What If Deku's Quirk Was Pure T-Rex DNA

 

The glow of the computer monitor painted the small, dark room in shifting hues of crimson, gold, and blue. The light flickered across the face of a four-year-old boy, illuminating wide, viridian eyes that reflected the digital inferno on the screen.

 

Izuku Midoriya sat cross-legged on the carpet, clutching an All Might action figure so tightly his small knuckles were white. He was rocking back and forth, entirely captivated by the looping video. It was an old clip, but to Izuku, it was scripture.

 

"Can you see that?!" the frantic voice of the news anchor crackled through the cheap speakers. "He’s already saved a hundred people! It hasn't even been ten minutes! This is crazy! He's a monster!"

 

On the screen, a towering silhouette emerged from the wreckage of a burning bus. Fire licked at his broad shoulders, and the debris crumbled beneath his boots. And yet, despite the devastation, despite the apocalyptic backdrop, the man was laughing. A booming, baritone laugh that seemed to reach through the monitor and vibrate in Izuku’s chest.

 

"It is fine now. Why?" All Might yelled, his smile a beacon in the darkness. "Because I am here!"

 

"Because I am here!" Izuku squeaked in unison, thrusting his action figure into the air.

 

From the doorway, Inko Midoriya watched her son with a fond, weary smile. She leaned against the frame, wiping her hands on her apron. "Izuku, honey, you've watched that video ten thousand times. I think you're going to wear out the computer's memory."

 

Izuku turned, his face split into a gap-toothed grin. "Mom! Did you see him? Did you see how he saved everyone? He's so strong, and he's never scared!"

 

"I saw him, sweetie," Inko said, walking in and ruffling his unruly mop of green hair. "He's amazing. Just like you're going to be when your quirk comes in."

 

At the mention of his quirk, Izuku’s eyes widened even further, practically sparkling. He dropped his toy and scrambled to his feet, bouncing on his heels. "Do you think it's coming soon? Kacchan got his yesterday! He can make sparks from his hands! It's so cool! Do you think I'll get sparks? Or fire like Dad? Or maybe I can pull things like you!"

 

Inko chuckled, holding out her hand. A small plush toy from Izuku's bed floated gently through the air and into her palm. "Well, usually children get a combination of their parents' quirks, or a stronger version of one of them. Your father breathes fire, and I have small telekinesis. Maybe you'll be able to breathe fire, or pull fire toward you! Whatever it is, I'm sure it will be wonderful."

 

Izuku nodded furiously. "I'm gonna be a hero just like All Might! I'm gonna save everyone with a smile!"

 

"I know you will, Izuku," Inko said softly, kneeling to kiss his forehead. "But for now, a hero needs his sleep. Tomorrow is a big day at the park."

 

As Izuku climbed into bed, pulling the All Might themed covers up to his chin, his mind raced with possibilities. In a world where eighty percent of the population possessed a supernatural ability, a quirk, the waiting game was agonizing for a four-year-old. He just wanted to know what his power would be. He wanted to know how he was going to save the world.

 

He didn't know that his quirk was already inside him, coiled tight and waiting. It wasn't fire. It wasn't telekinesis. It was something far older, far more primal, and vastly more terrifying.

 

It was waiting for a trigger.

 

 

 

The next afternoon, the neighborhood park was bathed in the warm, golden light of late summer. Cicadas hummed in the trees, a rhythmic, droning backdrop to the shouts and laughter of children.

 

Izuku stood near the edge of the playground, where the manicured grass gave way to a small patch of woods and a shallow creek. He loved this spot. It was where they played heroes and villains, where imaginations ran wild. But today, the atmosphere was anything but playful.

 

"Are you crying?"

 

The voice was harsh, entirely too abrasive for a child. Katsuki Bakugo stood at the center of the clearing, his chest puffed out, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face. Flanking him were two of his lackeys, grinning like hyenas.

 

On the ground in front of them, a boy with a minor wing mutation was curled into a ball, sobbing, nursing a scraped knee and a burnt shoulder.

 

"I... I just wanted to play," the boy whimpered.

 

"You're in my way, extra," Bakugo snapped. He held up his hands, curling his fingers into claws. Small, sharp pops echoed from his palms, accompanied by the distinct smell of burnt sugar and ozone. It was a brand-new quirk, volatile and flashy, and Bakugo was already wielding it like a king’s scepter. "I'm the best around here. If you can't keep up, you get left behind. That's just how it works."

 

Izuku watched from a few yards away, his heart hammering against his ribs. His hands were trembling. He didn't have a quirk yet. He was just Izuku. Plain, ordinary, quirkless Izuku. If he stepped in, Bakugo would turn those explosions on him. The smart thing to do was to run, to go get a grown-up.

 

But as he looked at the crying boy on the ground, an image flashed in his mind. A towering silhouette in a sea of fire.

 

It is fine now. Why? Because I am here!

 

Izuku didn't make a conscious decision to move. His legs simply carried him forward. Before he fully realized what he was doing, he was standing between Bakugo and the crying boy, his arms spread wide in a protective stance.

 

"Th-that's mean, Kacchan!" Izuku yelled, his voice cracking. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, his knees shaking so hard they knocked together. "Can't you see he's crying? If you keep going... I-I won't forgive you!"

 

Silence fell over the clearing. The cicadas seemed to stop humming.

 

Bakugo stared at Izuku, his crimson eyes narrowing. The smirk vanished, replaced by a scowl of pure, unadulterated offense. How dare he? How dare this quirkless nobody stand up to him?

 

"Deku," Bakugo growled, using the insulting nickname he had coined only a week prior. "What do you think you're doing? You don't even have a quirk. You're just a useless Deku."

 

"I... I can still stop you!" Izuku stammered, though he backed up half a step.

 

"You think you can play hero?" Bakugo sneered, taking a step forward. The popping in his palms grew louder, more violent. "You don't have power, Deku. You're nothing!"

 

Bakugo lunged.

 

It happened in slow motion for Izuku. He saw Bakugo’s fist pull back, saw the spark ignite in the center of the blonde boy's palm. Izuku crossed his arms over his face, squeezing his eyes shut, bracing for the burning impact.

 

The explosion hit him squarely in the chest and arms. It wasn't a massive blast—they were only four, after all—but to a child, it was devastating. The heat seared through Izuku’s thin t-shirt, and the concussive force lifted him off his feet.

 

Izuku hit the dirt hard, tumbling backward. Pain, sharp and blinding, erupted across his arms and chest. He gasped for air, his lungs refusing to work. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth where he had bitten his tongue.

 

He lay in the grass, his vision swimming. He heard Bakugo and his friends laughing.

 

"See? Useless," Bakugo scoffed. "Let's go. He's not worth our time."

 

Izuku wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up and wait for his mother. But beneath the pain, beneath the fear, something else was stirring.

 

It started in his chest. It wasn't the heat of the explosion; it was an internal furnace roaring to life. A heavy, rhythmic thumping echoed in his ears, drowning out the laughter, drowning out the cicadas.

 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

 

His heart was beating too fast. Too hard.

 

Izuku gasped, his eyes snapping open. The world looked different. The vibrant greens of the grass and trees suddenly shifted into a hyper-focused spectrum of motion and heat. He could see the thermal signatures of the boys walking away from him. He could smell the ozone on Bakugo’s skin. He could smell the dirt, the sap in the trees, the faint trace of a stray cat miles away. The sensory input was overwhelming, a tidal wave of information crashing into his human brain.

 

Then came the pain.

 

It was infinitely worse than Bakugo's explosion. It felt as though his very bones were made of glass and were shattering all at once, only to be remade into steel.

 

Izuku let out a strangled cry, clutching his chest.

 

Bakugo paused, glancing over his shoulder. "What's wrong with you now, Deku? Stop faking—"

 

Bakugo’s words caught in his throat. His crimson eyes widened in horror.

 

Izuku was changing.

 

His small, fragile hands were twitching violently. The skin, normally a pale peach, was rapidly darkening, taking on a deep, mottled olive-green hue. Thick, rough scales erupted from his pores, interlocking like armor plating. His fingernails elongated, thickening into vicious, curved, black talons.

 

"D-Deku?" Bakugo whispered, taking a step back.

 

Izuku tried to speak, to ask for help, but his jaw snapped shut with a sickening crack. The bones in his face were shifting. His jaw extended forward, elongating into a massive, reptilian snout. Inside his mouth, his flat human teeth were pushed out, falling to the grass like bloody pearls, instantly replaced by rows of serrated, banana-shaped fangs, designed to crush bone.

 

His clothes tore as his muscles underwent rapid, catastrophic hypertrophy. He wasn't just transforming; he was growing. In seconds, his four-year-old body swelled, his spine cracking as it lengthened and thickened to support a massive, muscular tail that tore through his shorts and thudded heavily against the earth. His legs snapped backward into a digitigrade stance, his thighs bulging with enough muscular density to shatter concrete.

 

The heat radiating off his body was palpable, singeing the grass around him.

 

Inside his mind, Izuku was screaming in terror. The pain was absolute, but worse than the pain was the sudden, overwhelming instinct. The human, analytical mind of Izuku Midoriya was suddenly thrust into the passenger seat, drowning in a sea of primal, apex-predator instincts. A voice, ancient and thunderous, echoed in his newly wired brain: Survive. Hunt. Dominate.

 

He opened his new, terrifying maw. He meant to say, "Help me, Kacchan."

 

What came out was a sound that had not been heard on Earth for sixty-five million years.

 

It started as a low, rumbling growl that vibrated in the chests of everyone within a mile radius. It built into a deafening, chest-rattling roar—a concussive blast of sheer sonic terror. It wasn't the roar of a movie monster; it was the raw, guttural bellow of an apex predator asserting dominance over its territory. Leaves were stripped from the nearby trees. The water in the creek rippled violently.

 

Where a crying, quirkless four-year-old had been seconds ago, a juvenile Tyrannosaurus Rex now stood.

 

He was nearly twelve feet long from snout to tail, towering over the other children. His scales were a mix of deep forest green and earthy brown, blending perfectly with the foliage. His massive head turned, the golden, slit-pupiled eyes locking onto the source of the ozone smell.

 

Bakugo.

 

Bakugo was frozen. The arrogant prodigy, the boy who feared nothing, was currently experiencing a biological response hardwired into mammalian DNA: the paralyzing fear of a superior predator. Bakugo’s knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the grass, his mouth open in a silent scream. His lackeys had already bolted, screaming at the top of their lungs.

 

The beast took a heavy step forward, the ground shaking beneath its three-toed, clawed foot. It lowered its massive head, its jaws parting. Strands of thick saliva dripped from its serrated teeth, sizzling slightly as they hit the ground. The creature inhaled, taking in the scent of fear, of sweat, of burnt caramel.

 

Inside the beast, Izuku’s human consciousness clawed frantically at the walls of his mind.

 

No! Stop! That's Kacchan! Don't hurt him! Stop! STOP!

 

The beast paused. The golden eye blinked, the slit pupil expanding and contracting. The monstrous jaw was inches from Bakugo's face. The hot, rancid breath washed over the blonde boy, making him gag.

 

Bakugo squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the end.

 

Suddenly, a piercing shriek ripped through the air.

 

"IZUKU!"

 

Inko Midoriya was sprinting across the park, her purse forgotten on the pavement, her face a mask of absolute terror. She didn't see a dinosaur. She didn't see a monster. She saw her son's torn t-shirt tangled in the creature's back spikes. She had heard the commotion, felt the roar in her bones, and a mother's intuition had brought her running.

 

The T-Rex snapped its head toward the new noise. It let out a warning hiss, baring its fangs, ready to defend its kill.

 

Inko didn't slow down. She threw herself between the beast and Bakugo, her arms spread wide, tears streaming down her face. "Izuku! Stop! It's me! It's Mommy!"

 

The beast reared back, letting out a confused, rumbling growl. It snapped its jaws in the air, a terrifying sound like two steel vaults slamming together.

 

Mom?

 

Izuku’s consciousness latched onto the familiar voice, the familiar scent of jasmine and warm laundry. He fought the primal tide with everything a four-year-old could muster. That's Mom! I can't hurt Mom! I don't want to be a monster!

 

The struggle was violently physical. The massive creature thrashed its head, letting out a pained, whining noise. It stumbled backward, its heavy tail crushing a park bench into splinters.

 

"Izuku, please," Inko sobbed, taking a slow step toward the towering reptile. She reached out a trembling hand. "You're safe. You're okay. Let it go, baby. Come back to me."

 

The T-Rex froze. The golden eyes locked onto the small, weeping woman. Slowly, miraculously, the beast lowered its massive head until its snout was level with Inko’s chest.

 

Inko didn't flinch. She wrapped her arms around the creature's thick, scaly snout, burying her face in the rough hide. "I'm right here. I've got you."

 

A massive shudder wracked the creature's body. The beast let out a long, rattling sigh that smelled of raw meat and ancient earth.

 

Then, the metamorphosis reversed.

 

It was faster than the initial transformation, but no less traumatic. The scales melted back into skin, the bones snapped and cracked as they shrunk, the sheer mass of the creature evaporating into white steam that hissed into the summer air.

 

Within seconds, a small, naked, four-year-old boy collapsed into Inko’s arms. Izuku was violently shivering, his skin flushed and feverish. He was gasping for air, tears cutting tracks through the dirt on his face.

 

"Mom," he croaked, his voice raw and raspy. "I... I was so hungry. I was so angry."

 

"Shh, shh," Inko wept, wrapping him tightly in her jacket. She pulled him against her chest, rocking him back and forth. "It's okay. It's over. You're okay."

 

She glanced over Izuku's shoulder. Bakugo was still sitting on the grass, trembling uncontrollably, staring at Izuku with a mixture of profound horror and deep, unshakable trauma. For the first time in his life, Katsuki Bakugo had looked death in the face.

 

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder. The adults had arrived.

 

 

 

The white walls of the Musutafu General Hospital were sterile and cold. The fluorescent lights buzzed with an irritating frequency that made the inside of Izuku’s skull throb.

 

He sat on the crinkly paper of the examination table, wearing an oversized hospital gown. He felt incredibly heavy, as if gravity had doubled its pull on him. His stomach growled loudly, an aching, hollow emptiness that felt like a cavern in his gut. They had given him three adult-sized hospital meals already, and he was still starving.

 

Inko sat in the plastic chair beside the bed, clutching Izuku’s hand. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.

 

The door opened, and a doctor walked in. He was an older man with a bald head, bushy mustache, and round spectacles that magnified his eyes. He carried a thick tablet and wore a look of intense scientific fascination mixed with mild apprehension.

 

"Mrs. Midoriya," the doctor said, bowing slightly. "I am Dr. Tsubasa. I specialize in Quirk counseling and genetics. We have the results of Izuku's scans and DNA analysis."

 

"Is he okay, Doctor?" Inko asked frantically, tightening her grip on Izuku's hand. "He's been so quiet. And he's so hungry."

 

"His hunger is to be expected," Dr. Tsubasa said, pulling up an image on his tablet. It was an X-ray of Izuku, but it looked... wrong. The bones were thicker, denser. "Quirks that involve extreme physical transformation require massive amounts of caloric energy. When Izuku transformed, his body rapidly generated several tons of muscle and bone mass. Reversing that process burned through his body's energy reserves. He will need a highly specialized, protein-heavy diet to sustain himself from now on."

 

"Transformed?" Izuku whispered, speaking for the first time in hours. He looked down at his hands. They were human hands again, but when he stared closely, he noticed the nails were slightly sharper, thicker. The skin on the back of his knuckles felt tough, slightly raised. "What... what am I, Doctor?"

 

Dr. Tsubasa sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Midoriya, my boy, you have experienced one of the rarest forms of Quirk manifestation. We call it an extreme atavistic regression, but combined with a Transformation and Mutant hybrid classification."

 

Inko looked lost. "I... I don't understand. My husband breathes fire. I pull small objects. Where did... where did a giant lizard come from?"

 

"It is not a lizard, Mrs. Midoriya," Dr. Tsubasa corrected, his tone turning serious. He turned the tablet around to show them a DNA sequence overlaying an illustration of a dinosaur. "Quirks are a genetic lottery. Sometimes, genes from millions of years ago, buried deep within the human genome, are reactivated and weaponized by the Quirk factor. Your son doesn't just have a quirk that makes him look like a dinosaur. His Quirk factor contains the pure, undiluted DNA of an apex predator."

 

The doctor tapped the screen. "Specifically, Tyrannosaurus Rex. The Tyrant Lizard King."

 

Silence hung in the sterile room.

 

"A... T-Rex?" Inko breathed out, her hand flying to her mouth.

 

"Yes," Dr. Tsubasa said, pacing slightly. "His quirk—let's classify it as 'Tyrant' for now—allows him to shift his human anatomy into that of a Theropod dinosaur. Right now, he transformed into a juvenile state, roughly two tons and twelve feet long. But as he grows, his beast form will grow as well. An adult T-Rex was upwards of forty feet long and weighed over eight tons. With the added enhancement of a Quirk factor, his maximum size could exceed that."

 

Izuku stared at the floor. He remembered the feeling. The raw, unstoppable power. The urge to bite down, to crush. "I... I almost hurt Kacchan. I wanted to bite him."

 

Dr. Tsubasa stopped pacing and looked at Izuku with a solemn expression. "That is the most dangerous aspect of your quirk, young man. You are not just borrowing the body of a T-Rex; you are borrowing its instincts. The reptilian brain. When you transform, you are subjected to the primal urges of an apex predator: territoriality, aggression, and an overwhelming prey drive."

 

"He's just a boy!" Inko protested, tears welling in her eyes again. "He's not a monster! He's the sweetest boy in the world!"

 

"I know he is, Mrs. Midoriya," the doctor said gently. "But the reality of mutant and transformation quirks is that they affect the user's psychology. Izuku will have to fight a battle that most children never will. He will have to learn to master the beast inside him. If he loses control in a populated area... the devastation would be catastrophic. The bite force of a T-Rex can crush a car like a soda can. He is essentially walking artillery."

 

The words hung heavy in the air. Monster. Catastrophic. Devastation.

 

These were not the words used to describe heroes. These were the words used to describe villains. Villains who destroyed cities. Villains whom All Might had to punch into the sky.

 

Dr. Tsubasa handed Inko a thick folder. "This contains a dietary plan, exercises for mental grounding, and a list of therapists who specialize in predatory mutant quirks. I strongly advise keeping him out of stressful, highly emotional situations until he learns to control his shifts. He can never, under any circumstances, afford to throw a temper tantrum again."

 

The doctor gave them a sympathetic nod and left the room, leaving the mother and son alone in the quiet hospital.

 

Inko looked at Izuku, her heart breaking at the sight of his slumped shoulders and dull eyes. She reached out, cupping his cheek. His skin was warm, a little rougher than it used to be. She noticed that his pupils, when catching the light, narrowed slightly into vertical slits.

 

"Izuku?" she whispered.

 

Izuku looked up at her. His lower lip trembled. "Mom... I'm scary."

 

"No," Inko said fiercely, pulling him into a tight embrace. "No, you are not scary. You are Izuku Midoriya. You are my son."

 

"But the doctor said..." Izuku sniffled, burying his face in her shoulder. "I wanted to be a hero like All Might. I wanted to save people with a smile. But heroes aren't monsters. Heroes don't make their friends scream in terror."

 

"Quirks don't decide if you are a hero or a villain, Izuku," Inko said, her voice surprisingly steady. She pulled back, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Your heart decides that. You stepped in front of Katsuki today to protect another boy. You didn't even have your quirk yet, and you were brave. That beast inside you? It's just a tool. It's a very big, very loud tool. But you are the one holding it."

 

Izuku stared at his mother. The sheer conviction in her voice anchored him. The storm of primal instinct that had been raging in the back of his mind since the transformation settled down into a low, quiet hum.

 

I am the one holding it.

 

 

 

Later that night, the Midoriya apartment was quiet. The soft hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the dark living room.

 

Izuku couldn't sleep. He had eaten an entire roast chicken, three bowls of rice, and a carton of eggs for dinner, yet he still felt a lingering emptiness. He slipped out of bed, his bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. He felt different. He felt heavier, more grounded. When he walked in the dark, he didn't bump into anything; he could faintly sense the heat signatures of the furniture, hear the scurrying of a mouse in the walls of the neighboring apartment.

 

He walked into the bathroom and climbed onto the step stool, turning on the sink light.

 

He stared into the mirror.

 

At first glance, he was still Izuku. The freckles, the green hair, the round cheeks. But the changes were there. His canine teeth were elongated and sharp, resting against his lower lip. When he opened his mouth, he saw that all his teeth were slightly more jagged than a normal human's. His eyes, the warm viridian he inherited from his mother, now held a predatory intensity. The pupils contracted into sharp slits under the glare of the bathroom bulb. He lifted his shirt. Down his spine, a faint line of hardened, green scales rested just beneath the skin, waiting to erupt.

 

He touched his chest. He could feel the slow, powerful thud of his heart. It didn't sound like a human heart anymore. It sounded like an engine.

 

He thought back to the park. He remembered the smell of Bakugo's fear. He remembered the absolute power of his jaws, the feeling that nothing in the world could hurt him, that everything around him was either prey or scenery. It was an intoxicating, terrifying feeling. If he ever let that feeling take over completely, he would become the villain society would expect him to be. A mindless, destructive kaiju.

 

Izuku stepped down from the stool and walked back to his bedroom. He didn't get into bed. Instead, he went to his desk. He turned on his small lamp and pulled out a fresh, blank notebook.

 

He grabbed a pencil.

 

He looked at his All Might poster on the wall. The smiling face of the Symbol of Peace looked down on him. All Might was strong. But All Might was also smart. He knew how to limit collateral damage. He knew how to reassure people.

 

If Izuku was going to be a hero, he couldn't rely on brute force. A T-Rex was a creature of rage and instinct. Izuku would have to be a creature of logic and control. He would have to be smarter than his own DNA.

 

He opened the notebook to the first page. At the top, in large, careful letters, he wrote:

 

Hero Analysis for the Future: Volume 1.

 

He turned the page. He didn't write about All Might, or the pros on TV. He wrote his own name.

 

Quirk: Tyrant.

Type: Transformation/Mutant.

Traits: Enhanced strength, durability, sensory input (smell, hearing, thermal vision). Predatory instinct.

Weaknesses: High caloric burn, loss of rational thought during full transformation, large size makes indoor combat difficult, terrifying appearance.

 

Izuku chewed on the end of his pencil, his slit pupils narrowing in concentration. He began to map out his own biology. If he could understand it, he could control it. If he could control it, he wouldn't be a monster.

 

He spent the next three hours writing. He wrote about meditating to keep his heart rate down. He wrote about testing if he could transform only specific parts of his body—maybe just a scaly arm to block a punch, or his legs to run faster—without losing his human mind. He called it "Partial Shifting." It was just a theory, a hypothesis from a four-year-old boy, but it was a lifeline.

 

As the sun began to peek over the horizon, casting a pale gray light through his bedroom window, Izuku closed the notebook. His hand was cramping, but his mind was clear for the first time since the playground.

 

He looked at his hands again. The sharp nails, the faint scales. They were weapons. Terrible, ancient weapons.

 

But a weapon is only as evil as the person wielding it.

 

Izuku stood up, facing his reflection in the dark windowpane. He placed his hand over his heart, over the thumping engine of the beast within. He made a vow, right then and there, a silent promise to himself, to his mother, and to the world that would one day know his name.

 

"I will never hurt an innocent person," Izuku whispered, his voice steady, carrying a bass frequency that rattled the glass slightly. "I will never let the beast win. I will be a hero who saves everyone. I will be the gentle giant."

 

Deep inside his mind, the primal consciousness stirred. It felt the boy's resolve, the absolute iron will of Izuku Midoriya locking the cage door. The beast let out a low, accepting rumble, curling up in the dark corners of his psyche. It would wait. It would grow.

 

Izuku smiled, a slightly toothy, predatory grin that he would have to practice softening.

 

He wasn't quirkless. He was an apex predator. And he was going to claw his way to the top of the hero food chain.

 

The Apex had awakened. But the boy was in control.

 

 

The alarm clock didn’t stand a chance.

 

At precisely 5:00 AM, a heavy, scaled hand shot out from beneath the All Might comforter. It didn’t just hit the snooze button; the sheer, sleepy weight behind the appendage cracked the plastic casing of the clock in two, silencing the electronic beeping with a pathetic crunch.

 

Izuku Midoriya groaned, a sound that started in the back of his throat and reverberated in his chest like a waking lion. He peeled the blankets back and sat up, the springs of his reinforced mattress squeaking in protest.

 

Ten years had passed since the incident at the playground. Ten years of rigorous training, specialized diets, intensive quirk counseling, and iron-clad discipline. The boy who had once trembled at the sight of his own hands was gone, replaced by a physical titan.

 

At fifteen years old, Izuku stood a towering six feet, two inches tall. He was built like a brick house, his physique the result of naturally dense, hyper-developed musculature required to survive his own quirk. But his size wasn't the most striking thing about him.

 

Izuku walked into the bathroom and flicked on the light, staring into the mirror. The permanent physical manifestations of the Tyrant quirk marked him clearly as a mutant hybrid. Patches of tough, olive-green scales dusted his shoulders, the sides of his neck, and his forearms. His fingernails were permanently darkened and thickened into blunt claws. When he opened his mouth to brush his teeth, a row of sharp, serrated fangs gleamed under the fluorescent lights. His eyes were the same kind, viridian green his mother loved, but the pupils were vertical slits that expanded and contracted with predatory precision.

 

He looked terrifying. He looked like a villain out of a comic book.

 

Izuku carefully applied toothpaste to his brush and began scrubbing, humming a cheerful tune from a recent hero commercial. He made sure to scrub the back molars thoroughly; meat had a habit of getting stuck back there.

 

"Izuku! Breakfast is ready!" his mother’s voice called from the kitchen.

 

"Coming, Mom!" Izuku called back. Even his speaking voice had changed over the years. He had to consciously pitch it higher, speaking softly from his throat to avoid the deep, bass-heavy rumble that naturally wanted to escape his chest.

 

He walked into the kitchen, having to duck slightly to clear the doorframe. The dining table was covered in plates. Inko Midoriya, looking much the same but with a few more gray hairs, smiled warmly as she set down a massive platter.

 

Izuku’s breakfast consisted of two dozen scrambled eggs, a mountain of white rice, and three large, rare steaks. A normal person would be sick looking at it. For Izuku, whose resting metabolic rate was akin to a blast furnace, it was the bare minimum required to keep his body from cannibalizing its own muscles.

 

"Thanks for the food," Izuku said, clasping his hands together and bowing his head. He ate quickly but politely, using chopsticks with practiced precision, careful not to let his claws snap the delicate wood.

 

"Did you double-check your bag?" Inko asked, pouring him a liter of milk. "You have your ID? Your pencils? Your quirk registration forms?"

 

"Yes, Mom," Izuku smiled, keeping his lips closed to hide his fangs—a habit he had developed over the years to put people at ease. "I've got everything. Hero Analysis Notebook Volume 14 is packed, too."

 

Inko looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I can't believe it's already here. The UA Entrance Exam. You've worked so hard, Izuku. You've been so careful, so diligent. I'm so proud of you."

 

Izuku felt a lump form in his throat. He swallowed hard. "I couldn't have done it without you, Mom. The diets, the reinforced clothes... believing in me."

 

"You're going to be a wonderful hero," she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Just remember what Dr. Tsubasa said. Keep your heart rate steady. Breathe."

 

"I will," Izuku promised. He stood up, throwing on his middle school uniform. The black gakuran jacket was custom-tailored to fit his broad shoulders and the thick, dense muscles of his chest. He slung his yellow backpack over one shoulder. "I'm off!"

 

 

 

The train ride to UA High School was an exercise in the routine isolation Izuku had come to accept.

 

As soon as he stepped onto the crowded train, the atmosphere shifted. People naturally gave him a wide berth. A mother pulled her child a little closer; a businessman nervously adjusted his briefcase, avoiding eye contact. Even in a world of quirks, where people had literal animal heads or extra limbs, Izuku’s specific mutation triggered something deep and evolutionary in the human brain. He smelled like a predator. He looked like an apex killer.

 

Izuku didn't let it bother him. He was used to it. Instead of shrinking away, he pulled out his notebook and buried his face in it, reading over his notes on the Pro Hero Kamui Woods. He made himself as non-threatening as possible, keeping his elbows tucked in and his knees together, a giant trying to fold himself into a tiny box.

 

If I pass today, Izuku thought, tracing the graphite drawing of Kamui Woods, I can finally prove to everyone that they don't have to be afraid of me. I can be a symbol that makes them feel safe.

 

When the train arrived at his stop, Izuku stepped off and walked toward the towering gates of UA. The sun was shining, and the sheer scale of the school made his heart pound with excitement. He took a deep breath, his highly sensitive olfactory glands picking up the scents of hundreds of nervous teenagers, blooming cherry blossoms, and the faint, metallic tang of ozone.

 

"Out of my way, Godzilla."

 

Izuku stopped. He didn't need to turn around; his hearing had picked up the heavy, aggressive footsteps ten yards away, and his nose instantly recognized the smell of burnt sugar and sweat.

 

Katsuki Bakugo walked past him, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face locked in a permanent scowl.

 

"Good morning, Kacchan!" Izuku said cheerfully.

 

Bakugo stiffened. Over the last ten years, their dynamic had morphed into something bizarre. Bakugo still possessed a massive superiority complex, but the sheer, undeniable reality of Izuku's physical power had forced a change. Bakugo couldn't physically bully Izuku. A single flick of Izuku’s scaly finger would send Bakugo flying. Thus, Bakugo had resorted to aggressive, bitter rivalry, constantly trying to prove his explosive quirk was superior to Izuku's "dumb, overgrown lizard" biology.

 

"Don't talk to me," Bakugo grunted, glaring at Izuku out of the corner of his eye. "Don't think just because you're built like a tank that you're gonna pass. This exam is about heroics, not just smashing things. You're gonna freeze up, Deku."

 

"I'll do my best!" Izuku replied, unbothered.

 

Bakugo clicked his tongue, muttering something about "reptilian freaks," and stomped toward the auditorium.

 

Izuku watched him go, smiling softly. He took a step forward, his eyes locked on the massive UA building. He was so focused, in fact, that his advanced senses completely filtered out the girl walking right beside him.

 

She tripped over her own feet.

 

"Ah!"

 

Izuku’s head snapped down. His body reacted before his conscious mind could even process the event. In less than a second, his knees bent, his arm shot out, and his thick, clawed hand wrapped around the strap of her backpack, arresting her fall mere inches from the pavement.

 

The girl hung there for a moment, suspended by Izuku’s iron grip.

 

"Oh!" she gasped.

 

Izuku gently pulled her upright, releasing her bag instantly and taking a half-step back, raising his hands to show he wasn't a threat. "I-I'm so sorry! I should have been watching where I was going. Are you hurt?"

 

The girl turned around. She had round cheeks, large brown eyes, and a bob of brown hair. She looked at Izuku, her eyes widening slightly as she took in his sheer size, the scales on his neck, and the slit pupils staring down at her.

 

Izuku braced himself for the flinch. He braced himself for the fear.

 

Instead, a bright, sunny smile broke across her face. "Wow! You're super fast! Thank you so much!"

 

Izuku blinked. "You're... you're not scared?"

 

"Scared? Why would I be scared?" She laughed, brushing off her skirt. "You just saved me from eating pavement! I'm Ochaco Uraraka. I was so nervous I completely forgot how to walk, I guess." She looked at his hands, noticing the thick, darkened claws. "Whoa, your quirk looks so strong! Are you an animal mutation?"

 

"I... um... y-yes!" Izuku stammered, his cheeks burning red. A girl was talking to him. A girl was talking to him and she wasn't terrified. "I-I'm Izuku Midoriya. It's a, uh, theropod mutation. Dinosaurs."

 

"Dinosaurs! That is so cool!" Uraraka beamed, clasping her hands together. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Midoriya! Good luck on the exam. Let's both do our best!"

 

She gave him a cheerful wave and jogged toward the entrance.

 

Izuku stood frozen on the path, his heart thumping wildly against his ribs. She talked to me. She smiled at me. She didn't call me a monster. A massive, goofy, closed-lip smile spread across his face. He felt like he could float.

 

 

 

The written exam was a breeze for Izuku. His human intelligence had never been hindered by his quirk. If anything, the intense mental discipline required to keep his predatory instincts in check had made his mind a steel trap of focus and analytical processing.

 

The orientation for the practical exam, however, tested a different kind of discipline.

 

Izuku sat in the massive auditorium, squeezed into a seat that was entirely too small for him. He was sandwiched between Bakugo and another student, his broad shoulders practically spilling over into their space.

 

On the stage, the Voice Hero: Present Mic was explaining the rules of the practical exam. It was an urban battle simulation. Three types of villain robots worth one, two, and three points respectively. The goal was to rack up as many points as possible in ten minutes.

 

As Present Mic explained the mechanics, Izuku’s analytical mind went into overdrive. He pulled out his notebook and began muttering under his breath, a habit he had never quite shaken.

 

"Urban environment... that's a disadvantage for full-body shifts. Too much collateral damage. Narrow streets mean limited mobility if I go over fifteen feet. I'll have to rely on partial shifts. Leg transformation for speed, maybe claw elongation for piercing damage against the armor plating. Wait, what about the metal? Biting metal would hurt my human teeth, so if I partial-shift my jaw..."

 

"Excuse me!"

 

A tall, broad-shouldered boy with glasses stood up several rows ahead, pointing rigidly at Present Mic. "On the printout, there are four types of villains! If this is a misprint, then UA, the most prominent school in Japan, should be ashamed of that foolish mistake!"

 

The boy then whipped around, pointing his rigid finger directly at Izuku. "And you, with the large stature and the scales! You've been muttering this entire time! It's incredibly distracting! If you are here on a pleasure trip to play pretend hero, then leave immediately!"

 

The entire auditorium went dead silent. Hundreds of eyes turned to look at Izuku.

 

Bakugo leaned away, grinning wickedly, waiting for the explosion.

 

Izuku felt a flash of irritation, a hot spike of anger in his chest. Territorial challenge, his lizard brain hissed. Assert dominance. Roar.

 

Izuku clamped down on the instinct instantly. He took a slow, deep breath, visualizing his heart rate slowing. He stood up. Even hunched over, he towered over most of the room.

 

"I apologize," Izuku said, bowing deeply at the waist. Despite his effort to speak softly, the sheer acoustics of his deep, resonant voice carried through the silent hall, vibrating with a heavy, intimidating bass. "I did not mean to disturb you or disrespect the institution. I was simply analyzing the parameters of the exam. I will remain quiet. Please forgive me."

 

He sat back down.

 

The boy with the glasses blinked, clearly taken aback by the extreme politeness coming from someone who looked like a bouncer for the yakuza. "A-Ah. Well... see that you do." He sat down quickly.

 

Present Mic cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "Right on, listener! The fourth robot is the Zero Pointer! It's an obstacle. My advice? Run away from it! Now, let's get to the battle centers!"

 

 

 

Battle Center B was a sprawling mock city, complete with skyscrapers, paved roads, and alleyways.

 

Izuku stood near the back of the massive crowd of examinees in front of the giant metal gates. He was stretching his arms, rolling his shoulders, preparing his body for the immense physical strain of shifting.

 

He saw Uraraka near the front, looking nervous. He wanted to go over and wish her luck, but he didn't want to break her concentration. Beside him, the boy with the glasses—who Izuku now recognized had engines in his calves—was doing warm-up squats.

 

"Right, let's start!" Present Mic’s voice boomed from speakers hidden along the wall.

 

The examinees hesitated.

 

"What's wrong? There are no countdowns in a real battle! Run, run, run!"

 

The crowd surged forward. Izuku didn't run with them. He closed his eyes.

 

Let it out. Just a little. Open the valves.

 

He tapped into the deep, dark well of his Quirk Factor. He felt the familiar, burning rush of heat flood his veins.

 

"Partial Shift: Hunter's Stride," Izuku whispered.

 

With a sickening crack, the bones in Izuku’s legs elongated and snapped backward. His shoes and the bottom of his uniform pants tore apart as his legs transformed entirely into the massive, thick, digitigrade limbs of a theropod. Dark green scales covered his calves and thighs. Three massive, clawed toes dug into the pavement on each foot. At the base of his spine, his tailbone ruptured through his clothes, extending into a six-foot-long, thick, muscular reptilian tail to act as a counterbalance.

 

His upper body remained entirely human, save for his eyes, which had fully dilated into glowing golden slits, and his teeth, which had dropped into a full row of jagged fangs.

 

The sensory overload hit him like a truck. Suddenly, he could smell everything. He smelled the hydraulic fluid of the robots blocks away. He smelled the ozone from electrical circuits. He heard the whirring of gears and the clanking of metal.

 

He didn't need to look for the robots. He knew exactly where they were.

 

Izuku dug his claws into the asphalt. The muscles in his saurian legs coiled like steel springs.

 

BOOM.

 

The pavement shattered beneath him as Izuku launched himself forward. The sheer explosive speed of his modified legs was staggering. He bypassed the running crowd in seconds, a blur of green and black tearing down the main avenue.

 

"What the hell is that?!" an examinee screamed as Izuku blew past them.

 

"Target acquired," a mechanical voice droned.

 

A Two-Pointer rolled out from an alleyway, raising its blasters at Izuku.

 

Izuku didn't slow down. He planted his left foot, using his massive tail to whip his momentum in a tight, ninety-degree turn that defied human physics. He lunged at the robot.

 

"Partial Shift: Rending Claws!"

 

As his right arm swung forward, the skin rippled. The bones thickened, the flesh turning to dense green hide, and his fingers fused and elongated into three massive, twelve-inch talons of jet-black keratin.

 

Izuku slashed downward. The claws tore through the metal plating of the Two-Pointer like tissue paper, severing its internal wiring. The robot sparked and exploded.

 

Two points, Izuku thought, his mind crystal clear despite the adrenaline. He let his arm revert to human form to conserve energy, relying on his dinosaur legs to propel him up the side of a building, leaping off the wall to land on a Three-Pointer, crushing its optical sensor with his heavy boots.

 

Five points.

 

He moved like a phantom of the prehistoric past. He didn't fight with the flashy, explosive flair of Bakugo or the elegant precision of martial arts. He fought like a predator hunting a herd. He isolated targets, flanked them, and used brutal, overwhelming strikes to neutralize them instantly. He used his tail to sweep the legs out from under a cluster of One-Pointers, then crushed their heads beneath his clawed feet.

 

Twenty-five points.

 

Izuku paused on the roof of a three-story building, his chest heaving. Sweat poured down his face, turning to steam as it hit the scales on his neck. His internal body temperature was spiking. The caloric burn of maintaining the leg and tail shift was massive. His stomach cramped with a sharp pang of hunger.

 

He took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of the battlefield. The smell of hydraulic fluid was everywhere now. He heard the grunts and shouts of other students.

 

He smelled blood.

 

Izuku’s golden eyes snapped toward the scent. It was faint, just a scraped knee or a cut arm, but in his partially shifted state, the smell of blood was a beacon. His lizard brain flared, a primal surge of instinct screaming at him to find the injured prey.

 

"No," Izuku growled, smacking his own cheek hard enough to leave a red mark. "Focus. You're not an animal. You're a hero."

 

He forced the instinct down, locking it in the cage. He looked down at the street below. He saw the boy with the engines in his legs, Iida, expertly kicking the head off a Three-Pointer. He saw Uraraka floating pieces of debris and dropping them on robots.

 

Everyone is doing so well, Izuku thought, a genuine smile breaking through his fangs. I need to keep up!

 

He leaped off the roof, plummeting toward a group of Two-Pointers.

 

 

 

High above the fake city, in a dark, soundproof room illuminated by dozens of monitors, the faculty of UA High School watched the exam unfold.

 

"This year's crop looks promising," Midnight purred, crossing her legs. "A lot of flashy quirks, but also some very practical ones."

 

"Look at Bakugo in Center A," Present Mic pointed at a screen. "The kid is a natural-born fighter. His combat instincts are off the charts."

 

"He lacks spatial awareness regarding collateral damage," Eraserhead (Shota Aizawa) noted dryly, his eyes scanning the screens. "But he's effective."

 

In the back of the room, standing behind the glowing monitors, a skeletal man in an oversized yellow suit leaned closer to the screens. Toshinori Yagi—All Might—had his eyes fixed entirely on one screen. Battle Center B.

 

"Aizawa," a small, chimera-like creature spoke up. Principal Nezu sat in a high chair, sipping tea. "What do you make of examinee number 7111? Midoriya Izuku."

 

Aizawa pulled up Izuku’s file on his tablet. He watched as the boy on screen performed a flawless parkour maneuver using a heavy reptilian tail, shifting his arm into a massive claw mid-air to slice a robot in half, before immediately shifting back to conserve energy.

 

"Quirk: Tyrant. Pure genetic Theropod mutation," Aizawa read, his visible eye narrowing. "Incredible. Most transformation types with animalistic traits suffer from tunnel vision or loss of higher reasoning when utilizing their quirk. To possess the DNA of a T-Rex and actively suppress the psychological side-effects... he's fighting his own biology every second he's out there. His discipline is terrifying."

 

"He's not just smashing them," Snipe added, adjusting his hat. "Look at his eyes. He's tracking them using scent and thermal heat. He's using the terrain. He's treating this like a hunt, but executing it with military precision."

 

"Indeed," Nezu smiled, his black eyes glinting. "He has the power of a natural disaster, yet he wields it like a scalpel. But a hero needs more than just power and precision. A hero needs heart. Let us see how they react to true despair."

 

Nezu pressed a large red button on his console.

 

 

 

Izuku had just ripped the wiring out of his fiftieth point when the ground beneath him violently lurched.

 

It wasn't a small tremor. The asphalt cracked and heaved. The buildings on either side of the street groaned, glass shattering from the windows. A shadow fell over the avenue, blocking out the sun.

 

Izuku looked up, his jaw dropping.

 

Rising from the center of the fake city, shattering buildings as it stood, was a machine of biblical proportions. It was easily taller than the skyscrapers, a gargantuan, olive-green monstrosity of steel and tread. The Zero Pointer.

 

It raised a massive, hydraulic fist and brought it down on the street. The shockwave blew examinees off their feet. Dust and debris choked the air.

 

"Run!" someone screamed.

 

"It's a monster!"

 

The crowd of examinees turned and fled in a blind panic. Iida ran past Izuku, his engines whining. "Midoriya! Fall back! That thing is unkillable!"

 

Izuku stood frozen. His lizard brain was screaming at him. Threat level absolute. Too large to hunt. Flee. Flee!

 

He began to take a step back, his saurian legs preparing to launch him away from the danger.

 

Then, he heard it.

 

Help!

 

It was faint, drowned out by the grinding of gears and the screams of fleeing students. But Izuku’s ears twitched. He snapped his head toward the sound.

 

Through the dust, near the base of the Zero Pointer's treads, he saw her. Uraraka. Her leg was trapped beneath a massive slab of concrete that had fallen from a destroyed building. She was struggling, tears streaming down her face, staring up in horror as the giant tread of the robot rolled slowly, inexorably toward her.

 

Izuku didn't think. He didn't analyze. He didn't weigh the points, or the risk, or the fact that he was exposing his darkest, most terrifying secret to hundreds of people.

 

He saw someone who needed to be saved.

 

All Might's voice echoed in his head. It is fine now. Why? Because I am here!

 

Izuku let go of the cage. He opened the floodgates of his Quirk Factor, pouring every ounce of his energy, his willpower, and his soul into the spark.

 

"FULL BEAST SHIFT!" Izuku roared.

 

The transformation was explosive. A shockwave of pure thermal energy blasted outward from Izuku’s body, melting the asphalt beneath his feet.

 

His clothes disintegrated instantly. His human form vanished, swallowed by a rapid, violent expansion of bone, muscle, and scale. The sound of his transformation was a sickening symphony of snapping cartilage and tearing meat, drowned out by a primal, earth-shattering bellow that tore from his elongating throat.

 

The fleeing students stopped, turning around in horror as the dust cleared.

 

Where Izuku Midoriya had stood, a nightmare from the Cretaceous period had materialized.

 

He was colossal. The adrenaline and the dire need to protect had pushed his quirk to its absolute limit, resulting in a form larger than he had ever achieved in training. He stood twenty feet tall at the hip, his massive, forty-foot-long body counterbalanced by a tail as thick as a redwood tree trunk. His scales were armored, a dark, jagged moss-green, rippling over eight tons of hyper-dense muscle.

 

His massive head, nearly six feet long, snapped upward. The jaws parted, revealing rows of serrated teeth the size of railroad spikes.

 

The T-Rex let out a roar. It was a sound that defied description—a concussive, deafening blast of sheer acoustic violence that visibly rippled the air, shattering the remaining glass in a three-block radius and freezing the blood of every human present.

 

In the monitor room, Present Mic dropped his coffee mug. It shattered on the floor. Eraserhead gripped the edge of his console, his eyes wide. All Might stood up, his fists clenched, staring at the screen in absolute awe.

 

The Zero Pointer, lacking a soul, did not feel fear. Its optical sensors locked onto the new, massive thermal signature. It raised its giant fist to crush the dinosaur.

 

Inside the beast, Izuku’s human mind was clinging to a single thread of consciousness in a hurricane of rage and instinct.

 

Protect the girl. Smash the metal. PROTECT!

 

The T-Rex didn't flinch. It lunged.

 

Eight tons of muscle propelled the beast forward with terrifying speed. The ground shook with every step. The Zero Pointer brought its fist down.

 

Izuku didn't dodge. He swung his massive head like a battering ram, slamming his armored skull directly into the incoming steel fist. The impact sounded like a bomb going off. The steel casing of the robot's hand crumpled under the sheer kinetic force of the dinosaur's charge.

 

The beast pushed forward, closing the distance. It clamped its jaws around the robot's thick hydraulic forearm.

 

The bite force of a standard, extinct T-Rex was roughly 8,000 pounds per square inch. Izuku, empowered by his quirk factor, brought his jaws down with over 12,000 pounds of pressure.

 

The steel shrieked. The thick, reinforced metal plating buckled, sparked, and snapped. Izuku tore his head to the side, ripping the massive hydraulic arm clean off the robot's chassis. He spat the mangled metal away, letting out a thunderous, furious growl.

 

The Zero Pointer stumbled backward, alarms blaring. But Izuku wasn't finished.

 

He spun, his massive tail whipping around with the force of a wrecking ball. It smashed into the robot's knee joint, shattering the mechanics. As the gargantuan machine began to topple forward, Izuku roared, planting his legs and rearing back.

 

He lunged upward, his jaws opening wide, targeting the glowing red optical center—the core—of the robot’s chest.

 

His teeth sank into the metal. The heat radiating from Izuku’s body was so intense it was practically smelting the steel in his mouth. With a violent, thrashing twist of his neck, Izuku tore the core out of the machine.

 

Sparks rained down like fireworks. The Zero Pointer let out a dying groan of failing servos, and the massive titan crashed backward into the fake city, the impact kicking up a cloud of dust that swallowed the street.

 

Silence fell over Battle Center B.

 

No one moved. Iida, Bakugo, the other examinees—they all stood paralyzed, staring at the towering, smoking silhouette of the apex predator standing victorious over the ruined machine.

 

Slowly, the T-Rex turned its massive head. Its glowing golden eyes pierced through the dust, locking onto Uraraka.

 

Uraraka was pressed flat against the ground, her hands over her mouth, trembling.

 

The beast took a heavy, thudding step toward her. Then another. It loomed over her, blocking out the sun. The hot, steam-filled breath of the creature washed over her. It lowered its massive, terrifying snout until it was inches from her face.

 

The golden eye blinked. The vertical slit pupil widened, softening into a round, almost gentle circle.

 

The beast let out a low, rumbling sound. It wasn't a roar. It sounded like a giant, purring engine. Very gently, the creature nudged the slab of concrete trapping her leg with its massive snout, easily sliding the multi-ton debris off her.

 

Then, the steam erupted.

 

A thick, white cloud billowed from the creature, hissing violently. The massive silhouette shrank rapidly, collapsing in on itself.

 

When the steam cleared, Izuku Midoriya lay naked on the shattered asphalt, curled into a fetal position, shivering violently. His skin was pale, smoking slightly from the immense heat of his quirk. He was utterly, entirely spent.

 

"Time's up!" Present Mic’s voice blared over the speakers, though it sounded subdued, almost shaken.

 

Izuku forced his heavy eyelids open. His entire body felt like it had been run over by the very robot he just destroyed. His vision was blurry, but he saw Uraraka dragging herself toward him. She took off her uniform jacket and draped it over his shivering shoulders.

 

"You saved me," she whispered, her voice trembling, tears spilling over her cheeks. "You... you saved me. Thank you."

 

Izuku tried to smile, though he didn't have the energy to hide his fangs. "Are you... okay?"

 

"I'm fine," she sobbed, holding his hand. It wasn't a scaly claw anymore; it was just a boy's hand. "You're a hero. You're amazing."

 

Izuku let his head fall back against the pavement, closing his eyes. His stomach gave a violent, painful cramp. He was so hungry he could eat a horse, but his heart felt full.

 

I did it, Mom. I didn't lose control. I saved her.

 

As the exhaustion pulled him into darkness, he didn't hear the footsteps of Recovery Girl approaching, nor did he see the look of absolute awe and terror on the faces of his peers.

 

In the monitor room, All Might stared at the frozen image of the boy lying on the ground. A wide, undeniable smile spread across the Symbol of Peace's gaunt face.

 

A monster on the outside, All Might thought, placing a hand over his own injured chest. But inside... the pure, unyielding heart of a hero.

 

The letter from U.A. High School had not come in a standard envelope. It had been a heavy, metallic disc that, when placed on Izuku’s desk, projected a massive hologram of the Symbol of Peace himself.

 

Izuku had watched the projection a dozen times over the past week, each time feeling the same swell of disbelief and pride. All Might had stood tall, his booming voice filling Izuku’s small bedroom, detailing his scores. Izuku had scored a respectable forty-five villain points, relying mostly on his partial shifts to dismantle the one, two, and three-pointers. But it was the hidden metric that had cemented his place.

 

“A hero’s job is to risk their life to turn promises into reality!” All Might’s hologram had declared, pointing directly at the camera. “Sixty rescue points! You put your own safety—and the secret of your monstrous power—on the line to save a fellow examinee! Midoriya Izuku, you have passed with flying colors! Welcome to your Hero Academia!”

 

Now, standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom, Izuku adjusted the collar of his uniform. The standard U.A. uniform—a gray blazer, white shirt, and red tie—had required significant tailoring to accommodate his unique biology. The blazer was cut wide across the shoulders and chest to fit his heavily muscled frame. The fabric was interwoven with a flexible, high-tensile synthetic fiber that could stretch up to three times its normal size without tearing, an expensive but necessary precaution for a boy whose quirk involved spontaneous, violent changes in mass.

 

He ran a hand through his unruly green hair. He practiced his smile in the mirror, consciously keeping his lips pressed together. Don't show the fangs. Keep your eyes wide, don't let the pupils slit. Be approachable. Be gentle.

 

"Izuku! You're going to be late on your first day!" his mother called from the kitchen.

 

Izuku grabbed his yellow backpack, its straps lengthened to fit over his broad shoulders, and hurried out of his room. Breakfast was the usual herculean affair: a dozen eggs, half a side of salmon, and a massive bowl of rice, all consumed in under ten minutes to fuel the thermonuclear reactor that was his metabolism.

 

"I'm off, Mom!" Izuku said, slipping into his custom-made red sneakers. They were built wide and tough, reinforced with steel toes just in case he accidentally shifted his feet without taking them off.

 

Inko stood by the door, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "My boy. A high schooler. A U.A. student. Oh, Izuku, I'm just so proud of you. Please, promise me you'll be careful. Don't push yourself too hard."

 

"I promise, Mom," Izuku smiled, giving her a gentle hug. He had to bend down quite a bit to reach her, his massive frame dwarfing her small stature. "I'll make you proud."

 

The commute to U.A. was, as always, an exercise in isolation. Izuku stood in the corner of the train, his back pressed against the wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. Even so, the sheer density of his presence—the faint, feral scent of ozone and earth, the subtle patches of green scales on his neck—caused the commuters around him to unconsciously give him a wide berth. It was the primal instinct of prey avoiding an apex predator. Izuku simply pulled out Hero Analysis for the Future: Volume 14 and buried his face in his notes, pretending not to notice.

 

When he finally walked through the massive front gates of U.A. High, he felt a genuine wave of relief. This was the premiere hero academy in Japan. The students here had seen every kind of quirk imaginable. Surely, they wouldn't judge him solely on his appearance.

 

Navigating the sprawling corridors of the school, Izuku found himself marveling at the architecture. The ceilings were incredibly high, and the doors...

 

1-A, the massive plaque read.

 

Izuku stared at the door. It was easily ten feet tall. They made it huge for students with gigantification or heavy mutant quirks, Izuku realized, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. I fit here.

 

He took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of his new classmates through the door. He smelled the sharp, familiar scent of burnt sugar and sweat—Bakugo was already inside. He smelled something sweet, like mochi and strawberries—Uraraka. And a myriad of other scents: ozone, engine oil, frog ponds, and cold stone.

 

Just be normal, Izuku told himself. Well, as normal as you can be.

 

He reached out and slid the massive door open.

 

The low hum of chatter inside the classroom instantly died. Twenty pairs of eyes snapped toward the doorway.

 

Izuku froze, his hand still on the handle. He towered over the doorframe's lower half, his broad shoulders blocking the hallway light. The classroom fell into a tense, heavy silence. He could hear their heartbeats picking up. He could smell the subtle spike of adrenaline in the air. To them, he didn't look like a student; he looked like a villain who had wandered into the wrong building.

 

"Don't put your feet on the desk!" a loud, authoritative voice suddenly barked, breaking the silence.

 

Izuku blinked. It was the tall boy with glasses and engine calves from the entrance exam. He was aggressively chopping his hand through the air, reprimanding Katsuki Bakugo, who was lounging at his desk with his feet propped up, a scowl on his face.

 

"Huh?" Bakugo sneered, sparks lightly popping in his palms. "What do you care, Four-Eyes? Who the hell are you anyway?"

 

"I am Tenya Iida, from Somei Private Academy!" Iida declared proudly. "And you are disrespecting the legacy of the upperclassmen who sat at this very desk!"

 

"Somei? So you're a stuck-up elite, huh?" Bakugo scoffed, leaning back further. "I'm gonna have fun crushing you."

 

Iida gasped, genuinely offended. "Crushing me?! You wish to become a hero with that attitude?"

 

Iida turned away from the infuriating blonde, his eyes landing on Izuku in the doorway. Iida’s expression immediately shifted from indignation to recognition. He marched straight toward Izuku with robotic, stiff movements.

 

Izuku tensed slightly, bracing for a confrontation.

 

Instead, Iida stopped a few feet away and bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle. "Good morning! I am Tenya Iida! I must formally apologize to you!"

 

"A-Apologize?" Izuku stammered, taken aback.

 

"Yes!" Iida stood up straight, adjusting his glasses. "During the orientation, I misjudged you entirely! I thought you were simply a distraction, but you perceived the true nature of the practical exam! You deduced the hidden rescue points, prioritizing the lives of others over your own score, even at the cost of revealing the true, terrifying extent of your quirk! You are a far better hero candidate than I!"

 

The rest of the class murmured, their fear momentarily replaced by curiosity.

 

"T-Terrifying?" Izuku rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing. "I didn't deduce anything, Iida. I just... saw someone who needed help. My body just moved on its own."

 

"Deku."

 

The word cut through the air like a poisoned knife.

 

Izuku looked past Iida. Bakugo had taken his feet off the desk. He was glaring at Izuku with a look of pure, unadulterated venom. His crimson eyes were narrowed, and his hands were clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles were white.

 

"Kacchan," Izuku acknowledged softly.

 

"Don't think you're hot shit just because you pulled off some giant lizard trick at the exam," Bakugo growled, his voice low but carrying across the quiet room. "I saw the scores. You barely beat me. You're still just a quirk-reliant freak who can't think for himself. When we actually fight, I'm going to turn you into a new pair of boots."

 

Izuku’s golden, slit-pupiled eyes locked onto Bakugo’s. The primal instinct inside Izuku flared—a deep, territorial roar threatening to rip out of his throat in response to the challenge. The air in the room suddenly felt incredibly heavy. The temperature seemed to rise as Izuku’s internal engine kicked into a higher gear.

 

But Izuku simply closed his eyes, took a breath, and smiled politely. "I look forward to learning alongside you, Kacchan."

 

Bakugo’s eye twitched violently. The fact that Izuku refused to be intimidated, refused to fight back physically, infuriated him more than any insult could.

 

"Midoriya!" a cheerful voice called out.

 

Izuku turned to see Ochaco Uraraka pushing past Iida. Her face lit up with a massive smile as she looked up at him. "You made it! I'm so glad! I tried to find you after the exam, but Recovery Girl said you had to go home to eat."

 

"Uraraka!" Izuku’s polite smile shifted into a genuine, beaming grin. He completely forgot about his fangs for a second, flashing his sharp teeth, but Uraraka didn't flinch. "It's so good to see you! Are you fully healed?"

 

"Yep! Present Mic said I got in on rescue points, too, because I tried to help you when you were on the ground! Oh, man, you should have seen yourself! You were like a superhero from a movie! The way you bit that robot's arm off—!"

 

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

 

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

 

The trio looked down. Lying on the floor, perfectly still, was a large, bright yellow sleeping bag. Slowly, a zipper descended, revealing the exhausted, unshaven face of a man with bloodshot eyes and long, messy black hair.

 

He slurped a jelly pouch, then stood up, shedding the sleeping bag like a cocoon.

 

"It took you lot eight seconds to quiet down," the man drawled, his deadpan gaze sweeping over the students. "Time is limited. You kids aren't rational enough."

 

Who is this guy? Izuku thought, his mind racing. He looks exhausted. But his scent... he smells like old blood, cheap coffee, and ozone. He's a pro hero. But who?

 

"I am your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa," the man announced.

 

Eraserhead! Izuku’s eyes widened. An underground hero! He can erase quirks by looking at them. A direct counter to mutation and transformation types... he's the perfect teacher to keep me in check.

 

Aizawa reached into his sleeping bag and pulled out a stack of blue and white uniforms. "Put these on and meet me out on the P.E. grounds. We're skipping orientation."

 

 

 

The P.E. grounds were expansive, bathed in the bright morning sun. Class 1-A stood in a loose gaggle, wearing their U.A. tracksuits. Izuku’s suit, much like his uniform, was tailored. The material was exceptionally thick, and there was a concealed, overlapping slit at the base of his spine to accommodate his tail if he needed to shift.

 

"A Quirk Apprehension Test?!" the class echoed in shock.

 

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

 

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

 

Aizawa pulled out a device resembling a smartphone. "You kids have been doing these standard fitness tests since middle school. Sit-ups, 50-meter dashes, ball throws. But they always forbade you from using your quirks to keep the baseline 'fair.' It's irrational. The Ministry of Education is procrastinating. Bakugo."

 

Bakugo perked up.

 

"You finished first in the practical exam," Aizawa said.

 

Izuku blinked. Ah, the official scores didn't include rescue points for the public ranking. So Kacchan took first.

 

"In junior high, what was your best result for the softball throw?" Aizawa asked.

 

"Sixty-seven meters," Bakugo replied proudly.

 

"Try doing it with your quirk." Aizawa pointed to a chalk circle painted on the dirt. "Anything goes, just don't leave the circle. Hurry up. Give it all you've got."

 

Bakugo stepped into the ring, stretching his arms. A feral, sadistic grin spread across his face. He wound his arm back, his palm sparking violently. "Die!" he roared, throwing the ball while simultaneously unleashing a massive explosion from his palm.

 

The concussive force sent a shockwave over the students, ruffling Izuku’s hair. The ball shot into the sky like a rocket, leaving a trail of smoke.

 

The class watched in awe. A moment later, Aizawa held up his device, displaying a digital reading. 705.2 meters.

 

"Know your own maximum first," Aizawa said, his eyes scanning the awe-struck students. "That is the most rational way to form the foundation of a hero."

 

"Seven hundred meters?! That's insane!" a boy with yellow hair and a black lightning bolt streak yelled.

 

"This looks like fun!" a pink-skinned girl with horns cheered.

 

"Fun, you say?" Aizawa's voice dropped an octave, the temperature in the air seemingly plummeting with it. His terrifying glare swept over the class, pausing for a fraction of a second on Izuku. "You have three years to become heroes. Are you going to have an attitude of 'fun' the whole time? Fine. Whoever ranks last in total points across all eight tests will be judged to have no potential and will be punished with expulsion."

 

The class erupted in panic.

 

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

 

"Natural disasters, massive accidents, villain attacks," Aizawa retorted, stepping closer to them. "Calamities that cannot be predicted. Japan is covered with unfairness. Heroes are the ones who reverse those situations. If you wanted to talk with your friends at McDonald's after school, too bad. For the next three years, U.A. will throw hardship after hardship at you. Go Beyond. Plus Ultra. Overcome it with all you've got."

 

Izuku took a deep breath. His heart was steady. He's right. The villains aren't going to hold back. I can't hold back either. I have to show him that I can control my quirk.

 

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

 

The students lined up at the starting track. A robotic camera on a tripod stood at the finish line.

 

Izuku watched intently as Iida and a frog-like girl named Tsuyu Asui stepped up. Iida used his engine legs to cross the finish line in a blistering 3.04 seconds. Asui followed with an impressive 5.58 seconds using her powerful amphibian legs.

 

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

 

Bakugo stomped to the starting line, his hands popping. He glared sideways at Izuku as the larger boy took his place on the line.

 

"Don't hold back, Deku," Bakugo hissed. "Show everyone what a freak you really are. I'm still gonna smoke you."

 

Izuku didn't respond to the taunt. He closed his eyes, focusing inward. He visualized his heart, his muscles, his bones. He pictured the cage door opening, just a fraction. He didn't want the full beast. He just needed the legs.

 

Partial Shift: Hunter's Stride.

 

A sickening, wet crack echoed across the track, making several students flinch.

 

Izuku’s legs contorted violently. His track pants, designed to accommodate the shift, stretched tightly as the bones in his femurs and tibias elongated and thickened. His knees snapped backward, reshaping into the powerful, digitigrade joints of a theropod. Thick, dark green scales erupted over his skin from his thighs down to his toes. His sneakers burst open—a necessary sacrifice—as his feet transformed into massive, three-toed, clawed appendages that dug deeply into the dirt of the track.

 

Simultaneously, the slit at the base of his tracksuit popped open, and a heavy, muscular, five-foot-long tail shot out, thudding against the ground. It was necessary to counter-balance the immense weight and forward-leaning posture required by the dinosaur legs.

 

Izuku leaned forward, his torso remaining human, his hands resting lightly on the ground. His golden, slit-pupiled eyes locked onto the finish line.

 

The class stared in stunned silence. The sheer anatomical violation of seeing a human torso atop the lower half of a prehistoric monster was jarring.

 

"On your marks," the robotic camera intoned.

 

Bakugo held his hands out behind him, ready to blast himself forward.

 

"Get set."

 

Izuku dug his claws into the dirt. The massive, hyper-dense muscles in his saurian thighs coiled.

 

"Go!"

 

Bakugo unleashed a dual explosion, rocketing forward like a missile. "Explosive Speed!" he yelled.

 

But Izuku was already gone.

 

The sound of his launch was like a cannon firing. The dirt at the starting line exploded backward in a geyser of dust and pebbles. Izuku didn't run; he bounded, his massive legs propelling him forward in terrifying, ground-eating strides. His tail whipped behind him, perfectly maintaining his center of gravity, keeping his human torso stable while his lower half moved at predatory speeds.

 

He crossed the finish line a full second before Bakugo.

 

"2.84 seconds," the robotic voice announced for Izuku.

 

"4.13 seconds," it announced for Bakugo.

 

Izuku slowed down, his heavy feet tearing trenches into the dirt before coming to a halt. He let out a deep, rattling breath, focusing on the cage door, pulling it shut. His legs and tail hissed with steam, the scales melting away, the bones snapping back into their human configuration. He stood up, fully human again, save for his permanently sharp teeth and slightly scaled neck. He stepped out of his shredded sneakers, thankful he had brought a spare pair in his locker.

 

He looked back at the starting line. Bakugo was staring at him, his face pale, his mouth slightly open. The blonde boy's hands were shaking. He had used his quirk optimally, and he had still been utterly outclassed in sheer physical output.

 

Aizawa watched from the sidelines, jotting notes on his tablet. He shifted only the lower half of his body, maintaining his human brain to process the sensory input and avoid collateral damage. Incredible pain tolerance to endure rapid bone restructuring. His top speed is terrifying, but his control is what makes him lethal. If he were a villain, Bakugo wouldn't have just lost a race; he'd be dead.

 

 

 

The tests continued.

 

Test 2: Grip Strength.

 

Izuku stepped up to the digital dynamometer. He didn't want to use his full strength, fearing he might break the expensive equipment. He visualized his hand, channeling a micro-shift.

 

The skin on his right hand turned dark green. The bones thickened, and his fingers fused slightly, his nails elongating into razor-sharp, three-inch keratin claws. He squeezed the device.

 

The metal groaned under the immense, crushing pressure. The digital counter spun wildly before the screen cracked, flashing ERROR.

 

"Oops," Izuku muttered, his hand steaming as it shifted back to normal.

 

Nearby, Mezo Shoji, a tall boy with multiple arms, looked at his own score of 540 kg, then looked at Izuku's shattered machine. Shoji nodded respectfully. Izuku returned the nod, feeling a sense of camaraderie with another mutant-type.

 

Test 3: Standing Long Jump.

 

Izuku used a milder version of his Hunter's Stride, shifting only the muscles in his calves and thighs without altering the bone structure. He leaped, sailing completely over the sandbox and landing on the grass beyond.

 

Test 4: Repeated Side Steps.

 

Here, Izuku struggled. His massive, muscular frame and natural weight made rapid, lateral agility difficult. A short boy with purple balls on his head, Mineta, easily beat him by bouncing between his sticky spheres. Izuku noted this in his mental notebook: Weakness: Tight horizontal maneuverability.

 

Finally, they reached Test 5: The Softball Pitch.

 

Uraraka stepped into the circle. She touched the ball, removing its gravity, and tossed it into the air. It kept going until it was a speck in the sky.

 

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

 

The class cheered.

 

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

 

Izuku took a spare baseball from the basket and walked into the chalk circle. He stood in the center, rolling the ball in his hands.

 

He looked at Aizawa. The underground hero was staring at him intensely, his dark eyes unblinking.

 

He hasn't used his quirk on me, Izuku thought. He could erase my quirk right now and force me to throw it normally. But he wants to see what I can do. He wants to see if I'm a danger.

 

Izuku looked down at the ball. The muscles in his human arm were strong, but they wouldn't beat Bakugo’s 705 meters. To generate that kind of kinetic energy, he needed his quirk. But shifting his arm into a massive, heavy T-Rex claw would only give him raw crushing power, not throwing velocity.

 

Theropods didn't throw things, Izuku analyzed, his mind racing through prehistoric anatomy. They used their jaws and their mass. But... they used their tails. A T-Rex tail wasn't just for balance; it was a massive whip of solid muscle and bone, capable of shattering the legs of prey.

 

Izuku grinned. I can combine human throwing mechanics with theropod bio-mechanics.

 

"Midoriya," Aizawa said softly, his voice carrying only to Izuku. "Your quirk is that of a maneater. An apex predator. It is designed to kill. If I see even a hint of you losing yourself to that instinct, I will erase your quirk and expel you on the spot. Do you understand?"

 

Izuku turned to his teacher. His golden eyes didn't waver. "I understand, Sensei. I am not a monster. I am a hero."

 

Izuku turned his attention to the field. He took a deep breath, dropping into a wide stance.

 

"Partial Shift: Apex Whip," Izuku muttered.

 

The transformation was localized but violent. The slit in his tracksuit ripped completely open as a massive, heavy, armor-plated tail erupted from his spine. It was seven feet long, thick as a telephone pole at the base, tapering to a heavy, muscular point. At the same time, the skin on his right arm darkened, his muscles ballooning to twice their size, scales layering over his bicep and forearm.

 

He didn't wind his arm back like a normal pitch.

 

Instead, Izuku spun his entire body to the left. He swung his massive, multi-ton tail in the opposite direction.

 

The physics were staggering. The sheer kinetic energy generated by the heavy tail whipping backward created a massive amount of rotational torque in his hips and torso. Izuku harnessed that torque, twisting his spine and snapping his heavily shifted right arm forward like a biological trebuchet.

 

He released the ball.

 

BOOM!

 

The sound barrier shattered. A shockwave of displaced air exploded from the chalk circle, kicking up a massive cloud of dust that forced the rest of Class 1-A to shield their eyes and brace themselves.

 

The ball wasn't just thrown; it was fired like a railgun projectile. It tore through the sky, leaving a visible distortion in the air behind it, shrinking to a microscopic dot in less than a second.

 

Izuku immediately let the shift fade, falling to one knee as steam poured off his body. He gasped for air, his right arm trembling from the extreme exertion. The caloric burn of that specific, highly coordinated shift made his stomach scream in hunger.

 

Silence blanketed the field as the dust cleared.

 

Aizawa looked at his device. A small, rare smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He turned the screen toward the class.

 

914.3 meters.

 

"Over 900 meters?!" Kaminari screamed, grabbing his head. "He beat Bakugo without even using an explosion!"

 

"That rotational force was incredible," Momo Yaoyorozu gasped, her hands over her mouth. "He used his tail as a counter-weight to multiply the kinetic energy of his arm. That requires masterful control of his own center of gravity."

 

Izuku stood up, wiping sweat from his brow. He looked over his shoulder, flashing a small, tired smile at Aizawa. "Was that rational enough, Sensei?"

 

Aizawa’s smile vanished, replaced by his usual deadpan expression. "Don't get cocky. Go back to the line."

 

Before Izuku could take a step, a primal, roaring scream ripped through the air.

 

"DEKUUUUU!"

 

Izuku snapped his head around. Bakugo had completely lost his mind. The vein in his forehead looked ready to burst. His inferiority complex, festering for ten years beneath the shadow of Izuku’s monstrous power, had violently ruptured.

 

Bakugo charged, his palms blazing with massive, continuous explosions, propelling him forward with lethal intent. "Tell me how you did that! You've been looking down on me this whole time! I'LL KILL YOU!"

 

Izuku’s eyes widened. His lizard brain screamed instantly. Aggressor. Lethal threat. Eliminate.

 

Izuku’s teeth ground together. His pupils shrank into needle-thin slits. The scales on his neck flared outward defensively. He braced his legs, ready to catch Bakugo's blast, ready to rip the blonde boy out of the air—

 

No! Izuku’s human mind fought back, trying to suppress the beast.

 

Before either of them could collide, a thick, gray cloth wrapped securely around Bakugo’s torso and arms, snapping him out of the air and yanking him backward.

 

Bakugo struggled wildly, his explosions suddenly fizzling out into useless sparks. "What the—?! These cloths are hard!"

 

"They are weapons for capture made of carbon fiber woven with metal wire made of a special alloy," Aizawa said. He was standing a few feet away, his capture weapon extended, his hair defying gravity. His eyes glowed a furious, blood-red behind his goggles.

 

"Jeez. Don't keep making me use my quirk over and over," Aizawa grumbled, his voice dripping with annoyance. "I have dry eye."

 

Aizawa glared specifically at Izuku. "And you. I saw your scales flare. Control your instincts, or I will put you in a muzzle."

 

Izuku bowed his head instantly, his heart hammering in his chest. "Yes, Sensei. I apologize."

 

Aizawa let his hair fall, his eyes returning to normal. He released Bakugo, who fell to the dirt, panting, glaring a hole through the ground. "We're wasting time. Whoever is next, step up."

 

 

 

The rest of the tests passed in a blur of exertion and analysis for Izuku. He meticulously managed his shifts, ensuring he never pushed too close to the edge of his primal instincts. By the time they finished the seated toe-touch and the distance run, Izuku was ravenously hungry, but deeply satisfied.

 

The class gathered around Aizawa as he brought up the holographic scoreboard.

 

"I'm not going to tell you each of your scores," Aizawa said, looking bored. "I'll just project the total results. A quick explanation: the total is the sum of the points you got for each test."

 

Izuku scanned the list from the top down.

 

1. Momo Yaoyorozu

2. Shoto Todoroki

3. Izuku Midoriya

4. Katsuki Bakugo

5. Tenya Iida

 

Izuku let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Third place. He had done it. He had proven his worth without losing himself to the beast.

 

He glanced down the list. At the very bottom, in 20th place, was Minoru Mineta, the boy with the purple balls. Mineta fell to his knees, sobbing hysterically about expulsion.

 

"By the way, I was lying about the expulsion," Aizawa said nonchalantly, turning off the projection.

 

The entire class—minus a few perceptive students like Yaoyorozu—shrieked in shock.

 

"It was a logical ruse to draw out the upper limits of your quirks," Aizawa grinned, a terrifying, shark-like smile. "With that, we're done here. There are handouts with the syllabus and such in the classroom. When you get back, look them over."

 

Aizawa turned and walked away, tossing a small piece of paper toward Izuku without looking back. Izuku caught it. It was a requisition form for the cafeteria, signed by Aizawa, authorizing double-sized portions for "Quirk-related caloric deficit."

 

Izuku smiled, carefully folding the paper into his pocket. He's harsh, but he actually cares about us.

 

As the class began the walk back to the locker rooms, a heavy silence lingered between Izuku and Bakugo. Bakugo didn't say a word. He just walked with his head down, his fists trembling at his sides. The reality of U.A. was setting in. He wasn't the biggest fish in the pond anymore. The dinosaur he had mocked was currently standing above him in the food chain.

 

"Midoriya!"

 

Izuku turned. Uraraka and Iida were jogging up to him.

 

"You were amazing out there!" Uraraka cheered. "That tail thing was so cool! It was like whoosh and then bam!"

 

Iida chopped his hand through the air in agreement. "Your application of bio-mechanics is highly advanced, Midoriya! You truly have the mind of a tactician paired with the body of a titan!"

 

"T-Thanks, you guys," Izuku stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing furiously. "I'm just glad I didn't break anything. And, um... thank you for not being afraid of me."

 

Uraraka tilted her head, looking confused. "Afraid? Why would we be afraid?"

 

Izuku looked down at his clawed hands, then back at his two new friends. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel like a monster pretending to be human. He felt like a student. He felt like a hero.

 

"No reason," Izuku smiled, showing his fangs without fear. "Let's go get our syllabuses."