then he tried to lift his left arm to rub his eyes, and the heavy, metallic clank against his headboard shattered the illusion.

 

Izuku sat up violently, his heart hammering against his ribs. He yanked his left arm up. It was still there. The device. The bulky, dark green and silver gauntlet clung to his forearm like a second skin. It felt unnervingly natural, the metal pulsing with a faint, rhythmic warmth that perfectly synchronized with his heartbeat. The central dial, bearing that strange hourglass symbol, lay dormant, emitting only a faint emerald luminescence.

 

Panic swelled in his throat. He grabbed the edge of the gauntlet with his right hand and pulled with all his meager strength. "Come off," he gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning white. "Come on!"

 

It didn't budge. There was no seam, no strap, no locking mechanism. He ran his fingers along the underside, feeling where the cold, alien metal seamlessly met his soft flesh. It wasn't just strapped to him; it was interwoven with his biology.

 

He slumped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Yesterday, he had transformed into a creature of living magma. He had absorbed infernos, melted concrete, and saved Katsuki Bakugo’s life. He had felt power. Real, tangible, overwhelming power.

 

But what is it? his mind raced. Support gear? A villain's weapon? A government experiment?

 

He scrambled out of bed, grabbed a thick red sweatband from his drawer, and stretched it carefully over the dial and the bulk of the metal. It was a tight fit, but it disguised the alien technology as a bulky sports brace. Good enough for now.

 

He didn't have time to be paralyzed by fear. He was an analyst. He was a thinker. If this device was permanently attached to him, he needed to understand it. And he knew exactly where to go to test it without the police or pro heroes interfering.

 

 

 

Dagobah Municipal Beach Park was just as horrific in the morning light as it was at twilight. The towering mountains of rusted refrigerators, rotting tires, and decaying vehicles stank of stagnant water and rust.

 

Izuku stood at the edge of the sand, far away from the road, obscured by a massive heap of crushed sedans. He took a deep breath, pulled off the red sweatband, and stared at the gauntlet.

 

"Okay," Izuku whispered to himself. "Let's figure this out."

 

He tentatively reached out and pressed two fingers against the sides of the dial.

 

BEEP.

 

The faceplate popped up with a mechanical whir, extending an inch from the gauntlet. A green, holographic ring projected into the air above the dial. Inside the ring was the silhouette of the fiery, rocky creature he had become yesterday.

 

Izuku marvelled at the crisp, futuristic resolution of the hologram. He experimentally turned the dial. The hologram shifted.

 

Click. A creature with a massive, bulky upper body and four arms.

Click. A sleek, thin figure with a long tail and a conical head.

Click. A jagged, crystalline humanoid.

 

There were ten silhouettes in total. Ten different forms.

 

"This is insane," Izuku breathed, his eyes wide. "It's like a Quirk catalog..."

 

As he stared at a particularly small, frog-like silhouette, the dial suddenly sparked. Izuku yelped, pulling his hand back, but the gauntlet didn't explode. Instead, the green light intensified, shooting a wide beam onto the sand in front of him.

 

The light particles danced and coalesced, forming a life-sized, three-dimensional hologram of an elderly, diminutive alien. The creature was no taller than a human toddler, with pale green skin, massive, bulbous eyes, and a face lined with centuries of age. He wore a regal tunic and leaned heavily on a cane.

 

"If you are viewing this recording, the transport pod was intercepted," the hologram spoke, its voice carrying an aristocratic, weary tone. "I am Azmuth of Galvan Prime, First Thinker and creator of the Omnitrix."

 

Izuku scrambled to pull a pen and his charred notebook from his backpack, his hands shaking. Galvan Prime? Omnitrix?

 

"The device currently bonded to your DNA is the Ultimatrix," Azmuth’s hologram continued, pacing in a small circle. "It is a Level 20 technology, an incomplete core that was stolen and weaponized by my former assistant, Albedo. I have reclaimed it, but with the warlord Vilgax and Albedo's mercenaries hunting me, I was forced to send it to the furthest reaches of the Milky Way."

 

Izuku stopped writing. Milky Way? Aliens? This isn't a Quirk. This is... extraterrestrial.

 

"The Ultimatrix is designed to alter the user's genetic code, allowing them to transform into the apex example of over one million different sapient species stored within the Codon Stream," Azmuth explained. "However, to protect your primitive nervous system, the active playlist has been restricted to ten starting forms."

 

One million?! Izuku’s pen snapped in his hand.

 

"Because Albedo tampered with my design, the Ultimatrix possesses a secondary, highly volatile feature," Azmuth’s holographic face grew stern, peering through the projection as if looking directly into Izuku’s soul. "By pressing the dial while transformed, you can activate the Evolutionary Function. This simulates a worst-case scenario over a million years, forcing the DNA to evolve into an 'Ultimate' form. I warn you: do not use this function lightly. It drains immense energy and can..."

 

Suddenly, the hologram flickered. Red static cut through the green light.

 

"-can cause severe genetic feedback! Do not trust the—"

 

BZZT.

 

The hologram vanished, leaving Izuku standing alone in the quiet garbage dump.

 

He stood frozen for a long time. The wind whipped off the ocean, carrying the scent of salt and decay. He looked down at the gauntlet. He wasn't just given a Quirk. He had been entrusted with a weapon of cosmic proportions. A device desired by warlords and galactic empires.

 

He thought back to yesterday. To the feeling of utter uselessness when All Might had left him on that roof. He thought of Bakugo’s desperate eyes.

 

"I wanted a Quirk so I could save people," Izuku whispered, closing his fist. The green light of the dial reflected in his eyes. "All Might said I couldn't be a hero because I didn't have power. But I have power now. I have ten powers. And I'm going to master every single one of them."

 

He looked at the towering piles of trash dominating the beach. The U.A. Entrance Exam was exactly ten months away.

 

"Ten months. Ten aliens," Izuku muttered. "Time to get to work."

 

 

 

 Month 1: The First Thinker

 

Izuku didn't start by throwing punches or blasting fire. He was a nerd, an analyst, a strategist. He needed to understand the mechanics of the Ultimatrix.

 

He returned to the beach the next day, hiding behind a rusted crane. He popped the dial, turned it to the small, frog-like silhouette he had seen earlier, and slammed it down.

 

The emerald flash consumed him. His skeleton shrank, his perspective plummeting to the ground. When the light faded, he looked at his hands. They were tiny, gray, and sticky, with bulbous fingertips. He wore a green and black jumpsuit with the Ultimatrix dial flat on his back.

 

"Fascinating," Izuku said. But he paused. His voice was squeaky, yes, but the words themselves felt different.

 

His brain... it was on fire.

 

The world didn't just look different; it made sense. As Izuku looked at a rusted microwave sitting in the sand, he didn't just see junk. He saw the exact molecular breakdown of the rust, the copper wiring, the microwave emitter. He understood the electromagnetic frequencies required to power it. He looked up at the sky and intuitively grasped the orbital mechanics of the planet, calculating the exact rotation of the Earth based on the position of the sun.

 

"My cognitive processing speed has increased exponentially," Izuku gasped, his tiny gray hands clutching his oversized head. "This species—a Galvan, if Azmuth's appearance is any indicator—possesses an intelligence that dwarfs human capability. My prefrontal cortex is operating at maximum efficiency without any physiological strain."

 

For the next ten minutes, Izuku—whom he dubbed Grey Matter—used a stick to draw impossibly complex mathematical equations in the sand. He calculated the exact weight, density, and volume of the trash on Dagobah Beach. He formulated a precise, daily workout and cleanup schedule that would maximize his human body's caloric burn and muscle growth.

 

Suddenly, the dial on his back beeped red. Flash. He was human again.

 

Izuku collapsed into the sand, gasping for air. His head throbbed with a massive migraine, and his muscles felt like jelly.

 

The stamina drain, Izuku realized, rubbing his temples. Shifting mass, rewriting my DNA—it takes a toll on my human body. The fitter I am in my base form, the longer I can stay transformed, and the faster the watch will recharge.

 

He looked at the massive workout schedule Grey Matter had drawn in the sand.

 

"Alright," Izuku smiled tiredly. "Let's clean this beach."

 

 Month 2: Liquid Metal and Circuitry

 

The physical labor was agonizing. For the first few weeks, Izuku barely used the aliens, focusing solely on hauling small pieces of trash to build his baseline strength. He bought a new, heavy-duty notebook, labeling it Alien Analysis for the Future No. 1, and kept it hidden under his bed.

 

By the second month, he decided to test his technological limits. He found a massive, rusted bulldozer half-buried in the sand.

 

Izuku selected a silhouette that looked like a man made of circuitry. He slammed the dial.

 

He became a humanoid construct of black, liquid-like metal, crisscrossed with glowing green lines resembling a printed circuit board. A single green eye glowed in the center of his face.

 

"Upgrade," he stated, his voice carrying a synthetic, auto-tuned echo.

 

He placed his hands on the rusted bulldozer. Instinct took over. His liquid metal body melted, flowing off his skeletal structure and seeping into the rusted metal of the machine. It was a bizarre sensation—he became the bulldozer. He felt the pistons as his muscles, the engine as his heart. The rust flaked away, replaced by sleek black metal and glowing green accents.

 

With a roar of the newly supercharged engine, Izuku drove the bulldozer, pushing hundreds of tons of trash into neat, organized piles for the city trucks to collect. He realized this alien, a Galvanic Mechamorph, could upgrade and control any technology it touched. In a society reliant on support gear and robots, Upgrade was the ultimate trump card.

 

 Month 4: The Speed of Sound

 

School was a delicate balancing act. Izuku wore long-sleeved U.A. track jackets or thick red sweatbands to hide the Ultimatrix. Bakugo was suspicious. Ever since the Sludge Villain incident, Izuku hadn't stuttered around him. He hadn't flinched when Bakugo yelled. There was a quiet, calculating calmness in Izuku's eyes that drove Bakugo insane.

 

Izuku didn't care. He was too busy mastering his fourth alien.

 

On the beach, Izuku slammed the dial. His legs morphed, bending backward like a digitigrade animal. Wheels formed at the base of his feet. A sleek, blue-and-black aerodynamic suit encased his body, and a cone-shaped helmet with a retractable blue visor covered his face.

 

"XLR8!" he announced, his voice speaking at double speed.

 

He lowered his visor. The world around him seemed to freeze. Drops of ocean spray hung suspended in the air.

 

He leaned forward, and the wheels on his feet spun. With a sonic boom that kicked up a localized sandstorm, he was gone. He dashed across the beach at over five hundred miles per hour. Friction meant nothing to him. He ran up the side of a towering pile of refrigerators, grabbed a loose tire, and ran back down before gravity could even register he had been there.

 

He spent the entire transformation period moving small debris, realizing that as XLR8, he could apply kinetic energy to his strikes. Force equals mass times acceleration, Grey Matter’s lingering thoughts whispered in his head. If I punch something at five hundred miles per hour, even a lightweight strike hits like a missile.

 

 Month 6: The Unbreakable Diamond

 

Izuku’s human body was changing. The intense physical labor, combined with the minor genetic feedback loops from the Ultimatrix, was packing lean, dense muscle onto his frame. His shoulders were broader, his jawline sharper.

 

He needed to test durability.

 

He transformed into a towering, jagged humanoid made entirely of pale green, indestructible crystal. Two sharp shards protruded from his back.

 

"Diamondhead!" his gravelly voice echoed.

 

He stood in front of a rusted crane, pulled his fist back, and punched it. The solid steel crumpled like wet paper. Izuku didn't feel a thing. He focused his mind, and the crystal of his right arm shifted, growing and sharpening into a massive, razor-sharp blade. With a single swing, he sliced a junked car clean in half.

 

He realized he could manipulate his crystalline structure at will. He placed his hands on the sand, and towering pillars of diamond erupted from the ground, lifting debris into the air.

 

If I fight an opponent with a lethal, destructive Quirk, Izuku noted in his book later that night, Diamondhead's density and projectile attacks are the perfect counter.

 

 Month 9: Brute Force

 

The entrance exam was only weeks away. The beach was nearly seventy percent clear. Izuku stood before a massive pile of compacted steel cubes that the city trucks couldn't move.

 

He needed raw, unadulterated power.

 

He turned the dial to the four-armed silhouette and slammed it down.

 

His body swelled to twelve feet tall. His skin turned a deep, leathery red. A second pair of muscular arms erupted from his ribcage. Four golden eyes opened on his face. He wore a white and black gladiator-style tunic.

 

"Four Arms!" he roared. The sound of his voice vibrated the sand.

 

He cracked his four knuckles. He felt the rhythmic thumping of two separate hearts pumping hyper-oxygenated blood through his massive veins. He walked up to the steel cubes, grabbed one with his lower arms, grabbed another with his upper arms, and lifted both over his head without breaking a sweat.

 

He was stronger than Death Arms. He was stronger than Mt. Lady. In this form, he felt an intoxicating rush of pure, martial dominance. He spent the next ten minutes leaping across the beach, his powerful legs carrying him fifty feet in the air, coming down like a meteor to crush the junk into dust.

 

When he timed out, he fell to his hands and knees, vomiting seawater and gasping for breath. The Tetramand form drained him the most. The sheer caloric requirement to maintain that much muscle mass was terrifying. But it was worth it.

 

 Month 10: The Day of Destiny

 

The morning of the U.A. Entrance Exam arrived crisp and clear.

 

Izuku stood at the edge of Dagobah Municipal Beach Park. It was unrecognizable. Not a single tire, not a speck of rust remained. The pristine white sand stretched down to the sparkling blue ocean. The rising sun caught the gentle waves, creating a breathtaking vista.

 

Izuku stood shirtless in the cool morning breeze. He looked down at his stomach, seeing the defined ridges of a six-pack. His arms were corded with lean, functional muscle. The Ultimatrix rested on his left wrist, a silent, powerful companion that had become as much a part of him as his own heart.

 

He smiled. He was ready.

 

 

 

The towering H-shaped gates of U.A. High School loomed over Izuku like a monument to his dreams. Hundreds of students were pouring into the courtyard, boasting about their Quirks and their mock test scores.

 

Izuku adjusted the cuffs of his black school uniform, ensuring the red sweatband was securely covering the Ultimatrix.

 

"Out of my way, Deku!"

 

Izuku didn't flinch. He turned slowly to see Katsuki Bakugo storming toward him, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his red eyes glaring daggers.

 

"Good morning, Kacchan," Izuku said calmly.

 

Bakugo stopped. He scowled, looking Izuku up and down. The nerdy, cowering kid who used to shake like a leaf was gone. Izuku stood tall, his posture perfect, his gaze steady and unwavering.

 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Bakugo growled, small pops of nitroglycerin sparking in his palms. "I told you to give up. You're Quirkless. You're going to die in there."

 

"I'm not Quirkless anymore," Izuku lied smoothly, a half-truth he had prepared. "I had a late-blooming mutation. And I'm going to pass, Kacchan. See you inside."

 

Leaving Bakugo standing in stunned, furious silence, Izuku walked toward the main building. His newfound confidence distracted him just enough that his foot caught the edge of a loose paving stone.

 

He pitched forward, bracing for a face-plant. But the impact never came.

 

He was floating.

 

"Are you okay?" a bright, cheerful voice asked.

 

Izuku looked back. A girl with a brown bob cut and permanent pink blushes on her cheeks had her fingers pressed together. She smiled warmly. "It's my Quirk. Sorry for using it without asking, but it would be bad luck to fall before the exam!"

 

She released the technique, and Izuku landed softly on his feet. In the past, Izuku would have stammered, blushed, and malfunctioned at the mere presence of a girl. But ten months of viewing the universe through the hyper-logical lens of Grey Matter had tempered his anxiety.

 

"Thank you," Izuku smiled genuinely, bowing his head slightly. "That's an incredibly versatile application of zero-gravity. It manipulates mass, not just gravity, right? Very impressive."

 

The girl blinked, a little taken aback by his composed, analytical response, but her smile widened. "Wow, you're smart! I'm Ochaco Uraraka! Let's do our best!"

 

"Izuku Midoriya. Good luck, Uraraka."

 

 

 

The written exam was trivially easy. Izuku wasn't sure if the Ultimatrix had permanently left lingering neural pathways from his time as Grey Matter, or if his obsessive studying had simply paid off, but he finished the math and physics sections in half the allotted time.

 

Then came the practical orientation. Present Mic, the Voice Hero, stood at the podium in the massive auditorium, explaining the point system for the robotic villains. 1-Pointers, 2-Pointers, 3-Pointers, and the colossal Zero-Pointer obstacle.

 

A tall boy with engines in his calves stood up, rigidly pointing a finger at Present Mic, questioning the printout, before turning his gaze to Izuku. "And you! With the messy hair! You've been muttering this entire time! If you are here on a pleasure trip, I suggest you leave!"

 

Izuku didn't cower under the spotlight. He met the boy's gaze calmly. "I apologize if my muttering disturbed you. I was calculating the optimal point-to-time ratio based on the spread of the arenas. Given the ten-minute time limit, running into the center of the city to intercept the robots before they bottleneck at the gates is the most logical strategy. But thank you for your input."

 

The auditorium fell silent. The bespectacled boy stiffened, thoroughly outmaneuvered by logic, and bowed sharply. "I... see! My apologies for interrupting your tactical planning!"

 

Up in the observation room, the teachers of U.A. sat before dozens of monitors. Aizawa Shota, Eraserhead, narrowed his eyes at the screen showing Izuku.

 

"Midoriya Izuku," Aizawa muttered. "Registered Quirk: Poly-Morph. Radical cellular mutation. Interesting."

 

Sitting in the back row in his skeletal form, Toshinori Yagi—All Might—leaned forward, his sunken blue eyes widening. Young Midoriya? He's here? But... he doesn't have a Quirk! What is he planning?

 

 

 

Izuku stood before the towering gates of Battle Center B. He wore a simple green tracksuit, his red sweatband removed, the bulky silver and green Ultimatrix exposed to the open air. The other examinees, including Uraraka and the engine-legs boy, were doing warm-up stretches, eyeing the gates nervously.

 

"Right, let's start!" Present Mic's voice boomed from the speakers. "What's wrong? There are no countdowns in real battles! Run, run, run!"

 

While the other students hesitated, confused by the lack of a countdown, Izuku was already moving.

 

He raised his right hand and slammed it down onto the dial.

 

VWOOSH.

 

A brilliant flash of emerald light blinded the examinees around him. When the light faded, Izuku was gone. In his place stood a sleek, blue-and-black alien with a conical helmet, a long prehensile tail, and wheels for feet.

 

"XLR8!" Izuku’s voice buzzed through the alien's vocal cords.

 

He dropped his visor. The world stood still.

 

To the naked eye, it looked as if Izuku had vanished into thin air. In reality, he kicked off the ground with explosive kinetic force, shattering the pavement beneath his wheels. He blurred past the gates and into the faux city before the other students had even taken their first step.

 

Three 1-Pointer robots rolled out from an alleyway, their target-lock lasers scanning for examinees.

 

Izuku didn't slow down. He accelerated. Force equals mass times acceleration, he thought, recalling his training on the beach. He reached a speed of four hundred miles per hour. As he passed the first robot, he simply extended his sharp, scissor-like claws.

 

The sheer kinetic transfer of the high-speed drive-by sliced the robot clean in half. It exploded in a shower of sparks.

 

Izuku spun on his wheels, banking sharply off a brick wall to kill his momentum, and whipped his heavy tail around. The tail struck the second and third robots with the force of a wrecking ball, instantly decapitating them.

 

"Three points in three seconds," Izuku smirked beneath his visor. "Let's pick up the pace."

 

In the observation room, the teachers watched in awe as a blue blur ricocheted across the monitors, leaving a trail of destroyed robots in its wake.

 

"What incredible speed!" Midnight gasped, leaning forward. "Is it an emitter Quirk? Some kind of localized time acceleration?"

 

"No, look at his anatomy," Snipe pointed at a slow-motion replay on screen 4. "He's completely transformed into some kind of reptilian speedster. A heteromorphic transformation Quirk. And a flawless one at that."

 

All Might stared at the screen, utterly dumbfounded. A Quirk? He has a Quirk?! But he told me... I told him... What is happening?

 

Back in Ground Beta, Izuku was racking up points at a terrifying rate. He used XLR8's speed to run horizontally along the walls of the buildings, dropping down onto 3-Pointers and driving his claws through their cerebral processors. By minute seven, he had secured sixty-five points.

 

He skidded to a halt in the center of the main intersection, lifting his visor. He was breathing hard. Maintaining the Kineceleran form and moving at Mach 1 was draining his stamina. The Ultimatrix insignia on his chest began to flash yellow—a warning that his time was running low.

 

"I have enough points to pass," Izuku analyzed, watching the other students finally catching up and battling the remaining robots. "I should power down and conserve—"

 

The ground beneath him violently lurched.

 

An earth-shattering boom echoed through the artificial city. The glass in the surrounding buildings shattered. Towering over the skyline, blotting out the sun, was a colossal, heavily armored machine. Its red optical sensor locked onto the street below.

 

The Zero Pointer.

 

"Less than two minutes left!" Present Mic's voice echoed.

 

The massive tracks of the Zero Pointer crushed an entire building. Debris rained down on the street like meteorites. Panic erupted among the examinees.

 

"Run!" the engine-legs boy yelled, sprinting away. "It's the obstacle! There's no point in fighting it!"

 

Izuku turned to run. He had the points. There was no tactical advantage to fighting a target worth zero points. Grey Matter's logic told him to retreat and survive.

 

But then, he heard a cry of pain.

 

"Ow... my leg!"

 

Izuku whipped his head around. Trapped beneath a massive slab of concrete, directly in the path of the approaching colossal treads, was Uraraka. The girl who had saved him from falling.

 

The logic evaporated. The analyst died, and the hero took over.

 

BEEP BEEP BEEP.

 

The Ultimatrix flashed red. Izuku timed out. The blue speedster vanished in a flash of red light, leaving the human boy panting, his muscles screaming in exhaustion.

 

He didn't care. He looked at the dial. It was red. It needed to recharge.

 

"No, no, no! Come on!" Izuku yelled, violently slapping the side of the watch. "Override! Please! She's going to die! Give me something! Anything!"

 

The watch seemed to respond to his sheer, unadulterated willpower. The Galvan technology registered his adrenaline spike and his absolute desperation. The red dial flickered, then forced itself into a harsh, glaring green.

 

Izuku twisted the dial without even looking at the hologram. He just needed power. He slammed it down.

 

The transformation tore through him, far more violent and painful than usual due to the forced override. His bones expanded, snapping and reforming into dense, unbreakable calcium. His muscles tore and instantly regenerated into massive, leathery red slabs. A second set of arms ripped through his skin.

 

He grew to twelve feet tall, a hulking behemoth of red flesh, muscle, and rage.

 

"FOUR ARMS!"

 

Izuku didn't waste a millisecond. He crouched down, his four massive hands pressing against the cracked asphalt. The two hearts in his chest beat like war drums.

 

With a guttural roar, Four Arms leaped.

 

The sheer kinetic force of his jump created a shockwave that blew the surrounding examinees off their feet. The asphalt cratered, a ten-foot depression forming where he had stood.

 

Izuku shot into the air like a red missile, intercepting the Zero Pointer’s descending fist.

 

In the observation room, Aizawa stood up from his chair, his eyes wide in sheer disbelief. "He transformed again? Into a completely different species?! He was just a speedster!"

 

"Look at the raw power!" Present Mic yelled.

 

All Might clutched the edge of the console, his heart soaring. Young Midoriya... you didn't need my power. You found your own.

 

Izuku reached the apex of his jump, directly level with the Zero Pointer's massive head. The robot's red eye glared at him, calculating the threat.

 

"You're in my way!" Izuku roared.

 

He pulled back all four of his massive fists. He channelled every ounce of his newly built stamina, every drop of frustration from a decade of being called useless, and the unyielding desire to protect.

 

He remembered his idol. He remembered the name of the attack that had saved his life under the bridge.

 

"DETROIT... SMASH!"

 

All four of Izuku’s fists struck the central armor plate of the Zero Pointer simultaneously. The impact was deafening. The air pressure warped around his knuckles, creating a visible ring of compressed air.

 

The sheer, overwhelming kinetic energy transferred directly into the machine. The solid steel armor buckled, caved, and then completely shattered. The shockwave tore through the robot's internal wiring, ripping its head clean off its chassis.

 

The headless torso of the colossal machine stood frozen for a second before erupting into a series of massive internal explosions. It began to tip backward, falling away from Uraraka and the street below.

 

Izuku began his descent, the adrenaline fading. The forced override took its toll. Mid-air, the dial flashed red violently, and the twelve-foot behemoth reverted to a scrawny, exhausted teenager.

 

Izuku was falling from a hundred feet in the air, completely powerless.

 

I... I used it all up, Izuku thought, the wind rushing past his face. My arms are numb. My head is spinning.

 

Suddenly, a sharp slap across his face snapped him out of it.

 

Uraraka, hovering in the air atop a floating piece of debris, had slapped his cheek. "Release!" she yelled, pressing her fingertips together.

 

Izuku’s gravity returned just as he was inches from the ground, but the deceleration saved his life. He hit the pavement with a heavy thud, rolling onto his back, gasping for air.

 

"Time's up!" Present Mic's voice rang out.

 

Izuku stared at the blue sky above him. His body was completely immobilized from the sheer stamina drain of forcing the Ultimatrix. He could barely keep his eyes open.

 

Uraraka limped over to him, falling to her knees. "You... you saved me. Thank you."

 

Izuku managed a weak, exhausted smile. "Are you... okay?"

 

Before she could answer, the exhaust of the Ultimatrix vented a hiss of steam, and Izuku Midoriya slipped into unconsciousness, a genuine hero’s smile on his face.

 

 

 

One week later.

 

Izuku sat at his desk in his bedroom, staring blankly at the wall. The red sweatband was back on his wrist. His mother had been incredibly worried when U.A. called to tell her he had passed out, but Recovery Girl had assured her it was just extreme stamina exhaustion.

 

"Izuku!" Inko Midoriya burst into his room, tears streaming down her face, holding a plain white envelope sealed with a red wax stamp. "It's here! From U.A.!"

 

Izuku took the envelope, his hands trembling slightly. He waited until his mother left the room before tearing it open.

 

A small metal disk fell out onto his desk. A holographic projection snapped to life.

 

"I am here as a projection!" All Might's booming voice filled the room. The hero was wearing a sharp yellow suit.

 

"All Might?!" Izuku gasped.

 

"You passed the written exam with flying colors, young Midoriya!" All Might announced, looking directly into the camera. "And your performance in the practical exam was nothing short of miraculous. Sixty-five villain points! But that wasn't all."

 

The hologram shifted to show footage from Ground Beta. It showed the blue speedster dominating the field, then cutting to the terrifying red behemoth destroying the Zero Pointer.

 

"The Entrance Exam was not graded on villain points alone," All Might explained softly. "How can a hero course reject someone who risks their life, pushing past their own limits to save others? That is what makes a true hero."

 

A scoreboard appeared next to All Might.

 

"Rescue Points! Given by a panel of judges! Izuku Midoriya, sixty rescue points! For a total of one hundred and twenty-five points! You placed first overall!"

 

Tears welled up in Izuku's eyes. The crushing weight of the last ten years, the bullying, the isolation, finally lifted off his shoulders.

 

All Might extended a hand toward the camera. "Come, young Midoriya. This is your hero academia."

 

Izuku looked down at his left wrist. He pulled back the sweatband, revealing the green hourglass symbol. He tapped it lightly.

 

"No," Izuku smiled, a tear falling onto the cool metal of the Ultimatrix. "This is our hero academia."

 

The crisp, starched collar of the U.A. High School uniform felt strange against Izuku Midoriya’s neck. It was a symbol of everything he had fought for, bled for, and hauled literal tons of garbage for over the past ten months. He stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, adjusting his red tie with trembling fingers.

 

He looked different. The scrawny, hollow-eyed boy who used to cower at the mere mention of the word 'Quirk' was gone. In his place stood a young man with broad shoulders, lean, defined muscles beneath his white button-down shirt, and a gaze that held a quiet, calculating intensity.

 

But the most significant difference was hidden beneath the left sleeve of his blazer.

 

Izuku pulled back the dark green fabric. The Ultimatrix sat heavy and cold against his forearm. He had spent the previous night modifying a thick, black compression sleeve to slide over the device. It concealed the glowing green dial and the alien metal, making it look like a bulky, medical-grade wrist brace. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

 

"Izuku! Breakfast is ready! You don't want to be late on your first day!" his mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

 

"Coming, Mom!" Izuku called back. He took one last look in the mirror. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. You belong here. You earned this.

 

The commute to U.A. was a blur of nervous anticipation. As he rode the crowded morning train, Izuku kept his left arm tucked close to his chest. His mind was a whirlwind of tactical analysis. Over the past month, since the entrance exam, he had filled an entire notebook with the physiological and biomechanical breakdowns of his ten alien forms.

 

Heatblast, Grey Matter, Upgrade, XLR8, Diamondhead, Four Arms, Stinkfly, Wildmutt, Ripjaws, and Ghostfreak.

 

He had categorized them by energy consumption, utility, destructive capability, and environmental suitability. But the biggest challenge wasn't using them; it was explaining them. He had registered his Quirk as "Poly-Morph: Radical Cellular Mutation." It was a broad enough classification that could theoretically cover extreme physical changes. But U.A. was an academy of geniuses and elite heroes. How long until someone realized his power didn't behave like a biological Quirk at all?

 

How long until someone realized the energy signature wasn't human?

 

Izuku shook his head as he stepped off the train, the towering glass structures of U.A. High looming over the hilltop ahead. One step at a time, he told himself.

 

 

 

Navigating the labyrinthine halls of U.A., Izuku finally found his destination. A massive, floor-to-ceiling door painted with a giant red '1-A'.

 

"The door is huge. Is it for students with gigantification Quirks?" Izuku muttered, analyzing the hinges. He reached out and slid the door open.

 

"Remove your foot from that desk immediately!"

 

The loud, commanding voice of the bespectacled boy from the entrance exam rang out across the classroom. Tenya Iida stood rigidly, chopping his hand through the air in a robotic motion. "It is an insult to the great alumni of this academy and the craftsmen who made the desk!"

 

"Huh?" Katsuki Bakugo lounged in his chair in the back row, his feet kicked up onto the desk, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face. "Like I care. What junior high did you go to, you extra?"

 

"I attended Somei Private Academy! My name is Tenya Iida!"

 

"Somei? So you're an elite, huh?" Bakugo scoffed, small sparks of nitroglycerin popping from his fingertips. "I'm gonna have fun crushing you."

 

"Crushing me?! You intend to become a hero with that attitude?" Iida gasped, scandalized.

 

Izuku stood in the doorway, suddenly feeling a profound urge to turn around and walk back home. Of course. Of course Kacchan was in his class. And the scary engine-legs guy.

 

Before Izuku could slip in unnoticed, Iida turned and spotted him.

 

"Ah! It's you!" Iida marched toward the door, his posture impeccably straight. The rest of the class turned to look. "I am Tenya Iida. I must apologize. You perceived the true nature of the practical exam, while I was completely blind to it! I misjudged you!"

 

"Oh, uh, no, it's fine," Izuku waved his hands defensively. "I'm Izuku Midoriya. Nice to meet you, Iida."

 

"Midoriya!" a cheerful voice called out. Ochaco Uraraka pushed past a boy with spiky red hair, beaming brightly. "You made it! I knew you would! That punch you did at the exam was incredible!"

 

As Uraraka enthusiastically mimed Four Arms' punch, Izuku felt a burning sensation on the side of his head. A stare so intense it could melt lead.

 

He looked past Uraraka. Bakugo had frozen. His feet slowly slid off the desk. His red eyes were locked onto Izuku, widening in a mixture of profound shock and rapidly boiling rage.

 

Bakugo stood up, knocking his chair backward. The loud clatter silenced the room. He marched down the aisle, his hands clenched into fists, smoke literally rising from his palms.

 

"Deku," Bakugo growled, the word dripping with venom. He stopped inches from Izuku, towering over him, his face contorted in fury. "What the hell is this? How did a Quirkless nobody like you pass the exam? Did you cheat?"

 

The classroom tensed. Iida stepped forward, frowning. "Excuse me, but threatening a fellow classmate on the first day is highly inappropriate—"

 

"Shut up, four-eyes!" Bakugo snapped, his eyes never leaving Izuku. "I'm talking to him. I know you, Deku. I've known you your whole life. You don't have a Quirk. So explain. Now."

 

Izuku held his ground. He didn't shrink back. He didn't apologize. He looked Bakugo dead in the eye, the tactical, hyper-logical mindset of Grey Matter subtly influencing his posture.

 

"I didn't lie to you, Kacchan," Izuku said, his voice completely steady. "For ten years, I was Quirkless. But recently... my body changed. The doctors called it a late-blooming, radical cellular mutation. My Quirk finally manifested. I'm not Quirkless anymore."

 

Bakugo’s jaw clenched. The air around him smelled sharply of burnt sugar. "A late bloomer? Bullshit. You've been hiding it. You've been laughing at me this whole time!"

 

"I haven't been laughing at you," Izuku replied evenly. "I've been working. Just like you."

 

"If you're just here to make friends, you can pack up your stuff and leave."

 

The voice was tired, muffled, and came from the floor.

 

The entire class looked down. Lying on the ground outside the doorway was a man wrapped entirely in a bright yellow sleeping bag, drinking from a juice pouch. He looked like a giant, scruffy caterpillar.

 

The man unzipped the sleeping bag and stood up, revealing messy, shoulder-length black hair, severe bags under his eyes, and a scarf made of strange, metallic-looking cloth wrapped around his neck.

 

"It took you lot eight seconds to quiet down," the man sighed, stepping up to the teacher's podium. "Time is limited. You kids aren't rational enough."

 

Izuku’s eyes widened. He recognized that scarf. He recognized those tired eyes. The Erasure Hero: Eraserhead! An underground pro hero who fights by erasing the Quirks of his enemies. He's our homeroom teacher?!

 

"I'm Shota Aizawa. Your homeroom teacher," the man said, pulling a dark blue uniform from his sleeping bag. "Right. Let's get to it. Put these P.E. uniforms on and head out to the training field."

 

 

 

The locker room was filled with the sounds of zippers and chatter as the boys of Class 1-A changed. Izuku found a locker in the corner, keeping his back to the room.

 

He carefully unbuttoned his shirt, leaving his black compression sleeve on his left arm. As he pulled the P.E. shirt over his head, a short boy with purple balls for hair whistled loudly.

 

"Whoa, Midoriya! You're ripped!" Minoru Mineta pointed at Izuku’s back and shoulders. "What kind of workout routine gives you that much muscle? You look like a mini All Might!"

 

Several other boys turned to look. Eijiro Kirishima, the redhead, grinned broadly. "Man, that is a manly physique! My Quirk hardens my body, but you've got some serious baseline strength. What's your Quirk anyway? I saw you turn into some kind of giant red monster at the exam!"

 

"Uh, yeah," Izuku rubbed the back of his neck nervously, securing his compression sleeve. "My Quirk is called Poly-Morph. It lets me undergo radical cellular transformations."

 

"So you can turn into anything?" asked a boy with half-white, half-red hair, Todoroki, his voice cold and analytical.

 

"Not anything," Izuku replied carefully. "Specific genetic templates. But it takes a huge toll on my stamina. That's why I had to build up my physical strength."

 

Bakugo slammed his locker shut, the metallic bang echoing through the room. He glared at Izuku, his eyes full of violent promise, before storming out without a word.

 

 

 

The sun beat down on the expansive dirt track of the P.E. field. Class 1-A stood in a line, watching Aizawa casually toss a softball into the air.

 

"A Quirk Apprehension Test?" Uraraka gasped. "But what about the entrance ceremony? The orientation?"

 

"If you're going to become a hero, you don't have time for such leisurely events," Aizawa said, his voice flat and unforgiving. "U.A.'s selling point is how unrestricted its school traditions are. That's also how the teachers run their classes. You kids have been doing these standard fitness tests since junior high, but without using your Quirks."

 

Aizawa pointed his phone at Bakugo. "Bakugo, you finished first in the practical exam. In junior high, what was your best result for the softball throw?"

 

"Sixty-seven meters," Bakugo scoffed.

 

"Try doing it with your Quirk." Aizawa tossed him the softball and pointed to a white circle on the dirt. "You can do whatever you want as long as you stay in the circle. Hurry up. Give it all you've got."

 

Bakugo stepped into the ring. He cracked his neck, stretching his arms. He gripped the ball tightly in his right hand.

 

"All I've got?" Bakugo smirked, a manic glint in his eye. "You asked for it."

 

He wound his arm back, his entire body coiling like a spring. As he threw the ball forward, he ignited a massive, concentrated explosion from his palm.

 

"DIE!" Bakugo roared.

 

The blast wave kicked up a cloud of dust, sending the ball rocketing into the sky with the speed of a cannonball, leaving a trail of smoke behind it.

 

Aizawa held up a device that beeped. He turned the screen toward the class. "Know your own maximum first. That is the most rational way to form the foundation of a hero."

 

The screen read: 705.2 meters.

 

The class erupted into exclamations of awe and excitement.

 

"Seven hundred meters? Seriously?!"

"This looks like so much fun!"

"We can use our Quirks as much as we want! Awesome!"

 

Aizawa’s eyes darkened. The temperature on the field seemed to drop by ten degrees. "Fun? You have three years to become heroes. Will you have an attitude like that the whole time?"

 

He smiled, but it was a terrifying, predatory expression. "Alright. Whoever comes in last place in all eight tests will be judged to have no potential, and will be punished with expulsion."

 

A collective gasp swept through the students.

 

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

 

"Natural disasters, massive accidents, and selfish villains. Calamities whose time or place cannot be predicted," Aizawa recited grimly. "Japan is covered with unfairness. Heroes are the ones who reverse those situations. If you wanted to go talk with your friends at McDonald's after school, too bad. For the next three years, U.A. will do all it can to give you one hardship after another. Go beyond. Plus Ultra. Overcome it with all you've got."

 

Izuku swallowed hard, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck.

 

Expulsion. He wasn't bluffing. Aizawa had a reputation in the underground circuit for expelling entire classes if he felt they lacked potential.

 

Izuku looked down at his left arm, obscured by the black sleeve. The Ultimatrix was powerful, yes. But it had limits.

 

If I use my transformations for every test, I'll drain the battery and suffer massive physical fatigue, Izuku analyzed rapidly, his eyes darting across the field. I need to conserve energy. I'll rely on my baseline human strength for the tests where I can afford an average score, and only use the Ultimatrix for the tests where my human body would fail completely.

 

"Test one: 50-meter dash," Aizawa announced.

 

The students lined up in pairs. Iida blasted across the track using his engine legs, scoring 3.04 seconds. Asui Tsuyu leaped like a frog, scoring 5.58 seconds.

 

Izuku lined up against Bakugo.

 

"Don't hold back, Deku," Bakugo hissed, getting into a sprinter's stance. "Show me this magical Quirk of yours."

 

Izuku ignored him. He reached over his left arm, pressing the hidden dial through the fabric of the compression sleeve.

 

BEEP.

 

Aizawa narrowed his eyes, watching Midoriya closely. He had read the boy's file. Zero points for ten minutes, and then a sudden, catastrophic display of power. A radical cellular mutation. But Aizawa's keen eyes caught the faint green glow emanating from beneath the boy's sleeve. Support gear? No, it's not registered. What is he doing?

 

"Ready... go!" the starting machine beeped.

 

Bakugo launched himself forward with twin explosions, screaming in fury as he propelled himself down the track.

 

But Izuku didn't run. He slammed his right hand down on his left wrist.

 

VWOOSH.

 

A blinding emerald flash briefly engulfed the track. The students shielded their eyes. In the fraction of a second it took for the light to fade, a sonic boom shattered the air. A blue-and-black blur ripped across the track, blowing away the dirt and completely extinguishing the fire from Bakugo's explosions.

 

Beep. "0.41 seconds," the machine announced at the finish line.

 

At the end of the track, XLR8 skidded to a halt, the wheels on his feet smoking from the friction. He casually lifted his visor, his reptilian eyes blinking lazily.

 

Before anyone could register what he looked like, Izuku hit the dial on his chest. Another flash of green, and the human boy stood at the finish line, completely unbothered, while Bakugo crossed the line at 4.13 seconds, his face pale with shock.

 

"What... what the hell was that?!" Kirishima yelled, rubbing his eyes. "Did he teleport?!"

 

"No," Aizawa noted, writing on his clipboard. "Extreme velocity. And a complete bodily transformation. Fascinating."

 

"Deku!" Bakugo roared, storming toward him. "You bastard! You're making a fool of me!"

 

Izuku simply walked past him, heading back toward the group. "Conserving energy. Sorry, Kacchan."

 

Test Two: Grip Strength.

 

Izuku stood in the back of the group, holding the grip-measuring device. Mezo Shoji, a boy with multiple arms, had just scored an impressive 540 kilograms.

 

Izuku knew his human grip, while strong from hauling trash, was only about 65 kilograms. If he wanted to avoid last place, he needed to make a statement here.

 

He slipped to the back of the crowd, turning the dial until he found the four-armed silhouette. He pressed it.

 

The green flash was muted by the bodies around him, but the sudden shadow he cast over the group made everyone turn around.

 

Standing twelve feet tall, his red skin gleaming in the sun, Four Arms grinned down at the tiny grip-measuring device in his massive, lower-right hand.

 

"Whoa! It's the monster from the exam!" Kaminari yelled, pointing.

 

"He changed again!" Mina Ashido squealed. "He's huge!"

 

Izuku flexed his massive fingers around the device and simply squeezed. He didn't even use his full strength. The metal groaned, the springs snapped, and the digital screen glitched out before violently exploding into a shower of sparks and plastic.

 

Aizawa stared at the ruined device. "Midoriya. That equipment is expensive."

 

"My apologies, Aizawa-sensei," Four Arms rumbled, his voice shaking the ground. "The device was unable to register the pressure. Put me down for whatever Shoji got."

 

Izuku hit the dial, reverting to human. He staggered slightly, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. The Tetramand form always took the most out of him. He wiped sweat from his brow, his breathing heavy.

 

I need to take a break, Izuku thought, his legs trembling. Two transformations. I'm already feeling the genetic fatigue.

 

For the standing long jump, repeated side steps, and seated toe-touch, Izuku relied entirely on his human body. His ten months of brutal training paid off; he scored firmly in the middle of the pack for all three, easily beating out students like Mineta and Kaminari, whose Quirks didn't offer baseline athletic enhancements.

 

But Aizawa was watching him. Analyzing him.

 

He's rationing his power, Aizawa thought, his eyes tracking Izuku's every movement. He uses these extreme transformations for explosive results, but powers down immediately. It causes him physical fatigue. It's a powerful Quirk, but highly unstable. He's smart to conserve it. But let's see how he handles interference.

 

Test Six: The Softball Throw.

 

Uraraka stepped into the circle, touched the ball to remove its gravity, and tossed it gently into the air. It floated upward, disappearing into the stratosphere.

 

"Infinity," Aizawa announced, showing the screen to the dumbfounded class.

 

"Infinity?!" the students cheered. "That's insane!"

 

"Midoriya," Aizawa called out, his voice cutting through the cheers. "You're up."

 

Izuku slowly walked to the circle, rolling his shoulder. He was tired. The constant DNA overwriting was giving him a severe migraine. He only needed one more solid score to guarantee his safety from expulsion.

 

He took the softball from Aizawa. He looked at the vast, empty field before him.

 

XLR8 can't throw well. Four Arms would destroy the ball. Heatblast might melt it, Izuku calculated rapidly. I need kinetic transfer without destroying the object. I need a construct.

 

He pulled back his compression sleeve, exposing the Ultimatrix dial to the open air for the first time. The class gasped at the sight of the alien technology strapped to his wrist.

 

"Is that support gear?" Iida asked, adjusting his glasses. "Are we allowed to use items?"

 

"If it's part of his Quirk factor, it's allowed," Aizawa said vaguely, his eyes narrowing.

 

Izuku turned the dial. He selected the jagged, humanoid silhouette.

 

Diamondhead. The Petrosapien form could create and manipulate nearly indestructible crystal constructs. He could create a massive pillar from the ground to launch the ball like a catapult.

 

Izuku raised his hand, his fingers hovering over the dial.

 

Aizawa pulled his goggles down over his eyes. His scarf began to float ominously in the air. His eyes glowed a piercing, dangerous red.

 

Erasure.

 

Aizawa activated his Quirk, locking his gaze entirely on Izuku Midoriya. Let's see what happens when you can't mutate, kid. Will you crumble? Or will you prove you have what it takes without your crutch?

 

Izuku slammed his hand down on the dial.

 

To Aizawa's absolute shock, the device didn't sputter. It didn't jam. His Erasure, which targeted the Quirk factor genes in a person's DNA to halt their activation, met absolutely zero resistance.

 

Because, for a split second, there was no human DNA left to erase.

 

The blinding emerald light exploded outward, far brighter and more violent than before. Aizawa flinched, his Erasure momentarily breaking as he was forced to shield his eyes from the glare.

 

The sound of shattering glass and grinding tectonic plates echoed across the field.

 

When the light faded, standing in the circle was not a human boy, but a towering, jagged golem made entirely of glowing, pale green, translucent crystal. Two massive, sharp shards protruded from his back. His face was angular, with a single, sharp crest and glowing green eyes.

 

"Diamondhead!" the alien's gravelly, resonant voice echoed, the sound bouncing off the surrounding school buildings.

 

Aizawa stood frozen, his scarf dropping to his shoulders, his glowing red eyes wide in pure, unfiltered astonishment. My Erasure... it didn't work. I had my eyes on him. I activated my Quirk. But he still transformed!

 

Izuku didn't notice his teacher's shock. He was completely focused on the ball in his hand. He knelt down, placing the ball on the dirt.

 

He placed both of his crystalline hands flat against the earth. He felt the resonance of the minerals beneath the soil. He tapped into the silicon network.

 

"Let's see how far this goes," Izuku grunted.

 

A localized earthquake rattled the field. The students stumbled, crying out in alarm.

 

Suddenly, a massive, thirty-foot pillar of solid, razor-sharp green diamond erupted from the earth at a forty-five-degree angle, striking the softball from below with the force of a hydraulic press.

 

The sound of the impact was like a cannon firing. The ball didn't just fly; it broke the sound barrier, rocketing into the sky with a sharp CRACK, leaving a visible ring of displaced air in its wake.

 

The diamond pillar stood towering over the field, gleaming in the sunlight, a permanent monument to the sheer, overwhelming power of the Petrosapien.

 

Izuku stood up, dusting off his crystalline hands. He looked over at Aizawa, awaiting his score.

 

Aizawa didn't look at his phone. He walked slowly toward the towering crystal alien, his expression an unreadable mask of intense scrutiny.

 

"You," Aizawa said, his voice deadly quiet. "What exactly are you?"

 

Izuku tensed. He hit the dial on his chest, reverting back to his human form in a flash of red light. He stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the diamond pillar.

 

"I'm... I'm Izuku Midoriya," Izuku panted, looking at his teacher defensively. "Is something wrong, Aizawa-sensei?"

 

"My Quirk," Aizawa said, gesturing to his eyes. "I can erase the Quirks of anyone I look at. It targets the plus-alpha elements in the genetic code, temporarily shutting down the Quirk factor. I had my eyes on you. I activated Erasure. You shouldn't have been able to transform."

 

The class gasped.

 

"Eraserhead?!" someone yelled. "He's the Erasure Hero!"

 

Izuku’s mind raced at a million miles an hour. Grey Matter's analytical ghost whispered in his ear. If Erasure targets the Quirk factor in human DNA... and the Ultimatrix completely overwrites human DNA into the genetic code of an extraterrestrial species... then to Eraserhead, I didn't have a Quirk to erase.

 

Izuku realized the terrifying truth. To Aizawa's Quirk, Izuku hadn't used a superpower. He had simply existed as a different biological entity. You can't erase a bird's ability to fly if it's anatomically built for it. And you can't erase Diamondhead's ability to manipulate crystal, because Diamondhead is crystal.

 

"I... I don't know what to tell you, Sensei," Izuku lied, his heart hammering against his ribs. He had to play dumb. If U.A. found out he had alien technology, they might confiscate it. "My Quirk... it's a radical cellular mutation. Maybe once the mutation begins, your Erasure can't penetrate the new cellular structure? I-I'm just guessing!"

 

Aizawa stared at him. The man's eyes narrowed into slits, analyzing every micro-expression on Izuku's face. He knew the kid was hiding something. The device on his wrist, the immunity to Erasure, the wildly varying powers. This was not a normal Quirk. This was an anomaly.

 

But Aizawa was a pragmatist. Anomalies made good heroes.

 

Aizawa held up his phone, showing the screen to the class.

 

945.3 meters.

 

"Whatever your power is, Midoriya," Aizawa said softly, leaning in close so only Izuku could hear. "It's dangerous. You lack the stamina to maintain it, and it defies the laws of Quirks. If you lose control, you will be a threat. Learn to master it, or I will expel you myself. Understood?"

 

Izuku looked up into the pro hero's eyes. He didn't flinch.

 

"Understood, Sensei," Izuku nodded.

 

"Good." Aizawa turned back to the class, his lazy, tired demeanor instantly returning. "Alright, let's finish this up. We have two more tests."

 

 

 

The rest of the tests went by in a blur. When the final scores were displayed holographically, Izuku scanned the list.

 

1. Yaoyorozu Momo

2. Todoroki Shoto

3. Bakugo Katsuki

4. Iida Tenya

5. Midoriya Izuku

 

He had placed fifth. He let out a massive sigh of relief. He hadn't just survived; he had proved he belonged in the top tier of the class.

 

He looked down at the bottom of the list. Minoru Mineta was in twentieth place. The short boy was on his knees, weeping hysterically about his impending expulsion.

 

"By the way, I was lying about the expulsion," Aizawa said casually, turning to walk away. "It was a rational deception to draw out the upper limits of your Quirks."

 

The class stood in stunned silence.

 

"What?!" Mineta screamed, tears and snot running down his face.

 

"Of course it was a lie," Yaoyorozu sighed, shaking her head. "It was quite obvious if you thought it through."

 

Izuku didn't think it was a lie. He had seen the look in Aizawa's eyes. The man had fully intended to expel someone if they hadn't shown potential. U.A. was cutthroat. Izuku had just managed to impress him enough to stay.

 

 

 

The sun was setting as Izuku walked out of the massive front gates of U.A. High School. His muscles ached, his head throbbed, and his stomach was growling loudly. But he felt a profound sense of accomplishment. He had survived his first day. He was officially a student in the hero course.

 

He decided to take the scenic route home, cutting through a small, secluded park just outside the school grounds to avoid the crowds.

 

He was halfway through a grove of trees when a sharp crackle of explosions made him freeze.

 

"Deku."

 

Izuku turned slowly. Katsuki Bakugo stepped out from the shadows of the trees. His uniform was rumpled, his tie loose. His face was cast in the orange light of the setting sun, but his red eyes burned with a chaotic, violent fury.

 

"Kacchan," Izuku said softly, his guard immediately going up.

 

"You lied to me," Bakugo’s voice was trembling, barely containing the explosive rage bubbling beneath the surface. "For ten years. You followed me around. You wrote in those damn notebooks. You let me think you were a useless, Quirkless pebble."

 

"I didn't lie—"

 

"Shut up!" Bakugo roared, stepping forward, his palms sparking violently. "You've been hiding this! You've been laughing at me! Watching me work my ass off, knowing you had this... this freakish power the whole time! You think you're better than me?!"

 

"I never thought I was better than you, Kacchan!" Izuku yelled back, finally letting his own frustration bleed into his voice. "I admired you! I wanted to be like you! But you never gave me a chance! You just beat me down because I didn't have power!"

 

"Because you're a pebble!" Bakugo screamed. "You're a pebble in my path! I am going to be the Number One Hero! I'm going to surpass All Might! And I won't let some lying, cheating extra stand in my way!"

 

Bakugo didn't hesitate. He lunged forward with terrifying speed, his right hand pulled back, a massive explosion charging in his palm. It wasn't a warning shot. It was a full-power, lethal strike aimed directly at Izuku's chest.

 

Ten months ago, Izuku would have cowered. He would have raised his arms and taken the blast, apologizing through his tears.

 

Not anymore.

 

Izuku didn't flinch. He didn't even take a step back. His eyes narrowed, and his left hand snapped up to the dial on his right wrist. He didn't have time to select a specific alien. He just acted on pure, instinctual defense. He needed fire. He needed heat. He needed to meet Bakugo's wrath head-on.

 

He slammed the dial.

 

VWOOSH.

 

The green light exploded in the shaded grove. But this time, the transformation was different. Izuku’s body was too exhausted to handle a full, instantaneous cellular overwrite. The Ultimatrix, sensing its host's fatigue and localized intent, compromised.

 

As Bakugo’s palm thrust forward, unleashing a massive, roaring torrent of fire and concussive force, Izuku thrust his right arm out to meet it.

 

The green light concentrated entirely on Izuku’s right arm. The fabric of his blazer sleeve shredded away. His flesh hardened into dark, cracked magma rock. Fire erupted from the fissures.

 

In a fraction of a second, Izuku’s right arm transformed into the blazing, molten limb of a Pyronite.

 

Bakugo’s explosion slammed into Izuku's Pyronite palm.

 

There was no impact. There was no knockback.

 

To Bakugo's absolute horror, the explosive fire didn't burn Izuku. It didn't push him. Instead, the flames hit the rocky palm and swirled, instantly absorbing into the magma-veined arm. Izuku simply stood there, his feet planted firmly in the grass, catching the full force of Bakugo's strongest attack with one hand.

 

The explosion died out, leaving a thick cloud of smoke hanging in the air.

 

Silence descended on the park.

 

Bakugo stood frozen, his hand still outstretched, pressed against the burning, rocky palm of Izuku's transformed arm. The heat radiating from the Pyronite limb was suffocating, but it didn't scorch Bakugo's skin. Izuku was controlling the temperature, keeping it perfectly contained.

 

"What..." Bakugo breathed, his eyes wide, his pupils shaking in disbelief. "What the hell are you?"

 

Izuku looked at Bakugo through the dissipating smoke. His green eyes were cold, hard, and unyielding.

 

"I'm not your punching bag anymore, Kacchan," Izuku said, his voice quiet but carrying the resonant, crackling undertone of the Pyronite. "I didn't lie to you. I didn't hide anything. I suffered. I fought for everything I have. And I am going to use this power to save people."

 

Izuku slowly pushed Bakugo's hand away, forcing the aggressive boy to take a step back.

 

"You can hate me," Izuku continued, the fire in his arm burning brighter. "You can yell at me. But you will never look down on me again. My name is Deku. But 'Deku' doesn't mean useless anymore. 'Deku' is the name of a hero who will never give up."

 

Izuku tapped the glowing green dial on his left wrist. The red flash swept over his right arm, reverting the magma rock back into human flesh. The sleeve of his blazer was destroyed, but his arm was completely unharmed.

 

He didn't wait for Bakugo to respond. He didn't need to. He turned his back on his childhood bully and walked away, his posture straight, his head held high.

 

Bakugo stood alone in the park, his hands trembling violently. He stared at the spot where Izuku had stood. The world he knew, the hierarchy he had built his entire identity around, had just been shattered into a million pieces.

 

"Deku..." Bakugo whispered to the wind, a singular tear of pure, unadulterated frustration falling from his eye. "I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you."

 

Izuku kept walking toward the setting sun. The path ahead was dangerous. Aizawa was suspicious of him. Bakugo wanted to destroy him. And somewhere out in the stars, alien warlords were hunting the device strapped to his wrist.

 

But as Izuku looked down at the glowing green hourglass symbol, he couldn't help but smile.

 

He was finally playing the game. And he had no intention of losing.