What if deku was the reincarnation of donkey kong

The dreams were always the same.

 

Izuku Midoriya did not dream of flying through the city like All Might. He did not dream of shooting lasers from his eyes, or commanding the elements, or basking in the roar of an adoring crowd.

 

Instead, whenever Izuku closed his eyes and sank into the deepest depths of REM sleep, he found himself surrounded by a canopy of endless, emerald green. He dreamt of a jungle so impossibly vast that the trees seemed to scrape the sky. He dreamt of the suffocating, humid air, the scent of crushed foliage and sweet, overripe fruit. He dreamt of rickety wooden minecarts trundling over endless abysses, of wooden barrels marked with strange white stars, and of a massive, mountain-sized hoard of golden bananas.

 

But most prominent of all was the feeling of power.

 

In these dreams, Izuku wasn't a scrawny, trembling middle schooler. He felt massive. He felt as though his chest was a barrel of solid iron, his arms thick as ancient tree trunks. He felt a phantom weight around his neck—something silky, flapping in the wind. A red tie.

 

And always, just before he woke, the rhythm would start.

 

Thump-thump-pa. Thump-thump-pa.

 

The hollow, resonant sound of leather stretched over wood. Bongos. Playing a frantic, tribal, blood-pumping beat that echoed in the marrow of his bones.

 

Izuku’s eyes snapped open.

 

He lay in bed, staring up at his ceiling, which was plastered with a mosaic of All Might posters. The Symbol of Peace grinned down at him from a hundred different angles. Izuku took a deep, shuddering breath, the phantom scent of the jungle fading into the familiar smell of laundry detergent and old paper that categorized his bedroom.

 

He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and glanced at his alarm clock. 6:00 AM.

 

As his feet hit the floor, a sharp crack echoed in the quiet room. Izuku winced, looking down. He had gripped the wooden edge of his bedframe a little too tightly while standing up. The cheap pine had splintered beneath his fingers, leaving four distinct, incredibly deep indentations.

 

"Not again," Izuku muttered to himself, carefully prying his fingers away from the wood.

 

He rubbed his right hand. To anyone looking at Izuku Midoriya, he appeared remarkably unremarkable. He was fourteen years old, short for his age, with a mop of unruly green hair and a face dusted with freckles. But his hands… his hands were strange. His fingers were slightly thicker than normal, the knuckles heavily calloused despite the fact that he didn't do manual labor.

 

It was one of the many bizarre, utterly useless anomalies of his body.

 

Izuku was officially categorized as "Quirkless." When he was four years old, an X-ray of his foot revealed two joints in his pinky toe—the universal, evolutionary signifier that a human being lacked the genetic mutation required for a superpower. The doctor had been blunt. Izuku’s mother, Inko, had cried. Izuku’s world had shattered.

 

But as the years passed, his body had developed… eccentricities. Things the doctors couldn't explain and ultimately brushed off as minor, non-heroic genetic drift.

 

His grip strength, for one, was ungodly. If he wasn't consciously holding back, he could crush a glass doorknob into powder. His center of gravity was incredibly low, and he had a subconscious habit of walking with his knees bent, almost hunched forward.

 

And then there was his diet.

 

Izuku padded out of his room and into the small kitchen of their apartment. His mother, Inko Midoriya, was already awake, humming softly as she fried eggs at the stove.

 

"Morning, Izuku!" she chirped, looking over her shoulder. "Did you sleep well?"

 

"Morning, Mom. Yeah, slept fine," Izuku replied, though his mind briefly flashed back to the phantom bongo drums. He walked past the stove, bypassing the eggs and rice entirely, and opened the pantry.

 

Sitting on the bottom shelf was a massive, industrial-sized cardboard box. It was a wholesale crate, the kind usually reserved for grocery store produce aisles. Izuku reached in and pulled out a massive bunch of bananas. There had to be at least eight of them attached to the stem.

 

Inko sighed fondly, turning down the heat on the stove. "You know, the grocer down the street asked if we were running a smoothie bar. I had to buy three of those crates yesterday."

 

"Sorry," Izuku mumbled, his cheeks flushing pink. "I just… I wake up so hungry. Nothing else really hits the spot."

 

"It's fine, sweetie. I'm just glad you're eating. Potassium is good for growing boys." Inko smiled, though a flicker of underlying worry briefly shadowed her eyes.

 

Izuku sat at the small dining table. Within exactly two minutes, he had peeled and consumed five bananas. He didn't even realize how fast he was eating. His metabolism was a roaring furnace, demanding constant fuel. He absentmindedly began tapping the peels on the table, his fingers moving in a rapid, complex sequence.

 

Tappa-tap-tap. Tappa-tap-tap. Boom-pa.

 

"Izuku, please don't drum on the table, you'll wake the neighbors below us," Inko gently chided.

 

Izuku froze, his hands hovering over the table. He hadn't even realized he was doing it. "Right. Sorry."

 

He quickly gathered the peels, tossed them in the compost, and grabbed his yellow backpack. "I'm going to head to school early, Mom! I want to review some notes before class."

 

"Have a good day, Izuku! Stay out of trouble!"

 

Izuku stepped out into the crisp morning air, his yellow backpack slung over his shoulder. As he walked toward Aldera Junior High, he pulled out his prized possession: Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 13. He began muttering to himself, analyzing the recent debut of the hero Mt. Lady, completely lost in his own world.

 

If her Quirk is Gigantification, how does her muscle density scale with the square-cube law? If she falls, the impact force on her knees must be tremendous. Does her costume have shock absorption?

 

He was so engrossed in his notebook that he didn't realize his posture had shifted again. Without thinking, his shoulders rolled forward, his arms hanging loosely by his sides, his steps becoming heavy and rhythmic.

 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

 

For a boy who wanted nothing more than to be a soaring, majestic hero like All Might, Izuku Midoriya often felt like he belonged in a cage at the zoo.

 

 

 

Aldera Junior High was a loud, chaotic place, a breeding ground for overconfident teenagers discovering the limits of their newly matured Quirks.

 

Izuku sat at his desk near the back of the classroom, his head down, scribbling furiously in his notebook. The classroom buzzed with idle chatter. The teacher hadn't arrived yet.

 

As Izuku wrote, his mind drifted back to the hero fight he had seen on his commute. Kamui Woods had been amazing, using his Lacquered Chain Prison. But Izuku’s focus began to slip. The pencil in his right hand felt flimsy, like a twig about to snap.

 

Without meaning to, his left hand dropped to his thigh. His fingers began to move.

 

Pata-pata-pat. Boom. Pata-pata-pat. Boom.

 

It was a quiet rhythm at first, but Izuku’s heavy, calloused hands made even a light tap echo in the hollow space beneath his desk. His foot began to tap in time with it. The beat was infectious, carrying a strange, swinging groove that felt older than the city itself.

 

The girl sitting in front of him turned around, raising an eyebrow. "Midoriya, can you stop that? It’s distracting."

 

Izuku snapped out of his trance, his face turning completely red. "A-Ah! Sorry! I didn't mean to!"

 

"What the hell is that racket?!" a loud, grating voice boomed from the front of the room.

 

Izuku’s blood ran cold. He shrank into his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible.

 

Katsuki Bakugo kicked his desk out of the way, sauntering down the aisle with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His ash-blonde hair spiked in every direction, mirroring his perpetually explosive temperament. Two of his lackeys followed closely behind, snickering.

 

Bakugo stopped in front of Izuku’s desk, glaring down at him with crimson eyes that held nothing but contempt.

 

"Drumming again, Deku?" Bakugo sneered, the nickname slipping off his tongue like venom. "What, you think you're some kind of musician now? Or is your ape brain just short-circuiting?"

 

Izuku swallowed hard, clutching his notebook to his chest. "K-Kacchan. I wasn't doing it on purpose. It’s just a habit."

 

"A habit," Bakugo mocked, leaning in close. Tiny sparks popped and fizzled from the palms of his hands, carrying the sharp scent of burnt sugar. "You're a Quirkless loser, Deku. You've got no power, no future, and you act like a freak mutant. Eating bananas all day, walking like a hunchback, beating your chest like a damn gorilla."

 

"I don't beat my chest!" Izuku protested weakly, though even he knew that wasn't entirely true. When he got startled or excited, his hands often flew to his sternum in an embarrassing, involuntary display.

 

"Shut up!" Bakugo slammed his hand onto Izuku’s desk. A small explosion detonated, singeing the wood and making Izuku flinch violently. "You're applying to U.A. High, aren't you?"

 

The classroom went dead silent. Everyone turned to look at them.

 

"U.A.?" one of Bakugo's cronies laughed. "The national school? Midoriya? Good luck!"

 

"They don't let Quirkless apes into U.A.," Bakugo growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "I'm the only one from this crappy middle school going to U.A. I'm going to be the only one to surpass All Might. So you better withdraw your application, Deku, or I'll turn you to ash."

 

Izuku’s heart hammered in his chest. Thump. Thump.

 

A strange, unfamiliar surge of heat bubbled in his stomach. It wasn't the usual fearful panic. It was anger. A raw, primal indignation. Why? he thought. Why does he get to decide my limits?

 

Beneath his desk, out of Bakugo’s sight, Izuku’s hands gripped the iron legs of his chair. He squeezed. The metal groaned softly, warping and bending under the pressure of his fingers like warm clay.

 

"I... I can still try," Izuku forced out, his voice shaking. "They got rid of that rule, Kacchan. There's no rule against Quirkless people taking the exam. I just want to try."

 

Before Izuku could react, Bakugo snatched the notebook out of his hands. Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 13.

 

"We're not done talking, Deku."

 

Bakugo placed the notebook between his palms. A massive BANG echoed through the room. The notebook was instantly charred black, smoking heavily. With a cruel smirk, Bakugo tossed the ruined book out the open third-story window.

 

Izuku gasped, half-standing, but froze.

 

"If you want to be a hero that badly, there might be another way," Bakugo said, turning his back on Izuku and walking toward the door. He paused, looking over his shoulder with a cold, dead-eyed stare. "Just pray you'll be born with a Quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of the building."

 

The cruelty of the words hit Izuku like a physical blow. The air rushed out of his lungs. He stood there, trembling, as Bakugo and his friends laughed their way out of the classroom.

 

Izuku looked down at the iron legs of his chair. They were completely crushed, flattened like ribbons. He slowly let go, his thick fingers aching.

 

Next life, Izuku thought, his eyes burning with unshed tears. If only you knew, Kacchan. If only I knew.

 

 

 

The afternoon sun cast long, orange shadows across the city as Izuku walked home.

 

He had retrieved his notebook from a koi pond outside the school. The fish had been nibbling at the soggy, burnt pages. It was a pathetic sight, and it perfectly mirrored how Izuku felt. He clutched the ruined book in his calloused hands, staring at the ground as he walked.

 

His route home took him under a wide, concrete overpass. It was dark and damp, the air thick with the smell of stagnant water and sewage. Normally, Izuku avoided this tunnel, but today, he was too depressed to care about taking the scenic route.

 

He dragged his feet, mimicking the heavy, lumbering gait he usually tried so hard to suppress.

 

"A Quirkless ape," Izuku muttered to himself, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "Maybe he's right. All I have is a weird grip and a monkey brain. I can't save anyone. I can't even stand up for myself."

 

He stopped in the middle of the tunnel, throwing his head back and letting out a frustrated groan. "Damn it! I just want to be a hero!"

 

A strange gurgling sound echoed from the darkness behind him.

 

Izuku froze. The sound was wet, slithering, like mud bubbling in a swamp. He slowly turned around.

 

Rising from the manhole cover in the center of the tunnel was a towering mass of dark green sludge. It shifted and coalesced, forming two massive, manic eyes and a jagged mouth filled with uneven, floating teeth. The stench of rotting garbage hit Izuku so hard he gagged.

 

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

 

Izuku’s instincts screamed at him to run. He spun on his heel and sprinted toward the light at the end of the tunnel, his heavy legs pumping against the pavement.

 

But he wasn't fast enough.

 

With a sickening splat, a massive tendril of sludge wrapped around Izuku’s waist, lifting him clean off his feet. Izuku yelled out, thrashing wildly, but the sludge was everywhere. It crawled up his chest, wrapping around his throat and surging over his mouth and nose.

 

"Don't fight it, kid," the villain chuckled, its slimy face appearing right in front of Izuku’s. "It’ll only hurt for about 45 seconds. I'm just hijacking your body. Thanks for the help. You're my hero."

 

I can't breathe! Izuku panicked, his hands flying to his face, trying to pry the sludge away. But his fingers slipped right through the liquid mass. It was like trying to grab water. The sludge forced its way down his throat, tasting like motor oil and raw sewage.

 

His vision began to darken around the edges. The world was spinning.

 

Am I going to die? Izuku thought, the sheer terror paralyzing him. Like this? In a sewer? Without ever doing anything?

 

Thump.

 

A sound echoed in the darkness of his fading consciousness.

 

Thump-thump-pa.

 

The bongo drums. They were louder this time. Not a distant echo, but a frantic, desperate rhythm directly behind his eyes.

 

Suddenly, Izuku’s right hand clamped down on the thickest part of the sludge wrapping around his neck. He didn't think about it; it was pure, animalistic survival instinct.

 

He didn't just grab the sludge. He squeezed.

 

Izuku Midoriya tapped into the ungodly, anomalous grip strength he possessed. His thick fingers dug into the liquid villain. To the villain's absolute shock, the boy's grip didn't pass through him. Izuku squeezed so hard that the sheer pneumatic pressure of his hand compressed the liquid into a solid, rubbery mass in his palm.

 

"What the—?!" the Sludge Villain shrieked in sudden, agonizing pain. "What are you doing?! Let go of me! You're crushing my fluid core!"

 

Izuku couldn't speak, but his eyes snapped open, wide and bloodshot. With a guttural, almost primate-like roar vibrating in his chest, Izuku ripped his hand to the side, physically tearing a chunk of the sludge away from his windpipe.

 

He took a desperate, ragged gasp of air.

 

"You little brat!" the villain roared, manifesting a giant fist of sludge and bringing it down hard on Izuku’s back.

 

The blow slammed Izuku into the concrete ground. The impact was brutal, scraping his elbows and knocking the newly found air from his lungs. The sludge surged over him again, angrier this time, completely enveloping him.

 

Izuku’s strength faded. The drums slowed down. He had surprised the villain, but he was still just a fourteen-year-old boy. He couldn't fight a monster.

 

His eyes rolled back. The darkness claimed him.

 

But just before he lost consciousness completely, the manhole cover exploded upward with the force of a bomb. A massive, towering silhouette filled the entrance of the tunnel, blocking out the sunlight.

 

"FEAR NOT, KID!" a voice boomed, so loud and powerful it vibrated the concrete. "FOR I AM HERE!"

 

The silhouette dashed forward at speeds the human eye couldn't track.

 

"TEXAS SMASH!"

 

The air pressure in the tunnel condensed instantly. A localized hurricane erupted from the hero's fist. The sheer wind force hit the Sludge Villain like a freight train, tearing the liquid apart at a molecular level. The villain didn't even have time to scream before it was splattered across every wall of the underpass.

 

Izuku felt the sludge vanish from his face. He felt the rush of fresh air. And then, he saw him.

 

A giant of a man, clad in a white t-shirt and cargo pants, striking a heroic pose. Two massive tufts of blonde hair stood up on his head like rabbit ears.

 

All… Might… Izuku thought, his mind unable to process the sheer reality of the situation.

 

Then, his world went black.

 

 

 

Slap. Slap. Slap.

 

"Hey! Wake up! Come on, kid!"

 

Izuku gasped, his eyes flying open. He was lying on his back on the pavement. Above him, leaning in uncomfortably close, was the sculpted, impossibly chiseled face of the Number One Hero in the world.

 

"Ah! Good! You're awake!" All Might boomed, flashing a smile that could blind the sun. "Sorry about that back there! I didn't mean to get you caught up in my villain hunt! I usually don't make mistakes like this, but I'm in a new city, and well..." All Might let out a booming laugh. "Anyway, you're safe now! I've captured the evildoer!"

 

All Might held up two empty two-liter soda bottles. Inside, the Sludge Villain was crammed tightly, looking miserable.

 

Izuku scrambled backward, his brain short-circuiting. He was looking at All Might. In person. In the flesh. He was breathing the same air.

 

"A-All Might!" Izuku stammered, scrambling to his feet. He bowed so fast he nearly headbutted the pavement. "Th-Thank you for saving me! Oh my god, I need an autograph! Where's my notebook?!"

 

He frantically looked around, spotting his burnt, soggy notebook on the ground. He flipped it open, only to find that All Might had already signed it across two pages in massive, bold sharpie.

 

"HE ALREADY SIGNED IT!" Izuku shrieked, bowing repeatedly. "Thank you! Thank you! This will be a family heirloom! I'll pass it down for generations!"

 

"Well, I must be off!" All Might announced, turning away and doing a quick stretch. "I need to take this guy to the police! See you on the flip side, citizen!"

 

"Wait!" Izuku cried out, reaching a hand forward. "Already? But... I have so many questions! I need to ask you something!"

 

"No time for questions! A pro is always fighting time!" All Might bent his knees, the muscles in his legs bulging impossibly large, preparing for a super-leap.

 

Izuku panicked. It was a desperate, irrational thought. If All Might left now, Izuku would never get the answer to the question that had been haunting him his entire life. He needed to know. He needed to hear it from the greatest hero of all.

 

As All Might launched himself into the air, creating a crater in the pavement, Izuku did the only thing he could think of.

 

He jumped, and he grabbed on.

 

The wind roared in Izuku’s ears as they shot hundreds of feet into the sky. Below them, the city shrank into a miniature diorama of buildings and roads. The G-force tore at Izuku’s face, pulling his cheeks back as he screamed in absolute terror.

 

All Might felt the extra weight and looked down in horror.

 

"Hey, hey, hey! What do you think you're doing?!" All Might yelled over the rushing wind. "Let go! Your fanaticism is too much! Let go, you're going to get yourself killed!"

 

"If I let go now, I'll fall and die!" Izuku screamed back, tears flying from his eyes.

 

"Oh. Right. Good point." All Might grabbed Izuku’s shoulders, intending to gently pry the boy off and hold him by the collar until they landed.

 

He pulled.

 

Izuku didn't budge.

 

All Might frowned, applying a little more of his super-strength. He tugged at Izuku’s arms. The boy was clamped onto All Might’s leg like a barnacle on a ship hull. His calloused fingers were dug into the denim of All Might's pants so tightly that they were pinching the hero's incredibly dense thigh muscles.

 

What the... what is this kid's grip?! All Might thought, genuinely astonished. He was the Number One Hero. His muscles were like reinforced steel. Yet this scrawny, trembling middle schooler was gripping his leg with a pressure that was actually making him wince. If All Might pulled any harder, he was going to dislocate the kid's shoulders.

 

"Okay, okay! Just close your eyes and hold on!" All Might shouted, grimacing not just from the grip, but from a sudden, sharp pain blooming in his own side. A small trickle of blood escaped the corner of his mouth. Damn it. My time limit is almost up.

 

All Might banked sharply, aiming for the roof of a nearby, relatively empty office building. They landed with a heavy thud, sliding across the gravel of the rooftop before coming to a halt near the edge.

 

Izuku immediately let go, collapsing onto the gravel. His legs turned to jelly, his entire body trembling violently from the adrenaline crash. "My life... flashed before my eyes..." he panted.

 

"Good grief," All Might sighed, wiping a hand across his forehead. "If you talk to the people downstairs, they'll let you out. Now, I really must be going—"

 

"Wait!" Izuku pushed himself up to his hands and knees, staring at All Might's broad back. "Please! Just one question!"

 

All Might stopped. The steam was beginning to rise from his body, a telltale sign that his transformation was failing. I don't have time for this, he thought desperately.

 

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

 

The question rang out across the rooftop, loud and desperate.

 

All Might froze. The steam hissed louder.

 

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenching the gravel. "People think I'm a freak. I don't have a Quirk. All I have is a weird body. I'm clumsy, I have strange habits, and people just... they look at me like I'm a joke. Like I'm some kind of stupid ape."

 

Izuku’s voice cracked. The years of bullying, of being called Deku, of watching his mother cry apologetic tears for him—it all poured out.

 

"But I want to save people! I want to save people with a fearless smile, just like you! Can I do it? Can a Quirkless nobody ever be a hero like All Might?!"

 

Silence fell over the rooftop, save for the howling wind.

 

Izuku slowly opened his eyes, hoping beyond hope to see his idol turn around and give him a thumbs-up. Hoping to hear the words he had waited fourteen years for.

 

Instead, a cloud of thick, billowing white smoke covered the area where All Might stood.

 

"Huh?" Izuku blinked, confused.

 

As the smoke cleared, the towering, muscular symbol of peace was gone. In his place stood a skeletal, emaciated man with sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, and an oversized white t-shirt hanging off his frail frame.

 

Izuku screamed. "A-A fake?! An imposter! You're so skinny! Where is All Might?!"

 

The skeletal man coughed, a spray of blood splattering onto the gravel. He casually wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I am All Might."

 

Izuku’s jaw dropped. "N-No way..."

 

All Might sighed, walking over to the metal railing of the roof and sitting down heavily with a groan. He lifted his shirt, revealing a horrific, jagged scar covering the entire left side of his chest. It looked like a cluster of craters, purple and red, spider-webbing across his ribcage.

 

"Five years ago," All Might said, his voice raspy and devoid of its usual booming confidence. "My respiratory system was nearly destroyed. I lost my whole stomach. After all the surgeries, I can only do hero work for about three hours a day."

 

Izuku stared at the scar, horrified. "Five years ago... was it the Toxic Chainsaw fight?"

 

"You know your stuff," All Might grimaced. "But no. That punk couldn't bring me down. This fight was kept under wraps. The public doesn't know."

 

All Might dropped his shirt, looking out over the sprawling city. His sunken blue eyes were filled with a profound, heavy exhaustion.

 

"A Symbol of Peace who saves people with a smile must never be daunted. I smile to hide the fear inside. I smile to trick the fear." He turned his gaze to Izuku, and the weight of his stare pinned the boy to the spot. "Pros are always risking their lives. Some villains just can't be beaten without power. That sludge monster today? If you had tried to fight it without a Quirk, you would have died. Period."

 

Izuku felt the blood drain from his face.

 

"So, no," All Might said softly, the harsh truth cutting through the air like a blade. "I honestly don't think you can become a hero without a Quirk."

 

The words hung in the air. Izuku felt his heart stop. It was as if the gravity on the rooftop had suddenly multiplied, crushing him under the weight of an undeniable reality.

 

"If you want to help people," All Might continued, standing up and walking toward the rooftop access door, "become a police officer. They get mocked because they just receive the villains the pros capture, but it's a fine profession. It's not bad to dream, kid. But you have to make sure your dreams are realistic."

 

The heavy metal door opened, then closed with a dull, final clang.

 

All Might was gone.

 

Izuku stood alone on the rooftop. The wind whipped through his wild green hair. He looked down at his calloused, strangely shaped hands. He thought of Bakugo’s words. He thought of the doctor’s x-ray.

 

It was over.

 

The fantasy he had clung to since he was a toddler was finally, irrevocably shattered. The Number One Hero, the man he idolized more than anyone else in the universe, had looked him in the eye and told him he was useless.

 

Izuku dropped to his knees. The gravel dug into his skin, but he didn't care. He curled in on himself, clutching his chest as ragged, ugly sobs tore from his throat. He cried for his dead dream. He cried for his mother, who had bought him so many All Might action figures. He cried for the pathetic, Quirkless ape he was doomed to be forever.

 

Minutes passed. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple and dark blue.

 

Izuku’s tears finally ran dry. He knelt there, empty and numb. He slowly began to push himself up, deciding he needed to go home and tell his mom she didn't need to buy bananas anymore. He didn't need the energy. He wasn't going to be a hero. He was just going to exist.

 

As he placed his hands flat on the gravel to stand, something strange happened.

 

The ambient noise of the city—the distant sirens, the honking cars, the howling wind—suddenly vanished. It was as if someone had hit the mute button on the entire world.

 

Izuku froze. The silence was absolute. It was suffocating.

 

Then, a vibration began.

 

It didn't come from the air. It came from the concrete of the roof, traveling up through Izuku’s palms, into his heavy arms, and directly into his chest.

 

Thump.

 

Izuku gasped, his eyes widening.

 

Thump.

 

It was the bongo drum. But it wasn't a phantom sound in his head this time. It felt real. It felt massive. It felt as though an invisible giant was striking a drum the size of a building right beneath his feet.

 

Thump-thump-pa.

 

Izuku’s heart synced with the rhythm. A sudden, violent surge of heat exploded in his veins. It wasn't the heat of anger. It was the heat of a tropical sun. The scent of ozone and sweet fruit flooded his nose.

 

He tried to stand up, but his body wouldn't obey him. His muscles locked up, spasming violently. His fingers dug into the concrete of the roof, and to his absolute shock, the solid stone began to crack and splinter under his grip as if it were styrofoam.

 

"W-What is happening?" Izuku choked out, his voice sounding deeper, huskier than normal.

 

Thump-thump-pa. Thump-thump-pa.

 

The rhythm accelerated, turning into a frantic, wild beat that made Izuku’s blood boil. He felt a phantom sensation on his chest—a sudden, uncontrollable urge to raise his fists.

 

Then, the voice spoke.

 

It didn't come from the rooftop. It echoed from the deepest, most ancient recesses of his soul. It was a voice that sounded like grinding boulders, roaring waterfalls, and the bellow of a king who ruled a jungle at the end of the world.

 

"Why do you weep, little one?"

 

Izuku couldn't breathe. He was paralyzed by the sheer weight of the voice.

 

"They tell you that you have no power. They tell you that you are weak. They do not know the blood that beats in your veins."

 

The concrete beneath Izuku’s hands shattered entirely, creating a spiderweb crater three feet wide. His muscles bulged, tearing the fabric of his middle school uniform at the seams. His wild green hair stood on end, growing thicker, wilder.

 

"You are not Quirkless. You are a king waiting to awaken."

 

Izuku’s vision swam. The rooftop faded away, replaced by the towering emerald canopy of his dreams. He saw the hoard of golden bananas. He saw the red tie fluttering in the wind.

 

He saw a massive silhouette, beating its chest with fists the size of boulders, letting out a roar that shook the very heavens.

 

The ancient voice boomed one final time, echoing in the marrow of Izuku Midoriya's bones, overriding the fear, the doubt, and the words of All Might himself.

 

"Do not shrink. Do not hide. Expand your heart."

 

 

 

“Do not shrink. Do not hide. Expand your heart.”

 

The ancient, earth-shattering voice echoed across the desolate rooftop, vibrating through the soles of Izuku Midoriya’s worn red sneakers and rattling the very teeth in his skull. Then, as quickly as the phenomenon had consumed him, it vanished.

 

The suffocating silence shattered, replaced instantly by the harsh, rushing wind and the distant blare of Tokyo traffic.

 

Izuku collapsed forward onto his hands and knees, gasping for air as if he had just breached the surface of a deep ocean. His chest heaved violently. Sweat beaded on his forehead, stinging his eyes. He squeezed them shut, expecting to hear the phantom bongo drums again, but there was nothing. Only the frantic, erratic hammering of his own, very human heart.

 

"What..." he whispered, his voice trembling so badly it cracked. "What was that?"

 

He looked down. Beneath his palms, the thick concrete of the rooftop was pulverized. He hadn't just cracked the surface; he had compressed the stone into a fine, gray powder, leaving two distinct, hand-shaped craters an inch deep.

 

Izuku stared at his calloused fingers. They were shaking. The sudden, terrifying surge of heat that had flooded his veins just moments ago—the sensation of his muscles expanding, of a wild, tropical jungle overlaying the concrete city—was gone. He felt small again. He felt weak. He felt exactly like the Quirkless fourteen-year-old boy All Might had just left behind.

 

"A hallucination," Izuku muttered, wiping his sweaty palms on his school trousers. "It had to be. A stress-induced hallucination. I’ve gone crazy. The bullying, the sludge monster, All Might… my brain just finally snapped."

 

He carefully pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as a wave of profound exhaustion washed over him. His body ached. His muscles felt as though they had been stretched on a medieval rack. He picked up his yellow backpack, the straps feeling ten times heavier than they had this morning.

 

He didn't want to think about the voice. He didn't want to think about the phantom drums, or the golden bananas, or the roaring silhouette that had appeared in his mind's eye. If he thought about it, he would have to confront the fact that he was either losing his grip on reality, or that his body was mutating into something he didn't understand. And right now, he didn't have the emotional capacity for either.

 

All Might’s words played on a continuous, agonizing loop in his head.

 

“I honestly don't think you can become a hero without a Quirk. You have to make sure your dreams are realistic.”

 

Izuku pushed open the heavy metal door to the stairwell and began the long, slow descent to the street level. With every step, a piece of his childhood died. He thought of his bedroom, plastered with smiling faces of the Symbol of Peace. He would have to take them down. He would have to throw out his notebooks. He would have to apologize to his mother for making her worry, for making her buy him hero costumes he would never earn the right to wear.

 

By the time he reached the sidewalk, the sun was beginning to set, casting the city in a hazy, bloody orange glow.

 

Izuku walked like a zombie. His normally erratic, bouncing stride—the one he constantly tried to suppress so he wouldn't look like a lumbering ape—was gone. He just dragged his feet, his head bowed, his eyes glued to the pavement.

 

BOOM!

 

A massive explosion shattered the evening commute.

 

Izuku flinched, his head snapping up. The ground beneath his feet trembled. A plume of thick, oily black smoke billowed into the sky from the Tatooin Shopping District just a few blocks away.

 

A villain attack? Izuku’s mind immediately began its familiar, analytical routine. An explosion of that magnitude… it could be a combustion Quirk, or maybe collateral damage from a heavy-hitter like Mt. Lady…

 

He stopped himself. No. It doesn't matter. You're not a hero. You're not an analyst. You're just a kid.

 

He turned his body away from the smoke, intending to walk straight home to the apartment. But his feet wouldn't move. Old habits died hard. The sheer, gravitational pull of a hero battle was too much for his ingrained fanaticism to resist. Before his conscious mind could stop him, his legs were already carrying him toward the chaos.

 

As he approached the shopping district, the heat became palpable. The air tasted of ash and burning plastic. A massive crowd had gathered behind yellow police tape, murmuring in panicked, hushed tones.

 

Izuku squeezed his way through the wall of onlookers, using his unusually dense, heavy frame to gently part the crowd until he reached the front.

 

When he saw what was happening, his blood ran cold.

 

The alleyway was a warzone. The storefronts on either side were completely engulfed in roaring flames. Shattered glass littered the pavement. But the fire wasn't the worst part.

 

In the center of the inferno, rising like a gelatinous nightmare, was a towering mass of dark green sludge. It was the same villain from the tunnel. The same manic, floating eyes. The same jagged, slithering grin.

 

"It’s no good!" the Pro Hero Death Arms shouted, coughing as he backed away from the flames. "There's no way to get close! The fire is spreading too fast!"

 

"My wood will just catch fire!" Kamui Woods grunted, shielding his face. "I can't use my Quirk here! We need a water-type or someone with explosive power to blow it away!"

 

Mt. Lady stood helplessly at the entrance of the alley. "I need at least a two-lane road to use my size! I can't fit in there!"

 

Izuku stared at the scene in abject horror. The sludge villain... but how? All Might captured him! I saw him put him in the bottles!

 

Then, a sickening realization hit him like a physical blow to the stomach.

 

When I grabbed All Might's leg... when we took off into the sky... he must have dropped the bottles. The impact when we landed... or maybe they slipped out of his pockets when he was struggling with me.

 

Izuku’s hands flew to his mouth. He felt violently ill. This is my fault. If I hadn't been so selfish, if I hadn't forced him to take me with him, this monster would be in police custody right now.

 

"Why aren't the pros doing anything?" a man next to Izuku muttered nervously.

 

"They can't," another replied. "The villain grabbed a middle school kid as a hostage. He's using the kid's Quirk to create those explosions to keep the heroes back."

 

A hostage? Izuku’s breath hitched. He strained his eyes, peering through the thick, swirling smoke and the blinding glare of the fire.

 

Trapped within the center of the monstrous sludge, struggling with the fury of a wild animal, was a boy in an Aldera Junior High uniform. Ash-blonde hair. Furious, bloodshot red eyes.

 

Katsuki Bakugo.

 

Kacchan! Izuku’s heart stopped. The sludge was forcing its way down Bakugo’s throat, suffocating him exactly as it had done to Izuku just hours ago. Bakugo’s hands were thrust outward, desperately detonating explosion after explosion from his palms, but it was useless. The blasts only fed the surrounding fires and allowed the villain to absorb the kinetic energy.

 

"Just a little longer, kid!" the Sludge Villain gurgled, its voice echoing over the roar of the fire. "Your Quirk is incredible! With this power, I can take on All Might himself!"

 

Izuku looked frantically at the Pro Heroes.

 

Death Arms was gritting his teeth, holding his ground but not advancing. Kamui Woods was busy trying to rescue civilians from the surrounding buildings. Backdraft, the water hero, was barely keeping the fire from spreading to the main street.

 

They're waiting, Izuku realized, terror gripping his chest. They're waiting for someone with a better Quirk. But Kacchan doesn't have time! He's suffocating! He'll be dead before anyone else arrives!

 

Izuku looked around desperately. Through the crowd, standing near a telephone pole, he saw him. The skeletal, emaciated form of All Might. The Symbol of Peace was clutching his side, his face a mask of utter despair and self-loathing. He was out of time. He couldn't transform. He was just as powerless as Izuku.

 

It's my fault, Izuku thought, tears welling in his eyes. It's all my fault. I ruined everything. And now Kacchan is going to die because of me.

 

Bakugo thrashed violently within the sludge. The explosions grew weaker, sputtering out as the oxygen deprivation took hold. His eyes, usually so full of arrogant, untouchable pride, locked onto the crowd.

 

Through the smoke, through the fire, Bakugo's eyes met Izuku's.

 

It was only for a fraction of a second, but in that look, Izuku saw something he had never seen in Katsuki Bakugo before.

 

He was begging for help.

 

Thump.

 

The sound hit Izuku’s eardrums like a physical strike.

 

It wasn't a hallucination. It was real. It was the heavy, resonant strike of a leather palm against a wooden drumhead.

 

Thump. Thump.

 

The world slowed to a crawl. The roar of the flames muted into a dull hiss. The shouts of the crowd faded away. Izuku couldn't hear the heroes making excuses anymore. He couldn't hear his own brain telling him he was Quirkless, useless, a liability.

 

Thump-thump-pa.

 

The heat in his veins ignited once more, but this time, it wasn't just a flash. It was a wildfire. It roared through his bloodstream, tearing down the dams of his own self-doubt. The phantom scent of the jungle—crushed foliage, ozone, and sweet fruit—overpowered the smell of the burning alleyway.

 

Before Izuku Midoriya could formulate a plan, before his rational mind could scream at him to stop, his body moved.

 

He burst past the police tape.

 

"Hey! Kid, what are you doing?!" Death Arms bellowed, reaching out to grab him, but his hand closed on empty air.

 

Izuku was already sprinting. But it wasn't a normal run.

 

His posture collapsed forward, his center of gravity dropping incredibly low to the earth. His arms hung loose and heavy, swaying with a primal, rhythmic momentum. The thump-thump-pa of the bongos was deafening now, serving as the tempo for his footfalls. Every time his red sneakers hit the pavement, the asphalt cracked under the sheer, unnatural weight of his stride.

 

"Idiot! Stop! You'll die!" Kamui Woods screamed.

 

Izuku didn't hear him. He was completely submerged in a trance.

 

Why am I running? Izuku’s conscious mind flailed, trapped in the passenger seat of his own body. What am I doing?! I don't have a weapon! I don't have a Quirk! What can I possibly do?!

 

As he closed the distance to the inferno, the transformation began.

 

It was violent, instant, and terrifying to witness. Izuku’s middle school uniform tore violently across the back and shoulders as the muscles beneath engorged with impossible, primate density. His biceps swelled, his forearms thickening into literal trunks of muscle and heavy bone. His hands—already calloused and thick—grew massive, his knuckles scraping against the heat-warped asphalt as he ran.

 

His green hair flared outward, wild and untamed. A golden, feral light ignited in his wide eyes.

 

A shadow, a translucent, golden aura of a massive, crowned silverback gorilla, seemed to overlay his entire form, beating its chest in time with the drums.

 

"You again?!" the Sludge Villain roared, recognizing the boy who had clawed at him in the tunnel. "I'll kill you this time! I'll snap your scrawny neck!"

 

The villain raised a massive, sweeping arm of liquid sludge, intending to swat Izuku into the burning brick wall of the alleyway.

 

Dodge it! Izuku’s mind screamed. I need to throw my backpack at his eyes! I need to distract him!

 

But the primal instinct guiding his body rejected the cowardly tactic.

 

“Do not shrink.”

 

The ancient voice echoed in his skull, overlapping with his own thoughts.

 

“Smash them.”

 

Izuku didn't reach for his backpack. He didn't slow down. Ten feet away from the villain, Izuku dropped onto all fours. His knuckles slammed into the pavement.

 

And he vaulted.

 

The launch was catastrophic. The kinetic energy generated by his suddenly massive leg muscles shattered the street beneath him, creating a localized crater that threw chunks of asphalt into the air.

 

Izuku shot straight up, soaring thirty feet into the air above the raging alleyway.

 

The crowd gasped. All Might’s sunken eyes widened in utter disbelief. He... he leaped over the fire!

 

Time seemed to freeze as Izuku reached the apex of his jump. He hung there, suspended above the villain, silhouetted against the dark smoke. The heat of the flames licked at his shoes, but he didn't feel it. He felt untouchable. He felt like a king.

 

"Fool!" the Sludge Villain laughed, looking up. "You don't have anywhere to dodge in mid-air! You're just a sitting duck! And physical attacks don't work on me anyway!"

 

Izuku looked down at the monstrous sludge. He looked at Bakugo, who was staring up at him with an expression of pure, unadulterated shock.

 

The bongo drums reached a frantic, deafening crescendo.

 

Tappa-tappa-tappa-tappa-BOOM!

 

Instinct—pure, unbridled, ancestral instinct—took total control.

 

Izuku brought his knees up to his chest. He raised both of his massive, heavy arms high above his head, intertwining his thick fingers to form a single, devastating club of bone and muscle. He didn't aim for the villain. He didn't aim for Bakugo.

 

He aimed for the earth.

 

With a guttural, terrifying roar that tore from his throat—a sound that didn't belong to a human boy, but to a wild beast defending its territory—Izuku plummeted from the sky. He spun once in the air, gathering momentum, his joined fists leading the descent.

 

"KONGO…"

 

The word ripped itself from his lips involuntarily.

 

"...POUND!"

 

Izuku’s joined fists slammed into the asphalt directly in front of the Sludge Villain.

 

The impact defied the laws of physics. It didn't just break the street. The sheer, unfathomable transfer of kinetic energy struck the ground like a meteor.

 

KRA-KOOM!

 

A deafening thunderclap split the air. The pavement didn't just shatter; it rippled outward like a wave on an ocean. A massive, concussive shockwave of compressed air erupted from the point of impact.

 

The sheer pneumatic force of the ground pound swept through the alleyway. The roaring fires on the surrounding buildings were instantly snuffed out, starved of oxygen by the violent change in air pressure.

 

But the Sludge Villain took the brunt of the blast.

 

Liquid dynamics dictates that fluids cannot be compressed. When the invisible wall of kinetic force slammed into the sludge, the villain's body had nowhere to go but apart.

 

"GYAAAH!" the villain shrieked.

 

The concussive wave ripped through the sludge on a molecular level, obliterating the monster’s form. The dark green liquid exploded outward in a massive, rain-like spray, painting the brick walls and the remaining pavement in a thick coat of slime.

 

Freed from his gelatinous prison, Katsuki Bakugo was thrown backward by the shockwave, tumbling across the cracked asphalt until he came to a coughing, gasping halt near the edge of the alley.

 

The shockwave dissipated, blowing the smoke away and leaving the alleyway in sudden, eerie silence.

 

The Pro Heroes stood frozen. The crowd was utterly speechless. Even All Might, a man who had reshaped the weather with his fists, stared in slack-jawed awe at the sheer, raw, unrefined power that had just been unleashed.

 

In the center of the newly formed, twenty-foot crater, a figure was slowly standing up.

 

The smoke cleared, revealing Izuku Midoriya.

 

He was panting heavily, steam rising from his engorged muscles. His school uniform was in tatters, the white shirt hanging off his broadened shoulders in shreds. His head was bowed, his wild green hair obscuring his eyes.

 

"Deku...?" Bakugo coughed, rubbing his throat, his red eyes wide with a mixture of terror and confusion. "What... what the hell..."

 

Izuku slowly raised his head. His eyes were no longer the soft, anxious green of the boy who took notes in class. They were glowing with a fierce, golden, primal intensity.

 

He didn't speak. He didn't offer a witty one-liner.

 

Instead, Izuku stood to his full height. He threw his shoulders back, expanding his massive chest. He raised his heavy fists and brought them down against his own pectorals.

 

Thud. Thud. Thud.

 

The rhythmic beating of his chest echoed through the silent street, loud as war drums.

 

Izuku threw his head back and let out a roar. It wasn't a scream of pain, or a shout of victory. It was a raw, booming, territorial bellow that shook the glass in the remaining shop windows and sent a primal shiver down the spine of every human being watching. It was the roar of a king claiming his jungle.

 

For ten seconds, Izuku stood there, the undisputed apex predator of the Tatooin Shopping District.

 

Then, the golden light in his eyes flickered.

 

The bongo drums in his head abruptly stopped.

 

The sheer, impossible strain of channeling the ancestral power of the Donkey Kong soul caught up to his fourteen-year-old, mortal body. The engorged muscles rapidly deflated, shrinking back to their normal, scrawny proportions. The phantom weight of the jungle vanished.

 

Izuku blinked, his eyes returning to their normal green. He looked down at his torn clothes, then at the massive crater beneath his feet, and finally at the splattered remains of the Sludge Villain.

 

"Oh... oh my," Izuku squeaked, his voice returning to its normal, timid pitch.

 

His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he collapsed forward, falling face-first into the rubble, completely unconscious.

 

 

 

Forty-Five Minutes Later.

 

The scene was a chaotic blur of flashing police lights, ambulance sirens, and chattering news crews.

 

Izuku sat on the back bumper of an ambulance, a shock blanket draped over his torn uniform. Paramedics had checked him over, entirely baffled by his condition. He had no broken bones, no internal bleeding, but his body temperature had been dangerously high, and his caloric deficit was so severe he was shaking. They had given him three IV bags of glucose and half a dozen energy bars, which Izuku had inhaled without tasting.

 

A few yards away, Katsuki Bakugo was being praised by a group of Pro Heroes.

 

"That Quirk of yours is amazing, kid!" Death Arms said, patting Bakugo on the back. "With resistance like that, and those explosions, you'll be a top-tier Pro in no time! UA is going to be lucky to have you!"

 

Bakugo didn't look proud. He was glaring at the ground, his fists clenched, his jaw set in a furious, tight line. He occasionally shot dark, completely unreadable glances in Izuku’s direction.

 

Izuku, meanwhile, was receiving the exact opposite treatment.

 

Kamui Woods and Death Arms marched over to him, their faces stern.

 

"Are you out of your mind, kid?!" Death Arms scolded, pointing a thick finger at Izuku’s face. "What you did was incredibly reckless! You could have been killed! You didn't even have a plan!"

 

"We had the situation under control!" Kamui Woods added, crossing his wooden arms. "You jumping in there only complicated things! Vigilantism is a crime, you know!"

 

Izuku stared at his lap, gripping the edges of the shock blanket. He nodded meekly. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. My body just... it just moved on its own."

 

"You're lucky your Quirk manifested when it did," Death Arms grunted, though his tone was slightly less harsh. He couldn't entirely hide the awe in his voice. "Whatever the hell that shockwave was, it saved the day. But that's no excuse for acting without a license! Leave the hero work to the professionals!"

 

My Quirk, Izuku thought numbly. They think it's my Quirk. A late bloomer.

 

He remembered the grip on All Might’s leg. The cracked concrete on the roof. The sheer, unfathomable power of the Ground Pound. It wasn't a hallucination. It was real. After fourteen years of being told he was an evolutionary dead end, his body had finally awakened to something.

 

But it didn't feel like a Quirk. Quirks were biological functions. Sweating nitroglycerin. Creating wood. Changing size.

 

What Izuku felt was a presence. A spirit. An ancestral rhythm that had hijacked his body when he needed it most.

 

Eventually, the heroes dispersed, leaving Izuku alone to walk home. The sky was completely dark now, the stars obscured by the city lights.

 

Izuku walked slowly, his muscles aching with a deep, throbbing soreness. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion. What do I do now? he wondered. Do I tell Mom? Do I go to a doctor? Can I even control it?

 

He raised his right hand, staring at his palm. He tried to summon the bongo beat. He tried to imagine the jungle canopy. But nothing happened. He was just Izuku Midoriya again.

 

"I guess... I need to train it," he whispered to himself. "If I have a power... if I can really do things like that... maybe..."

 

A spark of hope, small but undeniably bright, flared in his chest. Maybe I can take the UA Entrance Exam. Maybe I can be a hero.

 

"I AM HERE!"

 

A massive figure suddenly burst from a side alley, landing directly in front of Izuku and sliding to a halt in a dramatic, muscle-flexing pose.

 

Izuku shrieked, falling backward onto his rear end. "All Might?!"

 

"Ah! Sorry to startle you, young man!" All Might boomed, laughing loudly, though a bit of blood trickled from his mouth.

 

"What are you doing here?!" Izuku scrambled to his feet, panicking. "How did you get away from the reporters?! Wait, your time limit! You're going to deflate!"

 

"Hahaha! I stand for justice, not soundbites! I slipped away from the press because I needed to speak with you!" All Might flexed his massive biceps. "And as for my time limit, I can always push past it for a few minutes if the situation demands a Symbol!"

 

Suddenly, a violent cough wracked All Might's frame. The familiar cloud of white smoke erupted, and in the blink of an eye, the towering hero was gone, replaced by the skeletal, blood-spitting man Izuku had met on the roof.

 

"Or not," All Might groaned, wiping his chin.

 

Izuku rushed forward. "Are you okay?!"

 

"I'm fine, kid. I'm fine." All Might stood up straight, his sunken blue eyes locking onto Izuku with an intensity that made the boy freeze.

 

The silence stretched between them, heavy and pregnant with meaning.

 

"I came here to apologize," All Might said, his voice quiet, devoid of the booming bravado. "And to thank you. And to retract what I said to you on that rooftop."

 

Izuku’s eyes widened. "Retract...?"

 

"If you hadn't been there," All Might continued, stepping closer. "If you hadn't charged into the fire, I would have been nothing but a worthless bystander watching from the crowd. You acted when no one else would. You acted when I wouldn't."

 

All Might placed a large, bony hand over his own heart.

 

"Top heroes have stories about them from their school days," All Might said, a soft, genuine smile gracing his skeletal features. "Most of their stories have one thing in common. Their bodies moved before they had a chance to think."

 

Tears pricked the corners of Izuku’s eyes. His breath hitched. It was the exact phrase he had used to describe what happened.

 

"Young man," All Might said, his voice trembling with emotion. "You asked me if you could be a hero. Today, you proved that you have the heart of a true hero. A heart that beats with a primal, unstoppable courage."

 

Izuku began to sob. He couldn't hold it back anymore. He dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands as the tears flowed freely. The words he had waited his entire life to hear.

 

"You can become a hero," All Might declared, looking down at the weeping boy.

 

Izuku cried, his shoulders shaking. But as he wept, he heard it again. Faintly, gently, echoing in the back of his mind like a comforting lullaby.

 

Thump-thump-pa. Thump-thump-pa.

 

"Tell me, young man," All Might said, crouching down to Izuku's level. "That power you used today. The sheer kinetic force. I have never seen a Quirk manifest so violently, or so late in a person's life. What is it?"

 

Izuku sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his bruised hand. He looked up at the Symbol of Peace.

 

"I... I don't know," Izuku admitted truthfully. "It doesn't feel like a Quirk. It feels like... like someone else. Like something ancient. When I use it, I hear drums. And I feel... I feel like I'm in a jungle."

 

All Might’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He stroked his chin, deep in thought. "Drums? A jungle? Fascinating. There are rare records of 'Past Life' Quirks. Ancestral genetic memories manifesting as physical power. The primal strength of an apex king... dormant for generations, only awakening when the host's heart is pushed to the absolute limit."

 

All Might stood up, a new fire burning in his sunken eyes.

 

"Whatever it is, it is raw. Unrefined. Dangerous to your own body," All Might said. "But it is powerful. And with the right vessel, it could be unstoppable."

 

He extended a hand toward Izuku.

 

"Stand up, young man. You have the spirit of a king. But your body is weak. If you want to harness that power, if you want to walk through the gates of UA High and become a Pro Hero, you're going to need a teacher."

 

Izuku stared at the offered hand. He looked at his own thick, calloused fingers. The path ahead was no longer a dead end. It was an uncharted jungle, wild and dangerous, but it was his.

 

With a determined sniffle, Izuku reached out and grasped All Might's hand.

 

"I'll do it," Izuku said, his voice steadying. "Whatever it takes. I'll train."

 

All Might smiled, pulling the boy to his feet. "Excellent! We begin tomorrow. Prepare yourself, young man. It’s going to be absolute hell!"

 

Izuku nodded, a small, fierce smile breaking through his tears. As he looked up at the night sky, he absentmindedly tapped his fingers against his thigh.

 

Tappa-tap-tap. Boom.

 

The primal beat had awakened. And the world was never going to be the same.

 

 

 

The jungle was not a quiet place.

 

It was a living, breathing, suffocating entity of sound and heat. The air was thick enough to chew, heavily laden with the scent of crushed ferns, damp earth, and decaying fruit. From the unseen canopy high above, the shrieks of exotic birds and the chattering of unseen primates created a cacophony that echoed through the emerald gloom.

 

Izuku Midoriya stood in the center of a muddy clearing. He didn't know how he had gotten here.

 

He looked down at his hands. They were massive, covered in thick, coarse brown fur. His chest was a barrel of solid, impenetrable muscle. Around his neck, feeling strangely comforting against his collarbone, rested a long, bright red tie bearing the yellow letters DK.

 

Where am I? Izuku tried to speak, but the sound that rumbled from his throat was a deep, resonant huff.

 

Suddenly, the ground beneath him began to violently vibrate.

 

Clack-clack. Clack-clack.

 

The sound of heavy iron wheels on rusty tracks. Izuku looked up. Cutting through the dense foliage directly in front of him was a rickety, wooden railway suspended over an abyss so deep he couldn't see the bottom. A decrepit wooden minecart sat on the tracks.

 

Before he could process the sheer absurdity of the sight, a shadow fell over the clearing.

 

It wasn't the shadow of a cloud. It was the shadow of a monster.

 

Izuku slowly turned his head. Looming behind the treeline, easily the size of a skyscraper, was a gargantuan reptilian eye. Its pupil was a vertical slit of blood-red, burning with a tyrannical, malevolent hatred.

 

A massive, golden crown, encrusted with rubies the size of boulders, rested atop a head of green scales. The creature let out a slow, wet hiss that sounded like escaping steam, followed by a dark, rumbling chuckle that rattled the leaves from the trees.

 

“My island…” a voice hissed, echoing in Izuku’s mind. It was a voice filled with aristocratic cruelty and cold-blooded greed. “My hoard. I will have it all, ape. Every last golden piece.”

 

A terrifying, guttural roar ripped its way out of Izuku’s own throat in response—a territorial battle cry that shook the very foundations of the jungle. He slammed his massive, furry fists into his chest, beating a rhythm of war.

 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

 

The giant crocodile’s eye narrowed. The jaws parted, revealing rows of teeth like jagged stalactites.

 

The beast lunged.

 

 

 

Izuku gasped, his eyes snapping open.

 

He shot up in bed, the bedsheets tangled around his legs. His chest was heaving, covered in a cold sweat. He threw his hands out in front of him, half-expecting to see thick brown fur and a red tie.

 

Instead, he saw his own familiar, calloused, heavily-freckled skin.

 

"Just... just a dream," Izuku panted, rubbing his face. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. It was 4:30 in the morning. Outside, the sky was a deep, predawn purple.

 

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet hitting the floorboards. Instantly, a wave of profound, agonizing soreness radiated up his calves and into his lower back. He winced, gripping the edge of his mattress.

 

It had been two days since the sludge villain incident. Two days since he had unleashed a shockwave that shattered a city street, nearly given his mother a heart attack, and secured a promise from the Number One Hero in the world.

 

The physical toll of that single "Kongo Pound" had been catastrophic. His muscles felt as though they had been filled with lead and subsequently beaten with hammers. The sheer caloric deficit his body had experienced was still plaguing him.

 

Right on cue, his stomach let out a monstrous, cavernous growl. It was a sound so loud it vibrated the wooden floorboards.

 

"Hungry..." Izuku croaked, his mouth completely dry. "So hungry."

 

He staggered out of his bedroom, hunched forward, his arms hanging loosely by his sides. He navigated the dark hallway of the apartment entirely by memory, his primal instincts guiding him directly to the kitchen.

 

He threw open the pantry door.

 

Sitting on the floor, in a massive cardboard wholesale crate, was a mountain of yellow.

 

Inko Midoriya was a saint. After Izuku had returned from the hospital, thoroughly scolded by the police but fundamentally unharmed, he had eaten everything in the refrigerator. He had eaten an entire pot of rice, a dozen eggs, three packs of raw tofu, and a box of cereal. But nothing had sated the burning, ravenous furnace in his gut until he ate a banana.

 

The potassium, the natural sugars, the dense carbohydrates—it was the exact, perfect fuel for the ancient, simian biology awakening within him.

 

Izuku sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor. He didn't even turn on the light. He just reached into the crate.

 

Peel. Bite. Swallow.

 

Peel. Bite. Swallow.

 

It was a terrifyingly efficient process. Within ten minutes, a pile of thirty empty yellow peels sat in a neat ring around him. The gnawing ache in his stomach finally began to dull, replaced by a warm, humming energy.

 

"Izuku?"

 

The kitchen light flicked on. Izuku squinted, looking up like a deer caught in headlights.

 

Inko stood in the doorway, clutching her pink dressing gown around her. She looked at the pile of peels, then at the half-empty wholesale crate, and finally at her son. Her eyes widened.

 

"Oh, my baby," Inko whispered, rushing forward and dropping to her knees beside him. "Are you still hungry? Do you need more? I can call the grocer. I think he has a key to the back storeroom—"

 

"Mom, I'm okay," Izuku mumbled through a mouthful of fruit, blushing furiously. "I'm sorry. I just... I woke up starving."

 

Inko sighed, reaching out to gently brush a wild, unruly curl of green hair out of his eyes. "You don't need to apologize, Izuku. The doctor said your new... Quirk... requires a massive amount of caloric energy. I'm just glad you're eating."

 

She looked at the crate. "Though, I may need to speak to Mr. Hoshi down at the market about setting up a direct supply line. At this rate, we're going to bankrupt the neighborhood's produce section."

 

"I'll get a part-time job!" Izuku offered quickly. "To pay for them!"

 

"Nonsense. Your job right now is school. And..." Inko hesitated, her eyes dropping to the floor. "And whatever it is you're doing with All Might."

 

Izuku had told her the truth. Well, mostly. He had told her that All Might saw potential in his late-blooming Quirk and had offered to train him for the UA Entrance Exams. He had carefully omitted the parts about the sludge villain being his fault, the rooftop conversation, and the fact that he was the reincarnation of an ancient jungle king.

 

"I won't stop you, Izuku," Inko said softly, tears pooling in her eyes. "I spent fourteen years telling you no. I spent fourteen years apologizing to you for something you couldn't control. If All Might believes in you... then I believe in you too. Just... please don't get hurt."

 

Izuku smiled, a genuine, determined expression crossing his face. He wrapped his thick, heavy arms around his mother in a tight hug. "I promise, Mom. I'm going to be a hero. A hero who saves everyone with a smile."

 

He looked at the clock on the stove. 5:15 AM.

 

"I have to go," Izuku said, standing up. The food had done its job; his muscles still ached, but the lethargy was gone. "I'm meeting him at the beach."

 

 

 

Dagobah Municipal Beach Park was a graveyard.

 

Years of changing ocean currents had turned the once-pristine coastline into a dumping ground for illegal waste. Mountains of rusted refrigerators, hollowed-out cars, shattered televisions, and industrial tires stretched across the sand as far as the eye could see. The smell of brine and rust was overpowering.

 

Izuku stood at the top of the concrete stairs leading down to the sand, staring at the sheer scale of the trash. The cold morning wind whipped his green hair around his face. He was dressed in a simple grey tracksuit and his signature red sneakers.

 

"YOU'RE LATE, YOUNG MIDORIYA!"

 

Izuku jumped. Sitting atop a massive, rusted washing machine completely balancing on one leg, was All Might. The Number One Hero was in his muscular, towering form, striking a bodybuilding pose against the rising sun.

 

"A-All Might!" Izuku scrambled down the stairs, his feet sinking into the dirty sand. "I'm sorry! I woke up early, but I had to eat, and—"

 

With a loud POOF and a hiss of steam, All Might deflated, dropping from the washing machine and landing lightly on the sand in his skeletal form. He wiped a drop of blood from his chin.

 

"It's fine, it's fine," All Might coughed. "I only just got here myself. The commute from the agency is murder."

 

All Might turned, looking out over the mountain of garbage. "Dagobah Beach. Beautiful, isn't it?"

 

"It's... a disaster," Izuku said honestly.

 

"Exactly!" All Might grinned, pointing a bony finger at the boy. "And it's your new training ground! But before we begin, we need to have a serious conversation."

 

All Might’s demeanor shifted. The playful energy vanished, replaced by a profound, solemn gravity. He sat down on a half-buried tire and gestured for Izuku to sit across from him on an overturned cooler.

 

"I told you that you could be a hero," All Might began, his sunken blue eyes locking onto Izuku. "I told you that your dormant Quirk—this incredible, kinetic power you unleashed—could make you unstoppable. And it can. But there is a limit to a single Quirk."

 

All Might unbuttoned the top of his white shirt, revealing the horrific, jagged scar on his chest.

 

"Even with my power, I was nearly killed. The villain who did this to me... he is a nightmare. A walking calamity. And if society is to remain safe, there must always be a Symbol of Peace to stand against the darkness."

 

All Might leaned forward. "I have a secret, Young Midoriya. A secret known only to a select few in this world. The media speculates about my Quirk constantly. Super strength? Durability? An enhancement type? They're all wrong."

 

Izuku leaned in, his fanboy instincts battling with the sheer awe of the moment. He was about to hear the greatest secret in hero history.

 

"My Quirk was not born with me," All Might said softly. "It was passed down to me. Like a sacred torch, handed from one generation to the next."

 

Izuku’s jaw dropped. "Passed... down? But that's impossible! Quirks are genetic! They're written into your DNA! You can't just hand them off like a baton!"

 

"Normally, you'd be right," All Might chuckled. "But my power is the exception to every rule. It is the crystallization of power, cultivated by one person, and passed to another. The one who receives it cultivates it further, adds their own strength to it, and passes it on again. It is a web of voices, a lineage of courageous hearts, all unified to cry out in the dark and save those in need."

 

All Might raised his hand, clenching his fist. The air around his knuckles seemed to shimmer with a sudden, intense pressure.

 

"Its name... is One For All."

 

"One... For All," Izuku breathed, the words sending a shiver down his spine.

 

"Yes. And I am its eighth wielder," All Might said. "But my time is running out. My body is failing. I need a successor. I need someone with the heart of a hero, someone who will step into the fire when others stand by."

 

All Might pointed directly at Izuku’s chest.

 

"I want you to inherit my power, Izuku Midoriya."

 

The world seemed to stop spinning. Izuku stared at the skeletal man in front of him. He had spent his entire life being told he was worthless, a Quirkless nobody. Then he had miraculously manifested a power of his own. And now, the Number One Hero was offering him the greatest power on Earth.

 

"Me?" Izuku squeaked, tears instantly welling in his eyes. "But... but I just awakened my own Quirk! I have this... this primate power! Can a person even hold two Quirks?"

 

"That," All Might said, looking entirely serious, "is exactly why I chose you."

 

All Might stood up, pacing back and forth on the sand. "One For All is incredibly demanding. It is the accumulated physical power of eight generations. If I were to give it to an unprepared vessel, the sheer kinetic energy would literally blow their limbs off."

 

Izuku swallowed hard, looking down at his arms.

 

"But you," All Might turned to him, his eyes shining. "Your body has already begun to adapt to a massive influx of kinetic power. Your 'Past Life' Quirk—this Jungle King persona—it drastically alters your muscle density. It increases your durability. When you struck that sludge villain, your bones didn't shatter. A normal human throwing a punch with that much concussive force would have pulverized their own arm."

 

All Might marched over and placed both hands on Izuku’s shoulders.

 

"You are the perfect vessel. Your dormant power acts as a natural shock absorber. If you can master your primal strength, you won't just be able to hold One For All. You will be able to weaponize it in ways I never could. You will combine the power of a Symbol with the unstoppable force of an apex predator."

 

"I..." Izuku looked at the ground, overwhelmed. The pressure was immense. The responsibility was crushing.

 

But then, he heard it.

 

Thump-thump-pa.

 

The bongo beat in his head. It wasn't frantic or wild this time. It was steady. Reassuring. The ancient king in his soul wasn't intimidated by the legacy of One For All. It welcomed the challenge.

 

Izuku wiped his eyes, looking up at All Might with a fierce, determined gaze.

 

"I'll do it. I'll become your successor."

 

"I knew you'd say that!" All Might beamed, coughing up a small spray of blood. "But you are not ready yet! Your body is still too weak. If you used One For All right now, you'd explode! We have exactly ten months before the UA Entrance Exam. Ten months for you to turn your body from a fragile sapling into an immovable tree trunk!"

 

All Might reached into his pocket and pulled out a massive, crumpled sheaf of papers. He unrolled it, revealing a meticulously scheduled, hour-by-hour calendar.

 

"I present to you: The Aim to Pass American Dream Plan!" All Might announced. He then frowned, looking at the paper, pulled out a red marker, crossed out 'American Dream', and hastily scribbled over it. "Wait, no. The Aim to Pass Jungle King Plan!"

 

Izuku looked at the schedule. It detailed every aspect of his life. Sleep, diet, schoolwork, and physical labor.

 

"You are going to clean this entire beach," All Might declared, gesturing to the mountains of trash. "By hand. Without using One For All. You will rely solely on your own body and your new, primal Quirk."

 

Izuku stared at a rusted pickup truck half-buried in the sand. "All of it? In ten months?"

 

"Yes! And you're going to start right now!" All Might pointed to a massive refrigerator sitting near the water's edge. "Go pull that up to the road!"

 

 

 

Months 1 - 3: The Awakening Diet

 

The first three months of training were a unique kind of hell.

 

Izuku quickly realized that his body was fundamentally changing. The 'Aim to Pass Jungle King Plan' required an absurd amount of caloric intake, far beyond what All Might had originally calculated.

 

Izuku’s metabolism was a roaring fire. If he didn't consume at least 10,000 calories a day, he would suffer dizzy spells and intense muscle cramping.

 

At the center of this dietary nightmare was Inko Midoriya.

 

"Mr. Hoshi," Inko said, standing at the counter of the local neighborhood market. She slapped a crisp stack of Yen on the counter. "I need more."

 

The grocer, a balding man with a kind face, looked terrified. "Mrs. Midoriya, please. I have other customers. The monkeys at the local zoo don't eat this many."

 

"My son is a growing boy, Mr. Hoshi," Inko said, her eyes narrowing with maternal determination. "He is training to be a hero. He needs potassium. I will buy every crate in your storeroom, every shipment that comes in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I will pay a 15% markup for the inconvenience."

 

Mr. Hoshi swallowed hard. "I'll make some calls."

 

Izuku’s diet consisted of rice, massive slabs of chicken breast, and an unending, comical mountain of bananas. He ate them peeled. He ate them mashed. He ate them baked. He began sneaking them into class, hiding them in his desk.

 

Bakugo had noticed, of course.

 

"You're disgusting, Deku," Bakugo had sneered one afternoon as Izuku mindlessly peeled his seventh banana of the lunch period. "Did your Quirk finally come in, and it just turned you into a literal monkey?"

 

Normally, Izuku would have flinched. He would have apologized and hidden the fruit.

 

But things were different now. Izuku didn't shrink away. He looked up at Bakugo, his jaw moving methodically as he chewed. He looked down at the desk, his massive, calloused fingers resting on the wood. He tapped them once.

 

Thump.

 

A subtle, heavy vibration rattled Bakugo's desk chair.

 

Bakugo scowled, turning away. "Freak."

 

Physically, the changes were becoming impossible to hide. Izuku had always been short, but he was no longer scrawny. By the end of month three, his chest had broadened significantly. His shoulders rolled forward slightly, his trapezius muscles bulking up to support the increasing density of his neck and skull. His forearms were thick, roped with veins, resembling the limbs of a young silverback.

 

At the beach, the progress was slow but steady. Izuku tried to pull the heavy debris with ropes, digging his heels into the sand. But he was struggling. He was treating the trash like a normal human lifting weights.

 

All Might sat atop a pile of tires, watching him strain to drag a rusted safe.

 

"You're fighting yourself, Young Midoriya!" All Might called out. "You're trying to use your human muscles! You need to tap into the beast!"

 

Izuku dropped the rope, gasping for air. "I... I don't know how! The power only comes out when I'm in danger! I can't just turn it on!"

 

"Then you must change your environment!" All Might said. "What did you hear when you fought the sludge villain? What triggered the instinct?"

 

Izuku paused, wiping sweat from his brow. "Drums. I heard bongo drums."

 

All Might’s eyes lit up. He pulled out his smartphone, tapped the screen a few times, and connected it to a massive, battery-powered boombox he had brought with him.

 

"Then let's give you a soundtrack!"

 

Suddenly, a heavy, tribal, swinging rhythm blasted across the beach. It was a chaotic mix of bongo drums, bass guitar, and brass horns. It was wild, erratic, and undeniably catchy.

 

Izuku’s eyes widened. The music hit him like an electric shock.

 

Thump-thump-pa. Boom-pa.

 

He didn't think. He felt his posture shift. His center of gravity dropped. He abandoned the rope and walked over to the rusted safe.

 

He didn't lift with his back. He squatted low, sliding his thick fingers under the heavy metal box. His muscles engorged, his arms visibly thickening. He hoisted the safe over his head with a grunt.

 

But he didn't carry it to the truck.

 

Following the rhythm of the music, Izuku spun on his heel and threw the four-hundred-pound metal safe. It sailed through the air like a discarded wooden barrel, crashing into the bed of the pickup truck with a deafening metallic screech.

 

All Might cheered. "Yes! That's it! Find your rhythm! Embrace the ape!"

 

 

 

Months 4 - 7: Developing the Moveset

 

With the music blaring every morning, Dagobah Beach transformed from a chore into a playground.

 

Izuku realized that his "Kongo" Quirk wasn't just raw strength. It was highly specific, kinetic momentum driven by rhythm and primate mechanics.

 

He stopped trying to lift things normally. If an object was heavy, he treated it like a barrel. He learned the 'Barrel Toss'—squatting, lifting an object entirely over his head, and using the elastic momentum of his spine to launch it incredible distances. He threw tires, washing machines, and car doors into the designated disposal zones with terrifying accuracy.

 

But his power was untamed, and occasionally, it led to disaster.

 

During month five, Izuku was carrying a massive bundle of scrap metal over his head. The sand shifted under his left foot. He tripped, falling forward.

 

His instinct to protect his face kicked in. Instead of throwing his hands out, Izuku tucked his chin to his chest, curled his massive shoulders inward, and rolled.

 

The result was explosive.

 

Izuku didn't just tumble in the sand. He became a high-speed, kinetic bowling ball. He shot forward at fifty miles per hour, an unstoppable sphere of dense muscle and bone.

 

"Look out!" All Might yelled, diving off a pile of trash.

 

Izuku rolled straight into a stack of four rusted refrigerators. The impact sounded like a car crash. The refrigerators exploded into twisted shrapnel. Izuku burst through the other side, uncurling and sliding to a halt in the sand, completely unharmed, though thoroughly dizzy.

 

"What... what was that?" Izuku groaned, holding his head.

 

All Might peeked out from behind a mound of sand, his hair full of dust. "I believe, Young Midoriya, that you have just discovered the 'Kong Roll'."

 

They incorporated the Kong Roll into his daily routine. Izuku used it to shatter larger debris into manageable pieces, rolling through rusted car frames to break them apart so they could be carried away.

 

His dreams grew more vivid. He dreamt of swinging from vine to vine, of collecting bananas in a treehouse, of riding rhinos and swordfish. He dreamt of a small monkey in a red baseball cap, of a cranky old ape with a cane, of a cool primate wearing sunglasses.

 

He didn't know who they were, but he felt a profound, aching love for them. They were his troop. His family.

 

To honor the dreams, and to embrace his identity, Izuku made a purchase.

 

One chilly morning in month six, All Might arrived at the beach to find Izuku already working. But the boy wasn't wearing his usual tracksuit jacket. He was wearing a tight black tank top, displaying his newly forged, heavily muscled arms.

 

And around his neck, neatly tied over his collarbone, was a bright red silk tie.

 

All Might blinked. "A bold fashion choice for garbage disposal, my boy."

 

Izuku paused, hoisting a car engine block over his head. He grinned, his teeth showing. "It feels right. It grounds me. Reminds me who I am."

 

He threw the engine block thirty yards into the back of a dump truck.

 

 

 

Months 8 - 10: Mastery and the Roar

 

The final stretch was brutal. The remaining trash on the beach consisted of the heaviest, most embedded objects. Massive shipping containers, sunken boats, and industrial machinery.

 

Izuku was no longer the scrawny, trembling boy who had stood on the rooftop with All Might.

 

At fifteen years old, Izuku Midoriya was built like a heavyweight wrestler. He was still relatively short, but his density was terrifying. His neck was thick, his shoulders impossibly broad, and his arms hung heavily at his sides. His hands were literal weapons, calloused to the point of feeling like leather.

 

The bullying at Aldera Junior High had completely stopped. Not because Bakugo had grown a conscience, but because physical intimidation was no longer an option. During a gym class in month nine, Bakugo had tried to shove Izuku in the hallway. Bakugo had bounced off Izuku’s chest as if he had run into a brick wall, while Izuku hadn't even lost his balance.

 

Izuku’s diet had plateaued at an astonishing twenty bananas a day, supplemented by massive protein shakes Inko lovingly prepared.

 

The day of the UA Entrance Exam finally arrived.

 

It was 6:00 AM. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant shades of pink and gold.

 

All Might drove his truck to the edge of the boardwalk overlooking Dagobah Beach. He stepped out of the vehicle, a hot coffee in his skeletal hand, ready to see how much progress his disciple had made on the final day.

 

He walked to the railing and looked down.

 

All Might dropped his coffee cup. It shattered on the pavement, splashing hot liquid onto his shoes. He didn't notice.

 

The beach was empty.

 

There were no refrigerators. No cars. No tires. Nothing. Just pristine, beautifully combed white sand stretching for miles, lapping gently against the clean, unpolluted ocean waves.

 

"He did it," All Might whispered, his sunken eyes wide with disbelief. "He actually cleared the whole thing. He cleared more than I calculated."

 

"RRAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGH!"

 

A roar split the morning air. It was a sound of absolute, victorious triumph.

 

All Might’s head snapped to the right.

 

Sitting atop a massive, neatly stacked mountain of scrap metal—piled high on the concrete pier overlooking the water—was Izuku.

 

He was shirtless, his torso gleaming with sweat in the morning sun. His muscles were gorged with blood, incredibly defined, showcasing a physique built through pure, brutal, primal labor. The red tie hung around his neck, blowing dramatically in the sea breeze.

 

Izuku threw his head back, his wild green hair catching the sunlight, and beat his massive chest with his fists.

 

Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump!

 

It was a display of sheer dominance. He wasn't just a boy who had cleaned a beach. He was the king of the jungle, and he had reclaimed his territory.

 

All Might felt a tear roll down his bony cheek. He is ready. He is more than ready.

 

With a sudden burst of smoke, All Might transformed into his muscular state. He leaped from the boardwalk, soaring through the air, and landed perfectly on the pier next to the mountain of trash.

 

"OH MY GOODNESS!" All Might bellowed, pointing at the clean sand. "YOU EXCEEDED MY EXPECTATIONS, YOUNG MIDORIYA! THIS IS INCREDIBLE!"

 

Izuku stopped beating his chest. He looked down from the pile of scrap, a massive, exhausted, but completely victorious smile on his face.

 

"I did it, All Might," Izuku panted, sliding down the pile of metal and landing softly on his feet. The concrete cracked slightly under his heavy landing. "The jungle is clean."

 

"You did more than clean!" All Might placed a massive hand on Izuku’s shoulder, squeezing the dense muscle. "You have forged a vessel capable of holding the greatest power in the world! You are no longer just a boy with a dream. You are a warrior!"

 

Izuku looked out at the ocean. The phantom bongo drums in his head were quiet now, resting, satisfied with the work they had done. He had tamed the beast. He had merged the intellect and heroic heart of Izuku Midoriya with the unstoppable, kinetic fury of the DK soul.

 

"So," Izuku turned back to his mentor, his green eyes burning with determination. "I'm ready. Give it to me. Give me One For All."

 

All Might grinned, a massive, blinding smile. He reached up to his head.

 

"Yes! The time has come for you to inherit my power!"

 

All Might pinched a single, golden strand of his iconic hair between his fingers and plucked it from his head. He held it out toward Izuku. The sun caught the hair, making it gleam like a tiny wire of gold.

 

Izuku held out his hands, expecting some kind of ritual. A glowing light. A transfer of energy.

 

"Now," All Might said, his booming voice completely serious. "Eat this."

 

Silence descended upon the pier. The seagulls cried in the distance.

 

Izuku stared at the single strand of hair. He blinked. He looked up at All Might. He looked back at the hair.

 

"Eat... your hair?" Izuku asked, his voice returning to its normal, timid pitch.

 

"Exactly!" All Might laughed loudly. "To inherit the power, you have to ingest some of my DNA! It doesn't matter what it is! A piece of hair, a drop of blood! But this is the most sanitary option! Eat up! We don't have much time before the exam starts!"

 

Izuku’s face contorted into a look of absolute disgust. After ten months of eating nothing but clean protein, rice, and literally thousands of bananas, the idea of swallowing a dry, stringy piece of old man hair was revolting.

 

"Is this a joke?" Izuku gagged slightly. "Are you hazing me?"

 

"I am completely serious!" All Might thrust the hair closer to Izuku’s face. "Swallow it whole! Don't chew, or it'll get stuck in your teeth!"

 

Izuku groaned. He pinched his nose, closed his eyes, and took the hair from All Might's fingers.

 

For the power to save people, Izuku thought desperately. For the jungle. For the bananas.

 

He tossed the hair into his mouth and swallowed dry. It scratched his throat the entire way down. He coughed, thumping his chest.

 

"I did it," Izuku gagged. "I don't feel any different. Where's the power?"

 

"It takes a few hours for the stomach acids to break it down and integrate the DNA into your system!" All Might explained, giving Izuku a hearty slap on the back that nearly knocked the boy into the ocean. "You likely won't feel it until you're in the middle of the Entrance Exam! But do not worry! Your body is prepared!"

 

Izuku looked down at his calloused, massive hands. He clenched them into fists. He had done the impossible. He had trained his body. He had awakened his past life. He had inherited the power of the Symbol of Peace.

 

"I'm going to pass," Izuku said, adjusting his red tie. "I'm going to smash that exam."

 

"That's the spirit!" All Might cheered. "Now go! Go home, shower, eat a banana, and head to UA! Your destiny awaits!"

 

Izuku grabbed his yellow backpack from the ground. He turned and began to run toward the boardwalk, his heavy, lumbering stride eating up the distance with terrifying speed.

 

As he ran, the phantom drums began to play again.

 

Thump-thump-pa. Thump-thump-pa.

 

But this time, beneath the heavy sound of the bongos, Izuku felt a new rhythm. A high-pitched, vibrating hum of raw, crackling energy. It was the spark of One For All, settling into the core of his soul, preparing to ignite.

 

The king of the jungle was heading to the city. And UA High School had no idea what was coming.