What If Deku Had a Silverback Gorilla Quirk That's Busted

 

The alarm clock did not ring; it politely chirped. It was a specially modified, heavily reinforced piece of hardware bolted to the bedside table, designed specifically so that it wouldn't be accidentally pulverized into dust and springs before 6:00 AM.

 

A massive, furry hand the size of a catcher’s mitt reached out from beneath the custom-woven, extra-large duvet. The digits were thick, leathery, and tipped with blunt, heavy nails. With the utmost, excruciatingly delicate care, the index finger descended upon the snooze button.

 

Click.

 

Izuku Midoriya let out a low, rumbling yawn that vibrated the floorboards of the apartment. He sat up, the heavy blankets cascading off his immense shoulders.

 

At fourteen years old, Izuku was a biological anomaly, an apex predator born into the body of an anxious, hyper-analytical teenager. He stood exactly six feet, five inches tall. He weighed three hundred and fifty pounds. He possessed not an ounce of fat; his mass was composed entirely of hyper-dense, coiled muscle fiber that looked like steel cabling woven beneath a coat of sleek, coarse black hair. Across his broad, imposing back and wrapping around his deltoids was a striking, shimmering patch of silver fur.

 

His Quirk was officially registered as a Mutant-type called Silverback Titan. To the casual observer, he was a terrifying, bipedal gorilla-man straight out of a monster movie. To his mother, he was still her sweet little boy.

 

"Izuku! Breakfast is ready, sweetie!" Inko Midoriya’s voice floated through the reinforced door of his bedroom.

 

"Coming, Mom!" Izuku called back. His voice was naturally deep, a resonant baritone that he actively tried to pitch higher so he wouldn't startle the neighbors.

 

He swung his legs out of bed. His feet were as large as his hands, complete with a prehensile thumb-like toe that allowed him incredible dexterity. He grabbed a pair of custom-tailored uniform trousers off his chair with his foot, casually tossing them up into his hands. Getting dressed was always a chore. Standard Aldera Junior High uniforms didn't exactly account for a chest circumference of sixty inches. His shirts were specially ordered, woven with elastic polymers that allowed his massive lats and pectoral muscles to expand without popping all the buttons.

 

He didn't wear a tie—he had accidentally strangled himself trying to tie one in his first year—and instead wore the collar open. Beneath the fabric, his chest was devoid of fur, revealing thick, leathery, charcoal-colored skin over muscles that looked carved from granite.

 

He ducked—significantly—as he stepped out of his bedroom, turning his massive shoulders sideways to navigate the narrow hallway of their apartment.

 

In the kitchen, the visual contrast between mother and son was almost comical. Inko Midoriya was a petite, slightly plump woman who barely reached Izuku’s navel. Yet, as Izuku entered, he instantly slumped his shoulders, hunching over slightly to make himself look smaller, a habit he had developed years ago.

 

"Good morning, Mom," he mumbled softly, gingerly pulling out a reinforced steel stool at the kitchen island. Standard wooden chairs splintered under his resting weight.

 

"Morning, Izuku! Eat up, you have a big day today. You don't want to be late for school," Inko smiled warmly, levitating three massive plates of food onto the table with her minor telekinesis.

 

To fuel his mutated biology, Izuku consumed roughly ten thousand calories a day. Breakfast consisted of two dozen scrambled eggs, a massive bowl of rice, steamed vegetables, and six whole bananas, peeled and eaten in three bites each. He ate with immaculate, polite table manners, using custom titanium chopsticks he had bought from a Hero Support catalog.

 

"T-Thanks, Mom. Oh, I should probably check the news," Izuku muttered. He tapped his smartphone—also encased in a heavy-duty, military-grade shockproof shell—with the very tip of his pinky finger. "Ah! There was a villain attack at Tatooin Station! I might be able to catch the end of it if I walk fast!"

 

He inhaled the rest of his food, gently set his dishes in the sink, grabbed his bright yellow backpack (which looked like a toddler's coin purse against his mountainous back), and leaned down so Inko could kiss his cheek.

 

"Have a good day, Izuku! Try not to break your pencils again!"

 

"I'll be careful!"

 

 

 

The morning commute was always an exercise in spatial awareness. Walking down the streets of Musutafu, Izuku was painfully aware of the space he occupied. People naturally parted around him like water around a boulder. Some stared in awe, others flinched and pulled their children closer. He was used to the whispers. Villainous quirk. Monster. Scary.

 

Whenever he caught someone looking fearfully at him, Izuku would immediately offer a bright, closed-eye smile, bow slightly, and nervously apologize to the empty air. It usually just confused them more.

 

As he approached Tatooin Station, he heard the familiar sounds of explosions and roaring crowds. His dark, intelligent eyes lit up. He quickened his pace, his massive legs eating up the distance. Despite his size, he moved with terrifying, silent grace. His prehensile, padded feet—clad in reinforced, open-toed sandals—made absolutely no sound on the pavement.

 

He arrived at the scene just in time to see a giant, shark-headed villain swatting away pro heroes. Kamui Woods was on the scene, swinging from the infrastructure.

 

Kamui Woods! Izuku thought, pulling out his charred, dog-eared notebook, Hero Analysis for the Future No. 13. He clicked his titanium pen. His preemptive binding is incredible. The tensile strength of his lacquered wood chain must be around 40 megapascals, given the diameter of the branches. But against blunt force trauma, it shatters. If I were to fight that villain, I'd need to close the distance. My top sprint speed on all fours is currently 65 kilometers per hour. If I use Kinetic Resonance...

 

"Canyon Cannon!"

 

A giant foot dropped from the sky, instantly knocking the villain out. Mt. Lady, in all her gigantic glory, stood triumphant. The crowd of middle-aged men around Izuku instantly began cheering and taking photos of her backside.

 

Izuku scribbled furiously. Mt. Lady. Gigantification quirk. Immense kinetic energy from the mass increase, but she lacks situational awareness. The collateral damage to the surrounding asphalt from a single kick indicates poor shock absorption...

 

"Hey, kid," a man next to him said, looking up, up, and up at the hulking teenager. "You taking notes? Want to be a hero? With a body like that, you look like you could bench-press a train!"

 

Izuku blushed so hard his dark skin flushed a deep, violent purple. He waved his massive hands frantically in front of his chest. "O-Oh! N-No, I mean, yes! I want to be a hero! B-But I'm just taking notes! I'm not that strong! Well, I am strong, but I try not to use it! Have a nice day!"

 

He practically fled the scene, hunching his massive shoulders and scurrying away toward Aldera Junior High.

 

 

 

Class 3-C was loud, chaotic, and entirely unprepared for the real world.

 

Izuku stood outside the sliding door. He took a deep breath, calculated the dimensions, and stepped in sideways, ducking his head under the doorframe. Once inside, he navigated the aisles like a man walking through a minefield, terrified of bumping a desk and sending a classmate flying through a window.

 

He reached the back corner of the room. His desk was actually two desks welded together, with a custom bench-seat bolted to the floor. He sat down, the metal groaning slightly under his 350-pound frame, and immediately pulled out his notebook to hide his face.

 

A moment later, the door slammed open. Katsuki Bakugo swaggered in, feet kicked up onto his desk before he had even fully sat down. Bakugo glared around the room, his red eyes settling on the giant silverback in the back corner.

 

"Hey! Deku!" Bakugo barked from across the room.

 

Izuku flinched, his massive trapezius muscles bunching up to his ears. "Y-Yes, Kacchan?"

 

"Don't look at me with those creepy black beady eyes, you damn gorilla! I know you're mumbling about some garbage hero right now! Stop breathing so loud, it’s annoying!"

 

"S-Sorry, Kacchan! I'll breathe quieter!" Izuku stammered, covering his mouth with a hand the size of a dinner plate.

 

The rest of the class ignored the exchange. It was an established routine.

 

To an outsider, the dynamic made absolutely no sense. Katsuki Bakugo was an aggressive, explosive powerhouse who ruled the school through fear. Izuku Midoriya was a walking mountain of muscle and fangs who could logically snap Bakugo over his knee like a dry twig. Yet, Bakugo bullied Izuku relentlessly, and Izuku took it with trembling apologies.

 

But there was a catch, an unspoken rule that everyone in Aldera Junior High knew: Bakugo never physically touched Izuku.

 

It hadn't always been that way. Four years ago, when they were ten, Bakugo’s ego had demanded he establish physical dominance over the boy who had suddenly hit a massive, mutant-quirk growth spurt. During recess, Bakugo had cornered Izuku. Izuku had been crying, asking Bakugo to stop picking on a younger kid.

 

"What are you gonna do about it, Deku?!" ten-year-old Bakugo had screamed. "You think just 'cause you're big now you're better than me?!"

 

Bakugo had unleashed a point-blank, right-hook explosion directly into Izuku’s chest.

 

The explosion had gone off with a deafening BOOM. Smoke had cleared. Izuku had stood there, completely unharmed. The explosive heat hadn't even penetrated the dense, insulating layers of his thick silverback fur; it merely smelled faintly of burnt hair.

 

But Izuku, startled by the loud noise and the sudden flash of light, had acted on pure, unadulterated biological instinct. He had reflexively flinched and swatted his hand outward to bat away the source of the noise.

 

It was barely a tap. A panicked, half-hearted backhand from a terrified ten-year-old.

 

The back of Izuku’s hand had collided with Bakugo’s forearm. The resulting sound was a sickening CRACK. Bakugo was launched off his feet, flying ten feet through the air before skidding across the dirt, his right arm bent at a horrifying, unnatural angle.

 

The silence on the playground had been absolute.

 

Then, Izuku had unleashed a wail of absolute despair. He had scooped the screaming Bakugo into his massive arms, cradling him like a fragile glass doll, and sprinted all the way to the local hospital on all fours, crying a river of tears and apologizing a thousand times a minute.

 

Bakugo’s arm had healed, but his pride never did. He realized a terrifying truth that day: Izuku Midoriya wasn't fighting back and losing. Izuku Midoriya was holding back so he didn't accidentally kill everyone around him.

 

From that day on, Bakugo’s superiority complex demanded he still treat Izuku like dirt—but his survival instincts kept him at a strict, six-foot shouting distance. He never tried to blow up Izuku's desk. He never pushed him in the halls. He just screamed insults from afar.

 

"Since you're all third years, it's time for you to think seriously about your future," the teacher announced, walking to the front of the room with a stack of papers. "I'll pass out handouts for your future plans now, but... you're all pretty much planning to go into the hero course, right?!"

 

He threw the papers into the air. The class erupted into cheers, displaying a chaotic array of Quirks—stretchy limbs, minor firebreathing, floating objects.

 

"Yes, yes, you all have wonderful Quirks," the teacher sighed, "but remember, using your powers at school is against the rules."

 

"Sensei! Don't lump me in with these losers!" Bakugo shouted, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. "They'll be lucky to end up as sidekicks to some busted D-lister. I'm going to UA High School!"

 

The class erupted in outrage. "UA?! The national school? The cutoff score this year is seventy-nine!"

 

"I aced the mock test!" Bakugo stood up, slamming his hands on his desk. "I'm the only one at this crappy middle school who has the stuff to get into UA. I'll surpass All Might and become the top hero!"

 

The teacher looked at his clipboard. "Oh, speaking of UA... Midoriya, you're applying for the hero course there too, aren't you?"

 

The classroom froze.

 

Every single head turned slowly toward the back corner.

 

Izuku froze, his pen hovering over his notebook. He felt the weight of thirty stares pressing down on him. His heart rate spiked. His thick, leathery fingers twitched.

 

SNAP.

 

The titanium-reinforced pen in his hand sheared cleanly in half, ink spraying across his desk.

 

"Ah! Oh no! I'm sorry! I broke another one!" Izuku gasped, frantically dabbing at the ink with his massive hands, making the mess worse.

 

"Deku..." Bakugo’s voice was a low, dangerous growl. He didn't approach, but he slammed his fist into his palm, creating a spark. "You think you can rub shoulders with me?! You think just because you're a giant, walking carpet that you have what it takes?!"

 

"N-No! Kacchan, wait! I'm not trying to compete with you!" Izuku stammered, waving his ink-stained hands defensively. "It's just... it's been my dream since I was little. And there's no harm in trying, right?"

 

"Trying?! What can you even do?!" Bakugo yelled, though he noticeably took a half-step back as Izuku accidentally bumped his desk, creating a loud, heavy scrape against the floor. "You just punch stuff! You're a meathead! You don't have the brains or the flash to be a top hero! You'd just scare the civilians!"

 

That one stung. Izuku lowered his gaze, his silver-furred shoulders slumping forward. That was his greatest fear. Heroes were supposed to smile, to make people feel safe. All Might brought peace just by being there. Izuku knew that when people looked at him, they didn't see peace. They saw a monster that belonged in a cage.

 

But he couldn't give up. He just couldn't.

 

 

 

The school day mercifully ended. Izuku packed his bag, moving slowly to ensure he didn't rip the zippers. He usually waited until the classroom was empty before leaving; the hallways were crowded, and he hated making the smaller students squeeze past his massive frame.

 

He walked out the front gates of Aldera Junior High, the afternoon sun beating down on his dark fur.

 

His mind wandered, as it often did, to his Quirk. Silverback Titan. It wasn't just a simple mutation. If he were just a giant, super-strong ape, he would be a formidable brawler, sure. But his Quirk had a secondary mechanic—a terrifying, exponential power-multiplier that he rarely ever used because it scared him half to death.

 

He called it Kinetic Resonance.

 

Hidden beneath the thick muscles of his chest, his sternum and ribcage were composed of a bizarre, hollow, ultra-dense bone structure that acted like an acoustic resonance chamber. When he struck his own chest—the classic gorilla chest-beat—his body absorbed the kinetic energy of the impact, amplified it through the resonance chamber, and dispersed it into his bloodstream and muscle tissues.

 

One chest beat primed his adrenaline.

Two chest beats tightened his muscle fibers, doubling his durability.

Three chest beats... three chest beats unlocked the Titan.

 

With three consecutive, heavy strikes to his chest, the stored kinetic energy would flood his system, doubling his already monstrous strength, speed, and reflexes for a short duration. But the real devastating effect was the release of the excess energy. When he opened his mouth to roar after three beats, the kinetic energy unleashed a concentrated sonic shockwave. A primal, concussive blast of sheer force that could shatter concrete and paralyze the nervous systems of anyone caught in its path with sheer, biological terror.

 

He had only ever used it once, by accident, when he was eight. He had been throwing a tantrum in a park, beat his chest, and roared. He had shattered every window in a three-block radius and accidentally caused three adults to faint from sheer panic.

 

Since then, Izuku had sworn never to use the resonance unless absolutely necessary. Raw strength was enough to get by.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by the dimming of the light. He had walked into a large, concrete underpass beneath the local train tracks.

 

It was quiet. Too quiet. The dripping of water echoed off the curved concrete walls. The air smelled foul, like raw sewage and rotting garbage.

 

Izuku’s acute senses flared. His ears, small and tucked tightly against his head, twitched. The hairs on the back of his silver neck stood straight up. A low, involuntary growl rumbled in the back of his throat. Something was wrong.

 

From a manhole cover a few yards ahead, a dark, viscous green substance began to ooze.

 

Izuku stopped. He squinted his dark eyes.

 

The sludge bubbled, rising into the air, expanding and twisting until it formed a massive, amorphous blob. Two massive, bulbous white eyes and a jagged, gaping mouth formed in the center of the slime.

 

"Well, well, well," the Sludge Villain gurgled, his voice wet and raspy. "Look at the size of this one! A bit hairy for my tastes, but a medium-sized meat shield is exactly what I need to hide from him!"

 

Izuku took a step back, his eyes widening. "A v-villain?!"

 

"Don't fight it, kid! It'll only hurt for about forty-five seconds! You'll be my new suit!"

 

The villain lunged.

 

A tidal wave of thick, foul-smelling sludge crashed over Izuku. The sheer volume of the slime wrapped around his massive arms, his torso, and surged upward, encasing his head.

 

Izuku panicked. His eyes widened in terror as the sludge forced its way into his nose and mouth, tasting like battery acid and rotting meat. He couldn't breathe.

 

"Yes! That's it! Let it happen!" the villain cackled, his disembodied voice echoing around Izuku’s skull. "Gotta say, kid, this body is incredible! I can feel the power! With a meat suit like this, I could tear down a bank vault with my bare hands!"

 

Izuku thrashed wildly. He swung his massive, tree-trunk arms, trying to grab the villain, but his hands just passed through the liquid sludge, splashing harmlessly against the concrete walls of the tunnel.

 

I can't hit him! Izuku’s mind raced, fear threatening to cloud his rational thought. He's fluid! Physical attacks don't work! I can't breathe—!

 

"Stop fighting!" the villain snarled, bearing down harder. "Just die quietly! I need your body!"

 

The villain tried to constrict, attempting to crush Izuku’s ribcage to force the air out of his lungs.

 

And suddenly, the villain paused.

 

"...What the hell are your ribs made of?" the sludge villain muttered in confusion.

 

The villain squeezed harder. Nothing happened. He might as well have been trying to crush a solid block of titanium with wet noodles. Izuku’s hyper-dense musculature and reinforced skeletal structure simply refused to yield. The villain couldn't force the air out of Izuku’s lungs.

 

Inside his own head, beneath the panic, the analytical genius of Izuku Midoriya took over.

 

Wait. Izuku stopped thrashing. He forced himself to go limp.

 

He can't crush me. He's relying on suffocating me by blocking my airways. But he doesn't know my biology. As a mutant with extreme muscle density and mass, my cardiovascular system is highly advanced. My lung capacity is nearly four times that of a normal human. If I don't panic... I can hold my breath for almost ten minutes.

 

Izuku clamped his mouth shut, trapping the remaining air in his massive chest. He opened his dark, intelligent eyes. Through the murky green slime, he looked for a weakness.

 

Fluid body. Immune to blunt force. But he has sensory organs. He can see me. He can speak.

 

Izuku’s gaze locked onto the two massive, solid white eyeballs floating within the sludge matrix.

 

"Hey! Why aren't you passing out?!" the villain yelled, starting to sound slightly panicked himself. "Die already! I don't have time for this!"

 

Izuku slowly, deliberately, raised his massive, fur-covered arms.

 

"What are you doing? I told you, you can't grab me!"

 

Izuku didn't try to punch. He didn't try to swat.

 

He splayed his massive fingers wide, creating two massive claws. He plunged his hands directly into the center of the slime mass.

 

The villain laughed. "Idiot! You're just stirring me around—!"

 

Izuku’s massive hands clamped down. Hard.

 

He didn't grab the sludge. He bypassed the liquid entirely and grabbed the villain’s solid, physical eyeballs. Each of Izuku’s hands, larger than a dinner plate, easily palmed one of the massive eyes.

 

"WAIT! WHAT ARE YOU—?!"

 

Izuku gripped the eyes with bone-crushing force. He planted his prehensile, flat feet firmly onto the concrete, cracking the pavement beneath his toes to anchor himself. His immense back muscles flared, the silver fur catching the dim tunnel light.

 

And then, Izuku Midoriya simply ripped his arms apart.

 

He didn't use a martial arts technique. He didn't use an ultimate move. He used the raw, unadulterated, terrifying strength of a silverback titan.

 

With a sickening SCHLUCK, Izuku tore the villain's visual centers in opposite directions. The sheer, overwhelming physical force acted like a wedge, tearing the cohesive matrix of the sludge apart. The villain shrieked in absolute, agonizing pain as his fluid body was violently bisected by brute strength.

 

The pressure holding Izuku vanished.

 

Izuku whipped his arms outward, violently throwing the two halves of the villain against the opposite walls of the tunnel with the force of a speeding truck. The slime splattered across the concrete, losing its shape entirely, reduced to inert, quivering puddles of ooze.

 

Izuku dropped to his hands and knees. He coughed violently, hacking up the foul-tasting sludge from his mouth and throat. He spat onto the concrete, taking huge, gasping breaths of the rank tunnel air, which suddenly tasted like the sweetest perfume.

 

"Oh gosh... oh man..." Izuku wheezed, his deep voice cracking. He sat back on his haunches, shivering slightly.

 

He looked at the splattered remains of the villain. The sludge was twitching, trying to reform, but the impact had clearly knocked the entity unconscious.

 

Izuku’s terror immediately vanished, replaced entirely by extreme, polite guilt.

 

"O-Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" Izuku gasped, crawling over to a puddle of sludge on all fours. "I didn't mean to throw you that hard! I was just really scared! P-Please don't be dead! Are you okay? Wait, you don't have ears right now..."

 

Izuku looked around frantically. He couldn't just leave the villain here. What if he woke up and hurt someone else? What if the police thought Izuku was a vigilante who used excessive force?

 

He spotted a nearby public recycling bin. Rushing over, his massive fingers delicately plucked two empty, 2-liter plastic soda bottles from the trash.

 

For the next five minutes, the terrifying, 350-pound apex predator of Musutafu carefully, apologetically used a discarded piece of cardboard to sweep the unconscious villain into the soda bottles, muttering apologies under his breath the entire time.

 

"I'll make sure the police handle you gently... I'm really sorry about your eyes, they felt kinda squishy, I hope I didn't pop them... I'll buy you a soda to make up for it if they let me..."

 

He screwed the caps tightly onto the bottles. He let out a massive sigh of relief, the tension leaving his hulking frame. He had done it. He had survived a villain attack.

 

CLANG.

 

The manhole cover at the entrance of the tunnel suddenly flew off, rocketing into the air and embedding itself into the concrete ceiling with terrifying force.

 

Izuku jumped out of his skin, letting out a very un-gorilla-like squeak.

 

A massive figure erupted from the sewers. He was tall, impossibly muscular, clad in a white t-shirt and cargo pants. Golden hair stood up in two prominent tufts. Shadows seemed to cling to his chiseled face, highlighting a blindingly bright, fearless smile.

 

"FEAR NOT, CITIZEN!" the man boomed, his voice echoing through the tunnel with the force of a localized earthquake. "FOR I AM—!"

 

The man paused.

 

All Might, the Symbol of Peace, the Number One Hero in the world, blinked.

 

He looked down at the tunnel. He saw the puddles of leftover slime. He saw the two 2-liter soda bottles filled with the villain he had been chasing through the sewer system for the last twenty minutes.

 

Then, All Might looked up.

 

Standing before him was a teenager. At least, All Might assumed it was a teenager, given the tattered, sludge-stained junior high school uniform pants holding on for dear life. But the boy was a walking mountain of black and silver fur, thick, corded muscle, and possessed hands that looked like they could crush bowling balls.

 

For a split second, All Might’s combat instincts flared. A second villain?! Some kind of beast Quirk?!

 

But then, the beast turned around.

 

Izuku Midoriya laid eyes on the man standing at the tunnel entrance. The hero he had idolized since he could walk. The man whose videos he watched every single day.

 

Izuku’s dark, terrifying eyes instantly morphed into massive, glittering, anime-style saucers of pure joy. Tears began to stream down his furry face like waterfalls.

 

"A-A-A-A..." Izuku’s mouth flapped uselessly, his deep voice completely failing him.

 

"Young man... did you... defeat this villain?" All Might asked, cautiously stepping forward.

 

"A-ALL MIGHT?!" Izuku finally shrieked, the sound echoing loudly off the walls.

 

Before All Might could react, the massive silverback dropped the soda bottles, folded himself perfectly in half, and executed a bow so incredibly fast and powerful that the displaced air created a localized gust of wind, blowing All Might’s bangs back.

 

"ITISANHONORTOFINALLYMEETYOU!" Izuku screamed at the floor, his words blending together in a panicked blur. "IAMYOURBIGGESTFAN! IWATCHYOURDEBUTVIDEOEVERYDAY! IHAVEALLYOURMERCHANDISE! EVEN THE LIMITED EDITION SILVER-AGE ACTION FIGURE WITH THE KUNG-FU GRIP!"

 

All Might stared, utterly bewildered. The sheer juxtaposition of this terrifying, monstrous creature fanboying like a middle school girl was giving the Number One Hero cognitive whiplash.

 

"Ha... HAHAHA!" All Might threw his head back and laughed, his booming voice returning. "Well, I am glad to meet a fan! And it seems I have you to thank for doing my job for me! Excellent work, young man! You have incredible strength!"

 

Izuku slowly stood back up, rubbing the back of his furry head, blushing furiously. "O-Oh, it was nothing! He just tried to eat me, and I panicked, so I pulled his eyes apart. B-But I put him in the recycling! I recycled the villain!"

 

All Might sweatdropped. Pulled his eyes apart? That's brutally efficient.

 

"Well, citizen, I must be off!" All Might announced, swooping down to grab the two soda bottles, stuffing them securely into the massive pockets of his cargo pants. "I must get this miscreant to the police station! Thank you for your continued support!"

 

All Might turned, bending his knees to prepare for a massive leap.

 

"W-Wait!" Izuku called out, his massive hands reaching forward. "Can I... Can I get an autograph?! P-Please?! I have my notebook right here!"

 

Izuku frantically reached for his yellow backpack, which had fallen to the ground during the struggle. He unzipped it with practiced delicacy, pulling out his charred notebook, Hero Analysis for the Future No. 13. He held it out, offering a pen that he hadn't yet snapped in half.

 

All Might paused. He looked at the boy. The sheer, earnest desperation in the kid's eyes was impossible to ignore.

 

"A hero is never too busy for his fans!" All Might boomed, taking the notebook and pen. He signed his name in massive, sweeping strokes across a two-page spread. He handed it back. "There you go, young man! Keep up the good work! And remember—!"

 

All Might crouched low, power radiating from his legs.

 

"GO BEYOND! PLUS ULTRA!"

 

With a shockwave that cracked the concrete, All Might launched himself into the air, flying out of the tunnel and into the sky like a rocket, leaving Izuku standing alone in the dim underpass.

 

Izuku stood completely still for a full minute.

 

Slowly, he opened the notebook. There it was. The signature of the Number One Hero. It took up two whole pages.

 

Izuku Midoriya, the 350-pound, six-foot-five apex predator of Aldera Junior High, hugged the notebook to his massive, silver-furred chest and giggled like a toddler.

 

"He signed it..." Izuku whispered, his deep voice thick with emotion. "He actually signed it... Oh, I have to frame this. Mom is never going to believe this. I have to wrap it in plastic so I don't smudge it."

 

He carefully, reverently placed the notebook back into his tiny yellow backpack. He slung the straps over his massive shoulders. He felt lighter than air. He had survived a villain, and he had met his idol.

 

As he walked out of the tunnel and into the late afternoon sun, Izuku felt a renewed sense of determination burning in his massive chest.

 

Bakugo was wrong. The class was wrong.

 

He didn't care if he looked like a monster. He didn't care if people were scared of him at first glance. He was going to learn how to smile like All Might. He was going to use his immense, terrifying strength to protect people, to make them feel safe.

 

He was going to apply to UA High School. And he was going to be a hero.

 

Izuku pounded his chest once—a single, heavy THUMP that echoed through the street—feeling the kinetic energy hum through his veins, a small, involuntary smile stretching across his wide, fanged mouth.

 

It was going to be a long journey, but for the first time in his life, the Gentle Giant felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

 

The morning of the UA High School Entrance Exam arrived with a crisp, cool breeze that did absolutely nothing to quell the inferno of anxiety raging inside Izuku Midoriya’s massive chest.

 

For the past ten months, he hadn’t needed a rigorous physical training regimen to prepare his body like most applicants. His mutant biology was in a constant state of hyper-metabolic maintenance; as long as he consumed his ten thousand calories a day, his muscles remained as dense as depleted uranium. Instead, his training had been entirely academic and psychological. He had spent hours pouring over past written exams, studying hero law, and most importantly, practicing mindfulness and meditation. He had to ensure that, in the heat of battle, he wouldn't let his primal instincts entirely override his rational mind.

 

Standing in the entryway of his apartment, Izuku tugged nervously at the collar of his custom-tailored middle school uniform. It felt tighter than usual.

 

"Izuku, hold still, your collar is flipped," Inko Midoriya said, hovering a few inches off the ground on a step stool so she could reach his chest. Her hands delicately adjusted the dark fabric resting against his thick, charcoal-colored skin and the beginnings of his silver fur.

 

"Sorry, Mom," Izuku rumbled softly, shrinking into himself to make the job easier for her.

 

Inko patted his chest—it sounded like slapping the side of a bank vault—and offered him a watery, proud smile. "You look incredibly handsome. You’re going to do wonderfully today, sweetie. Just remember to be careful with the equipment, okay?"

 

"I know. I requested the heavy-duty desk for the written exam, and I'll try not to grip the pencil too hard," Izuku muttered, patting the pocket of his trousers where a dozen titanium-reinforced pens were safely clipped.

 

"I love you, Izuku. Do your best."

 

"Love you too, Mom. I'm off!"

 

Stepping out of the apartment complex, the walk to UA High School was an exercise in self-control. Musutafu was bustling with morning commuters and fellow students. As always, Izuku’s sheer presence parted the crowds. Standing at six-foot-five and three hundred and fifty pounds, with a sleek, black-and-silver pelt that absorbed the morning sunlight, he looked like a mythical beast on a casual stroll. He kept his head bowed, his hands shoved deep into his pockets to hide his massive, leathery fingers, and offered soft, rumbled apologies whenever someone flinched out of his path.

 

When the towering, glass-and-steel gates of UA High finally came into view, Izuku stopped dead in his tracks.

 

The sheer scale of the campus was staggering. The main building was a colossal H-shape of mirrored glass and pristine white architecture, gleaming like a beacon of hope against the blue sky. For a normal teenager, it was intimidating. For Izuku, who idolized everything this institution stood for, it was practically holy ground.

 

This is it, Izuku thought, his dark eyes wide with awe. The hero course at UA High School. The very same place where All Might, Endeavor, and Best Jeanist learned to be heroes. The acceptance rate is less than point two percent. I have to give it everything I have.

 

He took a deep breath, puffing out his massive, silver-furred chest, and took a step forward.

 

His massive, prehensile right foot caught the raised edge of a loose paving stone.

 

Because his mass was so incredibly dense, when Izuku Midoriya lost his center of gravity, he didn't just stumble. He fell with the kinetic certainty of a felled redwood tree. Time seemed to slow down as his three-hundred-and-fifty-pound frame tipped forward, hurtling directly toward the concrete walkway.

 

Oh no, Izuku panicked, his arms flailing in a very un-gorilla-like manner. I'm going to crack the pavement! I'll be billed for property damage before I even take the test!

 

He braced himself for the impact, preparing to take the brunt of the fall on his shoulders to spare the concrete. But the impact never came.

 

Instead, a hand gently slapped his massive bicep.

 

Instantly, the terrifying pull of gravity vanished. Izuku gasped as his face hovered a mere inch above the pavement. His legs floated up, his body acting as if it were submerged in water. He was entirely weightless.

 

"Whew! That was close!" a cheerful voice called out.

 

Izuku slowly rotated his massive body in mid-air, floating upright to see a girl with short, bobbed brown hair, rosy cheeks, and a bright smile standing a few feet away. She had her hands pressed together, her fingertips touching.

 

"Are you okay?" she asked. "It's my Quirk. Sorry for using it without asking first, but it would be bad luck if you fell right before the exam, right?"

 

Izuku’s brain, which had successfully processed complex algebraic equations and memorized the quirks of over a thousand pro heroes, instantly short-circuited. A girl! A girl is talking to me! And she stopped my fall!

 

"I—Uh—Ah—!" Izuku stammered, waving his massive hands wildly. "Th-Thank you! I'm so sorry! I'm really heavy, are you sure you're okay?!"

 

"Heavy? No, you're fine!" the girl smiled brightly, though a bead of sweat was beginning to form on her brow. "My Quirk nullifies gravity! I can make anything float! Though..."

 

She paused, her smile straining slightly as her knees buckled just a fraction of an inch. A slight greenish tint began to pale her rosy cheeks. "Though... wow. Usually, making a person float feels like holding a balloon on a string... but you feel like a... like a balloon filled with lead! You are... really dense!"

 

She pressed her fingertips together harder. "Release!"

 

Gravity rushed back. Izuku dropped the final two feet to the ground, landing with a heavy THUD that vibrated the concrete. He immediately hunched his shoulders, deeply embarrassed.

 

"I-I'm so sorry! My muscle density is really high because of my mutation! I didn't mean to strain your Quirk!" Izuku babbled, bowing profusely.

 

The girl swayed slightly, pressing a hand to her mouth as her eyes rolled up toward the sky. "Nope... totally fine... just... a little dizzy..."

 

Her knees gave out. She pitched forward, completely drained by the sudden, extreme exertion of nullifying three hundred and fifty pounds of hyper-dense mass.

 

Izuku reacted on pure instinct. With a burst of speed that defied his massive frame, he surged forward. He didn't grab her with his hands—he knew his grip strength could easily bruise her if he wasn't careful. Instead, he slid his massive, pillowy arm underneath her, catching her gently against his silver-furred bicep as if she weighed absolutely nothing.

 

"Whoa!" the girl gasped, blinking rapidly as her vision cleared. She found herself resting against an arm that was wider than her entire torso. The fur was surprisingly soft, despite looking like coarse wire.

 

"A-Are you okay?!" Izuku asked, his deep voice pitched high in panic, his face flushing a dark purple beneath his fur. "Do you need the nurse?! Should I carry you to the infirmary?!"

 

"No, no, I'm okay! Just a little quirk exhaustion!" She stood up, brushing off her skirt, laughing off the embarrassment. "Wow, you're super fast! And really warm! Thanks for the save... Mr. Bear?"

 

"M-Midoriya! Izuku Midoriya!" he squeaked. "And I'm a gorilla! Well, a silverback titan! It's a mutation!"

 

"Nice to meet you, Midoriya! I'm Ochaco Uraraka!" She beamed up at him, entirely unbothered by his monstrous appearance. "Well, let's both do our best today! See ya inside!"

 

With a cheerful wave, she jogged off toward the entrance.

 

Izuku stood frozen on the pathway, his massive hand covering his face. I talked to a girl. I talked to a girl and I didn't accidentally break her spine. Today is a great day.

 

 

 

The orientation auditorium was massive, resembling an indoor stadium more than a lecture hall. Izuku squeezed himself into an aisle seat in the back row. Even with the specially reinforced chairs, his broad shoulders encroached significantly on the empty seats to his left and right.

 

Suddenly, a loud, obnoxious voice boomed through the speakers.

 

"FOR ALL YOU EXAMINEE LISTENERS TUNING IN, WELCOME TO MY LIVE SHOW! EVERYBODY SAY 'HEY'!"

 

Silence echoed through the massive room.

 

Pro Hero Present Mic struck a pose at the podium, completely unfazed by the lack of response. "WHAT A REFINED RESPONSE! THEN I'LL QUICKLY PRESENT TO YOU THE RUNDOWN ON THE PRACTICAL EXAM! ARE YOU READY? YEAH!"

 

More silence.

 

Izuku, however, was practically vibrating. His dark eyes were wide, and he was quietly muttering to himself at a speed that sounded like a low, idling muscle car engine. "That's the Voice Hero, Present Mic! I listen to his radio show every night! His quirk, Voice, allows him to modulate the volume and pitch of his vocal cords to devastating effect. To see him in person is incredible..."

 

"Excuse me!"

 

A tall, broad-shouldered student with dark blue hair and glasses stood up abruptly, pointing a stiff, robotic arm directly at Present Mic.

 

"On the printout, there are four types of villains! If this is a misprint, then UA, the most prominent school in Japan, should be ashamed of that foolish mistake! We examinees are here in this place because we wish to be molded into exemplary heroes!"

 

The blue-haired boy then spun around, his sharp glare scanning the back rows until it locked onto Izuku.

 

"In addition, you over there with the imposing physical mutation!"

 

Izuku flinched, pointing a massive, leathery finger at his own chest. "Me?" he mouthed silently.

 

"Yes, you!" the boy scolded, his hand chopping the air aggressively. "You have been muttering and vibrating your seat this entire time! Your sheer size is already a distraction to those around you, but your blatant lack of focus is disrespectful! If you are here on a sightseeing trip, or relying entirely on your brute size to carry you through, then you should leave immediately!"

 

The entire auditorium turned to look at the towering silverback in the back row. Whispers broke out. Is he gonna attack him? He looks like a villain. That kid's dead.

 

Izuku felt his face burn with absolute mortification. He didn't get angry. He didn't growl. Instead, he stood up.

 

When Izuku stood to his full height of six-foot-five, his massive shoulders blocking out the ambient light of the exit signs behind him, the entire auditorium suddenly went deathly quiet. The blue-haired boy stepped back, his confident posture breaking as sheer, biological intimidation washed over him. He had just yelled at a creature that looked capable of tearing a bus in half.

 

Izuku placed his massive hands respectfully on his thighs and bowed perfectly at a precise forty-five-degree angle.

 

"I am incredibly sorry for disturbing you and the rest of the examinees," Izuku said. His voice was deep, resonant, and incredibly polite, carrying effortlessly across the silent room without a microphone. "I was simply taking mental notes on Present Mic's auditory quirk for future reference. I promise to remain absolutely silent for the remainder of the orientation. Please forgive my rudeness."

 

He sat back down, neatly folding his massive hands in his lap, staring straight ahead like a disciplined monk.

 

The blue-haired boy stood frozen, completely disarmed by the extreme politeness radiating from the terrifying behemoth. "O-Oh. I see. I... accept your apology." He sat down quickly, looking deeply confused.

 

Present Mic cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "OKAY, OKAY! EXAMINEE NUMBER 7111, THANKS FOR THE GREAT MESSAGE! The fourth villain type is worth zero points! It's an obstacle! There's one in every battle center! It's not impossible to defeat, but there's no reason to! I recommend you listeners try to avoid it!"

 

An obstacle to avoid, Izuku analyzed. Like a hazard in a video game. The goal is to maximize points through combat with the other three types. Efficiency and spatial awareness will be key.

 

The written exam that followed was a breeze. Izuku had always been highly intelligent, his brain naturally wired for intense analytical processing. He finished the hundred-question test in twenty minutes. For the remaining forty minutes, he sat perfectly, agonizingly still, terrified that if he moved, his chair would squeak and he would disturb the blue-haired boy again.

 

When the bell finally rang, it was time for the main event. The Practical Exam.

 

 

 

Examinees were allowed to bring their own gear, so long as it wasn't a weapon. Izuku emerged from the locker rooms wearing an outfit Inko had custom-ordered from a specialized mutant-clothing outfitter in America.

 

He wore a pair of reinforced, dark-green tactical trousers made of a high-tensile kevlar blend, designed to stretch up to three times their normal width without tearing. Because standard shoes could not accommodate his prehensile, thumbed feet, he wore open-toed, thick-soled combat sandals that strapped securely around his ankles and midfoot, leaving his toes free to grip surfaces.

 

He didn't wear a shirt. His thick, silver-black fur provided more insulation and protection than any fabric could, and more importantly, he needed his chest bare. If things went sideways, he needed direct access to his sternum to activate Kinetic Resonance. Instead of a shirt, he wore a heavy-duty, customized tactical harness that strapped across his shoulders and waist, carrying extra pouches for medical supplies.

 

He looked less like a student and more like a seasoned, terrifying pro-hero mercenary.

 

Standing in front of the massive gates of Battle Center B, the other examinees gave Izuku a wide berth. A literal ten-foot radius of empty space surrounded him. He stood with his arms crossed, nervously chewing on his bottom lip, trying not to make eye contact with anyone so he wouldn't scare them.

 

He spotted Uraraka a few yards away, looking nervous. He raised a massive hand to wave at her, but before he could, a hand chopped the air in front of his face.

 

It was the blue-haired boy. He was wearing a track suit with exhaust pipes protruding from his calves.

 

"You!" the boy said, his tone less aggressive but still stern. "I am Tenya Iida! I must apologize for my earlier outburst. Your respectful demeanor proved my assumptions wrong. However, I must ask—why are you staring at that girl? Are you attempting to intimidate her before the exam begins?!"

 

Izuku frantically waved his hands. "N-No! Iida-kun, right? I'm Izuku Midoriya! I was just going to wish her luck! She helped me this morning!"

 

"Oh! Is that so?!" Iida adjusted his glasses. "Well, I commend your sportsmanship, Midoriya-kun! But do not expect me to hold back in the arena!"

 

Before Izuku could respond, a deafening screech echoed from the watchtower.

 

"RIGHT, LET'S START!" Present Mic yelled. "WHAT'S WRONG? THERE ARE NO COUNTDOWNS IN REAL FIGHTS! RUN, RUN! THE DIE IS CAST!"

 

The massive metal gates slowly began to groan open.

 

While the rest of the examinees hesitated, momentarily confused by the lack of a formal countdown, Izuku’s combat instincts—honed by genetics rather than training—snapped to attention.

 

No countdown. Just action.

 

Izuku didn't just run. He exploded.

 

With a thunderous CRACK that shattered the pavement beneath his sandals, Izuku launched himself forward. He bypassed the slowly opening gates by simply leaping straight over them. He cleared the thirty-foot-high wall with effortless grace, soaring through the air like a silver-furred missile.

 

He landed on the asphalt inside the fake city with a heavy impact that kicked up a cloud of dust.

 

I need points. The others will stick to the streets. It's crowded down here. If I run, I might accidentally trample someone.

 

Izuku looked up at the towering mock-skyscrapers surrounding him. His prehensile toes flexed.

 

He dropped to all fours, his knuckles resting lightly on the concrete. The polite, anxious teenager vanished, replaced entirely by the alpha silverback.

 

He bounded toward the nearest building. Instead of running past it, he leapt directly onto the sheer vertical face of the concrete wall. His massive fingers and prehensile toes found the microscopic grooves and windowsills. With terrifying, predatory speed, Izuku scaled the five-story building in less than three seconds, scrambling up the surface like a giant spider.

 

He crested the rooftop just as the first wave of villain bots rolled into the streets below.

 

From his vantage point, the city was a concrete jungle gym. And he was the king of the jungle.

 

Below him, a green, one-wheeled robot (a 1-Pointer) locked onto a group of examinees. "TARGET ACQUIRED."

 

Izuku didn't hesitate. He vaulted off the edge of the roof. He plummeted sixty feet, his massive body casting a shadow over the robot. He didn't punch it. He simply landed on it.

 

CRUNCH.

 

The three-hundred-and-fifty-pound mass of hyper-dense muscle, accelerated by gravity, hit the 1-Pointer dead center. The robot was instantly flattened into a pancake of sparking wires and twisted metal beneath Izuku’s feet.

 

"One point," Izuku muttered, his deep voice barely a whisper.

 

He didn't stop moving. He grabbed a massive chunk of debris from the destroyed robot and hurled it with the force of a cannonball down an alleyway, perfectly decapitating a 2-Pointer that was sneaking up on a student with a tail.

 

"Three points."

 

Izuku bounded back up the side of an adjacent building, using a streetlamp as a springboard. He swung off the pole, bending the thick steel in half, and launched himself onto the roof of a parking garage.

 

Three 3-Pointers were waiting there. They were massive, heavily armored tank-like treads with dual cannons. "TARGET LOCK."

 

Izuku roared—not a sonic boom, just a deep, guttural battle cry. He rushed them on all fours, moving in a terrifying zigzag pattern that confused their targeting sensors.

 

The first 3-Pointer fired a rubber bullet. Izuku didn't even try to dodge. He took the impact directly to his thick chest. The projectile bounced off his hyper-dense pectoral muscles like a pebble hitting a tank armor. He closed the distance, grabbed the robot by its cannon, and used it like a baseball bat to smash the second 3-Pointer into shrapnel.

 

The third robot tried to retreat. Izuku leapt into the air, brought both of his massive, clenched fists together, and delivered a devastating double-axe-handle smash directly to the robot's optical sensor, driving the machine's head entirely through its own chassis.

 

That's twelve points, Izuku calculated, his breathing steady, his heart rate barely elevated. I need at least forty to be safe. Time to move.

 

For the next eight minutes, Battle Center B became a horror movie for the robotic targets. The examinees in the streets watched in awe and sheer terror as a massive, silver-furred blur swung from fire escapes, bounded across rooftops, and tore armored vehicles apart with his bare hands.

 

Izuku fought with a brutal, primal efficiency. He ripped the treads off 2-Pointers. He used parked cars as projectiles. He threw a 1-Pointer so hard it skipped down the street like a stone on water, destroying three other robots in its path.

 

"Fifty-four points," Izuku panted, dropping onto a fire escape and wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. "That should be enough. I just need to wait out the timer. Mom was right, this tactical harness is really breathable—"

 

The ground abruptly lurched beneath him.

 

Izuku stumbled, gripping the steel railing of the fire escape as the entire building shook. A deafening roar of shifting gears and grinding metal echoed through the mock city. The sky darkened as a massive shadow fell over Sector B.

 

Izuku looked up. His jaw dropped.

 

Rising from the center of the street, crushing buildings beneath its massive treads, was a robot so colossal it defied architectural logic. It was easily taller than the skyscrapers. Its single, glowing red optical sensor glared down at the city like the eye of an angry god.

 

"The Zero-Pointer..." Izuku whispered in horror. "Present Mic called it an obstacle... That's not an obstacle! That's a natural disaster!"

 

The massive machine raised an arm the size of a battleship and slammed it down into the street. The resulting shockwave tore through the asphalt, shattering windows and sending examinees flying in every direction.

 

"LESS THAN TWO MINUTES REMAINING!" Present Mic’s voice blared over the speakers.

 

The examinees didn't need to be told twice. Panic erupted. Everyone turned and sprinted toward the entrance gates, fleeing the unstoppable behemoth.

 

Izuku dropped to the street level, intent on joining the retreat. There was no tactical advantage to fighting the Zero-Pointer. It was a waste of energy and incredibly dangerous. He turned his back on the beast.

 

"Ow... it hurts..."

 

Izuku’s acute hearing picked up the sound over the grinding of the robot's treads. His ears twitched. He snapped his head around.

 

Through the dust and debris, a hundred yards away, directly in the path of the advancing Zero-Pointer, was Ochaco Uraraka. Her leg was trapped beneath a massive slab of concrete from a destroyed building. She was desperately pushing against it, but she had exhausted her Quirk.

 

The Zero-Pointer raised its foot, preparing to crush the street—and her—into dust.

 

The other examinees were running away. Iida was sprinting toward the exit. No one else saw her. No one else was going back.

 

Izuku Midoriya didn't think.

 

He didn't analyze the structural integrity of the robot. He didn't calculate his odds of survival. The rational, nervous teenager vanished entirely, swallowed whole by the overwhelming, instinctual drive of an apex protector defending his troop.

 

Izuku planted his feet. He took a massive, shuddering breath, drawing air deep into his cavernous lungs.

 

He raised his right hand, curled it into a fist the size of a cinderblock, and slammed it directly into the center of his bare chest.

 

THUMP.

 

The sound was completely unnatural. It didn't sound like flesh hitting flesh. It sounded like a massive bass drum being struck inside a subterranean cavern.

 

Instantly, the acoustic resonance chamber within Izuku’s ribcage activated. The kinetic energy from the blow didn't disperse into the air; it violently ricocheted inward, absorbed by his hollow, ultra-dense sternum. A massive rush of pure adrenaline flooded his bloodstream. His pupils dilated until his eyes were entirely black.

 

He raised his left hand and struck his chest again.

 

THUMP.

 

The second wave of kinetic resonance hit his system like a localized earthquake. The sheer influx of energy forced his body to adapt instantly. His already massive muscles forcefully expanded, tearing the fibers and instantly healing them, growing even denser. His chest barreled out. His silver fur stood on end, crackling with a faint, invisible static of pure kinetic force. He grew from six-foot-five to nearly seven feet tall in a matter of seconds, his body morphing into a hulking, grotesque monument of pure, unadulterated power.

 

He raised both fists.

 

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

 

Three consecutive beats. Titan Unleashed.

 

The excess kinetic energy had nowhere left to go. It vibrated violently up his throat, filling his vocal cords with concussive force.

 

Izuku tilted his massive head back, opened his fanged jaw, and unleashed a Primal Roar.

 

It wasn't a sound. It was a physical shockwave of localized destruction. A visible ripple of sonic force erupted from his mouth, tearing through the air. The shockwave hit the surrounding buildings, instantly shattering every single glass pane within a two-block radius in a storm of crystalline rain. The raw, biological terror encoded in the frequency of the roar hit the fleeing examinees. Iida, a hundred yards away, froze mid-stride, his nervous system locking up in pure, instinctual fear, dropping him to his knees.

 

Even the Zero-Pointer seemed to pause, its optical sensor flashing as its audio receivers were completely blown out by the sonic blast.

 

Izuku didn't wait.

 

He dropped to all fours and launched himself. The concrete beneath his feet didn't just crack; it vaporized into a crater ten feet wide.

 

Moving faster than the human eye could track, a blur of silver and black, Izuku crossed the hundred yards in a single, explosive bound. He didn't aim for Uraraka. He aimed for the machine.

 

He hit the vertical face of the Zero-Pointer's leg and began to scale it. His fingers punched directly through the heavy armor plating like it was wet cardboard, creating his own handholds. He scrambled up the colossal machine, an ant scaling a mountain, leaving a trail of mangled steel in his wake.

 

The Zero-Pointer tried to swat him off, bringing its massive hand across its own chest.

 

Izuku leapt off the chassis, soaring into the air, entirely clearing the incoming strike. He reached the apex of his jump, hovering perfectly level with the Zero-Pointer's massive, heavily armored head.

 

His muscles bulged, the kinetic resonance maxing out his strength. He clasped his massive hands together into a single, devastating sledgehammer.

 

This is for my troop! Izuku’s mind screamed.

 

He swung his arms downward with the force of a falling meteor.

 

The double-axe-handle smash connected with the direct top of the Zero-Pointer's head.

 

The impact was cataclysmic. The sheer kinetic transfer didn't just dent the armor; it entirely caved in the top of the machine's skull. The force rippled downward, shattering the internal neck struts and blowing out the main power core in the robot's chest. A massive, concussive ring of dust and air expanded outward from the point of impact.

 

The Zero-Pointer's optical sensor flickered and died.

 

The colossal machine crumpled, its internal support structure entirely destroyed by a single blow. It fell backward, away from Uraraka, crashing into the mock city and kicking up a dust cloud that eclipsed the sun.

 

Izuku fell with it, riding the falling chassis down. As the machine hit the ground, Izuku gracefully kicked off the ruined steel, flipping backward and landing perfectly on two feet directly in front of the trapped Uraraka.

 

The dust settled. The city was silent, save for the crackling of electrical fires from the ruined behemoth.

 

The Kinetic Resonance faded. Izuku’s expanded muscles forcefully contracted, reverting to their normal, still-massive size. The sudden expenditure of energy hit him like a freight train. He gasped, falling to one knee, panting heavily.

 

"M... Midoriya?" Uraraka whispered, staring in absolute, terrified awe at the towering silverback kneeling in front of her.

 

Izuku looked down at her. His eyes were no longer pitch black; they were soft, anxious, and deeply apologetic.

 

"I-I'm so sorry!" Izuku stammered, frantically reaching out to grab the massive slab of concrete pinning her leg. He lifted the three-ton block with one hand and casually tossed it aside like a piece of styrofoam. "Did I scare you?! I didn't mean to roar that loud! Oh my gosh, your leg! Does it hurt? Should I call a doctor?!"

 

"TIME'S UP!" Present Mic’s voice echoed through the destroyed speakers.

 

Uraraka looked from her bruised leg, to the utterly annihilated Zero-Pointer, and back to the giant, furry boy who was currently hyperventilating out of concern for her. She couldn't help it. She started laughing.

 

 

 

High above the battle centers, in a darkened observation room filled with monitors, the faculty of UA High School sat in stunned silence.

 

Nezu, the principal—a creature bearing a striking resemblance to a mouse, a bear, and a dog—slowly lowered his cup of tea. It was entirely cold.

 

"Well," Nezu squeaked, breaking the silence. "That was... certainly unexpected."

 

"Unexpected?" A tired, gruff voice echoed from the corner. Shota Aizawa, the Erasure Hero, unraveled himself from his yellow sleeping bag. His bloodshot eyes were locked onto the monitor displaying Izuku Midoriya nervously carrying a laughing Ochaco Uraraka toward the exit gates. "That wasn't unexpected. That was a localized natural disaster."

 

"His strength is completely unparalleled," the hero Snipe noted, adjusting his mask. "He didn't use a quirk to enhance his strength initially. That was just his base physical power. He destroyed three-pointers like they were made of paper."

 

"And that roar..." Midnight shivered slightly, rubbing her arms. "It triggered a biological fear response. I could feel the vibration through the monitors. It’s an alpha dominance display. Fascinating, but terrifying."

 

In the back of the room, standing completely still, was Toshinori Yagi, better known as All Might. His skeletal frame trembled, but a massive, beaming smile stretched across his gaunt face.

 

You didn't just pull the sludge villain apart, my boy, All Might thought, his heart swelling with pride. You possess the raw power of a natural calamity, yet you wield it entirely for the sake of others. You are exactly what I was looking for.

 

"He scored fifty-four villain points," Nezu clicked a button on his console. "But as we all know, this exam isn't just about destroying villains. It's about what makes a hero. A hero protects."

 

Nezu tapped the screen, pulling up the footage of Izuku leaping to save Uraraka.

 

"For risking his life—and his eardrums—to save a fellow examinee, the judges award Izuku Midoriya... sixty Rescue Points."

 

A collective murmur went through the room.

 

"One hundred and fourteen points," Aizawa muttered, scratching his scruffy chin. "He broke your record, All Might."

 

All Might simply coughed loudly into a handkerchief to hide his grin.

 

"He's powerful, yes," Aizawa continued, his eyes narrowing at the screen. "But he’s incredibly raw. His quirk operates on instinct and raw kinetic transfer. He has no limiter. If he fights a villain who uses hostages, or fights in a densely populated area, his collateral damage will be catastrophic. That roar alone could shatter the eardrums of nearby civilians."

 

"That is why he is coming to UA, Aizawa," Nezu smiled warmly. "To learn control. Though, I admit, finding a sparring partner for him might prove... difficult."

 

"He's my problem now," Aizawa sighed, slipping back into his sleeping bag. "If he steps out of line, I'll just erase his quirk."

 

"Aizawa, my friend," All Might spoke up, his voice raspy. "His quirk is a mutant type. Erasure won't erase his muscles. It will only stop his kinetic resonance."

 

Aizawa paused, zipping the bag up to his chin. "...I'm going to need stronger capture tape."

 

 

 

Down in Battle Center B, the medical robot teams and Recovery Girl had arrived on the scene.

 

Izuku gently set Uraraka down on a stretcher, bowing politely to the elderly heroine.

 

"My, my, aren't you a big one," Recovery Girl mused, extending her lips to kiss Uraraka's leg, instantly healing the bruising. "Did you take any damage, sonny?"

 

"O-Oh, no ma'am! I'm completely fine! My fur is very thick!" Izuku replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

"Good. Here, have some gummies," she handed him a handful of oversized gummy bears, which Izuku gratefully accepted, popping them all into his mouth at once.

 

As the examinees began to file out of the battle center, boarding the buses back to the main campus, Izuku hung back. He looked over his shoulder at the ruined mock city, and the massive, smoking crater where the Zero-Pointer lay defeated.

 

He looked down at his massive, leathery hands. They were trembling, but not from fear. They were trembling with adrenaline, with the lingering hum of the kinetic resonance.

 

He had done it. He had fought. He had saved someone.

 

For the first time in his life, Izuku Midoriya didn't feel like a monster hiding in a high school uniform. He felt like a hero.

 

He just hoped the school wouldn't send his mother the bill for the shattered windows.

 

 

 

The acceptance letter from UA High School had not arrived in a standard envelope. It had arrived in a heavy-duty, reinforced cardboard parcel, likely out of fear that standard paper would disintegrate in Izuku Midoriya’s massive hands. Inside, a holographic projection of All Might had proudly announced his acceptance into the Hero Course, a staggering score of 114 combined points, and his official placement in Class 1-A.

 

Izuku had cried so hard he had accidentally punched a hole through the floorboards of his bedroom. Inko had simply sighed and called the carpenter.

 

Now, on the morning of his first official day, Izuku stood before the mirror in his bedroom, staring at the UA uniform.

 

"Okay. Breathe in. Slowly," Izuku mumbled to himself, his deep baritone vibrating the glass of the mirror.

 

He carefully slipped his massive, log-like arms into the sleeves of the grey UA blazer. The school's Support Company had done a phenomenal job. The standard uniform was made of standard fabric, but Izuku’s was spun from a specialized, four-way-stretch poly-kevlar blend disguised as standard cotton. It accommodated his sixty-inch chest and massive, sweeping lats without tearing. However, it was still snug. His thick, coarse silver-and-black fur pressed tightly against the fabric.

 

He didn't wear the red tie. After the incident in middle school where he had nearly decapitated himself trying to tie a Windsor knot, the UA administration had graciously granted him a waiver. Instead, the top three buttons of his white dress shirt were left undone, revealing the thick, charcoal-colored, leathery skin of his upper chest. His trousers were similarly reinforced, tailored to fit his muscular, tree-trunk thighs, ending just above his ankles to leave his massive, prehensile, thumbed feet bare. He strapped on his open-toed tactical combat sandals.

 

He grabbed his bright yellow backpack—which still looked like a child’s coin purse against his mountainous back—and squeezed his way out the door.

 

"Have a wonderful first day, sweetie!" Inko called from the kitchen, wiping away a tear. "Try not to intimidate the other children!"

 

"I'll try my best, Mom! I bought extra breath mints just in case!"

 

 

 

Navigating the labyrinthine hallways of UA High School was an exercise in extreme spatial awareness. Izuku walked with his shoulders permanently hunched, trying to make his six-foot-five, three-hundred-and-fifty-pound frame appear as non-threatening as possible.

 

He finally found the door marked 1-A.

 

The door was massive. It was easily huge enough to accommodate anyone. But even so, as Izuku stood before it, he realized a fundamental problem. The door was tall enough, but he was simply too wide. If he walked straight in, his massive shoulders would inevitably catch the doorframe.

 

Inside the classroom, an argument was already brewing.

 

"Take your feet off of that desk!" a strict, commanding voice rang out. Izuku recognized it instantly as Tenya Iida, the blue-haired boy from the entrance exam. "Do you not think it is disrespectful to your upperclassmen and the craftsmen who made it?!"

 

"Hah?! What middle school did you go to, you extra?!" came the explosive, abrasive snarl of Katsuki Bakugo.

 

Izuku’s ear twitched. Kacchan is already picking fights... I should try to slip in quietly so I don't draw attention to myself.

 

Izuku reached out a massive, leathery finger and gently slid the door open.

 

SCREEECH.

 

Izuku winced as the heavy sliding door protested against his terrifying grip strength, sliding open slightly faster and louder than he intended.

 

The argument inside ceased immediately.

 

Izuku took a deep breath, turned his body completely sideways, and crab-walked his massive frame through the threshold. He ducked his head, his silver-furred shoulders clearing the frame by millimeters.

 

As he stepped into the classroom and stood up to his full height, his broad frame entirely eclipsed the fluorescent lights from the hallway, casting a massive, terrifying shadow over the front desks.

 

The classroom fell into a silence so absolute, you could hear a pin drop.

 

Twenty pairs of eyes stared at the doorway. What they saw was not a fifteen-year-old boy. They saw an apex predator. A silverback gorilla wearing a meticulously tailored, stretched-to-the-limit school uniform. His fangs poked out slightly from his lower lip. His dark, intelligent eyes scanned the room, framed by a thick, heavy brow ridge that made him look permanently enraged.

 

At a desk in the middle row, a small boy with purple balls on his head let out a high-pitched, terrifying squeak, visibly shaking as his life flashed before his eyes.

 

A boy with red, spiky hair swallowed hard. Is that a student?! He looks like a Yakuza enforcer who mutated!

 

A girl with pink skin and horns froze mid-wave.

 

Even Bakugo, who had his feet kicked up on the desk, slowly lowered his legs, his red eyes narrowing, sweat forming on his brow as his biological survival instincts flared.

 

Izuku felt the stares. His heart rate spiked. Oh no. They think I'm a villain. I need to defuse the situation. Smile, Izuku. Be polite. Be friendly.

 

Izuku forced his mouth into what he thought was a warm, welcoming smile. Because of his facial structure, it looked like a monstrous baring of fangs.

 

He placed his hands the size of dinner plates flat against his thighs and bowed perfectly at a forty-five-degree angle.

 

"G-Good morning, everyone!" Izuku said. His deep, rumbling baritone echoed off the walls, rattling the glass of the windows. "My name is Izuku Midoriya! It is an absolute honor to study alongside you all! Please forgive my size, I will try not to bump into anyone's desks! Let's all do our best to become great heroes!"

 

He stayed bowed for a full five seconds.

 

When he stood back up, the tension in the room had shattered into utter confusion. The terrifying beast had the polite, stammering demeanor of a nervous honor student.

 

"Midoriya-kun!"

 

Iida marched to the front of the room, his robotic arms chopping the air. "It is excellent to see you again! I am Tenya Iida from Somei Private Academy! I must commend you on your flawless etiquette! You are a shining example of UA's standards!"

 

"O-Oh! Thank you, Iida-kun!" Izuku stammered, blushing a dark, bruised purple beneath his fur.

 

"Ah! It's you!"

 

A cheerful voice broke through the crowd. Ochaco Uraraka bounced over, her brown bob bouncing. "Mr. Bear! I mean, Midoriya! I was hoping you'd be in my class! Thank you again for saving me at the exam! You were so amazing! When you roared, it was like RRAAAHHH and then you punched that robot like POW!"

 

She was shadowboxing the air, completely unfazed by his hulking size.

 

Izuku’s brain short-circuited. A girl is talking to me again. And she remembered my name.

 

"I-It was nothing, Uraraka-san! I was just... I was just protecting the troop! I mean, my fellow examinee!" Izuku waved his massive hands frantically, nearly creating a gust of wind that blew Mineta out of his chair.

 

"Go somewhere else if you want to play at being friends."

 

The voice was tired, scratchy, and seemed to come from the floor.

 

Izuku looked down. Lying on the floor, perfectly still, was a man encased entirely in a yellow sleeping bag. He looked like a giant, scruffy caterpillar. The man unzipped the top, revealing bloodshot eyes and a face covered in stubble. He drank a jelly pouch in one slurp.

 

"This is the hero course," the man grumbled, standing up and shedding the sleeping bag like a cocoon.

 

He looked around the room, his deadpan gaze sweeping over the students before settling entirely on Izuku.

 

Izuku froze, his posture instantly straightening to military attention. That's the Erasure Hero, Eraserhead! He's an underground hero! His quirk allows him to cancel other quirks just by looking at them!

 

"It took you lot eight seconds to quiet down," Shota Aizawa sighed, stepping up to the podium. "Time is limited. You kids are not rational enough. I'm your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. Nice to meet you."

 

The class collectively gasped. A pro hero as our homeroom teacher?!

 

Aizawa dug into his sleeping bag and pulled out a blue, red, and white PE uniform. "It's kind of sudden, but put these on and go out onto the field."

 

He paused, tossing a significantly larger, heavily modified uniform toward the back of the room. It sailed through the air and landed perfectly in Izuku’s massive hand.

 

"Midoriya," Aizawa said dryly. "If you break any school property while changing, you're paying for it out of pocket."

 

"Y-Yes, sir!" Izuku saluted, his deep voice cracking slightly.

 

 

 

The boys' locker room was dead silent.

 

As the male students of Class 1-A began to change into their PE uniforms, all eyes were inevitably drawn to the back corner.

 

Izuku had taken the corner locker. He was systematically unbuttoning his shirt with agonizing precision, terrified of ripping the fabric. When he finally slid the shirt off, several boys in the room visibly paled.

 

The sheer scale of his musculature was incomprehensible. His back was a sprawling topography of coiled, hyper-dense muscle fibers, coated in a thick, coarse layer of black fur that transitioned into a brilliant, shimmering silver patch across his shoulder blades. But what was truly shocking were his arms and chest. Up close, the boys could see faint, silvery scars crisscrossing the thick, leathery hide of his chest where the fur didn't grow—remnants of middle school villain encounters and accidents where his sheer strength had backfired.

 

Eijiro Kirishima, the red-haired boy with a hardening quirk, wiped a tear from his eye. "Midoriya, right? Man... that is the manliest physique I have ever seen in my life. You look like you could bench-press a tank!"

 

Izuku hunched his shoulders, looking deeply embarrassed. "O-Oh, thank you, Kirishima-kun. M-My mutation requires a lot of caloric upkeep. I'm actually trying to lose a little mass..."

 

"Lose mass?! Are you crazy?!" Denki Kaminari, a blonde boy with a lightning bolt in his hair, gasped. "Dude, with a body like that, you could probably intimidate villains into surrendering just by flexing!"

 

Minoru Mineta, the small boy with purple balls, was pressed entirely against the opposite wall, his eyes wide with terror. He had intended to use this time to scout out the peephole to the girls' locker room, but the giant silverback was standing directly in front of the wall where the hole supposedly was. Mineta decided his life was worth more than a quick peek.

 

A boy with half-white, half-red hair—Shoto Todoroki—was quietly lacing his shoes, his heterochromatic eyes occasionally darting to Izuku, analyzing the giant. Such raw physical power. I wonder if it's purely a mutant quirk, or if there is an emitter function hidden beneath the surface...

 

Izuku quickly pulled on his modified PE uniform. The shirt was sleeveless, accommodating his massive shoulders, and the pants were highly elastic. He looked like an Olympic weightlifter ready to go to war.

 

 

 

Out on the P.E. field, the sun was shining down on Class 1-A.

 

"A quirk apprehension test?!" the class echoed in unison.

 

"What about the entrance ceremony? The orientation?" Uraraka asked, looking concerned.

 

"If you're going to become a hero, you don't have time for such leisurely events," Aizawa replied, turning his back to the class. "UA's selling point is how unrestricted its school traditions are. That's also how the teachers run their classes."

 

Aizawa pulled out a smartphone-like device. "You kids have been doing these since junior high, right? Physical fitness tests where you weren't allowed to use your quirks. The country still uses averages taken from results devoid of quirks. It's not rational. Well, the Ministry of Education is procrastinating."

 

Aizawa turned his head, his deadpan gaze landing on the explosive blonde. "Bakugo, you finished first in the practical exam, didn't you? What was your best result for the softball throw in junior high?"

 

Bakugo scowled, his hands shoved in his pockets. "Sixty-seven meters."

 

"Then, try doing it with your quirk." Aizawa tossed a baseball to Bakugo. "Step into the circle. As long as you don't leave the circle, anything goes. Don't hold back."

 

Bakugo smirked, catching the ball. He stretched his arms, walking into the throwing circle. Izuku watched closely, his analytical mind whirring. Kacchan's explosions are generated from the nitroglycerin-like sweat on his palms. If he times the ignition perfectly with the release of the ball, the kinetic transfer will be massive.

 

"Die!" Bakugo screamed.

 

He pitched the ball, igniting a massive explosion at the exact moment the ball left his fingertips. The concussive blast sent the ball rocketing into the sky, leaving a trail of smoke.

 

Aizawa held up his device. It beeped. "Know your own maximum first. That is the most rational way to form the foundation of a hero."

 

He turned the screen to the class. 705.2 meters.

 

The class erupted.

 

"705 meters? Seriously?!" Kaminari gasped.

"What is this? It looks so fun!" Mina Ashido cheered.

"We can use our quirks as much as we want! As expected from the hero course!" Hanta Sero grinned.

 

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. The air around him suddenly grew heavy, oppressive, and cold.

 

"'It looks fun,' huh?" Aizawa’s voice was barely a whisper, yet it carried across the field, silencing the class instantly. "You have three years to become heroes. Will you have an attitude like that the whole time?"

 

Aizawa smiled. It was a terrifying, feral grin. "All right. Whoever comes in last place in all eight tests will be judged to have no potential and will be punished with expulsion."

 

"EXPULSION?!" the class shrieked.

 

"We're free to do what we want with the circumstances of our students," Aizawa continued, pushing his hair out of his eyes. "Welcome to UA's hero course."

 

Izuku swallowed hard, his throat clicking. Expulsion on the first day... He's not bluffing. Eraserhead is known for his strict, logical methods. If I hold back out of fear of breaking something, I'll be expelled.

 

Aizawa’s gaze drifted over the panicked students, finally settling on the towering figure in the back.

 

Izuku Midoriya, Aizawa thought, his eyes glowing a faint, menacing red behind his messy hair. Nezu accepted a monster. A boy with a biological structure so dense he makes Nomus look fragile. Let's see what happens when I strip away your safety net.

 

Without warning, Aizawa’s scarf flared up, defying gravity, floating around his neck like aggressive serpents. He activated Erasure, locking his glowing red eyes directly onto Izuku.

 

Aizawa expected the boy's massive muscles to shrink. He expected the fur to recede, or at least for the boy to stumble as his center of gravity shifted.

 

Instead, Izuku simply blinked.

 

He didn't shrink. He didn't lose his fur. He remained a six-foot-five, three-hundred-and-fifty-pound behemoth.

 

However, deep within his chest, Izuku felt a strange sensation. The faint, ever-present hum of potential energy that constantly resonated within his ultra-dense sternum suddenly went silent. The acoustic chamber felt... hollow. Kinetic Resonance had been forcefully shut down.

 

Izuku looked at his teacher. He tilted his massive head, his silver-furred ears drooping in concern.

 

"U-Um... Mr. Aizawa?" Izuku rumbled politely, raising a massive hand. "Your eyes are glowing red. Are they irritated? I have some heavy-duty eye drops in my pouch if you need them. My mother says dry eyes can lead to chronic headaches."

 

Aizawa’s eye twitched. He blinked, deactivating his quirk. His scarf dropped.

 

A pure mutant type, Aizawa realized, a bead of sweat forming on his brow despite his stoic expression. Erasure only turns off the quirk factor. It shut off his energy absorption, but it can't erase his physical biology. His baseline form is just... that.

 

Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. Standard intimidation tactics were not going to work on a student who was practically immune to them.

 

"Keep your eye drops, Midoriya. Let's get started. Test 1: 50-meter dash."

 

 

 

The class moved to the track. A robotic camera floated at the finish line, ready to record the times.

 

"Iida and Midoriya, you're up," Aizawa called out.

 

Tenya Iida stepped up to the starting line, his calves already venting steam. Izuku stepped up next to him.

 

"Midoriya-kun!" Iida said, adjusting his glasses. "I look forward to seeing your capabilities! Do not hold back!"

 

"Y-You too, Iida-kun!" Izuku replied nervously.

 

Izuku looked down at the track. Fifty meters. My top sprint speed on two legs is fast, but it's inefficient. My center of gravity is too high, and air resistance will slow me down. If I want a top score... I have to use my natural biology.

 

Izuku didn't take a runner's stance. Instead, he dropped completely to all fours. He placed his massive knuckles on the starting line, his prehensile toes gripping the rubber of the track. His hips raised, his spine aligning perfectly horizontal to the ground.

 

Iida blinked in surprise. "A quadrupedal stance? Fascinating!"

 

The robotic voice from the camera echoed: "On your marks... Get set..."

 

BANG.

 

Iida’s engine calves flared blue. He shot off the line like a bullet, reaching his top gear instantly. "3.04 seconds!" the machine announced as he crossed the line.

 

But Iida didn't hear it. He was too busy being deafened by the sound of what sounded like an artillery shell going off next to him.

 

When the gun fired, Izuku had exploded off the starting line. His powerful legs drove into the ground with such terrifying force that the synthetic rubber track entirely melted and tore beneath his feet, leaving two massive, smoking divots.

 

Moving on all fours, Izuku wasn't running; he was practically flying low to the ground. His arms and legs moved in a terrifying, synchronized blur. He looked like a runaway freight train covered in fur. The sheer displacement of air as he accelerated created a localized slipstream that nearly knocked Iida off balance.

 

He crossed the finish line a split second before Iida.

 

"2.71 seconds!" the machine chirped.

 

Izuku realized too late that he was moving at nearly seventy kilometers per hour and had no braking mechanism. He dug his heels and knuckles into the dirt past the finish line, skidding for another twenty meters, tearing up a trench in the grass before finally coming to a halt.

 

He stood up, coughing slightly on the dust, and immediately began bowing to Aizawa. "I'm so sorry about the track! I didn't mean to dig into it so hard! I'll pay for the repairs!"

 

Aizawa just stared at the ruined track, writing down the score on his clipboard. "Next."

 

 

 

Test 2: Grip Strength.

 

The class was gathered around small, electronic grip-strength meters.

 

Mezo Shoji, a tall boy with multiple arms, squeezed his device. It beeped. 540 kg.

 

"Wow! 540 kilos?! Are you a gorilla? An octopus?!" Sero exclaimed, clapping Shoji on the back.

 

"A gorilla?" Mineta squeaked, nervously looking over his shoulder. "Speaking of gorillas... hey, Midoriya! What did you get?"

 

Izuku was standing a few feet away, staring down at his massive hands with a look of absolute horror.

 

"U-Um..." Izuku stammered, holding up his right hand.

 

In his palm was a jagged, smoking pile of plastic, crushed microchips, and twisted steel springs. He hadn't just maxed out the machine; his sheer, resting grip strength had compacted the device into a dense cube of garbage.

 

"I... I think it said 'Error' before it beeped," Izuku whispered apologetically. "I tried to squeeze it gently, I promise!"

 

Shoji stared at the crushed metal, then at his own 540kg score, and quietly put his machine away.

 

 

 

Test 3: Standing Long Jump.

 

Bakugo cleared the sandbox with a blast of his explosions.

Tsuyu Asui cleared it easily with her frog physiology.

 

Izuku stepped up to the edge of the sand. He bent his massive knees, his silver-furred thighs bulging. He didn't even use his arms for momentum. He simply hopped.

 

He sailed over the entire sandbox, clearing the designated landing zone entirely, and landed softly on the grass thirty feet away, his prehensile toes gripping the earth to prevent a shockwave.

 

 

 

Test 4: Repeated Side Steps.

 

Mineta was the undisputed champion here, bouncing between his purple spheres at incredible speeds.

 

Izuku stepped into the designated lines. The problem was his size. His shoulder width was almost as wide as the distance between the two lines.

 

When the whistle blew, Izuku simply shimmied his massive frame left and right. Because of his immense mass and speed, the rapid shifting of three hundred and fifty pounds created a violent, oscillating wind tunnel.

 

Mineta, who was standing too close, was literally picked up by the wind current and spun around like a leaf in a hurricane until Izuku stopped.

 

 

 

By the time the fifth test arrived—the Softball Pitch—the class was in a state of sheer, traumatized awe.

 

Izuku Midoriya wasn't just passing the tests; he was breaking the laws of physics without even looking like he was trying. He was currently sitting in first place by a massive margin, and he hadn't even broken a sweat. His fur wasn't even ruffled.

 

"He's a monster," Kaminari whispered to Kirishima. "A literal, bona fide monster. If he goes villain, we're all doomed."

 

"Don't be unmanly!" Kirishima whispered back, though he was sweating. "He's super polite! Did you see him apologize to the long-jump sand for displacing it?"

 

Ochaco Uraraka stepped into the circle. She tapped the ball with her fingers, nullifying its gravity, and gave it a soft toss. It floated up, up, and up, disappearing into the stratosphere.

 

Aizawa showed the screen. Infinity.

 

"Infinity?!" the class gasped.

 

Izuku furiously scribbled in his notebook (having switched to a reinforced graphite pencil to avoid ink spills). Uraraka's quirk is incredible. Nullifying the mass of an object removes the gravitational pull, meaning the only opposing force is air resistance. If she applies that to a combat scenario, she could throw a tank...

 

"Midoriya. You're up."

 

Izuku snapped his notebook shut and tucked it into his harness. He lumbered toward the throwing circle.

 

He picked up the softball. It looked like a tiny white marble resting in the center of his massive, leathery palm.

 

Aizawa watched him closely, his hand resting on his capture scarf.

 

He's dominated every physical test, Aizawa analyzed. But his quirk assessment is incomplete. He has relied entirely on his mutant biology. But that incident report from the entrance exam... the massive spike in kinetic energy. The sonic shockwave. He has a secondary emitter function, and he's hiding it.

 

"Midoriya," Aizawa called out.

 

Izuku paused, turning to his teacher.

 

"You've coasted through these tests on your baseline physical strength," Aizawa said, his voice flat but piercing. "You're strong. We get it. But raw strength isn't enough in the field. During the entrance exam, you unleashed a localized shockwave that destroyed a Zero-Pointer, but it also incapacitated several examinees with biological terror. Since then, you've been holding back."

 

Izuku’s eyes widened slightly. He knows.

 

"If you're afraid of your own power, you have no business being a hero," Aizawa continued relentlessly. "Villains won't accommodate your fear of collateral damage. If you can't control your maximum output in a controlled environment like this, you are a liability. Show me what you can actually do. Don't hold back."

 

Izuku looked down at the tiny ball in his hand.

 

He thought back to middle school. He thought of Bakugo’s broken arm. He thought of the shattered windows. He had spent his entire life trying to be small, trying to be quiet, terrified that his monstrous exterior would be matched by a monstrous lack of control.

 

But Aizawa was right. This was UA. This was the Hero Course. If he couldn't control the Titan here, he never would.

 

Control it, Izuku told himself. Don't let the instinct take over. Channel the energy directly into the ball. No roaring. Just the throw.

 

Izuku took a deep breath. His broad chest expanded.

 

The class watched in silence as the giant silverback suddenly raised his massive left fist.

 

THUMP.

 

He struck his own bare chest.

 

The sound was staggering. It wasn't a slap. It sounded like a massive, hollow bass drum being struck in an empty cathedral. The air pressure in the immediate vicinity visibly warped.

 

Bakugo, standing on the sidelines, felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck. What the hell is that noise?

 

Izuku raised his right fist, still holding the ball, and struck his chest again.

 

THUMP.

 

The ground beneath Izuku’s feet cracked. The kinetic energy from the blow was violently absorbed into his hollow sternum, instantly reverberating through his bloodstream. His dark eyes dilated. His muscles, already impossibly huge, suddenly bulged, expanding against his skin. His coarse silver fur stood straight on end, crackling with a faint, invisible static of pure kinetic buildup.

 

Kinetic Resonance activated, Izuku’s mind raced, struggling to maintain his rational thought against the flood of primal adrenaline. Two beats doubles durability and strength. But I need maximum output. I need three.

 

Izuku brought his left fist down one final time.

 

THUMP.

 

Titan Unleashed.

 

The sheer volume of kinetic energy flooding his system was catastrophic. Izuku’s lips pulled back, revealing his massive fangs in a grimace of extreme exertion. A low, terrifying, involuntary growl vibrated in the back of his throat. He forced his mouth shut, refusing to let the sonic roar escape.

 

Instead, he channeled every single ounce of the kinetic resonance into his right arm.

 

He stepped back, his prehensile toes digging deep into the dirt of the circle to anchor himself. He pulled his massive right arm back. The muscles in his shoulder groaned under the immense pressure.

 

He threw the ball.

 

The instant the ball left his fingers, there was a deafening CRACK, like a thunderbolt striking the earth directly in front of them.

 

The kinetic transfer was so absolute, so violently powerful, that the air itself shattered. A massive shockwave erupted from the throwing circle, kicking up a hurricane of dust, dirt, and ripped grass.

 

Mineta, Kaminari, and Sero were literally blown off their feet, tumbling backward onto the grass. Uraraka had to cross her arms in front of her face to shield herself from the localized tornado. Even Aizawa had to plant his feet, his scarf whipping wildly in the wind.

 

Up in the sky, a streak of white-hot plasma tore through the clouds, leaving a visible contrail of displaced air in its wake. The softball had broken the sound barrier instantly upon release.

 

Izuku stood in the center of the throwing circle, panting heavily. The kinetic resonance faded, his muscles violently contracting back to their normal, massive size. His arm was smoking slightly from the air friction.

 

He looked over his shoulder at Aizawa.

 

"I... I didn't roar, Mr. Aizawa," Izuku panted, his deep voice trembling slightly with adrenaline. "I focused the output... entirely on the projectile. Was that... was that okay?"

 

Aizawa stood perfectly still. He slowly raised his electronic device. The screen was cracked from the air pressure, but the digital numbers were glowing brightly.

 

He turned the screen toward the class.

 

2,403.5 meters.

 

The silence that followed was absolute. It was the silence of thirty people realizing they were in the presence of a natural disaster masquerading as a student.

 

"Over two kilometers..." Kirishima whispered, his jaw unhinged.

 

"He pitched a softball... into the next city..." Todoroki muttered, his heterochromatic eyes wide with genuine shock.

 

Aizawa let out a long, slow exhale. A terrifying, genuine smile crept onto his face. He has a biological multiplier. And he has the discipline to redirect the collateral damage. He really is a monster.

 

"Yes, Midoriya," Aizawa said dryly. "That was... adequate."

 

"DEKU!"

 

The scream shattered the silence like glass.

 

Izuku flinched, his ears flattening against his head. He turned to see Katsuki Bakugo storming onto the field.

 

Bakugo was shaking. His red eyes were wide with a mixture of absolute rage, humiliation, and deep-seated terror. For years, Bakugo had justified his superiority by convincing himself that Izuku’s quirk was just a dumb, physical mutation. A meathead quirk. But that throw... that throw wasn't just strength. That was apocalyptic power.

 

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT, YOU DAMN MONKEY?!" Bakugo shrieked, small explosions popping aggressively from his palms. He stomped toward Izuku, though his survival instincts kept him precisely ten feet away. "YOU'VE BEEN HIDING THAT?! YOU THINK YOU CAN MOCK ME?! I'LL KILL YOU!"

 

Izuku immediately dropped his imposing posture. The terrifying alpha silverback vanished, replaced instantly by a panicking, stuttering teenager.

 

"K-Kacchan! N-No! I wasn't hiding it!" Izuku waved his massive hands defensively, stepping back to ensure he didn't accidentally bump into the explosive blonde. "It's my Kinetic Resonance! I can only use it if I beat my chest! But it's really hard to control, and it hurts my throat, and I didn't want to break anything!"

 

"DON'T GIVE ME EXCUSES, YOU WALKING FURBALL!" Bakugo roared, leaning forward, his explosions growing larger. "I'M STILL NUMBER ONE! I'M GONNA TEAR YOU APART!"

 

Izuku was hyperventilating now. Bakugo was getting too worked up. When Bakugo got this angry, he stopped thinking rationally.

 

He's stressed. When people are stressed, their blood sugar drops, Izuku’s panicked brain rationalized. I need to de-escalate. I need to offer a peace offering.

 

Izuku frantically reached into one of the tactical pouches on his chest harness. His massive fingers delicately retrieved a perfectly ripe, yellow banana he had packed for his mid-morning 1,000-calorie snack.

 

He took a step forward, towering over Bakugo, and gently held the banana out in his massive, leathery palm.

 

"K-Kacchan, please calm down," Izuku rumbled softly, his eyes wide and pleading. "Your blood sugar must be low from the explosions. Would you... would you like a banana?"

 

The field went dead silent again.

 

Kirishima slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. Sero had to turn around. Even Todoroki looked away, his shoulders shaking slightly.

 

Bakugo stared at the banana. He stared at the giant, terrifying gorilla-boy offering it to him with the utmost sincerity.

 

The vein on Bakugo’s forehead pulsed so hard it looked ready to burst.

 

"I DON'T WANT YOUR DAMN MONKEY FRUIT!" Bakugo screamed.

 

He unleashed a massive, two-handed explosion directly at the banana.

 

The blast engulfed Izuku’s hand. The smoke cleared a second later.

 

Izuku stood completely unharmed, his thick hide brushing off the heat without a scratch. But he looked down at his palm. The banana was entirely vaporized, reduced to a blackened smear of ash on his leathery skin.

 

Izuku stared at the ash. His bottom lip quivered. A single, massive tear formed in his eye.

 

"It... it was organic..." Izuku whispered, his deep voice cracking with genuine sorrow.

 

Before Bakugo could yell again, Aizawa’s capture scarf whipped out, wrapping tightly around the explosive blonde.

 

"Stop acting like a child, Bakugo," Aizawa growled, his eyes glowing red, erasing Bakugo’s explosions. "You're wasting my time. Midoriya, go wash your hand."

 

"Y-Yes, sir," Izuku sniffled, wiping away his tear with his clean hand and trudging toward the water fountains, his massive shoulders slumped in mourning for his lost snack.

 

 

 

At the end of the day, the results were projected onto the screen.

 

1. Izuku Midoriya

2. Shoto Todoroki

3. Katsuki Bakugo

4. Tenya Iida

5. Momo Yaoyorozu

 

Izuku stared at his name at the top of the list. A massive, fanged smile broke across his face. He had done it. He had proved that he wasn't just a monster. He belonged here.

 

"By the way, I was lying about the expulsion," Aizawa said bluntly, pocketing his device. "It was a rational deception to draw out the upper limits of your quirks."

 

The class (mostly Mineta and Uraraka) shrieked in relief. Momo Yaoyorozu sighed, muttering about how obvious it was.

 

"We're done here. There are handouts with the syllabus in the classroom. When you get back, look them over." Aizawa turned and walked away.

 

As the class began to head back to the locker rooms, a crowd instantly formed around Izuku.

 

"Midoriya, that throw was insane!" Kirishima cheered, throwing an arm around Izuku’s massive waist (the highest he could reach). "You're like a powerhouse superhero already!"

 

"And you're so fast!" Mina added, bouncing on her toes. "Your fur looks so fluffy! Can I touch it?"

 

Izuku froze, his face flushing a deep purple again. "O-Oh! Um! Yes, Ashido-san, but it's actually very coarse, like wire brush... it requires a special shampoo..."

 

Mina patted his massive bicep. "Whoa! It feels like steel wool over concrete! That's so cool!"

 

Izuku was overwhelmed. For the first time in his life, people weren't staring at him with fear or calling him a villain. They were looking at him with awe. They were treating him like a classmate. Like a hero.

 

He looked over the crowd and caught Uraraka’s eye. She offered him a bright thumbs-up. Izuku beamed back, offering a polite, slightly awkward bow.

 

He was Izuku Midoriya. He was the Silverback Titan. And as he walked back to the school, surrounded by his new troop, he knew that his journey to become the greatest hero had truly begun.