What if deku had a T rex quirk so powerful the he graduated and became the number 1 pro hero on his 1st day

 

The glow of a computer monitor cast a pale, flickering light across the darkened bedroom. Sitting cross-legged on a wheeled chair, leaning so far forward his nose practically brushed the glass of the screen, was a four-year-old Izuku Midoriya. His wide, emerald-green eyes reflected the chaotic, shaky-cam footage of a disaster scene. Buildings were reduced to rubble, flames licked the night sky, and sirens wailed in a dissonant chorus of panic.

 

But Izuku wasn’t looking at the destruction. He was looking at him.

 

"He's laughing!" the voice of the man filming the video cried out.

 

Through the smoke and the devastation, a colossal silhouette emerged, carrying a dozen people effortlessly across his massive shoulders and arms. The camera zoomed in, catching the golden hair, the impossibly bright smile, and the booming voice that echoed over the roaring fires.

 

"Fear not, citizens! Hope has arrived! Because I am here!"

 

Izuku let out a breathless gasp, his tiny hands clenching into fists on his knees. He grabbed the oversized All Might action figure sitting on his desk and thrust it into the air, mirroring his idol’s triumphant pose. "He's so cool..." Izuku whispered, a reverent hush in his childish voice. "When I get my Quirk, I'm gonna be just like him! I'm gonna save everyone with a smile!"

 

His mother, Inko Midoriya, stood in the doorway, watching her son with a fond, slightly worried smile. In a world where eighty percent of the population possessed some sort of uncanny ability—a Quirk—Izuku’s had yet to manifest. Most children showed signs of their powers by the time they were four. Izuku had just celebrated his fourth birthday a month ago. The pediatrician had assured them that Izuku possessed a quirk factor—an abnormally massive one, in fact, which had puzzled the doctor to no end—but it was simply dormant, waiting for the right trigger.

 

"Time for bed, my little hero," Inko said softly, stepping into the room and gently ruffling his mop of unruly green curls.

 

Izuku beamed up at her, his eyes shining with uncontainable excitement. "Mom! Do you think I'll get a flashy Quirk? Like Kacchan's explosions? Or maybe I can breathe fire like Dad! Oh, or pull things like you!"

 

Inko chuckled, lifting him from the chair and tucking him into his All Might-themed bedsheets. "Whatever your Quirk is, Izuku, I know it will be wonderful. But for now, even heroes need to sleep."

 

Izuku drifted off to sleep that night dreaming of soaring through the air, of standing tall against villains, of being a symbol of peace. He had no idea just how tall he was destined to stand. Or how terrifyingly absolute his power would be.

 

 

 

The playground was bathed in the warm, golden sunlight of a late spring afternoon. The cherry blossoms had long since fallen, replaced by the lush green leaves of the trees that bordered the local park. To most, it was a scene of idyllic childhood peace.

 

To a four-year-old Izuku Midoriya, it was the site of his first stand against injustice.

 

"Make me," sneered Katsuki Bakugo.

 

Bakugo stood with his arms crossed, a smug, arrogant grin plastered across his face. Flanking him were two other boys, his lackeys, who snickered and cracked their knuckles trying to mimic older delinquents they had seen on television. Behind them, cowering in the sandbox and clutching a scraped knee, was a boy who had accidentally bumped into Bakugo while running toward the swings.

 

Standing between the weeping child and the trio of bullies was Izuku. His knees were knocking together so violently they threatened to give out. His lower lip quivered, and unshed tears pricked the corners of his large green eyes. He was terrified. Kacchan was strong. Kacchan had just awakened his Quirk—Explosion—and he wasn't afraid to use it.

 

But Izuku didn't move. He raised his small, trembling fists, dropping into a sloppy, completely defensive stance.

 

"T-That's mean, Kacchan," Izuku stuttered, his voice cracking. "Can't you see he's crying? I-If you keep hurting him... I'll... I'll stop you myself!"

 

Bakugo’s crimson eyes narrowed, a flash of genuine irritation crossing his features. He uncrossed his arms and held out his hands. Small, sharp pops of light and sound crackled in his palms, sending wisps of gray smoke curling into the air. The scent of burnt sugar and nitroglycerin stung Izuku's nose.

 

"You?" Bakugo scoffed, taking a menacing step forward. "You don't even have a Quirk yet, Deku. You're just a useless pebble in my way. What are you gonna do to stop me?"

 

"I... I..." Izuku stammered, stepping back, his heel hitting the wooden edge of the sandbox. He had nowhere left to go.

 

"Teach him a lesson, Katsuki!" one of the lackeys jeered.

 

Bakugo lunged, his right hand pulled back, the palm sparking violently. "Get out of my way, Deku!"

 

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, crossing his arms over his face in a desperate attempt to brace for the burning impact. Bakugo's hand flew forward. The explosion popped loudly, sending a cloud of ash and smoke directly into Izuku's face.

 

The heat singed the tips of Izuku's hair, but it was the ash that did it. A thick plume of smoke shot up Izuku’s nostrils.

 

His eyes snapped open. His nose twitched furiously. He inhaled sharply, a massive gasp of air that seemed to pull the oxygen from the surrounding yard.

 

"Ah..." Izuku’s head tilted back. "Ah... Ah..."

 

Bakugo stopped, lowering his smoking hand, suddenly confused. "Huh? What are you doing, weirdo?"

 

"ACHOO!"

 

Izuku sneezed.

 

It wasn't a normal sneeze. It didn't end with a sniffle. The moment the sneeze tore from Izuku’s throat, something deep within his genetic code—a primal, ancient switch buried beneath millions of years of evolution—violently flipped on.

 

A sound like cracking stone and stretching steel echoed across the playground.

 

Bakugo stumbled back, his crimson eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as a massive shadow suddenly fell over him. The sunlight was blotted out.

 

Izuku’s small, four-year-old body was gone. In his place, expanding outward and upward at a terrifying, explosive rate, was a mountain of emerald-green muscle, bone, and scale. His shoes ripped to shreds, replaced by massive, three-toed, clawed feet that slammed into the dirt, leaving craters in the sandbox. His school uniform tore at the seams, fluttering away like confetti as thick, impenetrable reptilian hide erupted along his spine, arms, and legs. A massive, heavy tail slammed into the dirt behind him with the force of a falling oak tree, snapping the metal poles of the jungle gym as if they were dry twigs.

 

And then, there was the head.

 

A gargantuan, heavily armored skull, lined with serrated teeth the size of kitchen knives, loomed fifteen feet in the air. Thick plates of bone armored its snout and the ridges above its glowing, molten-gold eyes with slit-like pupils.

 

Izuku Midoriya had transformed into a fifteen-foot-tall, armored, juvenile Tyrannosaurus Rex.

 

Silence fell over the playground. The birds stopped singing. The wind seemed to hold its breath.

 

Then, Izuku sneezed again.

 

The dinosaur’s massive head jerked forward, and from its jaws erupted a sound that defied description. It was a guttural, bass-heavy rumble that vibrated through the ground, rattling the teeth of everyone in a fifty-yard radius. The sheer sonic force of the sneeze blew Bakugo backward, sending him tumbling head over heels until he crashed into a nearby hedge.

 

The two lackeys took one look at the towering apex predator, screamed at a pitch only dogs could hear, and sprinted out of the park so fast they left their shoes behind. The boy in the sandbox fainted out of pure shock.

 

Izuku blinked his massive, golden eyes. The world looked different. Everything was so... small. He looked down, turning his massive, armored snout to the left. He saw Kacchan, sitting in the bushes, covered in leaves, staring up at him with an expression of absolute, unadulterated terror.

 

Bakugo was paralyzed. Every instinct in his body, hardwired into mammalian brains over millions of years, was screaming at him that he was prey. The aura radiating from the giant beast was suffocating—a "Predator's Aura" that triggered a cold, paralyzing dread.

 

Oh no! Izuku thought, his four-year-old mind panicking. I broke the jungle gym! Mom is gonna be so mad! And Kacchan looks hurt!

 

Izuku tried to step forward to check on Bakugo. "Kacchan, are you okay?" he tried to say.

 

What actually came out of his mouth was a low, terrifying, rumbling growl that sounded like an idling jet engine.

 

Bakugo squeaked, pressing himself further into the dirt.

 

Panic seized Izuku. He didn't want to be a monster! He didn't want to be huge! Shrink! Shrink! Shrink! he mentally commanded himself.

 

Instantly, the massive reptilian form began to steam. The green scales retracted, the massive bones shifted and condensed, and within three seconds, a completely naked, soot-covered, four-year-old Izuku Midoriya was sitting in the crater of the sandbox, crying his eyes out.

 

"I-I'm s-sorry!" Izuku wailed, rubbing his eyes with his chubby fists. "I didn't mean to break it!"

 

Bakugo sat in the bushes for a full minute, his chest heaving, his eyes locked on the crying, naked boy. The arrogant, explosive bully who had stood there a moment ago was gone, shattered by an encounter with the true apex of the food chain. From that day onward, a deep, unshakeable respect—and a healthy, lingering dose of mortal terror—for Izuku Midoriya was burned into Katsuki Bakugo’s soul.

 

When Inko arrived at the park, called by a panicked neighbor who claimed a dinosaur had eaten the jungle gym, she found Bakugo silently, almost respectfully, handing Izuku his own jacket to cover up with.

 

That evening, a doctor at the Quirk Registry Office stared blankly at the paperwork, then at the shy, polite little boy sitting on the examination table.

 

"So... a Tyrannosaurus Rex," the doctor said, rubbing his temples.

 

"With armor plating," Inko added weakly. "And... and a very loud sneeze."

 

The doctor stamped the form. Quirk Name: Apex Tyrant. Class: Mutant/Transformation.

 

 

 

Growing up as the host to a localized extinction event was, to say the least, logistically complicated.

 

By the time Izuku reached fourteen, his life was a delicate balancing act of self-control, spatial awareness, and an immense grocery bill. His Quirk, Apex Tyrant, was as absurdly powerful as it was terrifying. He didn't just have the ability to turn into a T-Rex; his base human form was passively enhanced by the sheer density of the genetic material required for his transformations.

 

Izuku didn't look like a bodybuilder—he retained his slender, somewhat unassuming frame—but his bones were incredibly dense, his muscles tightly coiled like high-tension steel cables, and his durability was off the charts. He had once accidentally slammed his hand in a car door. The car door had dented, the hinge snapping, while Izuku had merely apologized to the taxi driver and paid for the damages out of his allowance.

 

His mother had to adapt quickly. During a growth spurt when Izuku was eight, he had woken up with terrible aches in his joints. In a half-asleep daze, he had wandered into the kitchen, transformed his arm into a massive, scaly claw, and unconsciously eaten half of the cast-iron stove.

 

Inko had panicked, rushing him to the hospital, only for the doctors to discover that Izuku’s T-Rex form possessed a highly specialized, furnace-like digestive system. His body actively required raw minerals—metals, stones, calcium—to build and maintain the indestructible armor plating on his scales.

 

From then on, Inko's cooking involved sneaking iron shavings into his rice, letting him gnaw on discarded scrap metal from the local junkyard like they were carrot sticks, and ordering calcium supplements by the industrial drum.

 

Despite harboring a Quirk that could level a city block with a temper tantrum, Izuku’s personality hadn't changed one bit from the sweet, anxious, hero-worshipping boy he had always been. If anything, the terrifying nature of his Quirk made him even more polite. He was acutely aware that if he ever raised his voice or lost his temper, people might get genuinely hurt—or worse, suffer cardiac arrest from his passive "Predator's Aura."

 

This led to a deeply amusing, completely backwards dynamic at Aldera Junior High.

 

Izuku sat at his desk in the back of the classroom, nervously chewing on the end of his pencil as he furiously scribbled notes into his notebook, Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 13. He was analyzing Mount Lady's recent debut, trying to calculate the caloric intake required to sustain gigantification without violating the laws of thermodynamics.

 

"Hey! Deku!"

 

A loud slam on his desk pulled Izuku from his muttering. He looked up to see Katsuki Bakugo looming over him. Bakugo was still loud, still brash, and still incredibly aggressive, but the bullying of their childhood was entirely absent. Instead, it had been replaced by a bizarre, aggressive form of rivalry that bordered on manic obsession.

 

"K-Kacchan," Izuku said, shrinking back slightly, careful not to put too much weight on the flimsy wooden chair beneath him. "G-Good morning."

 

"Don't 'good morning' me, you giant lizard!" Bakugo barked, slamming a fist onto the desk. "I saw you jogging this morning! You were holding back! I told you, if you don't push your cardiovascular limits, your endurance in full-shift will suffer! You think I'm gonna let my only real rival get sloppy?!"

 

"I-I wasn't holding back, Kacchan, I promise! I just didn't want to crack the pavement again..." Izuku whispered, glancing nervously at the teacher, who was pretending very hard not to notice the interaction.

 

"Who cares about the pavement?!" Bakugo yelled, sparks popping harmlessly in his palms. He never aimed them at Izuku anymore. He knew better. He had once tried to blast Izuku during a sparring match when they were ten. Izuku hadn't even transformed; he had just blinked, the explosion washing over his face, leaving him mildly soot-stained and confused. Bakugo had spent the next three days screaming at a wall in frustration. "You're applying to U.A. High, right? The entrance exam is in ten months! You better not hold back on the practical, Deku, or I'll kill you! I'm gonna beat you and take the number one spot, you hear me?!"

 

"Y-Yes, Kacchan! I'll do my best!" Izuku squeaked, giving a frantic thumbs-up.

 

Satisfied, Bakugo scoffed, shoved his hands into his pockets, and swaggered back to his desk. "Stupid Deku... holding back his strides..." he muttered under his breath.

 

The rest of the class watched the exchange in baffled silence. They all knew Izuku had a transformation Quirk, but they had never actually seen it. Izuku kept it strictly under wraps. The rumor mill at Aldera varied wildly—some thought he could turn into a large dog, others thought he could grow scales. None of them, save Bakugo, knew that the nervous, stuttering boy in the back row was carrying the equivalent of a biological nuclear deterrent in his DNA.

 

When the bell rang, Izuku packed his bags, slipping out of the classroom with a polite bow to the teacher. He had somewhere to be. Ten months until the U.A. entrance exam meant he needed to train. And he couldn't do his kind of training in a regular gym.

 

 

 

The Dagobah Municipal Beach Park was a tragedy. Once a beautiful coastline, it had been reduced to an illegal dumping ground by the ocean currents and lazy citizens. Mountains of rusted refrigerators, crushed cars, broken washing machines, and tangled tires stretched across the sand, rotting under the sun.

 

For Izuku Midoriya, it was an all-you-can-eat buffet and a private gym rolled into one.

 

Izuku stood at the edge of the boardwalk, dropping his yellow backpack onto the sand. The salty sea breeze ruffled his green curls. He cracked his knuckles, the sound like two stones grinding together, and took a deep breath.

 

"Alright," he murmured to himself, opening his notebook to a page titled Apex Tyrant: Limit Testing. "Goal for today: Partial shifts under two seconds, bite force calibration, and clearing the south quadrant."

 

He walked down onto the sand, approaching a massive heap of trash. At the base of the pile sat a rusted, crumpled frame of a 1990s pickup truck.

 

Izuku closed his eyes. He didn't need to sneeze to transform anymore; he had spent the last ten years mastering the trigger. He visualized the feeling of heat in his chest, the primal wellspring of energy that sat at the core of his quirk.

 

He didn't want a full shift. A full shift right now would make him sixty feet tall, from snout to tail, and he would accidentally cause a localized earthquake. He just needed the arms.

 

Shift.

 

With a sickening, wet crunch that would have made a normal person vomit, Izuku’s right arm expanded. The school uniform sleeve tore instantly—he bought his shirts in bulk from a discount store for this exact reason—as emerald-green scales erupted across his skin. His arm ballooned in size, muscle mass multiplying exponentially, until his right arm was nearly as large as his entire torso. It wasn't the stubby, tiny arm of a historically accurate T-Rex; it was heavily muscled, terrifyingly proportional, ending in three massive, scythe-like talons made of black keratin.

 

Izuku looked at his monstrous arm, flexing the talons. "Speed: 1.8 seconds," he muttered, making a mental note. "Faster than yesterday."

 

He reached out with his giant, scaled claw and grabbed the rusted frame of the pickup truck. With a casual heave, he lifted the two-ton vehicle over his head with one arm. The metal groaned and shrieked under the pressure of his grip.

 

He tossed it. The truck flew forty feet through the air, crashing onto a pile of other cars he had designated as the "crush zone."

 

"Now... bite force."

 

Izuku retracted his arm, his flesh bubbling and returning to its human state in a wisp of steam. He walked over to a discarded, heavy-duty commercial refrigerator.

 

He focused the heat into his jaw and neck. The bones in his face cracked, elongating outward. Thick, bony plates pushed through his skin as his jaw unhinged, expanding into the terrifying, serrated maw of an apex predator. The rest of his body remained human, but his head was now a massive, armored, reptilian nightmare capable of swallowing a grown man whole.

 

He leaned forward and bit down on the refrigerator.

 

CRUNCH.

 

Ten thousand pounds of pressure per square inch. The thick steel and insulation yielded instantly, folding like wet cardboard under his teeth. Izuku chewed thoughtfully, his massive jaw muscles working. He swallowed, his specialized stomach acids instantly going to work on the metal, extracting the iron to fortify his scales.

 

Tastes like pennies, he thought, shifting his head back to its human form. He coughed, spitting out a small piece of Freon tubing. I really need to start bringing hot sauce.

 

For the next three hours, Izuku trained. He practiced shifting his legs to run across the sand at sixty miles per hour, his massive three-toed feet kicking up geysers of sand. He practiced manifesting his tail to sweep aside mountains of washing machines in a single, devastating blow.

 

He was careful, precise, and completely dedicated. He knew that heroes with destructive quirks—like Mount Lady or Death Arms—often caused massive collateral damage if they weren't careful. Izuku refused to be a liability. He wanted to save people, not destroy their homes. If he was going to be the number one hero, he needed surgical precision with catastrophic power.

 

As the sun began to set, casting a bloody orange hue over the ocean, Izuku wiped the sweat from his forehead. The south quadrant of the beach was completely clear. Pristine sand shone where mountains of trash had been just hours before.

 

He grabbed his backpack, pulling a fresh, oversized t-shirt over his torso to replace the one he had ripped, and began the walk home. He felt good. His scales felt denser after eating that refrigerator, and his shifting times were improving.

 

Little did he know, his quiet life of training was about to end. The world was about to be introduced to the Apex Tyrant.

 

 

 

The underpass was dark, cool, and smelled faintly of stagnant water and mildew. Izuku hummed a quiet tune as he walked through the tunnel, his mind drifting to what his mother might have made for dinner. He hoped it was katsudon. He could easily eat four bowls after today’s workout.

 

Suddenly, a wet, sloshing sound echoed from the shadows behind him.

 

Izuku stopped, his sharp senses catching the scent of sewer water and rotten eggs. He turned around.

 

Bubbling up from a manhole cover was a grotesque, undulating mass of dark green sludge. It shifted and formed into a towering, gelatinous figure with two bulging, manic eyes and a jagged, watery maw.

 

"Well, well, well," the Sludge Villain hissed, his voice echoing wetly off the concrete walls. "A medium-sized meat suit. You'll do nicely to help me hide from him! Don't worry, kid. It'll only hurt for about forty-five seconds... then it's all over!"

 

The villain lunged, a tidal wave of suffocating muck rushing toward Izuku.

 

Izuku didn't scream. He didn't run. He just stood there, blinking as the sludge crashed into him, enveloping his body, surging up his nose and into his mouth.

 

To a normal person, this would be a horrific, agonizing death by asphyxiation.

 

To Izuku, it was just deeply, incredibly annoying.

 

The sludge forced its way down his throat. Izuku frowned. His internal biology, ever reactive, immediately shifted to protect him. His throat expanded internally, the soft tissues hardening into a dense, muscular tube coated in a protective, acidic mucus designed to handle jagged pieces of steel and stone. The villain’s sludge hit his stomach and was instantly neutralized by gastric acids that could melt a tire iron.

 

He tastes terrible, Izuku thought, his face entirely covered in sludge, his green eyes glowing slightly beneath the muck. Like dirty dishwater and expired milk.

 

"Struggle all you want!" the villain cackled, completely unaware that he wasn't suffocating his victim, but merely feeding him a very unpleasant soup. "You can't claw me away! I'm fluid!"

 

Izuku raised his hand, intending to partial-shift his jaw and politely bite the villain in half to spit him out, when suddenly, the manhole cover burst entirely out of the ground.

 

A massive figure shot into the tunnel, moving faster than the eye could track.

 

"HAVE NO FEAR!" a booming voice echoed, shaking the dust from the ceiling.

 

Izuku’s eyes widened beneath the sludge. He knew that voice. He had listened to it on his computer thousands of times.

 

"BECAUSE I AM HERE!"

 

All Might stood at the entrance of the tunnel, striking a dramatic pose, his legendary grin shining even in the dim light.

 

"TEXAS SMASH!"

 

All Might threw a punch. The sheer air pressure generated by the strike created a localized tornado within the tunnel. The concussive force hit the Sludge Villain like a freight train, tearing his fluid body apart, splattering him against the walls, the ceiling, and the floor.

 

Izuku was left standing in the middle of the tunnel, covered head to toe in green slime, coughing slightly, completely starstruck.

 

"Are you alright, young man?!" All Might boomed, marching forward and pulling out an empty two-liter soda bottle from a plastic grocery bag. Moving with blinding speed, the Number One Hero began scraping the scattered remnants of the villain into the bottle.

 

"A-All Might!" Izuku gasped, his heart hammering against his ribs. The Number One Hero! In person! He was taller than Izuku expected, radiating an aura of absolute confidence and power.

 

"Apologies for getting you caught up in my villain hunt!" All Might laughed heartily, twisting the cap tightly onto the bottle. "Usually I don't make mistakes like this, but I'm new to this area! Good thing you held out long enough for me to arrive! Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be off to deliver this villain to the police!"

 

"W-Wait!" Izuku frantically patted his pockets, pulling out his notebook, which was thankfully miraculously unharmed. "An autograph! Please!"

 

All Might laughed again, taking the notebook and signing across two full pages with incredible speed. "A hero is always prepared! Now, stay safe, young man!"

 

All Might crouched, the muscles in his tree-trunk legs bulging. With a mighty leap, he shot out of the tunnel and into the sky, leaving a shockwave that ruffled Izuku’s slime-covered hair.

 

Izuku stared at the signature in awe, clutching the notebook to his chest. He bowed repeatedly to the empty air. "Thank you! Thank you so much! It will be a family heirloom!"

 

He stood there for a moment, letting the adrenaline wear off. He had met All Might. The day couldn't possibly get any better or crazier than this.

 

He wiped some leftover sludge from his shoulder, grabbed his backpack, and began the walk home.

 

Ten minutes later, a thunderous explosion echoed from the shopping district a few blocks away.

 

Izuku paused. The sound was distinct. It wasn't the deep, rumbling boom of a gas line or the sharp crack of a localized quirk. It sounded exactly like...

 

"Kacchan?" Izuku whispered.

 

He didn't think. His legs moved on their own. He broke into a sprint, his feet pounding against the pavement, heading toward the rising plume of black smoke.

 

 

 

The Tatooin Shopping District was a warzone.

 

Fires raged across the storefronts. Civilians were screaming, held back by a perimeter of pro heroes who were completely out of their depth. Death Arms was trying to pull rubble away from a burning building, Kamui Woods was unable to get close due to the fire, and Mount Lady couldn't fit down the narrow street.

 

And in the center of the inferno, laughing maniacally as he wreaked havoc, was the Sludge Villain.

 

He had escaped. The bottle must have fallen from All Might's pocket during his jump. But the villain hadn't just escaped; he had taken a hostage.

 

Trapped within the swirling mass of dark muck was Katsuki Bakugo. The blonde teen was thrashing violently, firing off massive explosions from his palms in a desperate bid for freedom, but every blast only ignited the surrounding buildings, fueling the chaos. The villain was using Bakugo’s Quirk against him, turning himself into a living bomb.

 

"Fools!" the villain roared, swatting Kamui Woods away with a tendril of sludge. "Don't come near me, or I'll snap this kid's neck! He's got a great Quirk! Once I take over his body, I'll be unstoppable!"

 

Bakugo’s face was half-covered in the suffocating slime. His crimson eyes were wide, frantic, darting around for help. The heroes were shouting, telling him to hold on, waiting for someone with a suitable Quirk to arrive.

 

In the crowd, hidden behind a telephone pole, a skeletal, emaciated man clutched his side, coughing up blood. Toshinori Yagi—All Might—stared at the scene in absolute horror. He had reached his time limit. His body screamed in agony. He had dropped the bottle. This was his fault. Pathetic, he thought, gripping his chest. I'm pathetic.

 

Izuku pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He took in the scene. The fire. The useless heroes. The villain.

 

And then, he saw Bakugo’s eyes.

 

They weren't angry. They were terrified. They were pleading for help.

 

Izuku’s backpack hit the ground.

 

He didn't think about the laws against unauthorized Quirk usage. He didn't think about the scolding he would get from his mother, or the media attention, or the danger. He just saw his oldest, most complicated friend in mortal peril.

 

Izuku stepped past the police barricade.

 

"Hey! Kid! Get back here! It's not safe!" Death Arms shouted, reaching out to grab his shoulder.

 

Izuku ignored him. He closed his eyes.

 

Don't hold back, Kacchan had said. Don't hold back your strides.

 

"Alright, Kacchan," Izuku whispered. "I won't."

 

He tapped into the core of his Quirk, bypassing the partial shifts, bypassing the limiters he placed on himself to protect his clothes and the pavement. He opened the floodgates.

 

The transformation didn't take two seconds. It was instantaneous.

 

A deafening, bone-rattling CRACK split the air, louder than any of Bakugo's explosions. A blinding wave of displaced air, steam, and sheer kinetic energy erupted from Izuku's position, blowing Death Arms off his feet and sending the front row of the crowd stumbling backward.

 

The smoke from the fires swirled violently, sucked into the vortex of a sudden, immense vacuum.

 

From the center of the steam rose a leviathan.

 

The crowd fell dead silent. The screaming stopped. Even the crackling of the flames seemed to mute.

 

Izuku Midoriya stood twenty-five feet tall at the shoulder. At fourteen years old, he was barely a sub-adult in his Quirk’s biological scaling, but he was already a walking catastrophe. His body was a symphony of dark, emerald-green scales, overlapping like the armor of a medieval knight. Thick, bony ridges ran down his spine, terminating in a massive, muscular tail that swung behind him, lazily smashing a destroyed streetlamp into dust.

 

His gargantuan skull lowered, pushing through the smoke. Molten-gold eyes, burning with an intense, furious light, locked onto the Sludge Villain.

 

Izuku opened his cavernous jaws, revealing rows of serrated teeth, each the size of a short sword, gleaming with a terrifying, pearlescent white.

 

And he roared.

 

It wasn't a sound. It was a physical force. The roar tore out of his chest, a concussive shockwave of bass and fury that shattered every remaining window in the shopping district. The sheer decibel level of the cry snuffed out the fires in a twenty-foot radius, depriving them of oxygen.

 

Toshinori Yagi collapsed to his knees, his hands clamped over his ears, staring up at the titanic beast in absolute, uncomprehending awe.

 

But the physical force of the roar wasn't the worst part. It was the aura.

 

The Predator's Aura.

 

The Sludge Villain froze. Every single molecule of his fluid body stiffened in primal dread. His watery eyes bugged out, locking onto the golden, reptilian gaze of the massive T-Rex looming over him. For the first time in his life, the villain wasn't the hunter. He wasn't the predator. He was meat.

 

Bakugo, despite being the one trapped, felt the aura too. But underneath the terrifying, crushing weight of the beast's presence, he felt a strange familiarity. He looked up at the emerald scales, the golden eyes, and the sheer, absurd power on display.

 

Deku? Bakugo thought, his mind struggling to process the scale of what he was seeing. Is that... Deku?!

 

Izuku didn't waste time. He took a single, earth-shattering step forward, closing the distance instantly.

 

"S-Stay back!" the Sludge Villain shrieked, his voice breaking in panic. Desperate, he triggered Bakugo’s Quirk, aiming the boy’s palms directly at Izuku's massive face.

 

A point-blank, nitroglycerin-fueled explosion detonated right against Izuku’s snout. A massive fireball engulfed the dinosaur's head.

 

The heroes in the back screamed.

 

The smoke cleared.

 

Izuku hadn't even blinked. There wasn't a single scratch, scorch mark, or dent on his armor. He just looked mildly annoyed, a tiny wisp of smoke curling from his right nostril.

 

Bite force: Maximum, Izuku thought.

 

Izuku’s massive head struck forward with the speed of a coiled viper. His jaws opened to an impossible width, and he clamped down directly onto the Sludge Villain.

 

He didn't bite Bakugo. His precision, honed over a decade of careful training, was flawless. He scooped the villain’s fluid body off Bakugo with the delicate, terrifying accuracy of a surgeon wielding a chainsaw.

 

The villain shrieked as thousands of pounds of pressure crushed his fluid form. Izuku’s specialized saliva, highly acidic, began neutralizing the sludge instantly, preventing it from expanding or fighting back.

 

Bakugo, suddenly free of the slime, fell forward.

 

Izuku’s massive, muscular left arm—proportionally huge and terrifyingly strong—reached down, catching Bakugo mid-air with two gentle claws, setting him safely on the concrete away from the flames.

 

Izuku kept his jaws clamped shut, his cheeks bulging as he held the villain in his mouth like a dog holding a very disgusting, wriggling water balloon. He looked around. He needed a container.

 

His golden eyes locked onto a shattered convenience store to his right. Sitting atop the roof was a large, cylindrical, metal water reservoir.

 

Izuku whipped his tail, shifting his massive weight, and tore the reservoir off the roof with his teeth, keeping the villain trapped in his cheek pouch. He ripped the top off the tank, tilted his head back, and violently spat the Sludge Villain into the steel drum.

 

To ensure the villain stayed put, Izuku raised his massive right foot and stomped on the top of the tank, crumpling the steel just enough to seal the opening shut, leaving only a tiny gap for air.

 

It was over. The entire confrontation had lasted less than thirty seconds.

 

The silence that followed was deafening. The civilians, the pro heroes, Bakugo—everyone simply stared at the twenty-five-foot tall dinosaur standing in the middle of the ruined street.

 

Izuku looked around at the gaping faces. The adrenaline faded, and suddenly, the crippling anxiety of his fourteen-year-old human mind returned.

 

Oh no. Oh no. I used my Quirk in public without a license. I destroyed public property. Death Arms looks mad. Kacchan looks like he's going to throw up. Mom is going to ground me until I'm thirty.

 

The giant, armored T-Rex visibly slumped its shoulders, letting out a pitiful, high-pitched whine that sounded bizarrely like a sad puppy.

 

With a massive hiss of steam, the green scales retracted, the bone structure condensed, and the massive titan melted away. A moment later, a skinny, green-haired boy in a partially shredded middle school uniform was left standing next to a crumpled water tank, furiously bowing to the pro heroes.

 

"I-I'm so sorry!" Izuku wailed, tears streaming down his face. "I know I don't have a license! Please don't arrest me! He had Kacchan, and I just moved on my own, and I'm so sorry about the street lamp, I'll pay for it out of my allowance!"

 

Death Arms’ jaw was practically on the floor. Kamui Woods was rubbing his eyes beneath his wooden mask.

 

Bakugo sat on the concrete, coughing up the last remnants of the sludge, staring at Izuku with a mixture of absolute fury and undeniable awe.

 

In the crowd, Toshinori Yagi felt tears prick the corners of his sunken blue eyes.

 

He had spent the last five years searching for a successor. He had looked at hundreds of the most promising young heroes, searching for someone with the heart, the bravery, and the potential to inherit One For All, to carry the burden of the Symbol of Peace.

 

He looked at Izuku Midoriya. He saw a boy who had jumped into the fire without a second thought, driven purely by the desire to save a life. He saw a boy whose raw, unpolished power already rivaled, if not exceeded, Toshinori’s own prime strength. He saw a gentle, humble soul wrapped in the terrifying form of an apex predator.

 

I don't need to give him my power, Toshinori realized, a profound sense of relief washing over his battered body. He doesn't need it. The world doesn't need a new Symbol of Peace from me.

 

It already has one.

 

 

 

The aftermath was a blur of flashing lights, paramedics, and deeply confused reporters.

 

The pro heroes had initially intended to scold Izuku for his reckless, illegal quirk usage. Death Arms had marched up to him, opening his mouth to deliver a stern lecture, but when he looked down into Izuku’s wide, terrified, tear-filled green eyes, the words died in his throat. How do you yell at a kid who just single-handedly effortlessly defeated a villain that had incapacitated three pros, all while apologizing for breaking a streetlamp?

 

Instead, they awkwardly patted him on the back, offering a mix of hesitant praise and polite requests to please, for the love of God, never sneeze in the city limits again.

 

Bakugo was checked by the paramedics. He sat on the back of an ambulance, wrapped in a shock blanket. As Izuku walked past, escorted by a police officer to give a statement, Bakugo locked eyes with him.

 

"Deku," Bakugo growled, his voice hoarse.

 

Izuku flinched, expecting an explosion. "Y-Yes, Kacchan?"

 

Bakugo scowled, looking away, his pride warring with his reality. "...I didn't need your help, you giant lizard. I had it under control." He paused, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the blanket. "...But good chomp, nerd. Your bite force improved."

 

Izuku blinked, surprised, before a massive, beaming smile broke across his face. "Thanks, Kacchan!"

 

By the time the sun had fully set, casting long shadows across the city streets, Izuku was finally allowed to walk home. He was exhausted. Full shifts drained his caloric reserves significantly, and his stomach was rumbling violently enough to rattle a nearby trashcan.

 

"I need to eat at least three cast-iron skillets when I get home," Izuku muttered to himself, rubbing his stomach.

 

"I AM HERE!"

 

Izuku shrieked, jumping three feet in the air as a massive figure burst out of an alleyway, striking a dramatic pose under the streetlights.

 

"All Might?!" Izuku gasped. "W-What are you doing here?! Did you catch the rest of the villain? Wait, how did you find me? Can I get a second autograph?!"

 

All Might coughed, a sudden spray of blood erupting from his mouth as his massive, muscular form deflated in a plume of white steam, leaving a skeletal, sickly man standing in his place.

 

Izuku screamed again, his eyes bulging out of his head. "ALL MIGHT DEFLATED?! YOU'RE AN IMPOSTER! A FAKE! OR... OR DID YOU GET SICK?! I CAN BRING YOU TO A HOSPITAL! WAIT, I'LL TRANSFORM AND CARRY YOU—"

 

"No, no, young man, please, no shifting!" Toshinori frantically waved his hands, wiping the blood from his chin. "It's really me. I assure you. This... this is my true form."

 

Over the next ten minutes, sitting on a bench near a quiet park, Toshinori explained everything. He told Izuku about his injury, his dwindling time limit, and the heavy burden of being the Symbol of Peace. Izuku listened intently, his frantic energy giving way to deep, empathetic sorrow. He understood, more than most, the weight of carrying a terrifying power.

 

"I came to find you, Young Midoriya," Toshinori said softly, looking out at the stars. "Because what you did today... it moved me. You stepped in when the pros stood by. You risked yourself to save your friend. You have the heart of a true hero."

 

Izuku looked down at his lap, blushing furiously. "I... I just moved on my own. I couldn't just stand there. And... my Quirk is strong. I have to use it to help people. Otherwise, I'm just a monster."

 

Toshinori turned to the boy, his sunken blue eyes piercingly intense. "You are no monster, Young Midoriya. You are a protector. A guardian."

 

Toshinori placed a heavy, skeletal hand on Izuku’s shoulder.

 

"I have spent five years looking for a successor," Toshinori confessed. "Someone to inherit my mantle. I was prepared, today, to offer you that path. But after watching you..." Toshinori chuckled, shaking his head. "You don't need my help. You don't need anyone's help."

 

Izuku stared at him, wide-eyed. "W-What do you mean?"

 

Toshinori stood up, his gaze filled with absolute certainty. "Your power, even unrefined, is staggering. But your heart is what truly eclipses the rest. You already have everything you need to surpass me, Izuku Midoriya. You are going to U.A. High, aren't you?"

 

Izuku nodded slowly, a lump forming in his throat.

 

"Then I have no doubt," Toshinori smiled, a genuine, warm expression that didn't need muscles to be radiant. "The world has a new pillar waiting in the wings. Keep running forward, Young Midoriya. You are going to be the greatest hero this world has ever seen."

 

Izuku couldn't hold it back anymore. The stress of the day, the terror of the villain, and the overwhelming validation from his lifelong idol broke the dam.

 

He burst into tears. Not polite, human tears. T-Rex tears. Massive, comical waterfalls of saline that shot from his eyes like fire hoses, soaking the pavement and splashing Toshinori's shoes.

 

"T-Thank you!" Izuku wailed, bowing so hard his head cracked the concrete sidewalk. "I won't let you down! I promise!"

 

Toshinori patted the weeping boy’s back, smiling into the night.

 

The food chain had peaked. The apex predator had been crowned. And for the villains hiding in the shadows of Japan, their extinction event was only ten months away.

 

 

The ten months following the Sludge Villain incident passed not in a montage of grueling, desperate physical conditioning—as it might have for a normal boy trying to catch up—but in a meticulously calculated regimen of property destruction, dietary expansion, and academic hyper-focus.

 

Izuku Midoriya didn’t need to build muscle. His Quirk, Apex Tyrant, passively ensured his physical vessel was capable of housing the genetic blueprint of a prehistoric leviathan. His bones were already akin to carbon nanotubes; his tendons were like suspension bridge cables. His training, therefore, was entirely centered around control.

 

At the Dagobah Municipal Beach, Izuku had long since cleared the trash. By month four, the beach was pristine, a gleaming stretch of white sand and rolling waves. But Izuku still needed to eat scrap metal to maintain the durability of his armor plating. This led to an arrangement with the local Junkyard. Every Saturday, Izuku would walk in with his allowance, hand a confused foreman a few yen, and spend the afternoon in the back lot, partially shifting his jaw to munch on discarded engine blocks and rusted washing machines like they were giant, crunchy potato chips.

 

"More iron," Katsuki Bakugo had yelled at him one afternoon, having tracked Izuku to the junkyard. Bakugo had stood atop a crushed sedan, pointing accusingly at a pile of aluminum siding Izuku was chewing on. "Aluminum is too light! It’s soft! If you want your scales to withstand high-grade armor-piercing impacts, you need dense metals! Eat that Ford truck over there!"

 

"B-But Kacchan," Izuku had mumbled around a mouthful of a Toyota Prius door, "the truck is covered in rust. It gives me heartburn."

 

"DRINK SOME MILK AND GET OVER IT, DEKU!" Bakugo had roared, leaping off the sedan with a pop of explosions. "You think the Number One Hero complains about heartburn?! Eat the truck!"

 

Their rivalry had mutated into something entirely unique. Bakugo still yelled, still insulted him, and still demanded absolute perfection, but the malice was gone. It had been replaced by a fanatical, aggressive coaching methodology. Bakugo refused to let his only real rival slack off. If Bakugo was going to be the undisputed Number One Hero, he needed to beat Izuku at his absolute, terrifying best. Anything less would be an insult to Bakugo’s pride.

 

And so, Izuku ate the truck.

 

By the time the morning of the U.A. Entrance Exam finally arrived, Izuku was in a state of physical perfection. His human body remained lean, unassuming, and covered in a layer of soft baby fat on his cheeks, but beneath the surface lay a dormant cataclysm of kinetic energy.

 

He stood in the genkan of his apartment, nervously adjusting the straps of his yellow backpack. He wore his crisp, black middle school uniform, perfectly ironed by his mother.

 

"Izuku! Wait!"

 

Inko Midoriya rushed down the hallway, holding a small tupperware container. Tears were already welling in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

 

"Mom, please don't cry," Izuku said, offering a soft, nervous smile. "You're going to make me cry, and then I'll get dehydrated before the test."

 

"I just can't believe my little boy is taking the U.A. exam today," Inko sniffled, aggressively wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. "I'm so proud of you. I packed you a snack, just in case you get hungry during the practical."

 

Izuku took the container. It was surprisingly heavy. He popped the lid. Inside was a bed of white rice, topped with a perfectly cooked omelet, and on the side, three thick, industrial-grade steel bolts, seasoned with a dash of soy sauce and sesame seeds.

 

"Iron for your scales," Inko said with a watery smile. "Just like Katsuki suggested."

 

Izuku’s heart swelled. He closed the container and tucked it safely into his bag. "Thanks, Mom. I'll do my best."

 

"Don't push yourself too hard!" she called out as he opened the door. "And remember your spatial awareness! Don't step on anyone!"

 

"I won't! Bye, Mom!"

 

 

 

The towering, H-shaped glass structure of U.A. High School gleamed in the early morning sunlight. It was a fortress of academia, the breeding ground for the next generation of societal pillars. The pathway leading up to the main gates was swarming with hundreds of applicants, all buzzing with nervous energy, showing off minor displays of their Quirks, and chatting anxiously with their friends.

 

Izuku walked among them, his head on a swivel. His inner fanboy was completely short-circuiting.

 

Wow! That guy has a mutation that gives him multiple arms! Oh, and that girl over there is hovering! Anti-gravity? No, looks like localized wind manipulation! Amazing! I wonder what the physical toll on her inner ear is?

 

He was so caught up in his muttering, staring at a boy with a seemingly rock-hard head, that he completely failed to notice his own foot catching the edge of a raised paving stone.

 

Time seemed to slow down as Izuku tipped forward.

 

His mind instantly went into overdrive. I'm falling. If I brace myself with my normal human arms, I might scrape my palms. If I scrape my palms, it might distract me during the written exam. I should partial-shift to absorb the impact!

 

It was a terrible idea. If Izuku shifted his arms into their T-Rex state and caught himself on the pavement, the immense weight and density of his muscles would shatter the courtyard, creating a crater and likely injuring several students around him with the flying debris.

 

But before his panicked brain could trigger the shift, he felt a sudden weightlessness.

 

"Oops!"

 

Izuku blinked. He was suspended mid-air, floating an inch above the concrete.

 

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

 

Izuku scrambled his arms and legs in the air, righting himself as his feet touched the ground, the gravity returning to his body. He spun around, his face instantly erupting into a furious, tomato-red blush.

 

Standing behind him was a girl with short, bobbed brown hair, enormous, warm brown eyes, and permanent pink blush on her cheeks. She was smiling brightly, her fingers pressed together.

 

"I caught you with my Quirk!" she said, giggling softly. "I'm sorry I didn't ask first, but I figured it would be bad luck if you fell right before the exam, right?"

 

Izuku’s brain, which could process advanced algebraic physics and biological Quirk mechanics in milliseconds, completely shut down at the proximity of a cute girl.

 

"I-Uh-Ah-Um-Eh-Th-Thank you!" Izuku stuttered, bowing so rapidly he looked like a mechanical toy running out of battery. "I-I'm fine! T-Totally fine! Good luck to you! Thanks! Bye!"

 

He practically sprinted away, his face buried in his hands. I talked to a girl! Well, she talked to me, and I made weird noises, but it counts!

 

Ochaco Uraraka watched the green-haired boy scurry away, tilting her head with a fond, bemused smile. "He seems nice," she murmured to herself before heading inside.

 

 

 

The massive auditorium was packed. Row after row of applicants sat in stadium seating, facing a brightly lit stage where a massive screen displayed the U.A. logo.

 

Izuku sat perfectly straight, a fresh notebook open on his lap, three sharpened pencils lined up parallel to his desk edge. To his right, much to his horror, sat Katsuki Bakugo. Bakugo was leaning back in his chair, his feet kicked up onto the desk, looking supremely bored.

 

"Kacchan," Izuku whispered frantically. "Get your feet down! The instructors will see you!"

 

"Shut up, Deku," Bakugo grunted, closing his eyes. "I'm conserving mental energy. You should too, instead of vibrating like a cracked engine."

 

"WELCOME TO TODAY'S LIVE PERFORMANCE!"

 

The lights flashed, and Present Mic, the Voice Hero, practically materialized behind the podium. He leaned into the microphone, striking a dynamic pose. "EVERYBODY SAY 'HEY'!"

 

Absolute, dead silence filled the auditorium.

 

"WHAT A REFINED RESPONSE!" Present Mic recovered flawlessly. Izuku, meanwhile, was vibrating with sheer, unadulterated joy.

 

It's the Voice Hero, Present Mic! Izuku began muttering at a speed that defied human biology. I listen to his radio show every week! His Quirk, Voice, allows him to modulate the volume and pitch of his vocal cords, creating sonic blasts. I wonder if there's an upper decibel limit before he damages his own eardrums? Does he have specialized tympanic membranes?

 

"Shut up," Bakugo growled, swatting the back of Izuku’s head.

 

Present Mic began outlining the practical exam. He explained that they would be dropped into a mock cityscape and tasked with destroying three types of "Villain Bots," each worth a different amount of points: one, two, or three.

 

Suddenly, a tall, severe-looking boy with blue hair and glasses stood up from the front row, his arm slicing through the air like a robotic metronome.

 

"Excuse me, sir! I have a question!" the boy boomed, his voice echoing through the silent hall.

 

"Hit me, listener!" Present Mic pointed at him.

 

"On the printout, there are four types of villains, not three!" The boy adjusted his glasses sternly. "If this is a misprint, U.A., the premier hero academy in Japan, should be ashamed of such a foolish mistake! We are here to receive top-tier guidance, not suffer through administrative errors!"

 

The boy then spun around, pointing directly at Izuku. "And you! In the back with the unkempt hair! You've been muttering this entire time! It's incredibly distracting! If you're not going to take this seriously, then leave immediately!"

 

Izuku froze. Hundreds of pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. His face drained of all color, the anxiety spiking in his chest. He hated being the center of attention. He hated being yelled at in public.

 

His human brain panicked.

 

His reptilian brain, however, felt threatened.

 

Deep within Izuku’s chest, completely involuntary, a sub-vocal rumble vibrated through his vocal cords. It wasn't loud. It wasn't a roar. It was a frequency—an infrasonic hum, sitting at about 14 Hertz, just below the threshold of human hearing, but entirely perceptible to the human body.

 

The auditorium temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

 

The blue-haired boy, Tenya Iida, stopped mid-point. A sudden, inexplicable wave of cold sweat broke out across the back of his neck. His stomach plummeted, and a primal, terrifying instinct screamed at him to sit down and stop drawing attention to himself.

 

Without saying another word, Iida slowly, stiffly, sat back down in his chair, his eyes wide, completely unaware of why he felt like he had just narrowly avoided being eaten.

 

Bakugo, who was intimately familiar with that specific hum, rolled his eyes and kicked Izuku under the desk. "Control your aura, idiot. You're giving the extras heart palpitations."

 

Izuku clamped a hand over his mouth, suppressing the hum, his face burning red again. "S-Sorry! Sorry!"

 

Present Mic, who had felt a bizarre shiver run down his spine, cleared his throat. "O-Okay! Good question, listener number 7111! The fourth villain type is the Zero Pointer! It's an arena trap! It's not worth any points, so if you see it, just run away! Now, get ready for the written exam!"

 

 

 

The written test was, frankly, an insult to Izuku’s intelligence.

 

U.A. was famous for its rigorous academic standards, and the entrance exam covered advanced mathematics, history, physics, and legal theory regarding Quirk usage. But Izuku had spent the last ten years obsessively analyzing the physics of superpowers. Calculating the parabolic trajectory of a two-ton robot falling at terminal velocity was child's play compared to figuring out how Mount Lady maintained her bone density without snapping her femurs.

 

Izuku finished the three-hour exam in forty-five minutes.

 

He spent the rest of the time checking his work, doodling a very detailed sketch of Present Mic’s support gear, and trying to mentally calibrate how much jaw pressure he would need to crunch a robot without completely vaporizing the internal scoring chips.

 

When the bell finally rang, Izuku handed his paper in with a polite bow. As he walked toward the locker rooms to change into his athletic gear, he felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. The anxiety was gone.

 

He was standing on the threshold of his dream. The written test was out of the way. Now, all he had to do was what he did best: smash things.

 

 

 

Battle Center B was a marvel of modern engineering. It was a fully functional, to-scale replica of a major metropolitan district, complete with skyscrapers, alleyways, functioning traffic lights, and parked cars. Massive, impenetrable walls surrounded the arena, reaching hundreds of feet into the sky.

 

Dozens of students milled about in front of the colossal metal gates, stretching, hyping themselves up, and eyeing the competition.

 

Izuku stood near the back of the crowd, wearing a simple green tracksuit. He was doing deep, rhythmic breathing exercises, visualizing the core of heat in his chest.

 

"Hey, it's that guy," someone muttered nearby.

 

Izuku opened one eye to see the blue-haired boy with glasses, Iida, marching toward him.

 

Oh no, he's coming to scold me again, Izuku thought, shrinking back slightly.

 

"You!" Iida chopped the air with his hand. "I apologize for my outburst in the auditorium! However, I must ascertain your intentions! Are you doing breathing exercises to focus, or are you trying to intimidate the other participants again with that... whatever that feeling was?"

 

Izuku waved his hands frantically. "N-No! Not at all! I was just getting ready! I swear! I just get nervous!"

 

"I see!" Iida adjusted his glasses. "I am Tenya Iida! I look forward to competing with you, in a fair and honorable manner!" He bowed sharply and marched away.

 

Izuku let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He looked around and spotted the nice girl from earlier, Uraraka, standing a few yards away, looking incredibly nervous. She was slapping her cheeks lightly, muttering to herself.

 

I should go say thank you again, Izuku thought, taking a step forward. She really helped me out. Maybe a little encouragement would help her relax...

 

"AND START!"

 

Present Mic’s voice boomed from massive speakers mounted on the arena walls.

 

The entire crowd flinched, looking up at the speakers in confusion. The massive metal gates slowly began to groan open.

 

"WHAT'S THE MATTER?!" Present Mic screamed. "THERE ARE NO COUNTDOWNS IN REAL BATTLES! RUN, RUN, RUN! THE EXAM HAS ALREADY STARTED!"

 

Panic erupted. The applicants surged forward, bottlenecking at the gates as they trampled each other in a desperate bid to get inside the city first.

 

Izuku didn't move.

 

He stood perfectly still as the wave of teenagers washed past him. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the fresh morning air. He closed his eyes.

 

I need points.

 

I need to clear the area fast.

 

I need them to see me.

 

"Don't hold back," Izuku whispered to himself.

 

He reached into his core and turned the dial to maximum.

 

To the students who had just rushed through the gates, the first indication that something was wrong was the sound. It started as a low, guttural vibration that seemed to emanate from the very earth beneath their feet. The asphalt began to vibrate, small pebbles bouncing into the air.

 

Then came the heat. A wave of stifling, suffocating warmth washed over the crowd, carrying the scent of ozone, ancient earth, and iron.

 

Iida, who had taken an early lead thanks to the engines in his calves, skidded to a halt and looked over his shoulder. Uraraka stopped, her eyes going wide.

 

Standing just outside the gates, expanding at a horrifying, explosive rate, was a mountain of emerald green.

 

The transformation was violent, awe-inspiring, and absolutely terrifying. Izuku’s tracksuit shredded into microscopic fibers as his body multiplied in mass. Thick, armored plates of bone and keratin erupted along a massive spine that arched into the sky. Muscular, pillar-like legs ending in three razor-sharp talons crushed the concrete beneath them. A tail the size of a city bus slammed into the ground, cracking the street in half.

 

The students outside the gates scrambled out of the way, screaming in panic as the gargantuan shadow fell over them.

 

Izuku’s head, a massive, armored skull capable of swallowing a car whole, lowered to the level of the gates. His nictitating membranes—a secondary, translucent eyelid—flicked across his molten-gold eyes, protecting them from the dust.

 

He opened his jaws.

 

The roar he unleashed wasn't just a sound; it was an artillery strike.

 

A concussive shockwave of sonic force blasted through the open gates, tearing down the main avenue of the mock city. The sheer decibel level shattered every single pane of glass on the street. The wind pressure from his lungs caught a half-dozen One-Pointer robots that had been rolling toward the entrance, lifting them off the ground and hurling them backward into a building, crushing them instantly.

 

CRASH.

 

BEEP-BEEP-ERROR.

 

Izuku stepped through the gates. His massive frame barely fit, his shoulders scraping against the metal, tearing the heavy steel doors off their hinges with a casual shrug.

 

He was in. The hunt had begun.

 

 

 

High above the arena, nestled in a darkened, soundproof observation room, the faculty of U.A. High sat in silence.

 

A massive wall of monitors displayed dozens of camera angles from the various battle centers. The heroes—Midnight, Snipe, Ectoplasm, Cementoss, and others—were taking notes, evaluating the students on their combat skills, situational awareness, and adaptability.

 

In the center of the room sat Nezu, the principal of U.A., a small, impeccably dressed creature that was a chimera of a mouse, dog, and bear. Beside him stood a skeletal Toshinori Yagi, and leaning against the wall in a yellow sleeping bag was Shota Aizawa, Eraserhead.

 

"Fascinating," Nezu murmured, sipping from a teacup. "We have quite a diverse crop of quirks this year. That boy with the explosion quirk in Center A is racking up points at a phenomenal rate."

 

"Indeed," Snipe adjusted his mask. "But look at the girl with the gravity quirk in Center B. She's utilizing the environment perfectly."

 

Suddenly, every single monitor displaying Battle Center B violently shook. Static buzzed across the screens. Several cameras placed near the entrance went completely black.

 

"What happened?!" Midnight gasped, sitting up in her chair. "Did a gas line explode?"

 

"Switching to aerial drones," Ectoplasm said, his fingers flying across a keyboard.

 

The main monitor flickered, then stabilized, showing a bird's-eye view of Battle Center B.

 

Silence descended upon the observation room. Absolute, paralyzing silence.

 

Stomping down the main avenue of the fake city was a sixty-foot-tall, heavily armored Tyrannosaurus Rex.

 

On the screen, three Two-Pointer robots turned a corner, their optical sensors locking onto the beast. They raised their mechanical arms, firing a volley of rubber bullets and capture nets.

 

The projectiles bounced off the beast’s emerald scales like raindrops off a titanium roof. The T-Rex didn't even flinch. It simply turned its massive head, opened its jaws, and bit the nearest Two-Pointer clean in half. Sparks and hydraulic fluid erupted from the machine’s severed chassis. The T-Rex swallowed the top half of the robot whole, the crunch echoing audibly through the drone’s microphone.

 

It then swung its massive tail, catching the remaining two robots and batting them through a four-story brick building. The building collapsed in a cloud of dust, burying the machines in thousands of tons of rubble.

 

The T-Rex tilted its head back and let out a victorious, rumbling roar that rattled the teacup on Nezu’s desk.

 

"What... in the name of God... is that?" Snipe whispered, his voice trembling.

 

Nezu’s beady eyes were wide, a manic, delighted smile spreading across his snout. "That, gentlemen, is applicant number 7112. Izuku Midoriya. Quirk: Apex Tyrant. Transformation class."

 

"Transformation?!" Aizawa stepped out of his sleeping bag, his eyes locked on the screen. "You're telling me that walking extinction event is a fourteen-year-old boy?! He's causing millions of yen in property damage!"

 

"He's beautiful!" Midnight swooned, fanning herself. "So raw! So primal! The utter domination of the battlefield!"

 

"He's certainly efficient," Cementoss noted, pointing to a smaller screen. "Look at the point counter."

 

The digital scoreboard, which tracked the applicants' points in real-time, was spinning so fast it looked like a slot machine.

 

Applicant 7112: 45 pts... 72 pts... 110 pts... 185 pts...

 

Izuku wasn't just destroying robots. He was annihilating them in wholesale quantities. He walked through the city like a god among insects. A swarm of Three-Pointers tried to ambush him from an alleyway. Izuku simply stepped on them, his massive, three-toed foot crushing their reinforced armor into pancakes. A group of One-Pointers tried to snipe him from a rooftop; Izuku let out a localized sonic roar, the shockwave shattering the roof and sending the robots plummeting to their destruction.

 

"He's clearing the entire sector," Aizawa said, rubbing his temples, already feeling a migraine forming. "The other students in Center B can't even get close. They're terrified."

 

He was right. On the monitors, dozens of students were hiding in alleys, behind cars, or simply standing frozen in the streets, staring up at the titanic beast as it casually dismantled U.A.’s multi-million dollar robotics division.

 

Iida was pressed flat against a brick wall, his engines stalled, watching in horror as Izuku picked up a Three-Pointer in his jaws, shook it violently like a dog with a toy, and tossed the mangled remains over a skyscraper.

 

"This isn't an exam," Iida muttered, his glasses askew. "This is a natural disaster."

 

Toshinori Yagi stood in the back of the room, a massive, proud grin stretching across his skeletal face. Look at him go, Toshinori thought. He's not just showing off his power. He's making sure the other students are safe.

 

Toshinori had noticed what the others hadn't. Despite the sheer scale of his destruction, Izuku was incredibly precise. He only collapsed buildings that were completely empty of students. His tail swings always stopped just short of where an applicant was hiding. His roars were directed upward or away from the crowds to prevent hearing damage. He was a creature of absolute chaos, wielding his power with the scalpel-like precision of a master surgeon.

 

"His point total is currently sitting at seven hundred and forty," Nezu stated, his paw hovering over a large red button on his desk. "He has shattered the all-time record set by All Might himself. But... true heroism isn't just about crushing villains."

 

Nezu’s eyes gleamed. "Let's see how the Apex Predator handles a threat of his own size. Let's see his true heart."

 

Nezu slammed his paw down on the red button.

 

 

 

Down in Battle Center B, Izuku was having the time of his life.

 

Being in full-shift was usually a stressful, agonizing experience of trying not to break things. But here, in a fake city designed to be broken, surrounded by robots designed to be smashed, he was free. He could stretch his legs. He could let his instincts run wild.

 

He was currently chewing on the chassis of a Three-Pointer. Mmm, carbon steel, he thought, savoring the crunch. A bit heavy on the hydraulic fluid, but not bad.

 

Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet heaved violently.

 

Izuku stopped chewing. His internal seismometers, sensitive enough to detect the footsteps of a mouse from three blocks away, flared in alarm. This wasn't a student. This wasn't a normal robot.

 

Several blocks away, the center of the fake city exploded outward.

 

Massive, reinforced concrete panels were shoved aside as a colossal machine rose from the depths of the facility. It was gargantuan, towering over the skyscrapers, easily dwarfing even Izuku's sixty-foot frame. It rolled forward on massive tank treads, its cyclopean red eye glowing ominously.

 

It was the Zero Pointer.

 

"What the hell is that?!" a student screamed from down the street.

 

"Run! It's the arena trap! Present Mic said to run!"

 

Panic, genuine and raw, swept through the applicants. They abandoned their fights, turning and sprinting toward the exit gates. The Zero Pointer raised a massive mechanical arm and slammed it into a building. The structure crumbled instantly, sending a tidal wave of debris and a massive dust cloud sweeping down the avenue.

 

Izuku swallowed the Three-Pointer and turned to face the machine.

 

His reptilian brain sized up the threat. It was bigger than him. It was heavier than him.

 

Challenge accepted, his instincts hummed.

 

Izuku prepared to charge, the muscles in his legs coiling tightly, when a sound cut through the chaos. It was faint, almost completely drowned out by the grinding treads of the machine, but Izuku’s auditory senses caught it.

 

"Ow... my leg... help..."

 

Izuku whipped his massive head down. There, trapped under a large slab of concrete from the destroyed building, was the nice girl from the courtyard. Uraraka. She was pinned, unable to move, and the Zero Pointer was rolling directly toward her, completely oblivious to the ant in its path.

 

The other students were running away. No one was looking back.

 

Izuku’s human heart and reptilian instincts aligned perfectly in a single, unyielding directive: Protect the herd.

 

In the observation room, Aizawa leaned forward, his hand hovering over the abort switch. "The girl is trapped. The robot is too close. I'm shutting it down."

 

"Wait!" Toshinori barked, his voice filled with absolute conviction. "Watch him."

 

Aizawa looked at the screen.

 

Izuku didn't run. Running was for prey.

 

Izuku dug his massive talons into the asphalt, anchoring himself. The heat in his chest flared, a blinding, searing inferno of biological energy that flooded his muscles with adrenaline.

 

He let out a roar that eclipsed anything he had done thus far. It wasn't an attack roar; it was a challenge. A territorial scream that shook the very foundations of the arena. The shockwave visibly parted the dust cloud, revealing the gleaming emerald titan to the Zero Pointer.

 

Uraraka, terrified and in pain, looked up. Through her tears, she saw the massive beast standing between her and death. It didn't look like a monster anymore. It looked like a shield.

 

The Zero Pointer’s optical sensor locked onto the anomaly. It raised its colossal arm, winding up for a strike designed to flatten buildings.

 

Izuku moved.

 

He didn't just jump; he detonated.

 

The sheer kinetic force of his leap shattered a fifty-foot crater into the street, completely obliterating the underground plumbing and sending geysers of water shooting into the air. Izuku’s sixty-foot, multi-ton body launched upward like a green surface-to-air missile.

 

He cleared the robot's arm, soaring hundreds of feet into the air, completely defying the laws of mass and gravity. He hung in the sky for a fraction of a second, perfectly silhouetted against the morning sun.

 

Then, he came down.

 

Izuku didn't punch. He didn't use his tail. He used the most devastating, evolutionarily perfected weapon at his disposal.

 

He opened his jaws, his nictitating membranes flashing, and clamped his teeth directly onto the neck joint of the Zero Pointer’s massive head.

 

The impact was catastrophic.

 

CRUNCH.

 

Izuku’s jaws slammed shut with a bite force exceeding one hundred thousand pounds of pressure. The reinforced, military-grade titanium alloy of the robot’s neck yielded instantly. Izuku’s teeth sheared through thick cables, structural beams, and hydraulic lines like a hot knife through butter.

 

With a violent, savage twist of his massive neck muscles, Izuku ripped his head to the side.

 

The groan of tearing metal filled the arena.

 

Izuku effortlessly decapitated the Zero Pointer.

 

He tore the machine’s head completely off its chassis. The robot’s red eye flickered violently, sparking, before going dead. The massive, headless body of the machine sparked, shuddered, and then slowly toppled backward, crashing away from Uraraka and into the ruined cityscape with an earth-shattering boom.

 

Izuku landed heavily on the street, his talons gouging deep trenches into the asphalt to arrest his momentum. He stood victorious amidst the settling dust, the massive, severed head of the Zero Pointer still clamped firmly in his jaws.

 

The arena was completely silent, save for the crackle of electrical fires and the running water from the broken pipes.

 

Izuku gently placed the robot's head onto the ground. He turned, his heavy tail swaying, and walked over to where Uraraka was trapped.

 

The girl stared up at him, her heart pounding out of her chest.

 

Izuku lowered his massive snout, stopping mere inches from her face. His golden eyes, previously burning with fury, were now soft, filled with concern. Very delicately, using just the tip of one massive claw, he hooked the slab of concrete pinning her leg and effortlessly lifted it away, tossing it aside.

 

He then let out a soft, concerned whine, tilting his head.

 

"I... I'm okay," Uraraka whispered, completely awestruck. "Thank you."

 

"TIME'S UP!" Present Mic’s voice echoed across the arena, snapping everyone out of their stupor.

 

Izuku sighed—a massive gust of wind that blew Uraraka’s hair back. He closed his eyes, visualizing his human form.

 

With a massive hiss of steam, the titan melted away. The emerald scales dissolved, the bone structure collapsed, and within seconds, a very exhausted, very naked Izuku Midoriya was standing in the middle of the street, shivering slightly in the cool breeze.

 

"A-Ah!" Izuku shrieked, suddenly realizing his tracksuit had been completely destroyed during his shift. He frantically covered himself with his hands, his face burning brighter than a flare. "I'm sorry! My clothes ripped! Don't look! I'm sorry about the robot!"

 

Uraraka, despite her injured leg, burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. The terrifying apex predator was just a sweet, incredibly modest boy.

 

In the observation room, the faculty remained frozen.

 

Nezu looked at the scoreboard. The counter had finally stopped spinning.

 

Applicant 7112: 2,145 pts.

Rescue Points: 60 pts.

 

Aizawa slowly zipped his sleeping bag all the way up over his head. "I am going to need a raise," his muffled voice came from the yellow cocoon. "A massive, astronomical raise."

 

All Might simply threw his head back and laughed, a booming, triumphant sound that echoed through the room.

 

The Jurassic Entrance Exam was over. And U.A. High School would never be the same.

 

 

 

One week later.

 

Izuku was sitting at his desk, furiously doing dumbbell curls with a pair of 50-pound weights while reading a textbook on Quirk law. He was trying to distract himself. The mail had been delivered an hour ago.

 

"Izuku!" Inko screamed, sliding down the hallway in her socks and violently crashing into his doorframe. She held a thick, stamped envelope in her trembling hands. "It's here! From U.A.!"

 

Izuku dropped the weights. They hit the floor with a heavy thud, cracking a floorboard. "Mom! My floor!"

 

"Forget the floor! Open it!"

 

They moved to the living room. Izuku sat on the couch, holding the envelope as if it were a live bomb. He carefully tore the seal and tipped it upside down.

 

A small metal disc fell onto the coffee table.

 

Instantly, a holographic projection sprang to life. Izuku gasped, his eyes going wide.

 

"I AM HERE AS A PROJECTION!"

 

All Might’s face filled the screen, wearing a sharp yellow suit.

 

"A-All Might?!" Izuku yelled. "Is he working at U.A.?!"

 

"Indeed I am, Young Midoriya!" the hologram boomed, as if answering his thought. "I will be teaching at U.A. High this year! And I must say, it is largely because of you!"

 

The hologram shifted, showing a clip of Izuku in his T-Rex form, biting the head off the Zero Pointer.

 

"You passed the written exam with flying colors! But that was to be expected! On the practical exam, you displayed a level of raw power and situational awareness that was nothing short of miraculous. You destroyed so many Villain Bots, we had to recalibrate the scoring system!"

 

The screen flashed to a scoreboard.

 

Izuku Midoriya: 2,145 Villain Points.

 

"But wait, there's more!" All Might grinned, holding up a finger. "An exam at U.A. isn't just about crushing villains! It's about saving lives!"

 

The footage shifted to show Izuku standing over Uraraka, gently lifting the concrete off her leg.

 

"Applicant Ochaco Uraraka came to us after the exam, offering to share her points with you for saving her life! But she didn't need to! Because your actions earned you... 60 Rescue Points!"

 

Total Score: 2,205 Points.

 

"You didn't just break the record, Young Midoriya," All Might’s voice softened, filled with genuine emotion. "You shattered it. You proved that beneath the terrifying power you wield, beats the heart of a true, compassionate hero."

 

All Might extended a hand toward the camera.

 

"Come, Izuku Midoriya. This is your hero academia."

 

The hologram clicked off.

 

Izuku sat in silence for a long moment, staring at the empty space above the metal disc. Then, very slowly, he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands, and began to cry.

 

Inko wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug, crying right alongside him.

 

He had done it. He was going to U.A. He was going to be a hero.

 

Somewhere in the city, an underground villain syndicate was planning a heist. They didn't know it yet, but their days, and the days of every villain in Japan, were numbered. The King of the Monsters had just enrolled in high school.

 

The digital numbers of the alarm clock flipped to 6:00 AM, and a cheerful, high-pitched beep began to echo through the darkened bedroom.

 

A hand emerged from beneath a thick, All Might-themed comforter. It wasn’t a normal hand. It was a massive, emerald-green, scaly appendage ending in three thick, obsidian talons. The hand fumbled blindly toward the nightstand, seeking the source of the noise.

 

Crunch.

 

The beeping stopped abruptly, replaced by the sound of grinding plastic and snapping circuit boards.

 

Beneath the covers, a muffled, fourteen-year-old voice groaned. "Not again..."

 

Izuku Midoriya threw the blanket off and sat up, his green curls messy and sticking up in every direction. He looked down at his right arm. It was currently the size of a tree trunk, covered in impenetrable reptilian hide, and his massive claws were currently pinching the completely pulverized remains of his fifth alarm clock this month.

 

"Control, Izuku. Deep breaths," he muttered to himself.

 

He closed his eyes, focusing on the core of heat in his chest, and exhaled slowly. With a soft hiss of steam that smelled faintly of ozone, the massive, monstrous arm shrank, the scales melting into his skin until a perfectly normal, somewhat slender human arm remained.

 

Izuku sighed, carefully sweeping the crushed plastic of the alarm clock into a nearby wastebasket. Sleep-shifting was a hazard of his biology. When he entered deep REM sleep, his conscious control over his immense Quirk factor sometimes slipped, leading to his body attempting to revert to its "default" state—which, according to his DNA, was a sixty-foot prehistoric apex predator. Thankfully, his bedroom was reinforced, and his mother had learned not to come in without knocking loudly first.

 

Today was the day. The first day of high school. The first day at U.A. High School.

 

A thrill of electric anticipation shot down Izuku's spine. He hurried to the bathroom, brushing his teeth—being careful not to accidentally bite the head off his toothbrush, a mistake he had made too many times—and splashing cold water on his face.

 

He walked into the kitchen, already dressed in his crisp, gray U.A. uniform with its gold buttons and red tie. He felt a little stiff in it; his muscles were incredibly dense, and restrictive clothing always made him feel slightly claustrophobic.

 

"Good morning, Izuku!" Inko Midoriya chirped from the stove. She turned, carrying a platter that would have easily fed a family of four. "I made your favorite! And I made sure to fortify it!"

 

"Thanks, Mom!" Izuku beamed, sitting down at the table.

 

Breakfast was a mountain of rice, grilled salmon, miso soup, and a side dish of thick, iron shavings mixed with calcium powder and a dash of soy sauce. Izuku ate with terrifying speed, his specialized digestive system burning through calories at an astronomical rate. He scooped a spoonful of the iron shavings into his mouth, chewing them with a loud, metallic crunching sound.

 

"Your uniform looks so handsome," Inko said, pressing a hand to her cheek, her eyes already welling with tears. "My little boy, a high schooler. A U.A. student."

 

"Mom, please, if you cry, I'll cry, and if I cry, my tear ducts might accidentally hyper-pressurize and break the kitchen window again," Izuku warned gently, swallowing a piece of salmon.

 

Inko sniffled, aggressively dabbing her eyes with a napkin. "Right, right. Spatial awareness. Just... have a wonderful day, sweetie. And try not to terrify your teachers too much."

 

"I'll do my best," Izuku promised, grabbing his bright yellow backpack.

 

The morning commute was relatively peaceful, though Izuku spent the entire train ride doing deep breathing exercises. He was a bundle of nervous energy. Ever since the entrance exam, his name had been floating around the hero forums. U.A. tried to keep applicant scores confidential, but the sheer scale of his destruction in Battle Center B—specifically, a sixty-foot T-Rex biting the head off a Zero Pointer—was impossible to hide from the students who had witnessed it.

 

He stepped off the train in Musutafu, joining the flow of students heading toward the massive, imposing campus of U.A. High. As he walked through the front gates, he felt the stares. Several first-year students pointed at him, whispering frantically to their friends.

 

"Is that him?"

"The green hair. Yeah, that's him. I saw him at Center B."

"He looks so... small."

"Dude, he's a monster. I literally wet my pants when he roared. It was like Godzilla had a baby with an earthquake."

 

Izuku hunched his shoulders, pulling his backpack straps tighter. He hated the attention. He wasn't a monster; he just had a very loud, very large Quirk.

 

He navigated the labyrinthine halls of the school, following the map on his phone, until he stood before a door that was quite literally massive. It was easily fifteen feet tall, with "1-A" painted in huge red letters across the wood.

 

Accessibility accommodations, Izuku realized, analyzing the door. For students with gigantification or large mutant Quirks. It makes sense, but it's still intimidating.

 

He reached out a trembling hand and grasped the oversized handle. He could already hear raised voices inside.

 

"Take your feet off of that desk immediately!" a stern, booming voice demanded.

 

"Huh?! What's your problem, four-eyes?!" another, far more aggressive voice snapped back.

 

Izuku pushed the door open.

 

Inside the bright, spacious classroom, a blue-haired boy with glasses—Tenya Iida, the boy from the exam—was violently chopping his hand in the air at Katsuki Bakugo, who was slouching in his chair with his feet planted firmly on his desk.

 

"It is an insult to the great heroes who sat at these desks before us!" Iida declared. "Are you not ashamed of such disrespect?"

 

"I'm not ashamed of anything, you extra!" Bakugo sneered, sparks popping in his palms. "What middle school did you go to anyway?! I'll crush you!"

 

"C-Crush me?!" Iida gasped, clutching his chest. "I am from the Somei Private Academy! My name is Tenya Iida!"

 

"Somei? So you're an elite, huh?" Bakugo grinned fiercely. "I'm gonna have fun blowing you to pieces."

 

"You're threatening to blow me to pieces on the first day?! What is wrong with you?!"

 

Izuku stood in the doorway, a nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead. Kacchan is already making friends, he thought wryly.

 

The squeak of Izuku's shoe on the polished floor was barely audible, but Bakugo's head snapped toward the door.

 

"Oh, it's you," Bakugo grunted, pulling his feet off the desk and sitting up slightly. "Bout time you showed up, Deku. Better not be slacking off."

 

Iida turned, and his eyes went wide. He immediately stiffened, marching over to Izuku with robotic precision.

 

As Iida approached, the rest of the class turned to look at the doorway. A hush fell over the room. Several students who had been in Battle Center B instantly recognized the messy green hair and the freckles.

 

"It's him," a boy with bright red hair, Eijiro Kirishima, whispered. "The dinosaur."

"He looks like he wouldn't hurt a fly," a girl with pink skin, Mina Ashido, muttered. "Are you sure that's the guy who ate the Zero Pointer?"

"I saw it with my own eyes, ribbit," Tsuyu Asui said blankly.

 

Iida stopped inches from Izuku and bowed a perfect ninety degrees.

 

"Good morning! I am Tenya Iida from the Somei Private Academy!" Iida announced. "I must apologize! During the entrance exam, I misjudged you entirely! I thought your muttering was a distraction, but you were actually analyzing the entire battlefield! And then, to risk your own life to save a fellow applicant... you realized the true nature of the practical exam while the rest of us ran away! I concede! You are clearly a superior applicant!"

 

"S-Superior?!" Izuku panicked, waving his hands frantically. "N-No, Iida-kun! I didn't figure anything out! I just... saw someone in trouble and moved on my own! Please don't bow to me!"

 

His anxiety was spiking. And when Izuku’s anxiety spiked, his Quirk tried to establish dominance to protect him.

 

With a soft rip, the seam at the back of Izuku’s uniform pants split open. A thick, dark green reptilian tail, covered in heavy armored scales, popped out, thumping nervously against the floor. Simultaneously, patches of emerald scales flared up along the sides of his neck, and the pupils of his eyes contracted into sharp, golden, predatory slits.

 

A girl in the front row shrieked softly. A boy with a tail of his own, Mashirao Ojiro, stared at Izuku’s massive, spiked tail in awe.

 

"Ah! Oh no! I'm sorry!" Izuku squeaked.

 

He closed his eyes and concentrated hard. The scales on his neck melted away, his eyes returned to their normal, round shape, and his massive tail shrank, retracting back into his body until it was gone, leaving only a tear in his pants.

 

"I-I have trouble controlling passive shifts when I get nervous," Izuku stuttered, his face burning a brilliant shade of crimson. "Please excuse me!"

 

"Fascinating!" Iida adjusted his glasses, completely unbothered by the display. "A localized, involuntary manifestation of a mutant-class Quirk tied to your emotional state! Truly, the biology of Quirks is a marvel!"

 

"Oh! It's you! The nice boy from the exam!"

 

Izuku turned to see Ochaco Uraraka standing in the hallway behind him. She beamed, stepping into the classroom. "I was hoping we'd be in the same class! I really wanted to thank you properly for saving me! You were so amazing! Like... ROAR! And then CRUNCH! And the robot was just gone!" She mimed biting something huge.

 

"I-It was nothing!" Izuku stuttered, his internal fanboy brain completely short-circuiting at the proximity of a cute girl who was actively praising him. "I just... you know... used my teeth! B-But your Quirk is amazing, Uraraka-san! Zero Gravity is an incredibly versatile emitter-type! The tactical applications for rescue and combat mobility are off the charts, assuming you can manage the nausea threshold from disrupting your inner ear equilibrium!"

 

Uraraka blinked, entirely overwhelmed by the sudden barrage of analysis. "Uh... yeah! Nausea is definitely a thing!"

 

The rest of the class watched the exchange in stunned silence. This was the monster? This stuttering, blushing, incredibly polite nerd was the walking extinction event they had heard about? The contrast was so sharp it gave them whiplash.

 

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

 

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

 

Izuku, Uraraka, and Iida looked down. Lying on the floor in the hallway, zipped up in a bright yellow sleeping bag, was a man who looked like he hadn't slept since the previous decade. He had long, messy black hair, heavy bags under his bloodshot eyes, and a gray scarf wrapped around his neck.

 

He slurped loudly from a juice pouch, unzipped the sleeping bag, and stood up, stepping out of it like a butterfly emerging from a very depressing chrysalis.

 

"It took you all eight seconds to quiet down," the man drawled, his dead eyes sweeping over the classroom. "Time is a precious resource. You lot aren't very rational, are you?"

 

Izuku’s encyclopedic knowledge of heroes immediately recognized the man. It's the underground hero, Eraserhead! He's incredibly media-shy and specializes in Quirk nullification and capture tactics! Does this mean he's our homeroom teacher?!

 

"I am Shota Aizawa. I am your homeroom teacher," the man said, confirming Izuku's internal monologue.

 

A collective gasp echoed through the room. A pro hero as their teacher?

 

Aizawa reached into his sleeping bag and pulled out a blue and white U.A. physical education uniform. He tossed it onto the front desk. "Wear these. Then head out to the P.E. grounds. We're not wasting time with orientation."

 

 

 

The boys’ locker room was filled with the sounds of zippers, slamming metal doors, and nervous chatter.

 

Izuku pulled his torn uniform pants off, grimacing at the ruined fabric. Mom is going to kill me. That's the second pair this week.

 

"Hey, Midoriya, right?"

 

Izuku turned to see the red-haired boy, Eijiro Kirishima, grinning at him. Kirishima had his shirt off, revealing a surprisingly muscular physique for a fourteen-year-old.

 

"Y-Yes, that's me," Izuku replied politely.

 

"I'm Eijiro Kirishima! I just wanted to say, what you did at the entrance exam was so manly!" Kirishima struck a pose, flexing his arms. "Biting the head off that Zero Pointer? Crushing it to protect a girl? That was the manliest thing I've ever seen! My Quirk is Hardening, so I'm a bit jealous of your raw power, man!"

 

Izuku smiled shyly, pulling his blue P.E. shirt over his head. "T-Thank you, Kirishima-kun. Your Quirk sounds incredible! Hardening is a top-tier defensive and offensive ability. If you train the density, you could withstand almost any blunt force impact!"

 

"Right?! That's what I'm hoping for!" Kirishima beamed.

 

A few lockers down, a very short boy with purple balls on his head, Minoru Mineta, was staring intently at Izuku’s bare arms before Izuku pulled his shirt down.

 

"Hey, Midoriya," Mineta squeaked, looking mildly terrified. "I... I accidentally bumped into your arm a second ago while you were changing. It felt like I hit a solid block of titanium. Are you... are you made of metal?"

 

Izuku rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Ah... no. It's just my passive Quirk physiology. My body has to maintain a high bone and muscle density to support my full shifts. Even in my human form, my skin is... well, it's basically armor. I'm sorry if I hurt you!"

 

Mineta slowly backed away. "No... no, it's fine. I'm just going to... stand over here. Very far away from you."

 

Bakugo slammed his locker shut, drawing everyone's attention. He glared at Izuku. "Don't get a big head just because these extras are kissing your ass, Deku. The exam was child's play. We'll see how you handle real tests today."

 

Izuku met Bakugo’s crimson gaze and nodded firmly. "I won't hold back, Kacchan."

 

Bakugo scoffed, a feral grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, and marched out of the locker room.

 

 

 

The P.E. grounds were a sprawling expanse of dirt tracks, sandboxes, and throwing circles, surrounded by the towering walls of the U.A. campus. The morning sun beat down on the twenty students of Class 1-A as they gathered in a loose semicircle around Aizawa.

 

Aizawa stood with his hands in his pockets, looking as if he would rather be literally anywhere else.

 

"A Quirk Apprehension Test?" the class echoed in confusion.

 

"What about the entrance ceremony? The orientation?" Uraraka asked, stepping forward slightly.

 

"If you're going to become a hero, you don't have time for such leisurely events," Aizawa said flatly. "U.A.'s selling point is how unrestricted its school traditions are. That's also how the teachers run their classes. You kids have been doing these standard fitness tests since junior high, right? Pitching, long jump, 50-meter dash... but you were never allowed to use your Quirks."

 

Aizawa pulled a small smartphone-like device from his pocket. "The country is still using averages taken from results devoid of Quirks. It's not rational. The Ministry of Education is procrastinating."

 

Aizawa turned his gaze to the blonde explosive teen. "Bakugo, you finished first in the practical exam. In junior high, what was your best result for the softball throw?"

 

"Sixty-seven meters," Bakugo answered.

 

"Try doing it with your Quirk." Aizawa pointed to a white circle painted on the dirt. "Step into the ring. You can do whatever you want as long as you don't leave the circle. Hurry up. Give it all you've got."

 

Bakugo cracked his neck, a savage grin spreading across his face. He stepped into the circle, taking a standard baseball pitcher's stance. He wound up, his right arm pulling back, the muscles in his shoulder bunching tightly.

 

"DIE!" Bakugo roared.

 

With a deafening explosion that sent a shockwave of heat across the field, Bakugo launched the ball. A massive plume of smoke and fire trailed behind the sphere as it rocketed into the sky, disappearing into the distance.

 

The class watched in awe.

 

Aizawa held up his device. The screen beeped, displaying a number in large digital font: 705.2m.

 

"Know your own maximum first," Aizawa said lazily. "That is the most rational way to form the foundation of a hero."

 

"Seven hundred and five meters?! Are you kidding me?!" an electric-blonde boy, Denki Kaminari, yelled.

 

"That looks like so much fun!" Mina Ashido cheered, bouncing on her heels.

 

"We can use our Quirks as much as we want! As expected of the hero course!" a boy with black hair and weird elbows, Hanta Sero, laughed.

 

Izuku, however, wasn't smiling. He was staring at the circle, his mind running a million miles an hour.

 

If I use my full body, the sheer displacement of air will blow the other students away. If I use my tail to bat the ball, the shockwave might shatter the school's windows. I need to restrict my output. I need surgical application of force.

 

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. "Fun, you say?"

 

The atmosphere instantly plummeted. The excitement died in the students' throats as Aizawa glared at them, his aura suddenly radiating intense, predatory pressure.

 

"You have three years to become heroes. Will you have an attitude like that the whole time? 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 screamed.

 

"We're free to do what we want with the circumstances of our students," Aizawa smiled, a terrifying, manic grin that showed far too many teeth. "Welcome to U.A.'s hero course."

 

"That's totally unfair!" Uraraka protested. "It's the first day! And even if it wasn't, expelling someone on the spot is too harsh!"

 

"Natural disasters, massive accidents, and selfish villains," Aizawa listed off, his voice cold and uncompromising. "Calamities whose time or place cannot be predicted. Japan is covered with unfairness. Heroes are the ones who reverse those situations. If you wanted to go talk to your friends at a cafe after school, too bad. For the next three years, U.A. will inflict hardship after hardship upon you. Go Plus Ultra. Overcome it with all you've got."

 

The class fell silent. The reality of their situation sank in. This wasn't a game. This was a crucible.

 

Izuku clenched his fists. He wasn't afraid of expulsion. He knew his physical capabilities. He was afraid of holding back too much and failing, or holding back too little and breaking something. Or someone.

 

Aizawa’s eyes flicked specifically to Izuku. The underground hero had read Midoriya’s file extensively last night. He had watched the entrance exam footage fifty times. He knew that the stuttering, nervous boy standing in the back of the group possessed a Quirk so terrifyingly absolute that it defied the laws of biology.

 

Let's see what you can really do, Midoriya, Aizawa thought. Are you a blunt instrument of destruction, or do you have the control required to be a pro?

 

"Event one," Aizawa announced. "The 50-meter dash."

 

 

 

The class lined up at the starting line of the dirt track in pairs. A small robot with a camera hovered at the finish line, ready to record their times.

 

First up was Iida and Tsuyu.

 

Iida dropped into a perfect sprinter's stance. The exhaust pipes on his calves flared to life, revving loudly. Tsuyu crouched on all fours like a frog.

 

Bang!

 

The starting gun fired. Iida shot forward in a blur of motion, kicking up a massive dust cloud. He crossed the finish line almost instantly.

 

3.04 seconds, the robot announced.

 

"Well, he's like a fish in water," Aizawa muttered, taking notes.

 

Next was Uraraka, who made her clothes and shoes weightless, floating across the track in 7.15 seconds. Then came a boy with a laser-shooting bellybutton, Yuga Aoyama, who propelled himself backward in 5.51 seconds.

 

Bakugo stepped up to the line, his palms crackling.

 

"Midoriya. You're with Bakugo," Aizawa called out.

 

Izuku swallowed hard, stepping up to the starting line beside his childhood rival.

 

"Don't hold back, Deku," Bakugo growled, his eyes fixed on the finish line. "I want to see how fast that giant body of yours can really move."

 

Izuku looked down the 50-meter track.

 

If I partial-shift my legs to their T-Rex state, the mass alone will weigh several tons. The kinetic force of pushing off the starting block won't propel me forward; it will just crater the ground beneath me and send a seismic shockwave through the dirt, tripping Kacchan and destroying the track.

 

Izuku did the math.

 

I need propulsion without ground contact. I need forward thrust. I have immense lung capacity and specialized vocal cords that can generate sonic shockwaves. If I direct the force backward...

 

Izuku stood completely upright, turning his back to the finish line.

 

The class murmured in confusion.

 

"Uh, Midoriya?" Kaminari scratched his head. "You're facing the wrong way, man."

 

Aizawa watched closely, his hand resting on his capture scarf. What is he doing?

 

Izuku didn't answer. He closed his eyes. He didn't shift his skin. He didn't grow scales. He focused entirely on his internal biology.

 

His lungs, dense and muscular, expanded rapidly, drawing in massive amounts of oxygen. His throat shifted internally, the vocal cords thickening and vibrating.

 

Bang!

 

The starting gun fired.

 

Bakugo threw his hands behind him, unleashing a continuous stream of massive explosions. "BLAST RUSH TURBO!" he screamed, rocketing down the track.

 

Izuku opened his mouth.

 

He didn't roar. A roar would be too wide, too destructive. Instead, he forced the sonic energy through a tightly restricted aperture in his throat, creating a highly focused, concentrated beam of concussive sound.

 

BOOM.

 

The sound was like a cannon firing at point-blank range.

 

A localized sonic shockwave erupted from Izuku's mouth, striking the empty air behind him. The sheer, absurd physical recoil of the sonic blast acted like a solid-fuel rocket booster.

 

Izuku’s human body was instantly violently violently forward, launched backward (or rather, forward down the track) at a speed that completely broke the sound barrier. A visible ring of condensed vapor—a sonic boom—shattered the air around him.

 

He moved so fast that the human eye couldn't track him. One second he was at the starting line, the next, the dirt track exploded upward in a fifty-foot trench behind his flight path, torn apart by the sheer aerodynamic drag of his body tearing through the air.

 

Izuku crossed the fifty meters while still mid-air, landing feet-first in the soft grass just past the finish line, skidding to a halt.

 

The hover-robot at the finish line spun wildly, its camera smoking slightly from the displaced air pressure.

 

0.5 seconds, the robotic voice glitched out.

 

Bakugo crossed the finish line a moment later at 4.13 seconds, tumbling into the dirt as the wind from Izuku's passage threw him off balance.

 

Absolute, pin-drop silence reigned over the P.E. grounds.

 

Kaminari’s jaw hit the floor. Kirishima rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Even the stoic, half-cold half-hot boy, Shoto Todoroki, widened his mismatched eyes, his breath hitching slightly.

 

Aizawa stood perfectly still, his eyes wide, his grip on his capture scarf completely slack.

 

He had just watched a fourteen-year-old boy propel his human body through the sound barrier by essentially burping really, really hard.

 

Physics, Aizawa thought numbly. This kid has completely localized and rejected the laws of physics.

 

Bakugo scrambled to his feet, coughing on the dust, and pointed an accusing, trembling finger at Izuku. "YOU CHEATER! YOU DIDN'T EVEN RUN! YOU SHOT YOURSELF LIKE A CANNONBALL!"

 

"I-I didn't break the rules!" Izuku panicked, waving his hands defensively, his face red. "The test is to get across the line! Propulsion is valid! Uraraka-san used gravity, and Iida-kun used engines!"

 

"You literally broke the sound barrier with your mouth!" Bakugo screamed.

 

Aizawa slowly raised his device, logging the time. "0.5 seconds. Valid. Next."

 

The sheer deadpan delivery of Aizawa's validation sent a shiver down the class's collective spine. They were dealing with a monster.

 

 

 

The rest of the early tests were a masterclass in Izuku trying, and failing, to pretend he was a normal human being.

 

Event two was grip strength.

 

Izuku stood with the mechanical hand dynamometer. Okay, just a gentle squeeze, he thought. Don't shift. Just use my passive human strength. I just need a good score, nothing crazy.

 

He squeezed.

 

The machine let out a pathetic squeak. The digital display flashed wildly before the entire device crumpled inward, the thick metal casing folding like aluminum foil, the internal springs shooting out the sides. It dissolved into metal dust in his hand.

 

Izuku stared at the destroyed machine in horror.

 

A boy with multiple arms, Mezo Shoji, who had just scored an impressive 540 kilograms, looked over. He stared at the pulverized metal dust leaking from Izuku’s fist.

 

"I... I broke it," Izuku whispered, tears of anxiety welling in his eyes. "Mr. Aizawa, I'm so sorry, I'll buy the school a new one!"

 

Aizawa stared at the dust. The dynamometer maxed out at 100,000 kilograms of pressure before structural failure.

 

"It's fine," Aizawa said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "Log it as unmeasurable. Next."

 

Event three was the standing long jump.

 

Izuku didn't use a sonic blast this time. He just bent his knees and jumped using his passive human muscle density. He cleared the sandbox entirely, sailing through the air in a perfect arc, and landed over the fence in the adjacent courtyard, crashing into a row of hedges.

 

Unmeasurable.

 

Event four was repeated side steps.

 

Izuku actually struggled with this one. His body, designed to support a sixty-foot T-Rex, was built for straight-line speed and overwhelming forward momentum, not rapid lateral agility in a human frame. Mineta easily beat him by bouncing between his sticky purple spheres.

 

Izuku sighed in relief. Finally, a test where he didn't accidentally vaporize anything.

 

 

 

Finally, it was time for Event Five: the softball throw.

 

The class gathered back around the painted white circle. So far, the results were staggering. But everyone was waiting for one thing. They wanted to see what the green-haired titan would do with a solid projectile.

 

Uraraka stepped up first. She touched the ball, removing its gravity entirely, and tossed it into the air. It floated upward, higher and higher, until it disappeared into the blue sky.

 

Aizawa held up his device. The screen read: ∞ (Infinity).

 

"Infinity?!" the class cheered. "That's amazing!"

 

Izuku smiled, clapping for her. Her Quirk is so perfectly suited for this. Pure utility.

 

"Midoriya," Aizawa called out. "You're up."

 

The cheering stopped instantly. The class parted like the Red Sea, giving Izuku a wide berth as he walked toward the circle.

 

Izuku took the baseball from Aizawa. It felt small and light in his hand, like a pebble.

 

He stepped into the circle.

 

Okay, Izuku thought, his mind locking into focus. I can't just throw it normally. My passive human strength is high, but the air resistance will catch the ball. To get a truly massive score, I need extreme kinetic output. I need to shift. But a full shift is too big. The circle is only a few feet wide. If I full-shift, I'll step out of bounds instantly.

 

He looked at his right arm.

 

A localized partial shift. Maximum muscle density. I'll transform my arm into its full adult T-Rex state, stabilize my core by anchoring my feet, and throw.

 

Izuku widened his stance. He took a deep breath, drawing the heat from his chest and pushing it aggressively into his right shoulder.

 

"Wait."

 

Izuku blinked. He tried to push the energy down his arm, but nothing happened. The heat hit a wall. His biology refused to respond. The connection to his Quirk factor was suddenly severed, like a cord being unplugged from a wall.

 

He gasped, feeling incredibly light and vulnerable. He looked up.

 

Aizawa was glaring at him. The hero’s long black hair was floating wildly around his head, defying gravity, and his eyes were glowing a brilliant, piercing red. The gray scarf around his neck hovered like a nest of vipers.

 

"I erased your Quirk," Aizawa said coldly.

 

The class gasped.

 

Izuku stared at him in awe. Erasure! He can temporarily nullify the Quirk factor of anyone he looks at! It's incredible! Wait... why did he erase mine?

 

"The entrance exam was not rational enough," Aizawa stepped closer, his voice harsh. "A kid like you, possessing a Quirk of apocalyptic proportions, allowed into a school full of fragile humans. It's a disaster waiting to happen."

 

Aizawa pointed at Izuku. "I watched the footage, Midoriya. You have incredible power. But your power is a sledgehammer. You break everything you touch. If you try to use that dinosaur form of yours here, you're going to destroy the field, endanger your classmates, and prove to me that you have absolutely no control."

 

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. "You can't be a hero if your only method of saving people is to level the city around them. If you can't control it, you are nothing but a liability."

 

Izuku stood in the circle, the baseball in his hand. He listened to Aizawa’s harsh words, but instead of feeling crushed, he felt a profound sense of understanding.

 

Aizawa was right. A hero who couldn't control their power was a villain by accident.

 

Aizawa blinked. His hair fell, and his eyes returned to their normal dark color. "I've returned your Quirk. Take your throw. Show me if you're a hero, or just a monster."

 

Izuku took a deep breath. The connection to his core reignited, the primal heat flooding back into his chest.

 

"Mr. Aizawa," Izuku said, his voice calm, polite, and entirely devoid of his usual stutter. "You're right. A full shift here would be reckless. That's why I wasn't going to do it."

 

Aizawa frowned. "Then what are you going to do?"

 

"I'm going to demonstrate control."

 

Izuku turned his attention back to the field. He dug his sneakers into the dirt, planting his feet firmly. He held the softball in his left hand and raised his right arm.

 

He didn't scream. He didn't roar. He just focused.

 

The transformation was silent but visually horrifying. Izuku’s right arm—from the shoulder down to the fingertips—violently expanded. His uniform sleeve instantly shredded into confetti. Thick, interlocking plates of dark emerald keratin erupted from his skin, forming an impenetrable armor. His muscles multiplied exponentially, swelling to grotesque, inhuman proportions until his arm was thicker than his entire torso. His fingers fused and elongated, ending in three massive, obsidian talons.

 

He had isolated the transformation entirely to his right arm, pushing it to the absolute biological limit of an adult Apex Tyrant.

 

The sheer weight of the arm caused Izuku to tilt slightly, but his passive human leg density held him firmly in place.

 

"A localized partial shift," Aizawa whispered, his eyes widening slightly. The sheer mental discipline required to isolate a mutation Quirk of that magnitude to a single limb without causing a full-body cascade... it's absurd.

 

Izuku tossed the softball into the air with his left hand.

 

As the ball fell, Izuku pulled his massive, reptilian right arm back. The muscles coiled tighter and tighter, generating kinetic energy that caused the air around his arm to visibly distort with heat.

 

One hundred percent output. Single limb.

 

"SMASH!"

 

Izuku threw his arm forward. His massive, scaled claws flicked the softball just as it reached eye level.

 

The impact did not sound like a baseball pitch. It sounded like an orbital strike.

 

A deafening CRACK ripped through the P.E. grounds, so loud that several students clamped their hands over their ears, screaming in pain. A visible shockwave of pure kinetic energy exploded outward from Izuku’s position, ripping the top layer of dirt off the field and blasting a gale-force wind that knocked Mineta, Kaminari, and Ashido entirely off their feet.

 

Aizawa dug his heels in, bringing his arms up to shield his face from the blinding dust storm.

 

High above the field, the sky was completely clear. But where the ball had traveled, the clouds had been violently split in half, leaving a perfectly straight, gaping hole in the atmosphere, trailing up into the stratosphere.

 

The softball wasn't just thrown; it was launched at escape velocity.

 

Izuku stood in the circle, his massive green arm steaming slightly. He let out a long breath, and with a wet hiss, the arm rapidly shrank, the scales retracting until his normal human arm returned. He rotated his shoulder, wincing slightly. Ouch. Focusing that much energy without the rest of the body to absorb the recoil bruised my rotator cuff.

 

He turned to Aizawa, offering a polite, slightly nervous smile.

 

"I didn't break the field, sir," Izuku said softly.

 

Aizawa stood frozen. He slowly lowered his arms, the dust settling around them. He looked from the perfectly intact white circle painted on the ground, to the boy standing inside it, and then down to the device in his hand.

 

The screen was beeping frantically. It wasn't displaying a number. It wasn't designed to measure objects that had successfully broken orbit and entered the vacuum of space.

 

The screen flashed: ERROR: TARGET LOST.

 

Then, it simply displayed: ∞ (Infinity).

 

Aizawa stared at the screen. He was a rational man. He built his entire career on logic, tactics, and exploiting the weaknesses of overly reliant Quirk users. He taught combat arts, stealth, and critical thinking.

 

He looked at Izuku Midoriya.

 

I cannot teach this kid a single damn thing, Aizawa realized, a profound sense of existential dread settling in his stomach. If I spar with him, he will accidentally kill me. If I teach him martial arts, he will punch a hole in the moon. He doesn't need a teacher. He needs a containment facility.

 

Aizawa slowly looked up, his dead eyes meeting Izuku’s hopeful green ones.

 

"Well?" Aizawa managed to croak out, fighting the urge to crawl back into his sleeping bag and retire. "It wasn't completely terrible."

 

The class erupted.

 

"INFINITY?!" Kaminari shrieked, pointing at the sky. "HE THREW IT INTO SPACE! HE LITERALLY THREW A BALL INTO SPACE!"

 

"That's a monster!" Mineta wept, hugging his knees on the ground. "We're going to school with a kaiju!"

 

"Manly! So incredibly manly!" Kirishima roared, crying tears of joy.

 

Todoroki stared at the sky, his calm facade entirely broken. If he hits me with that... my ice won't do anything. My fire won't do anything. I would be vaporized.

 

Bakugo, however, did not cheer. He did not cry.

 

Bakugo stared at Izuku, his eyes wide, his entire body trembling with a mixture of rage, awe, and an overwhelming, burning competitive fire.

 

"DEKU!"

 

Bakugo exploded forward, launching himself with his Quirk directly at Izuku. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?! YOU NEVER SHOWED ME THAT PARTIAL SHIFT IN MIDDLE SCHOOL! TELL ME HOW YOU DID IT!"

 

Before Izuku could react, Aizawa’s capture scarf whipped out, wrapping around Bakugo securely and halting him mid-air. Aizawa’s eyes flashed red again.

 

"Stand down, Bakugo," Aizawa warned, his voice tight. "Or I will expel you."

 

Bakugo thrashed against the bindings, glaring daggers at Izuku, but eventually relented, dropping to the dirt as the scarf unwound.

 

Aizawa sighed, turning his back to the class to hide the fact that he was currently questioning his entire career path. "We're moving on to the next tests. Hurry up."

 

Izuku walked out of the circle, returning to the group. Uraraka immediately bounced over to him, her eyes sparkling.

 

"Midoriya! That was incredible! You got infinity too! We're matching!" she cheered, holding up a hand for a high-five.

 

Izuku’s face instantly turned bright red. "M-Matching?! Ah! Y-Yes! High five!"

 

He reached out to slap her hand, but at the last second, remembered his passive density. He pulled his strength back so completely that their hands met with the force of a gentle breeze.

 

Iida marched over, adjusting his glasses. "A spectacular display of localized Quirk application, Midoriya! You truly possess the analytical mind of a hero!"

 

Izuku smiled, the anxiety of the morning finally beginning to wash away. He was here. He was at U.A. He had passed Aizawa's test, he hadn't destroyed the school, and he had friends who weren't just terrified of him.

 

The morning of Day One was over. The scales had been broken.

 

And as Izuku followed his classmates toward the next event, he couldn't help but feel a terrifying, wonderful excitement for whatever the afternoon would bring.