What If Deku Had an Overpowered Pachycephalosaurus Quirk for Headbutt Shockwave Impact

 The humid summer air of Musutafu hung heavy over the neighborhood playground, thick with the deafening drone of cicadas. For most four-year-olds, the heat was a minor inconvenience easily ignored in the pursuit of play. For Izuku Midoriya, it was just another sensory detail to file away in his rapidly expanding, highly observant mind. Even at four, he was a watcher. He watched the way the wind pushed the swings, he watched the way the older kids climbed the jungle gym, and most of all, he watched Katsuki Bakugo.

Katsuki was a force of nature. He had just manifested his Quirk, a flashy, loud, and dangerous ability to create explosions from his sweat. It was the talk of the playground. Katsuki was practically glowing with the sheer arrogance that only a child prodigy could possess, demonstrating his new power by blasting a small crater into the sandbox. 

“See that, Deku?!” Katsuki crowed, holding up his small, soot-stained palms. Small sparks popped like firecrackers from his skin. “I’m gonna be the number one hero! Even better than All Might! And you’re just gonna be cheering from the sidelines with the rest of the extras!”

Izuku, a small, round-faced boy with a mop of unruly green curls, beamed. There was no jealousy in him, only pure, unadulterated awe. “That’s so cool, Kacchan! Your Quirk is amazing! The concussive force, the bright flash—it’s perfect for villain suppression and rescue signaling!” Even at that age, Izuku’s vocabulary was strangely analytical, a byproduct of spending every waking hour watching hero broadcasts.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever nerd words you want to use,” Katsuki scoffed, puffing out his chest. “Come on! We’re going on an expedition to the woods behind the park. Keep up if you can!”

Katsuki took off at a sprint, his lackeys trailing behind him like pilot fish. Izuku scrambled to his feet, dusting off his red sneakers. “Wait for me, Kacchan!” 

He pumped his little legs, pushing himself to run faster. The playground transitioned into a paved path that bordered a high, solid brick wall separating the park from a commercial district. Izuku was looking at Katsuki’s back, determined not to be left behind, when his toe caught the jagged edge of a raised paving stone.

Time seemed to slow down. 

Izuku felt the sudden, terrifying weightlessness of falling. His arms flailed, but he was too slow to catch himself. His center of gravity shifted wildly, and his head pitched forward, acting like the heavy head of a pendulum. He was falling directly toward the solid brick wall.

He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the sickening crack of bone and the inevitable pain. 

His forehead connected with the brick.

But the pain never came. 

Instead, a bizarre sensation rippled through Izuku’s entire body. It felt as though a tight, coiled spring inside his neck and spine had suddenly snapped loose. The kinetic energy of his fall, the momentum of his running speed, and the weight of his body all rushed upward, converging at the crown of his skull. 

BOOOOOOM!

The sound was apocalyptic. It wasn't the sharp crack of a child hitting a wall; it was the deafening, bass-heavy roar of a cannon firing at point-blank range. 

A localized shockwave exploded outward from the point of impact. The force was so immense that the air visibly distorted, rippling like water in a pond. The brick wall didn't just break; it completely disintegrated. Solid red bricks were pulverized into a fine, crimson mist of dust and shrapnel, blown outward in a ten-foot radius. The shockwave tore through the pavement beneath Izuku’s feet, shattering the concrete into spiderweb fractures. 

The gale-force wind generated by the impact swept over the playground. Ten yards away, Katsuki and his friends were thrown off their feet, tumbling into the grass with startled yelps. 

Silence descended on the park, save for the patter of falling brick debris and the ringing in everyone's ears.

Slowly, the red dust cleared. 

Izuku Midoriya was still standing, though slightly hunched over. He rubbed his forehead with a small, chubby hand. He blinked his large green eyes, looking at the massive, gaping hole in the wall in front of him. Through the hole, stunned pedestrians on the other side of the street were staring back at him in absolute terror.

“Ow,” Izuku mumbled softly. It didn't actually hurt. It just felt like he had tapped his head against a pillow. 

Katsuki scrambled up from the grass, his crimson eyes wide as saucers, his jaw unhinged. He looked from the pulverized brick wall to Izuku, and then back to the wall. The explosion he had made in the sandbox paled in comparison to the utter devastation the green-haired boy had just casually inflicted by tripping.

Izuku turned around, looking at his friend with a mixture of confusion and innocent wonder. “Kacchan? Did... did I do that?”

“A Mutant-Emitter hybrid, and quite frankly, a terrifyingly powerful one,” the eccentric, bald doctor said, pushing his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. He tapped the glowing X-ray pinned to the lightboard in the examination room. 

Inko Midoriya sat in a plastic chair, clutching her purse so tightly her knuckles were white. Four-year-old Izuku sat on the examination table, swinging his legs, completely oblivious to his mother’s anxiety. He was busy staring at an All Might poster on the wall.

“I... I don't understand, Dr. Tsubasa,” Inko stammered. “My husband breathes fire. I can attract small objects. Where did this come from?”

“Quirks are a genetic lottery, Mrs. Midoriya,” the doctor explained, tracing a pen over the X-ray of Izuku’s skull. “Sometimes, traits combine and mutate in entirely unprecedented ways. Looking at these scans, your son's physiology has undergone a massive, prehistoric throwback, combined with a modern kinetic-energy emitter.”

The doctor tapped the top of the skull on the X-ray. It was incredibly thick—nearly three inches of solid, reinforced bone at the crown. 

“We call it the Cretaceous Crown. Essentially, Izuku has developed the cranial structure of a Pachycephalosaurus, a dinosaur known for its dome-like skull used for ramming. But it’s not just the bone. Look at his cervical spine.” The doctor pointed to the vertebrae in Izuku's neck. “They are uniquely interlocked, surrounded by a lattice of hyper-dense muscle tissue. This prevents whiplash and completely protects his brain from concussive trauma. He could get hit in the head by a speeding truck, and his brain wouldn't even rattle.”

Inko gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. “Is... is he okay? Will his head look... weird?”

“No, no,” the doctor smiled, gesturing to Izuku’s incredibly thick, fluffy green hair. “The mutation is subtle on the outside. His hair naturally grows thick and voluminous, perfectly hiding the slight dome shape of his crown. Unless someone feels his head, they’d never know.”

The doctor’s expression turned serious, leaning forward. “But the physical mutation is only half of the Quirk. The Emitter aspect is where it becomes truly dangerous. Izuku’s skull doesn't just absorb impact; it multiplies kinetic energy. When he strikes something with his head, his Quirk takes the speed, mass, and force of his movement, magnifies it exponentially, and releases it as a directional concussive shockwave.”

Izuku finally tore his eyes away from the All Might poster. “Like a bomb?” he asked innocently.

“Like a highly concentrated, directional bomb,” the doctor agreed. “The faster you run, the harder you swing your head, the bigger the shockwave. Today, you just tripped and pulverized a brick wall. When you are fully grown, sprinting at full speed? You could likely level a skyscraper with a single headbutt.”

Inko fainted.

Izuku blinked, looking at his mother slumped in the chair, and then up at the doctor. A massive, radiant smile spread across his face. “Does that mean... I can be a hero who saves everyone with one hit, just like All Might?!”

The doctor looked at the small boy, a bead of sweat rolling down the side of his face. He imagined this child, weaponizing his own skull to shatter buildings. “Yes, young man. I imagine you will make quite the hero. But you have to promise me something.”

“What?” 

“You must be very, very careful. You are basically a walking cannonball now.”

Growing up with the Cretaceous Crown drastically altered the trajectory of Izuku Midoriya’s life, specifically his relationship with Katsuki Bakugo. 

In a world where Izuku remained Quirkless, he would have been a victim, pushed around by Katsuki's explosive ego. But in this reality, Izuku was an immovable object to Katsuki's unstoppable force. 

It started in elementary school. Katsuki, refusing to be outdone by the boy who destroyed a wall by tripping, tried to reassert his dominance. During recess, Katsuki cornered Izuku, his palms crackling with malice. 

“Don’t think you’re better than me just 'cause you got a hard head, Deku!” Katsuki yelled. “I’m still the strongest!”

Katsuki lunged, slamming an explosive, sweat-drenched palm directly into Izuku’s forehead. BOOM. A cloud of black smoke engulfed the two boys. The other children screamed, expecting Izuku to be seriously hurt.

But as the smoke cleared, the playground fell silent.

Izuku hadn't even flinched. His thick green hair was slightly singed at the tips, and his face was covered in soot, but his neck hadn't snapped back. He hadn't even blinked. He just stood there, looking at Katsuki with a mild, analytical expression.

“That was a good one, Kacchan,” Izuku noted, pulling out a small notebook from his pocket. “Your nitroglycerin output has increased by at least twenty percent since last month. But because my skull absorbs kinetic impact, blunt force and localized heat don't really affect me from the neck up.”

Katsuki stared at his own hand, trembling with a mixture of shock and sheer rage. He screamed in frustration and unleashed a flurry of explosions against Izuku’s head. Bang! Bang! Bang! 

Izuku just stood there, taking it. It was like watching a firecracker explode against a bank vault. Eventually, Katsuki tired himself out, gasping for breath, while Izuku merely wiped the soot from his eyes.

“Are you done, Kacchan? The bell is going to ring soon.”

From that day on, the dynamic was set. Katsuki couldn't bully Izuku physically. Any attempt to hit him, explode him, or push him around resulted in Katsuki hurting his own hands or bruising his own ego. Izuku, for his part, never fought back. He was terrified of his own Quirk. He remembered the doctor's words: You are a walking cannonball. If he actually headbutted Katsuki, he knew he might kill him. 

So, Izuku became a pacifist tank. He absorbed Katsuki's rage, analyzed his fighting style, and continued to follow him around with unwavering admiration. This infuriated Katsuki more than anything. He wanted a rival who would fight back, not a gentle giant who treated his explosive attacks like a mild breeze. 

“Deku” no longer meant “useless.” In Katsuki’s mind, it became synonymous with “blockhead” or “immovable.” 

As they transitioned into middle school at Aldera Junior High, the rivalry matured into a tense, unspoken cold war. Katsuki was the aggressive apex predator of the school, feared by everyone. Izuku was the quiet, polite, incredibly muscular nerd who sat in the back of the class, filling notebooks with hero analysis, completely unbothered by Katsuki’s glaring. 

The physical toll of carrying such a heavy, dense skull and constantly absorbing impacts had changed Izuku’s physique. He wasn't lanky. By the time he was fourteen, his neck was as thick as a tree trunk, heavily corded with muscle. His shoulders were broad, and his core and legs were incredibly developed. He had realized early on that to control his shockwaves, he needed perfect control over his momentum. So, he ran. He sprinted miles every day with heavy weights, building explosive power in his legs to serve as the launching pad for his headbutts. 

He was a gentle, polite, green-haired tank.

“Since you’re all third years, it’s time for you to think seriously about your futures,” the homeroom teacher announced, standing at the front of the classroom, waving a stack of career aptitude forms. “I would pass out these handouts, but... you’re all pretty much planning to go into the hero course, right?!”

The teacher threw the papers into the air, and the classroom erupted into cheers. Students showed off their various Quirks—stretchy limbs, minor elemental powers, strange bodily mutations. 

“Yes, yes, you all have wonderful Quirks,” the teacher said, trying to regain order. “But remember, using your powers in school is against the rules!”

“Sensei! Don't lump me in with these losers!” 

Katsuki Bakugo leaned back in his chair, his feet resting on his desk, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face. “They’ll be lucky to end up as sidekicks to some busted D-lister. I’m going to U.A. High School. I aced the mock exams, and I’m the only one here with the raw power to be the next Symbol of Peace!”

The class grumbled, but no one dared challenge him. Katsuki’s explosions had only grown more devastating over the years. 

The teacher adjusted his glasses, looking at a clipboard. “Ah, Bakugo, you are aiming for U.A. That is impressive. Oh... Midoriya. You’re also applying for U.A., aren't you?”

The classroom went dead silent. Every head turned to the back of the room, where Izuku was furiously scribbling in his notebook, Hero Analysis for the Future, Vol. 13. 

Hearing his name, Izuku jumped, snapping his notebook shut. “Uh, y-yes, sir. It’s the best hero school in the country. I want to save people with a smile, so it's the only logical choice.”

Katsuki’s eye twitched. His hands sparked. He slowly stood up, turning to face Izuku. “Deku,” he growled, the word dripping with venom. “You think just because you have a thick skull, you can stand on the same stage as me? You don't even have an offensive Quirk! You're just a glorified punching bag!”

Izuku looked at Katsuki calmly. He didn't cower. He hadn't cowered in years. “That’s not true, Kacchan. My Quirk is a kinetic emitter. It is highly offensive. I just choose not to use it because it causes too much collateral damage.”

The casual, analytical way Izuku spoke always made Katsuki’s blood boil. It sounded like pity. It sounded like Izuku was holding back because he didn't want to hurt him.

“Collateral damage?!” Katsuki roared, leaping over a desk and slamming his hands down on Izuku’s desk, smoke billowing from his palms. “You think you can beat me?! You’ve never thrown a punch in your life!”

“I don't need to throw punches,” Izuku said softly, looking down at his desk. “And I don't want to fight you, Kacchan. We should both focus on passing the entrance exam.”

Katsuki snarled, grabbing Izuku’s notebook. He didn't blow it up—he knew from experience that Izuku would just stare at him while it burned. Instead, he threw it out the open window. “Know your place, blockhead. You'll never be a real hero.”

Katsuki stormed out of the classroom as the final bell rang. Izuku sighed, a heavy, weary sound. He stood up, his massive shoulders rolling, and walked out to retrieve his notebook.

The walk home was uneventful for the first twenty minutes. Izuku retrieved his notebook from the koi pond, dried it off as best he could, and took a detour through the city to avoid running into Katsuki and his cronies. He was muttering to himself, deep in thought about the debut of the new heroine, Mt. Lady, and how gigantification Quirks affected localized gravity.

His path took him through a dark, slightly damp tunnel beneath an overpass. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed against the concrete. 

Suddenly, a strange, sloshing sound came from a manhole cover behind him. 

Izuku stopped, his ears perking up. He turned around just as a massive, foul-smelling mass of dark green sludge erupted from the sewers. 

“A medium-sized meat shield...” a raspy, gargling voice echoed from the sludge. Two large, bulbous eyes and a jagged mouth formed in the liquid mass. “Perfect. You’ll do nicely to hide me from him.”

Before Izuku could react, the sludge lunged. It wrapped around his thick neck and encased his arms, forcing itself over his mouth and nose. The smell was atrocious—like raw sewage and rotting garbage.

“Don't struggle, kid,” the Sludge Villain hissed, pouring himself thicker around Izuku’s face. “It’ll only hurt for about 45 seconds. Then it’ll all be over. I’m just hijacking your body.”

Panic flared in Izuku’s chest. He couldn't breathe. The sludge was forcing its way into his nostrils and throat. He tried to pull the villain off, but his hands slipped uselessly through the liquid mass. It was like trying to grab water. 

His analytical mind went into overdrive, even as black spots danced in his vision. He's a fluid body. Physical strikes won't work on his main mass. My arms are pinned. I need air. I need to create space.

Izuku stopped struggling with his arms. He planted his feet wide on the concrete floor of the tunnel. He closed his eyes, visualizing the coiled spring in his spine. 

He didn't have room to run, so the kinetic energy would be minimal. He would have to rely entirely on the rotational torque of his core and neck. 

Izuku threw his upper body backward, snapping his neck back, and then, with the force of a hydraulic press, whipped his head violently forward. 

BANG!

The miniature shockwave was nowhere near his maximum output, but it was enough. The concussive blast of displaced air exploded from his forehead, directly into the Sludge Villain’s liquid body. The sheer acoustic and kinetic force rippled through the sludge like a stone thrown into a puddle, temporarily blowing the villain’s form apart into a dozen different splatters. 

Izuku gasped for air, falling to his knees, coughing up foul-tasting slime. 

The Sludge Villain recoiled, his eyes wide with shock as he tried to reform his scattered body. “What the hell?! You little brat! Your head is a bomb?!”

The villain reared up, preparing to strike back with a solid whip of sludge. 

But before he could attack, the manhole cover blew completely off its hinges, flying into the ceiling of the tunnel. A massive, towering figure stepped out of the shadows, radiating a golden, heroic aura. 

“FEAR NOT, YOUNG MAN!” 

The voice was like rolling thunder, instantly recognizable to anyone in Japan, but especially to Izuku Midoriya. 

“I AM HERE!”

All Might, the Number One Hero, the Symbol of Peace, stood in the tunnel. He pulled back his fist, the sheer muscle mass of his arm seeming to warp the air around him. 

“TEXAS SMASH!”

All Might threw a punch that didn't even connect with the villain. The wind pressure generated by the strike created a localized tornado in the tunnel. The sheer force of the gale swept the Sludge Villain up, tearing his liquid form to shreds and plastering him against the tunnel walls. 

Izuku shielded his eyes, using his heavy, rooted stance to keep from being blown away by his idol’s attack. When the wind died down, the villain was incapacitated, reduced to harmless puddles of slime. 

All Might quickly began scooping the villain into two empty two-liter soda bottles he had in his pockets. “HA HA HA! MY APOLOGIES FOR GETTING YOU CAUGHT UP IN MY VILLAIN HUNT, YOUNG MAN! BUT YOU DID EXCELLENTLY HOLDING HIM OFF! THAT WAS QUITE A HEADBUTT!”

Izuku’s jaw hit the floor. He was hyperventilating, not from the lack of oxygen, but from pure, unadulterated fanboy panic. All Might was right there. In front of him. 

“A-A-All Might!” Izuku squeaked, fumbling for his notebook. “P-Please! An autograph! Right here! Across a two-page spread!”

All Might happily obliged, signing the book with lightning speed. “THERE YOU GO! NOW, I MUST BE OFF TO DELIVER THIS SCOUNDREL TO THE POLICE! STAY SAFE, YOUNG CITIZEN!”

All Might crouched, preparing to leap away. 

Izuku’s mind raced. He had a million questions. But one burned brighter than the rest. A question that had haunted him every time he looked in the mirror at his thick neck and hardened skull. A question born from the fear that his power was meant for destruction, not saving. 

Without thinking, as All Might leapt into the sky, Izuku lunged forward and grabbed onto the hero’s muscular leg. 

The wind howled around them as they shot hundreds of feet into the air. All Might looked down in horror. “HEY HEY HEY! LET GO! YOUR FANATICISM IS A BIT MUCH!”

“IF I LET GO NOW, I'LL DIE!” Izuku screamed, his face peeling back from the G-force.

“OH, RIGHT!”

All Might quickly altered his trajectory, landing with a heavy thud on the roof of a nearby commercial building. Izuku collapsed onto the gravel, trembling, his heart pounding out of his chest. 

“That... was... terrifying,” Izuku gasped.

“Not a very smart move, young man,” All Might chided, wiping a sudden bead of sweat from his forehead. “You could have been killed. Now, I must be going—”

“Wait!” Izuku shouted, scrambling to his feet. He bowed deeply at the waist. “I have to ask you something! It’s really important!”

All Might stopped. A strange, sharp pain flared in his side, but he maintained his booming smile. “VERY WELL! BUT MAKE IT QUICK!”

Izuku took a deep breath. “My Quirk... it’s destructive. I turn my kinetic momentum into shockwaves using my head. If I go all out, I can level buildings. People... doctors, teachers... they look at me and see a walking bomb. They see collateral damage.”

Izuku clenched his fists, staring at his red sneakers. “I want to be a hero who saves people with a smile, just like you. But my power is so violent. Can someone with a villainous, destructive Quirk... truly become a Symbol of Peace? Can I be a hero who makes people feel safe?”

All Might looked at the boy. The golden age hero was silent for a long moment. He saw the sheer sincerity in the boy's eyes, the desperate need for validation. 

But before All Might could answer, a violent cough tore from his throat. A plume of steam erupted from his body, obscuring him from view. 

Izuku looked up, confused. When the steam cleared, the towering, muscular god of a hero was gone. In his place stood a skeletal, emaciated man with sunken eyes and clothes that hung off him like a scarecrow. 

Izuku screamed. “EHHHHHH?! WHAT HAPPENED?! ARE YOU A FAKE?!”

The skeletal man sighed, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He wiped it away with a bony thumb. “I am All Might,” he said, his voice raspy and devoid of its booming resonance. He lifted his oversized shirt, revealing a horrifying, spiderweb-like scar covering the left side of his chest. 

“Five years ago, a villain did this to me. Half my respiratory organs were destroyed. I can only do hero work for about three hours a day now.”

Izuku was stunned into silence. The Symbol of Peace, the invincible hero, was broken. 

“You asked if a destructive power can make people feel safe,” All Might said, sitting against the roof's railing. He looked out over the city. “A Quirk is just a tool. It is the heart of the wielder that determines if it is heroic or villainous. My power, at its core, is just punching things really hard. It’s incredibly destructive. I’ve leveled city blocks by accident.”

All Might turned his sunken, blue eyes to Izuku. “It is not the Quirk that makes the Symbol. It is the smile. It is the willingness to sacrifice yourself for others. If you can control your power, if you can temper your destruction with precision and a heroic spirit... then yes, young man. You can be a hero.”

Tears welled in Izuku’s eyes. It was the answer he had been waiting his entire life to hear. Not just that his Quirk was strong—everyone knew that—but that it could be good. 

“Thank you,” Izuku whispered, wiping his eyes. 

All Might nodded. “Now, I really must get this villain to the police—”

All Might patted his pockets. His eyes widened. He patted his pants, his jacket. Panic set in. 

The two bottles of sludge were gone. They must have slipped out during the mid-air struggle when Izuku grabbed his leg. 

Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the city, sending a plume of black smoke rising into the sky just a few blocks away. The ground trembled beneath their feet.

All Might and Izuku looked at the smoke, a horrifying realization dawning on both of them. 

“Oh no,” All Might whispered.

The Tatooin Shopping District was a war zone. 

Fires raged out of control, licking the sides of the buildings. Windows were shattered, and civilians were screaming, running from the chaotic epicenter of the blaze. 

Izuku had run as fast as his incredibly muscular legs could carry him, leaving the exhausted All Might behind. He pushed through the crowd of onlookers, ignoring the police barricades. 

When he broke through to the front line, his blood ran cold. 

The Sludge Villain had grown massive, feeding off the panic and the environment. But that wasn't what terrified Izuku. It was the hostage. 

Trapped in the center of the swirling, putrid slime was Katsuki Bakugo. 

Katsuki was fighting like a cornered animal. He was firing off massive explosions from his palms, trying to blow the sludge away, but the explosions were only making things worse. The fire was spreading, igniting the nearby shops and creating a wall of flames that kept the Pro Heroes at bay. 

Death Arms, a hero with immense physical strength, tried to charge in, but the flames pushed him back. Kamui Woods, the wooden ninja hero, couldn't get close without catching fire. Mt. Lady was useless in a narrow street, unable to grow without destroying the buildings herself. 

“We can't do anything!” Death Arms yelled, shielding his face from the heat. “He’s got a hostage, and the kid’s Quirk is making the fire spread! We have to wait for someone with a suitable Quirk!”

Izuku stood in the crowd, trembling. He looked around. The pros were giving up. They were waiting. 

He looked back at the villain. He saw Katsuki’s face, half-submerged in the sludge. The arrogant, explosive bully who had tormented him for years. Katsuki’s red eyes were wide. For the first time in his life, Katsuki Bakugo looked terrified. He looked like he was pleading for help.

Izuku didn't think. He didn't formulate a plan. He didn't weigh the consequences of collateral damage. 

Before his brain could even process what was happening, his heavily muscled legs drove into the pavement, shattering the asphalt beneath his red sneakers. He exploded forward, ducking under the police tape and sprinting directly into the inferno. 

“Hey! Kid! Stop!” Death Arms screamed, reaching for him. 

But Izuku was already gone. His speed was terrifying. Years of carrying around his reinforced skeletal structure and doing heavy leg training to compensate had made him explosively fast. 

I need kinetic energy, Izuku’s mind screamed as he ran. I need maximum momentum. 

He sprinted down the blazing street, the heat singeing his clothes. The Sludge Villain turned, its massive, liquid eyes locking onto the green-haired boy charging at him. 

“You again?!” the villain roared, laughing monstrously. “You think a headbutt is going to save your friend?! I’ll drown you both!”

The villain swung a massive, gelatinous tendril down toward Izuku, aiming to swat him like a fly. 

Izuku didn't slow down. He didn't try to dodge. He gripped the straps of his bright yellow backpack, yanked it off his shoulders, and hurled it directly into the villain’s eye. 

The strap caught the eye perfectly. The villain flinched, reeling back in pain, dropping its guard for a fraction of a second. 

Now.

Izuku was ten feet away. He planted his left foot with earth-shattering force, his thigh muscles bulging to the point of tearing his uniform pants. He launched himself into the air, a human missile flying parallel to the ground. 

He tucked his arms in tight. He engaged the hyper-dense muscles in his neck, locking his cervical spine into a solid, unbreakable pillar. He lowered the crown of his skull, aiming directly for the center mass of the sludge holding Katsuki. 

In the crowd, the skeletal form of All Might watched in absolute shock. This boy... he has no offensive Quirk suited for this... but he ran in anyway!

Izuku felt the wind rushing past his ears. He felt the heat of the fire on his skin. And then, he felt the impact. 

His domed skull collided with the semi-solid core of the Sludge Villain. 

For a microsecond, everything was completely silent. 

Then, Izuku’s Cretaceous Crown activated, multiplying the kinetic energy of his sprint and leap by a factor of ten. 

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The shockwave was cataclysmic. It wasn't just a wave of air; it was a visible, rippling dome of concussive force that erupted from Izuku’s forehead. 

The sound shattered every remaining window within a two-block radius. The sheer acoustic boom temporarily deafened everyone in the crowd, including the Pro Heroes. 

The Sludge Villain didn't just scatter this time. He was completely, utterly vaporized. The kinetic blast hit his liquid body and turned him into microscopic droplets of dirty rain. The shockwave continued outward, catching the surrounding fires. The immense pressure blew the oxygen completely out of the street, snuffing out the raging inferno in a single, breathless instant. 

Katsuki Bakugo, suddenly freed from his liquid prison, was caught in the fringe of the shockwave. The force picked him up and threw him backward, rolling him head over heels down the street until he skidded to a halt, bruised and gasping for air. 

Izuku hit the ground, rolling gracefully on his reinforced shoulders before coming to a stop on his hands and knees. 

The street was dead silent. The fire was gone. The villain was gone. 

The only sound was the soft patter of sludge raining down from the sky, coating the pavement in a thin layer of grime. 

Izuku stayed on his hands and knees, panting heavily. A high-pitched ringing echoed in his ears—the usual drawback of firing off a max-power shockwave. His thighs burned like they were on fire, screaming from the sheer force of the launch. 

He slowly lifted his head. Katsuki was sitting on the ground a few yards away, staring at Izuku with a look of absolute, unadulterated horror and awe. 

The Pro Heroes were frozen, their mouths hanging open. 

Izuku stood up slowly, wiping a bit of sludge from his cheek. He looked at the devastation around him—the shattered glass, the blown-out storefronts, the scorched pavement. His heart sank. 

I did it again, he thought, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. I caused collateral damage.

The aftermath was a blur. 

The police arrived, using vacuums to gather up the remaining droplets of the Sludge Villain. The Pro Heroes cornered Izuku. 

Kamui Woods and Death Arms took turns scolding him. “What were you thinking, kid?! You could have killed the hostage! Your Quirk is way too destructive to be used in a populated area like this! You should have left it to the pros!”

Izuku bowed his head, taking the scolding silently. He knew they were right. He was dangerous. 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the street, Pro Heroes were praising Katsuki. “Your explosion Quirk is incredible, kid! Once you get some training, you'll be a top-tier hero! And you held out for so long!”

Katsuki didn't say a word. He just glared at the ground, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He knew the truth. He hadn't held out. He was dying. And the nerd he had spent his whole life looking down on had saved him with a single, god-like strike. The power gap between them wasn't just wide; it was an ocean. 

Eventually, the heroes let them go. The sun was setting, casting a long, orange glow over the city streets as Izuku walked home alone. His muscles ached, and his head throbbed slightly—not from the impact, but from the adrenaline crash. 

“Deku!” 

Izuku stopped and turned. Katsuki was standing a few yards behind him, panting, looking furious and completely lost. 

“Listen to me, you damn nerd!” Katsuki yelled, his voice cracking slightly. “I didn't ask for your help! I didn't need you to save me! Don't think for a second this changes anything! I’m still going to U.A., and I’m still going to be Number One! Do you hear me?!”

Katsuki didn't wait for an answer. He turned on his heel and stomped away, his shoulders hunched. 

Izuku smiled softly. Typical Kacchan. 

He turned to resume his walk home, but stopped dead in his tracks. 

Stepping out from an alleyway, casting a long, skeletal shadow in the sunset, was All Might. 

“I AM HERE!” All Might announced, trying to strike a dramatic pose despite his frail form, coughing a little blood onto the pavement. 

“All Might!” Izuku gasped, rushing forward. “What are you doing here? Did the police let you go? I-I’m so sorry! I got in the way again, and I caused so much damage, and—”

“Quiet, young man,” All Might said softly, holding up a hand. 

Izuku snapped his mouth shut. 

All Might walked forward, looking down at the green-haired boy. His blue eyes shone with a profound intensity. 

“I came to thank you, and to correct myself,” All Might said. “Earlier today, I told you that a destructive Quirk could be used for good. But what I saw today... it shamed me.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. “Shamed you?”

“Yes. I am the Symbol of Peace. I have a Quirk with unparalleled power. Yet, I stood in that crowd, hiding behind my limits, making excuses. But you... a middle schooler with no combat training, terrified of his own power... you didn't hesitate.”

All Might knelt down so he was eye-level with Izuku. “You saw someone in pain, and your legs moved on their own. You risked your own life, and the judgment of society, to save a single life. That is the essence of a true hero.”

Tears began to spill over Izuku’s cheeks. The words he had waited his entire life to hear were washing over him. 

“You have a terrifying Quirk, young man,” All Might chuckled softly. “A kinetic shockwave generator attached to your skull. It is unrefined, wild, and devastating. But the heart guiding it is the purest I have ever seen.”

All Might stood up, his skeletal form suddenly radiating a powerful, undeniable aura. 

“Izuku Midoriya,” All Might said, his voice ringing with authority. “You are worthy to become a great hero. And I want to help you.”

Izuku sobbed, falling to his knees. “Help me?”

“Yes,” All Might said, placing a massive, bony hand on the top of Izuku’s incredibly tough, dome-shaped head. “You do not need my power. You already possess the strength to shatter mountains. But you lack control. You lack the finesse to use that power without destroying the world around you.”

All Might grinned, a brilliant, terrifying smile. “I am going to train you, Young Midoriya. I will teach you how to master your momentum, how to control your kinetic output, and how to fight with honor. By the time the U.A. Entrance Exam arrives in ten months, you will not just be a boy with a hard head.”

All Might pointed a finger into the sunset. 

“You will be the unstoppable force that protects this world!”

The dawn air over Musutafu tasted of salt and rusted metal. 

Dagobah Municipal Beach Park had once been a beautiful stretch of coastline, a place where families gathered to watch the sunrise over the Pacific. Now, it was a graveyard. Mountains of illegal dumping—refrigerators, gutted cars, mountains of tires, and twisted steel beams—created a jagged, artificial skyline that blocked out the horizon. It smelled of stagnant water, decaying seaweed, and ozone. 

Izuku Midoriya stood at the top of the concrete stairs overlooking the landfill, his yellow backpack slung over one incredibly broad shoulder. Beside him stood the skeletal, emaciated form of Toshinori Yagi—All Might. The wind whipped through All Might’s baggy clothes, making him look even more fragile, a stark contrast to the colossal task he was about to propose.

“This,” All Might said, his raspy voice cutting through the sound of the crashing waves, “is your new training ground.”

Izuku blinked his large green eyes, taking out his notebook. “Dagobah Beach? But this place has been a dumping ground for years. The city abandoned it because the currents just keep washing more trash ashore. Are we... are we going to clean it?”

“You are going to clean it,” All Might corrected, a sly smile creeping across his gaunt face. “With your legs.”

Izuku tilted his head, his thick, unruly green curls shifting around the hidden, hardened dome of his skull. “My legs?”

All Might turned to face the boy, his expression turning serious. “Let us analyze your Quirk, Young Midoriya. The Cretaceous Crown. Your doctor was correct: it is a Mutant-Emitter hybrid. The mutant aspect gives you an unbreakable skull and a reinforced cervical spine. But the emitter aspect—the shockwave—is purely dependent on kinetic energy. Tell me, what is the formula for kinetic energy?”

Izuku didn't hesitate. “Kinetic energy equals one-half mass times velocity squared. KE = 1/2mv².”

“Exactly,” All Might pointed a bony finger at Izuku’s chest. “Your skull acts as a multiplier, a focal point that takes the energy of your body's movement and violently projects it outward. Your head is the cannonball, yes. But a cannonball is useless without gunpowder. And in your case, the gunpowder is your momentum.”

All Might walked down the stairs, gesturing to a rusted, waterlogged refrigerator half-buried in the sand. “To increase the power of your shockwaves, you do not need to train your head. You need to train the vehicle that carries it. Your legs, your core, your sprinting speed, your rotational torque. You need to become capable of explosive acceleration. If you can double your running speed, because velocity is squared in the equation, you will quadruple your destructive output.”

All Might paused, coughing lightly into his hand before continuing. “But more importantly than power, you need control. During the Sludge Villain incident, you launched yourself with everything you had. It was a straight line, maximum output. You snuffed out the fire, but you also shattered windows for two blocks. If you use that much power inside a building, you will bring the roof down on the very people you are trying to save.”

Izuku looked down at his bright red sneakers, the shame of that day still fresh. “I know. I'm a walking wrecking ball.”

“A wrecking ball can be swung with precision, or it can be swung wildly,” All Might countered. “You need to learn how to feather your brakes. You need to learn how to output a 5% shockwave to knock out a purse snatcher, a 20% shockwave to shatter a locked vault door, and a 100% shockwave for... well, let us hope you rarely need 100%. Moving this trash, hauling these heavy, awkwardly shaped objects through the shifting sand, will build the explosive fast-twitch muscle fibers in your legs. It will teach you how to plant your feet, how to grip the earth, and how to control your center of gravity perfectly.”

All Might pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. It was a meticulously detailed, ten-month schedule. “You have three hundred days until the U.A. Entrance Exam. You will clear this entire beach, and in doing so, you will forge your body into the ultimate launching pad.”

Izuku stared at the endless sea of garbage, and then down at the schedule. The sheer scale of the task was astronomical. He looked up at All Might, seeing the unwavering belief in the hero’s sunken blue eyes. 

Izuku smiled, a fierce, determined fire igniting in his chest. He gripped the straps of his backpack. “I won't let you down, All Might. I’m going to clear every last piece.”

The first three months were sheer, unadulterated agony.

Izuku was already muscular from years of carrying his heavy, dense upper body, but hauling waterlogged furniture through deep sand was an entirely different beast. The sand offered no leverage. Every step required maximum effort. 

He started small, pulling tires and microwaves. But soon, under All Might’s rigorous, slightly maniacal cheering (often delivered from the comfort of a lawn chair, or occasionally atop a refrigerator Izuku was trying to pull), he moved on to the heavy machinery. 

Izuku’s physique began to change rapidly. The muscles in his thighs and calves grew to preposterous proportions, stretching the fabric of his school uniform to its absolute limit. His core hardened into a dense shield of muscle, necessary to stabilize his heavy skull when he moved at high speeds. 

At school, Katsuki Bakugo noticed the change. The cold war between them grew frostier. Katsuki watched as Izuku, who used to sit quietly in the back, began eating massive lunches of boiled chicken and rice, his shoulders seemingly broader every week. Katsuki’s pride wouldn't allow him to pick a fight, especially after the Sludge Villain incident. The memory of that deafening, concussive blast that had parted the flames still haunted Katsuki’s nightmares. He doubled down on his own training, his explosions growing louder, his temper shorter.

By the six-month mark at Dagobah Beach, All Might introduced the second phase of training: Vector Control. 

It wasn't enough to just run fast; Izuku needed to learn how to direct his shockwaves without causing collateral damage. 

“Your Quirk releases energy in a directional cone from the crown of your head,” All Might explained one rainy afternoon, drawing a diagram in the wet sand. “If you hit a target head-on, the shockwave travels through them. But if you tilt your chin just three degrees downward at the moment of impact, the vector changes.”

All Might pointed to a towering pile of crushed cars. “Show me. Run at that pile. Do not destroy it. I want you to hit the center car, but direct the shockwave upward into the sky.”

Izuku nodded, wiping the rain from his eyes. He backed up fifty yards. He took a deep breath, his massive lungs expanding. He dropped into a sprinter's stance. 

Explosive acceleration. 

Izuku pushed off. The sand beneath his sneakers exploded backward in a geyser of wet grit. He crossed the fifty yards in less than three seconds, a blur of green and muscle. As he neared the pile of cars, he didn't leap. He stayed grounded, driving all his forward momentum into his neck. 

He struck the door of a rusted sedan. But a microsecond before impact, Izuku tucked his chin sharply against his chest, aiming the crown of his skull upward at a forty-five-degree angle. 

BOOM!

The sound was like a thunderclap. The shockwave erupted from his skull, but instead of blowing the car pile backward, the concussive force sheared upward. The roof of the sedan was violently torn off, sent spinning hundreds of feet into the rain-slicked sky, while the rest of the car pile barely rocked. 

Izuku stepped back, rubbing his neck. His ears rang slightly, a dull whine that always accompanied his Quirk's activation. 

“Excellent!” All Might cheered, transforming into his muscle form for just a moment to give a booming thumbs up. “By manipulating the angle of your neck, you can dictate where the kinetic energy bleeds off! This is the key to rescuing civilians without blowing them away!”

They spent the next four months mastering this. Izuku learned how to graze objects, releasing localized, 10% shockwaves that acted like concussive punches rather than bombs. He learned how to headbutt the ground to launch himself into the air, and how to violently snap his head in mid-air to alter his trajectory using the recoil of a blast. 

He was no longer just a boy with a hard head. He was a master of kinetics. He was a human pinball, capable of bouncing, launching, and ricocheting with devastating speed. 

On the morning of the U.A. Entrance Exam, just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, All Might arrived at Dagobah Beach in his truck. 

He stopped, his jaw dropping. 

The beach was spotless. The towering mountains of rusted metal, the miles of tires, the rotting furniture—it was all gone. Replaced by a pristine stretch of white sand, glowing golden in the dawn light. 

Standing at the water's edge, silhouetted against the rising sun, was Izuku Midoriya. He was shirtless, his body glistening with sweat. His physique was a masterclass in specialized musculature. While his arms were heavily corded, his core, obliques, and legs were monstrously powerful, resembling the anatomy of a professional track star scaled up to superhuman proportions. 

Izuku looked out at the ocean. He took a deep breath. 

He dropped into a low crouch, his thighs coiling like industrial springs. He sprinted directly at the incoming tide. Just as a massive, six-foot wave prepared to crash down upon him, Izuku leapt. He spun his body horizontally, building rotational torque, and thrust his domed skull directly into the face of the wave. 

KRRA-KOOM!

The shockwave tore through the water. The ocean itself seemed to scream as the sheer concussive force parted the wave perfectly down the middle, creating a massive, V-shaped canyon in the water that extended fifty yards out to sea before gravity collapsed it back together. The blast sent a gentle, salty mist raining down over the entire beach. 

Izuku landed gracefully in the wet sand, exhaling a plume of white breath into the cool morning air. 

All Might watched from the stairs, tears pricking his sunken eyes. He didn't just clear the beach. He mastered the sea.

“Young Midoriya!” All Might called out. 

Izuku turned, his face breaking into a bright, exhausted, but triumphant smile. “I did it, All Might! I finished!”

All Might walked down to the sand, holding out a towel. “You did more than finish, my boy. You have forged a vessel worthy of the hero you are destined to become. Now... go home, shower, and eat a massive breakfast. U.A. High School is waiting.”

The gates of U.A. High School were monolithic, towering arches of glass and steel that seemed to scrape the sky. 

Izuku stood before them, wearing his pristine middle school uniform, his bright red sneakers tied tight. His heart was hammering against his ribs. Ten months of grueling, bone-breaking training had led to this exact moment. 

“Out of my way, Deku!” 

A rough shoulder slammed into Izuku’s back. Katsuki Bakugo stomped past him, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his red eyes glaring daggers at the school building. 

Izuku didn't budge an inch from the impact. Katsuki’s shoulder simply bounced off Izuku's dense back muscles. Katsuki scowled, rubbing his shoulder subtly, but didn't look back. 

“Morning, Kacchan! Good luck!” Izuku called out cheerfully. 

Katsuki just growled and kept walking. 

Izuku took a deep breath and took his first step toward the colossal main building. However, his focus was so entirely dedicated to observing the architecture that he failed to notice the raised lip of the paving stone beneath his foot. 

Trip.

For a split second, panic flared. If he hit the ground and accidentally released a shockwave, he’d crater the entire front courtyard of the school. He braced his core, trying to pull his momentum backward to cancel the kinetic buildup.

But before he could hit the ground, a soft, warm hand tapped his shoulder. 

Suddenly, the crushing weight of gravity vanished. Izuku floated in mid-air, suspended just inches above the concrete, his legs cycling comically in the empty air. 

“Oops! Sorry for using my Quirk on you without asking,” a bright, bubbly voice chirped. 

Izuku was gently rotated upright and placed back on his feet. He turned around, his face instantly flushing a violent shade of crimson. 

Standing before him was a girl with a round, cheerful face, large brown eyes, and permanent pink blush marks on her cheeks. She had short, bobbed brown hair and was smiling warmly. 

“But it’d be bad luck if you fell right before the exam, right?” she laughed, putting her hands together. “I'm Ochaco Uraraka! I’m super nervous, are you?”

Izuku’s brain short-circuited. A girl! I'm talking to a girl! She touched me! She stopped my momentum completely! What an incredible application of anti-gravity! The sheer kinetic nullification requires a localized manipulation of gravitons, which implies...

“Uh... y-yeah! Nervous! Very! Thank you! For the... not falling! Good luck!” Izuku stammered, his arms locked rigidly at his sides, bowing at a perfect ninety-degree angle. 

Uraraka giggled, waving as she jogged toward the auditorium. “See you inside!”

Izuku stood frozen for a full ten seconds before pumping his fist into the air. I talked to a girl!

The written portion of the exam was a breeze for Izuku. His analytical mind, honed by years of studying Pro Heroes, Quirk mechanics, and physics, tore through the calculus and situational judgment questions. 

But the real test was the orientation for the Practical Exam, held in a massive, darkened auditorium. 

The Voice Hero, Present Mic, stood on a brightly lit stage, screaming into the microphone. “WELCOME TO TODAY’S LIVE PERFORMANCE! EVERYBODY SAY HEYYYY!”

Silence echoed through the auditorium. Izuku sat a few rows behind Katsuki, trembling with fanboy excitement. It's Present Mic! His directional voice Quirk is basically a sonic version of my kinetic shockwaves! I wonder if he has to reinforce his vocal cords with carbon-fiber lattice to prevent tearing—

“As the printed materials state, you listeners will be conducting ten-minute mock urban battles in replica city districts!” Present Mic announced, pointing to a screen displaying various robot models. “Three types of faux villains are stationed in each center! They are worth one, two, and three points respectively! Use your Quirks to disable them and rack up the score!”

“Excuse me, sir!” 

A tall, broad-shouldered boy with slicked-back blue hair and glasses stood up, his hand raised as straight as a ruler. “The printout lists four types of villains! If this is a misprint, U.A., the most prominent academy in Japan, should be ashamed! Furthermore...” 

The boy turned, pointing an accusatory, rigid finger directly at Izuku. “You, with the unruly hair! You’ve been muttering about kinetic vectors and sonic frequencies this entire time! It’s distracting! If you are here on a sightseeing trip, I suggest you leave immediately!”

Izuku slapped a hand over his mouth, shrinking down into his seat as several people snickered. “S-Sorry,” he squeaked. 

“Okay, okay, Examinee Number 7111!” Present Mic waved his hands. “Thanks for the great message! The fourth villain type is worth zero points! It’s an obstacle! A massive gimmick that will rampage in close quarters! My advice? Just run away from it!”

The blue-haired boy bowed stiffly. “Thank you very much! Please excuse my interruption!” 

Izuku looked down at his hands, squeezing them into fists. A gimmick. Just run away. No. A hero doesn't run away. A hero assesses the threat and neutralizes it.

Battle Center B was a sprawling replica of a modern metropolis. Towering skyscrapers, winding alleyways, and paved roads stretched out under the artificial sunlight. 

Dozens of examinees stood behind the massive metal gates, stretching and psyching themselves up. Izuku stood near the back, doing deep lunges, feeling the immense power coiled in his thighs. He noticed Uraraka nearby, looking pale and nervous, slapping her own cheeks to hype herself up. He wanted to go over and wish her luck, but before he could move, a heavy hand clamped onto his shoulder. 

It was the blue-haired boy with glasses. “She is trying to focus. Are you going to distract her with your incessant muttering again?”

Izuku stood up, towering slightly over the boy despite his slouched posture. His neck was nearly as thick as the boy’s thigh. “No,” Izuku said calmly, his voice steady. “I just wanted to thank her for helping me earlier. But you're right. Now is the time to focus.”

The blue-haired boy blinked, slightly taken aback by the sheer muscular density of the green-haired boy he had previously dismissed as a nerd. “I... see. I am Tenya Iida. I apologize for misjudging your resolve.”

“Izuku Midoriya. It’s okay. Good luck, Iida.” 

Before Iida could respond, Present Mic’s voice boomed from loudspeakers hidden around the city. 

“RIGHT, LET’S START! WHAT’S WRONG? THERE ARE NO COUNTDOWNS IN REAL FIGHTS! RUN, RUN, RUN!”

The massive metal gates began to slowly grind open. 

Most of the examinees hesitated, confused by the sudden start. 

Izuku did not. 

He dropped his center of gravity, leaned forward, and pushed off. The concrete beneath his red sneakers shattered with a sharp crack. 

By the time the gates were halfway open, Izuku was already a green blur rocketing through the gap, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. 

“Whoa! Look at that guy go!” someone in the crowd yelled as the rest of the examinees finally surged forward. 

Izuku sprinted down the main avenue of the mock city. His heart pumped adrenaline, feeding oxygen to his massive leg muscles. Ahead of him, the ground trembled. 

Three robots rolled out of an intersection. Two One-Pointers (sleek, one-wheeled machines) and a Two-Pointer (a scorpion-like tank). Their red optical sensors locked onto Izuku. 

Target acquired, a mechanical voice droned. 

The Two-Pointer raised its tail, preparing to fire a rubber bullet. 

Izuku didn't slow down. He didn't even break his stride. 

As he closed the distance to the Two-Pointer, he didn't aim for the heavy armor of the chassis. He analyzed the weak point: the articulated joint connecting the tail to the main body. 

Without stopping his sprint, Izuku ducked low, violently whipping his head to the side as he passed the robot. He didn't even make physical contact. The sheer rotational torque of his heavy skull, combined with his sprinting velocity, generated a localized, razor-sharp shockwave. 

CRACK!

The concussive blast of compressed air struck the Two-Pointer's tail joint like a sledgehammer, cleanly shearing the metal in half. The robot spun out of control, crashing into a building and sparking out. 

Two points. 

The One-Pointers flanked him. Izuku slammed his right foot down, using his momentum to pivot sharply. He thrust his head backward, releasing a blast of kinetic force that acted like a jet engine, propelling him forward in a sudden, blinding burst of speed. He Clotheslined the first One-Pointer, shattering its optical sensor, and then used the recoil of another headbutt against the air to rebound off a wall, dropping down directly on top of the second One-Pointer. He headbutted its chassis at 5% power. The metal folded inward like aluminum foil, the internal gears grinding to a halt. 

Four points. In less than ten seconds. 

Izuku exhaled, steam rising from his shoulders. Okay. The mechanics are sound. The recoil is manageable. Now, let's rack up the score.

In the darkened monitor room deep within U.A., the faculty of Pro Heroes sat in front of a massive wall of screens, observing the examinees. 

“We have a good crop this year,” Midnight, the R-Rated Hero, noted, swirling a cup of coffee. “Look at Examinee Bakugo in Center A. He’s a natural combatant. His explosion Quirk is highly lethal, but his battle instincts are sharp.”

“Examinee Iida in Center B is also highly efficient,” Snipe added, pointing to a screen showing the blue-haired boy zipping around with engines in his calves, kicking robots to pieces. 

“But who in the world is Examinee Midoriya?” 

Eraserhead—Shota Aizawa—leaned forward in his chair, his tired eyes locked onto a screen in the center. 

On the monitor, the green-haired boy was a force of nature. He wasn't just destroying robots; he was dismantling them with terrifying kinetic precision. 

A Three-Pointer, a massive bipedal tank, launched a barrage of missiles at Midoriya. The boy didn't dodge. He sprinted directly at the explosions, leaping into the air. He headbutted the empty space in front of him. The resulting shockwave acted as a deflector shield, prematurely detonating the missiles in mid-air and parting the smoke. Midoriya flew through the gap, spun vertically, and slammed his heel into the Three-Pointer's face, crushing it. 

“He isn't even using his Quirk's primary output on the targets,” Aizawa muttered, narrowing his eyes. “He’s using it for mobility, deflection, and acceleration. He’s turning his own body into a pinball. The kinetic control is staggering. A Quirk like that should be wild, destructive, collateral-heavy. But he hasn't caused a single point of structural damage to the mock city.”

In the back of the room, All Might stood in his muscle form, beaming with fatherly pride. Look at him! He is utilizing the vector control perfectly! He is holding back his true power to protect the environment!

“He’s already at sixty-two points,” Principal Nezu, a small, intelligent creature that was a mix of a mouse, dog, and bear, noted with a cheerful smile. “He is currently tied with Bakugo for first place. But let us see how they handle the true test of a hero.”

Nezu reached out and pressed a large, flashing red button on his console. 

“Release the gimmick.”

Izuku was panting, leaning against a brick wall. He had sixty-two points. He had disabled robots using grazing shockwaves, ricochet maneuvers, and sheer physical strength. His legs were burning, but it was a good burn. A familiar burn. 

Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet violently shuddered. 

It wasn't a localized tremor. The entire mock city was shaking. The glass in the surrounding windows rattled, and a massive shadow fell over the street, blocking out the artificial sun. 

Izuku looked down the main avenue. 

At the far end of the street, a building was simply pushed aside. Emerging from the dust cloud was a machine so colossal it defied logic. It was easily the size of a twenty-story skyscraper, a monolithic behemoth of grey steel, glowing red eyes, and massive, crushing treads. 

The Zero Pointer. 

The machine raised a fist the size of a house and slammed it into the street. The impact sent a shockwave of debris and concrete flying in all directions. 

Panic erupted. The examinees, who had been bravely fighting just moments before, turned and fled in absolute terror. 

“Run! That thing is way too big!” 

“Are they crazy?! We can't fight that!”

Iida sprinted past Izuku, his calf engines whining. “Midoriya! Fall back! It’s the obstacle! There’s no point in engaging!”

Izuku stood frozen. His analytical mind looked at the sheer mass of the machine. If I hit that thing at 100%, the resulting shockwave will likely shatter every building in a three-block radius. The collateral damage would be catastrophic. Iida is right. The most logical action is retreat.

Izuku turned to run. 

“Ow... my leg...”

The voice was faint, barely audible over the grinding gears of the behemoth, but Izuku’s hyper-vigilant ears caught it. 

He snapped his head back around. 

Through the dust, lying in the middle of the street directly in the path of the Zero Pointer’s crushing treads, was Uraraka. A large slab of concrete had fallen from a building, pinning her right leg to the asphalt. She was trying desperately to push it off, but it was too heavy. 

The Zero Pointer raised its massive foot, preparing to crush the entire intersection. 

Time stopped for Izuku. 

There was no calculation. There was no risk assessment about collateral damage. There was only the girl who had smiled at him and stopped him from falling, about to be crushed. 

Your legs moved on their own. All Might’s words echoed in his mind. 

Izuku turned around. He planted his feet into the cracked asphalt. He didn't just bend his knees; he dropped into a primal, coiled stance, engaging every single fast-twitch muscle fiber he had built over ten months of hauling trash. The fabric of his uniform pants tore at the thighs, unable to contain the sudden, monstrous expansion of muscle. 

He didn't run. He launched. 

KRRA-CRACK!

A ten-foot crater exploded beneath Izuku’s feet as he broke the sound barrier from a standstill. He rocketed forward not toward the robot, but toward a crumbling, five-story building adjacent to it. 

He hit the side of the building horizontally, his red sneakers biting into the brick. Using his insane momentum, he ran straight up the vertical face of the wall, defying gravity. When he reached the roof, he didn't stop. He pushed off with all his might, launching himself high into the sky, arcing perfectly above the colossal head of the Zero Pointer. 

Down below, Iida stopped running, turning back in shock. He watched the green-haired boy ascend into the heavens. What is he doing?! He has no points to gain! He’s going to kill himself!

Izuku reached the apex of his jump, hundreds of feet in the air. The Zero Pointer was directly beneath him, its massive red optical sensor looking up at the tiny human. 

Izuku closed his eyes. 

Mass times velocity squared. Gravity is giving me downward acceleration. But I need more. I need rotational torque.

Izuku pulled his knees to his chest and began to spin. Forward. Faster and faster. He became a green buzzsaw, plummeting toward the earth, pulling massive G-forces. The air around him began to warp, screaming as the sheer kinetic energy gathered at the dense, hardened dome of his skull. 

He opened his eyes. The metal head of the machine rushed up to meet him. 

He uncoiled his body at the exact moment of impact, snapping his neck forward, driving the crown of his skull directly into the center of the Zero Pointer’s forehead. 

“METEOR IMPACT!” Izuku roared. 

KA-THOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The collision was apocalyptic. 

When Izuku’s skull connected with the steel, the Cretaceous Crown unleashed a 100% downward-vectored shockwave. It didn't just hit the robot; it drove directly through it. 

A massive, visible ring of white, compressed air exploded outward in a halo from the point of impact. The sound was so violently loud it shattered the audio receptors of every remaining robot in the city and forced all the fleeing examinees to their knees, clutching their bleeding ears. 

The Zero Pointer’s head didn't just dent. It completely caved in, violently imploding as the concussive force traveled down its central spine. The massive shockwave ripped through the internal machinery, blowing out the back of the robot in a shower of sparks, oil, and shrapnel. 

The colossal machine froze, its red eyes flickering out, before the sheer kinetic force driving it downward forced it to collapse. It crumpled like a crushed soda can, falling backward away from Uraraka, hitting the mock city with a final, earth-shaking thud. 

Silence swept over Battle Center B, save for the sound of groaning metal and falling debris. 

High above, having bounced off the robot's head from the recoil, Izuku was in freefall. 

The adrenaline began to fade, replaced by a sudden, terrifying realization. 

My legs!

He tried to shift his weight to land safely, but his thighs completely locked up. The sheer explosive force of his launch had caused massive micro-tears in his leg muscles. They were cramping violently, refusing to move. 

I can't land! If I hit the ground head-first to cushion the fall, I'll unleash another shockwave and crush Uraraka! If I hit the ground on my back, my spine will shatter!

He was plummeting toward the asphalt. Fifty feet. Thirty feet. 

Think! I need to vector a small shockwave against the air to break my fall! But my neck is stiff from the recoil!

Twenty feet. 

Suddenly, a sharp, stinging slap landed directly across Izuku’s face. 

Smack!

Once again, the crushing weight of gravity vanished. 

Izuku stopped dead in mid-air, floating just three feet above the ground. He looked over. Uraraka, leaning heavily on her uninjured leg, her face pale with nausea from overusing her Quirk, had reached up and slapped his cheek. 

“Release!” she gasped, pressing her fingertips together. 

Izuku dropped the remaining three feet, landing with a heavy, ungraceful thud on his back. 

He lay there, staring up at the artificial sky, his chest heaving, his legs screaming in agony, and his ears ringing with the high-pitched whine of his own sonic boom. 

Present Mic’s voice, sounding incredibly muffled to Izuku, crackled over the loudspeakers. 

“T-TIME’S UP!”

Izuku let his head fall back against the concrete. 

I did it, he thought, before his vision faded to black. 

“Incredible,” Aizawa whispered in the monitor room, his eyes wide. 

The entire faculty was silent. They stared at the screen, looking at the completely annihilated chassis of the Zero Pointer. 

“He vectored the entire kinetic blast downward,” Snipe said, adjusting his mask. “He localized a building-leveling shockwave to a single, vertical column. That’s why the surrounding buildings didn't shatter. He sacrificed the structural integrity of the machine without causing horizontal collateral damage.”

“And he did it to save a fellow examinee,” Midnight purred, fanning herself. “The sheer power... the gallantry! It’s intoxicating!”

All Might clenched his massive fists, a proud, booming laugh echoing in his chest. You’ve mastered it, Young Midoriya. You are ready.

Principal Nezu tapped his paws together. “Well, I believe we have our top scorer. Let us tally the rescue points.”

Izuku woke up in the infirmary, his legs wrapped in soothing, cooling bandages. Recovery Girl, the school nurse, had used her Quirk to heal the torn muscles, leaving him exhausted but functional. 

The walk home was a blur of anxiety. He had sixty-two villain points, which was high, but the Zero Pointer was worth nothing. Had he done enough? He had destroyed his body for zero points. 

One week later, the letter arrived. 

Izuku sat in his bedroom, staring at the wax-sealed envelope on his desk. His mother, Inko, paced outside the door, biting her nails. 

Izuku took a deep breath, his thick fingers carefully breaking the seal. 

A small metal disc fell out onto the desk. A holographic projection sprang to life, illuminating his dark room with a bright blue light. 

“I AM HERE AS A PROJECTION!” All Might’s booming voice filled the room. 

Izuku gasped, leaning forward. 

“Young Midoriya!” All Might smiled, wearing a sharp yellow suit. “You performed exceptionally on the written exam! And in the practical, your kinetic control was nothing short of miraculous! You scored sixty-two villain points!”

The screen shifted, showing a leaderboard. Izuku was tied for first with Katsuki Bakugo. 

“But that is not all!” All Might continued, his expression softening. “A hero is not just someone who destroys villains. A hero is someone who saves people.”

The screen shifted again, showing hidden camera footage of Izuku launching himself into the sky, crushing the Zero Pointer, and Uraraka slapping him to save him from the fall. 

“In this exam, there was a hidden metric! Rescue Points! Given by a panel of judges for acts of selflessness and bravery! For risking your life to save your fellow examinee, and for executing a devastating attack with perfect environmental control, you have been awarded... SIXTY RESCUE POINTS!”

The leaderboard shifted. Izuku’s name shot to the absolute top. 

1. Izuku Midoriya - 122 Points.

2. Katsuki Bakugo - 62 Points.

Izuku stared at the screen, his mouth hanging open. He had doubled Kacchan’s score. He had broken the school record. 

All Might pointed directly at the camera, his eyes burning with pride. 

“Come, Young Midoriya. This is your Hero Academia!”

Izuku burst into tears. He gripped the edge of his desk, sobbing with joy, the weight of a lifelong dream finally settling into reality. He wasn't just a walking bomb. He was a hero. 

He didn't know that miles away, in a much larger house, Katsuki Bakugo was staring at his own hologram, watching Izuku’s name eclipse his own by a landslide. Katsuki’s hands sparked violently, burning the edge of his desk. The immovable object had just proved he was stronger than the unstoppable force. 

The war had truly begun. And Izuku Midoriya was ready for it.

The morning sun filtered through the window of the Midoriya apartment, catching the dust motes dancing in the air. Izuku stood in front of his full-length mirror, adjusting the collar of his brand-new U.A. High School uniform. 

It was a struggle. 

The U.A. tailors had asked for his measurements months ago, but the sheer volume of muscle he had packed onto his frame during the final weeks of clearing Dagobah Beach had skewed the numbers. The grey blazer stretched taut across his broad shoulders, and he couldn’t button the top button of his white dress shirt because his neck—thick, corded, and built to withstand the recoil of a sonic boom—was simply too wide. His uniform pants fared no better, clinging to his massive thighs like a second skin. 

He looked less like a first-year high school student and more like a professional heavyweight wrestler trying to blend in at a corporate seminar. 

“Izuku! Breakfast is ready!” Inko’s voice called from the kitchen. 

Izuku grabbed his bright yellow backpack, swinging it over one shoulder. “Coming, Mom!” 

When he walked into the kitchen, Inko took one look at him in his uniform and immediately burst into tears. It was a Midoriya family trait—the waterworks. She rushed forward, throwing her arms around his thick waist, sobbing into his chest. 

“Oh, my baby boy! You look so handsome! So grown up! I’m so proud of you!” 

Izuku smiled, gently patting his mother’s back with his perfectly normal, un-calloused hands. “Thanks, Mom. I wouldn't be here without your support. I promise I’ll do my best today.”

After a massive breakfast of eggs, rice, and grilled fish—fuel for his high-metabolism, fast-twitch muscles—Izuku set off for the train station. The commute was a blur of nervous energy. He was constantly tapping his foot, his mind racing with calculations and hero trivia. Today was the first day of the rest of his life. He was going to sit in the same classrooms where Pro Heroes had learned the trade. 

When he finally arrived at the monolithic U.A. campus, he navigated the maze-like corridors until he found a massive door with a giant "1-A" painted in red on the front. 

Why is the door so big? Izuku wondered, analyzing it. Ah, it must be an accessibility measure for students with gigantification or extreme mutant-type Quirks. Proactive inclusive design. U.A. really thinks of everything!

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He had placed first in the entrance exam. He had beaten Kacchan. But that didn't mean he was confident in his social skills. He reached out and slid the massive door open. 

Instantly, a booming, familiar voice assaulted his ears. 

“Take your feet off that desk! Do you have no respect for the upperclassmen who used it before you, or for the craftsmen who made it?!” 

Izuku peeked inside. Standing at the front of the classroom, chopping his arms like a rigid robot, was Tenya Iida, the blue-haired boy from the entrance exam. And sitting at the desk, his feet propped up disrespectfully, leaning back with an arrogant scowl, was Katsuki Bakugo. 

“No, I don’t,” Katsuki snarled, small sparks popping from his palms. “What middle school are you from, you stuck-up extra?”

“I am from Somei Private Academy! My name is Tenya Iida!” 

“Somei? So you’re a damn elite, huh?” Katsuki scoffed, a sadistic grin stretching across his face. “I’m gonna have fun crushing you.”

Iida gasped, taking a step back. “Crushing me?! That is incredibly cruel! Are you truly aiming to be a hero?!” 

Izuku gulped, frozen in the doorway. They're already fighting. I should just sneak to my desk...

Unfortunately for Izuku, he wasn't exactly stealthy. As he took a step forward, his heavy, red-sneakered foot thudded against the linoleum floor. 

Iida turned, his glasses flashing in the fluorescent light. His rigid posture immediately melted into one of deep respect. He marched straight past Katsuki and approached Izuku, bowing at a perfect ninety-degree angle. 

“Good morning! I am Tenya Iida from Somei Private Academy!” 

“Y-Yeah, I heard,” Izuku stammered, waving his hands defensively. “I’m Izuku Midoriya. Nice to meet you again, Iida.”

Iida stood up, his expression dead serious. “Midoriya, you realized there was a hidden practical mechanic in the entrance exam, didn't you? The Rescue Points. You threw away your own score to save a fellow examinee, fully aware of the consequences. I had no idea... I judged you completely wrong! I hate to admit it, but you are a far superior student!”

Izuku’s face turned bright red. “W-What?! No, I didn't know about the Rescue Points at all! I just moved! My legs just kind of... went on their own!”

“Hey! It’s the meteor kid!” 

A bubbly voice broke through the tension. Izuku turned to see Ochaco Uraraka skipping through the doorway, her U.A. uniform looking pristine. She beamed at him, pumping her fists. 

“I knew you’d pass! That was the most insane thing I’ve ever seen in my life! You just went WHOOSH and then KABOOM! It was like a bomb went off, but you didn't even use your hands! You totally caved that robot's head in!”

The rest of the classroom had gone completely silent. Every single student in Class 1-A turned their heads to stare at Izuku. 

A boy with spiky red hair and sharp teeth leaned over his desk. “Wait, he’s the guy who took down the Zero Pointer? I heard some crazy brawler flattened it in one hit!”

“He looks like a tank,” a boy with tape dispensers for elbows whispered to a boy with electric-blonde hair. “Look at his neck. It’s wider than my head.”

Izuku shrank under the collective gaze of his new peers. He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing nervously. Despite his intimidating, heavily-muscled physique and his fearsome reputation from the exam, his personality completely betrayed his appearance. He was shy, polite, and clearly overwhelmed by the attention. 

From the corner of the room, Katsuki watched the interaction, his red eyes burning with a hateful intensity. The veins in his neck bulged. Meteor kid. First place. Deku... you’ve been hiding this from me. You made a fool out of me for ten years. 

“If you’re just here to make friends, you can pack up your things and leave.” 

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

The entire class jumped. Lying in the doorway, resembling a giant yellow caterpillar, was a man zipped up in a sleeping bag. He slurped from a jelly pouch, his bloodshot eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. 

Slowly, the man unzipped the sleeping bag and stood up. He was unkempt, with long, messy black hair, stubble covering his jaw, and a long grey scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. 

“It took you all eight seconds to quiet down,” the man drawled, stepping into the classroom. “Time is a limited resource. You kids aren't rational enough.”

Izuku’s analytical mind immediately went to work. A Pro Hero? But he looks so worn out. I don't recognize his costume. That scarf... the goggles hidden underneath... wait! Is that the Erasure Hero, Eraserhead? He’s an underground hero! I’ve only read about him in obscure internet forums!

“I am your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa,” the man announced, pulling a dark blue track suit out of his sleeping bag. “Nice to meet you.”

The class stared in stunned silence. A teacher? 

“No time to waste,” Aizawa said, tossing the uniform onto the front desk. “Change into your P.E. uniforms and head out to the training grounds. We’re doing a Quirk Apprehension Test.”

The spring air was crisp out on the massive U.A. athletic field. The twenty students of Class 1-A stood in a loose cluster, wearing their blue and white tracksuits. Izuku’s suit, much like his uniform, was tight around his thighs and shoulders, making him look incredibly imposing. 

“A Quirk Apprehension Test?!” Uraraka gasped, mirroring the shock of the rest of the class. “But what about the entrance ceremony? Or the orientation?”

“If you want to be Pro Heroes, you don’t have time for leisurely events,” Aizawa said flatly, turning his back to them. “U.A.’s selling point is its unrestricted traditions. That means the teachers run their classes however they see fit. You’ve been doing physical fitness tests since middle school, correct? Fifty-meter dash, grip strength, standing long jump, ball throw... but you always did them without your Quirks.”

Aizawa pulled a small smartphone device from his pocket. “The country still uses standardized records taken without Quirks to calculate averages. It’s not rational. The Department of Education is procrastinating. Bakugo.”

Katsuki flinched slightly at his name being called. 

“You placed second in the practical exam,” Aizawa said. 

A collective murmur rippled through the class. Second? But he looks so fierce. Who was first? Several pairs of eyes darted toward Izuku, who pretended to be very interested in the dirt. 

“What was your best result for the softball throw in middle school?” Aizawa asked. 

“Sixty-seven meters,” Katsuki replied, crossing his arms. 

“Try it with your Quirk this time,” Aizawa instructed, tossing a baseball-sized softball to Katsuki. “Step inside the white circle. As long as you don't leave the circle, anything goes. Don't hold back.”

Katsuki stepped up to the pitcher's mound, a feral grin spreading across his face. He stretched his shoulders, letting the explosive sweat pool in his palms. He took a deep breath, winding up his pitch. 

I'll show them, Katsuki thought, his eyes darting to Izuku for a fraction of a second. I'll show that damn nerd what a real offensive Quirk looks like.

“DIE!” Katsuki roared. 

He threw the ball, simultaneously detonating a massive explosion from his palm. The sheer concussive force and heat propelled the ball forward like a cannon shot. A trail of black smoke followed the ball as it arched high into the sky, disappearing into the distance. 

The class watched in awe. The shockwave ruffled their hair. 

Die? Izuku thought, sweatingdrop forming on his forehead. He hasn't changed at all.

Aizawa looked at his device as it beeped. He turned the screen around to face the class. “Before anything else, you need to know your own maximum capabilities. This is the most rational way to form the foundation of a hero.”

The screen read: 705.2 meters.

“Seven hundred meters?!” Denki Kaminari, the blonde boy, yelled. “That’s insane!”

“Awesome! We can actually use our Quirks?!” Mina Ashido, a girl with pink skin and horns, cheered. “This looks like so much fun!”

Aizawa’s eyes darkened, the bags under them seeming to deepen. The temperature on the field felt as though it plummeted ten degrees. 

“Fun?” Aizawa repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “You have three years to become heroes. Are you going to have an attitude of ‘fun’ the whole time?”

Aizawa smiled, a chilling, unhinged expression that sent shivers down Izuku’s spine. “Right. Let's make a new rule. The student who ranks last in total points across all eight tests will be judged as having no potential... and will be punished with immediate expulsion.”

“EXPULSION?!” the entire class shrieked. 

“We’re free to do what we want with our students,” Aizawa said, brushing a lock of messy hair from his face. “Welcome to U.A.’s hero course.”

Izuku clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. He wasn't scared of the physical tests. He was scared of control. He had to use his Quirk to score high, but if he slipped up, if he unleashed a 100% shockwave like he did against the Zero Pointer, he could obliterate the field, the equipment, and potentially his classmates. 

He had to be precise. He had to use the vector control All Might taught him. 

I won't be expelled, Izuku thought, his green eyes burning with determination. I will show him that my power is rational.

Test 1: 50-Meter Dash

The students lined up in pairs on the running track. Iida went first against Tsuyu Asui, a girl with a frog mutation. Iida’s engine calves propelled him across the finish line in a staggering 3.04 seconds. 

“Well, he’s in his element,” Aizawa muttered, taking notes. 

Next up was Izuku against Katsuki Bakugo. 

The tension was palpable as the two childhood rivals stepped up to the starting line. Katsuki was practically vibrating with rage, his palms popping with tiny, aggressive sparks. 

“Don't think you can beat me in a race, Deku,” Katsuki sneered, dropping into a sprinter’s stance. “I don't care what you did to that robot. My explosions will launch me faster than your fat legs can carry you.”

Izuku didn't respond to the taunt. He closed his eyes, analyzing the mechanics of the test. 

Fifty meters. A short distance. If I sprint normally, my dense musculature and heavy bone structure will weigh me down during the initial acceleration phase. I won't reach my top speed in time. I need instant, explosive propulsion.

Izuku didn't drop into a sprinter's stance. Instead, he stood perfectly upright, turning his back to the finish line. 

Katsuki blinked, confused. “What the hell are you doing, blockhead? You're facing the wrong way!”

The rest of the class watched in bewilderment. 

“Is he giving up?” a girl with a long ponytail, Momo Yaoyorozu, asked. 

“On your marks,” the robotic camera drone announced. 

Izuku bent his knees slightly. He engaged his dense core, locking his spine into place. 

“Get set.”

Izuku tilted his head slightly downward, exposing the hardened, dome-like crown of his skull to the empty air in front of him. 

“GO!”

Katsuki threw his hands behind his back, detonating a continuous stream of explosions. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! He rocketed forward, suspended in the air by the sheer force of his blasts. He was moving incredibly fast, grinning maniacally as he approached the halfway mark. 

But then, a sound like a thunderclap ripped through the field. 

CRACK-BOOM!

It sounded as if a sniper rifle had been fired directly next to a microphone. 

Izuku had violently thrust his head forward, headbutting the empty space in front of him with a 15% shockwave. 

The resulting blast of concussive force didn't hit a target; instead, it acted entirely as recoil. The sheer kinetic blowback hit Izuku’s dense, immovable body and propelled him backward with the speed of a fired artillery shell. 

To the class, Izuku was a green blur. He shot backward across the track, his red sneakers skimming just an inch above the dirt, completely bypassing the acceleration phase of a normal run. He overtook Katsuki in a fraction of a second, the wind pressure from his passing nearly knocking the explosive boy out of the air. 

Izuku crossed the finish line, slamming both feet into the dirt to act as brakes, skidding for ten yards before coming to a perfect, balanced halt. 

“1.82 seconds!” the robotic voice announced. 

Katsuki crossed the line a moment later, tumbling into the dirt. “4.13 seconds!” 

The class was dead silent, staring at the dust cloud Izuku had kicked up. 

“Did he... did he just propel himself backward by headbutting the air?” Sero, the tape boy, asked, his jaw unhinged. 

“That’s some serious Newton's Third Law application,” Yaoyorozu observed, her eyes wide with fascination. “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. The force required to push a mass that large backward at that speed... his neck strength must be incalculable.”

Aizawa narrowed his eyes, writing down the score. He didn't run. He used his Quirk for raw propulsion, but maintained perfect balance. Highly unorthodox, but entirely rational.

Katsuki got up from the dirt, his pride completely shattered. He glared at Izuku, who was rubbing the back of his neck, trying to soothe the slight ringing in his ears. 

1.82 seconds, Katsuki thought, his teeth grinding. He wasn't even trying to run. He just shot himself like a bullet.

Test 2: Grip Strength

The class moved indoors to a gymnasium equipped with digital dynamometers. 

Izuku was standing next to Kaminari and Sero. By this point, the boys in the class had realized that the shy, polite kid was basically a walking weapon of mass destruction. They expected a show. 

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

“Whoa! 540 kilograms?!” Sero cheered, looking over Shoji’s shoulder. “Are you a gorilla? Or an octopus?!”

“Your turn, Midoriya!” Kaminari grinned, nudging Izuku. “Come on, man! You broke the sound barrier earlier! I bet you're gonna crush the machine into dust! Let's see some thousand-kilogram grip!”

Izuku smiled nervously, gripping the small metal device. He squeezed it as hard as he could, putting all his normal, non-Quirk-enhanced physical strength into it. 

The machine beeped. 

Izuku held it up. The screen read: 56 kilograms.

Kaminari and Sero blinked, staring at the screen, and then at Izuku. 

“Huh?” Kaminari said, scratching his head. “Wait, fifty-six? That’s... totally average for a guy who works out. I thought you had super strength!”

Izuku chuckled, rubbing the back of his head with his other hand. “Ah, no. My Quirk doesn't give me overall super strength. It’s a highly localized mutation. My skull and my cervical spine are hyper-dense to absorb impact and generate kinetic shockwaves. And I’ve trained my legs extensively to build momentum for the attacks. But my arms, hands, and upper torso? They're pretty normal.”

He held up his hands, turning them over. They were thick and calloused from lifting weights and hauling trash at Dagobah Beach, but they weren't mutated. They didn't possess the world-shattering power of his head. 

“So you're like a T-Rex?” Sero asked, tilting his head. “Massive legs, deadly bite... but normal arms?”

“Well, more like a Pachycephalosaurus,” Izuku corrected, his inner nerd leaking out slightly. “But essentially, yes. If I punch something, it’s just a normal punch. My Quirk only activates when the kinetic impact is focused on the crown of my skull.”

Aizawa, standing in the corner, listened to the explanation intently. 

A highly localized, directional emitter, Aizawa thought. Incredibly powerful, but strictly limited by its focal point. It requires specific body mechanics to activate. A severe tactical bottleneck.

Test 3 & 4: Standing Long Jump and Repeated Side Steps

Izuku dominated both tests effortlessly. 

For the long jump, he didn't need his Quirk. The ten months of grueling leg training under All Might’s supervision paid off. His thighs were coiled springs. He simply bent his knees and leapt, easily clearing the sandbox and landing in the soft grass beyond. 

For the repeated side steps, Izuku found himself against Minoru Mineta, a short boy who used his sticky, purple hairballs to bounce back and forth at blinding speeds. 

Izuku decided to practice his micro-vectors. Instead of just sidestepping, he used 1% localized shockwaves from the side of his head, rapidly snapping his neck left and right. The tiny concussive blasts acted as stabilizers and boosters, allowing him to ricochet back and forth between the lines like a massive, green blur, narrowly beating Mineta’s score. 

The class was slowly realizing that Midoriya wasn't just powerful; he was a master of physics. 

Test 5: The Softball Throw

This was the main event. 

The class gathered back outside on the athletic field. The sun was rising higher, casting short shadows over the dirt. 

Uraraka stepped into the circle. She took the softball, tapped it with her fingertips, and threw it with a grunt. 

The ball left her hand and simply... kept going. It sailed up, up, and up, defying gravity completely, until it was nothing more than a speck in the stratosphere, and then vanished entirely. 

Aizawa showed the screen. The infinity symbol (∞) glowed brightly. 

“Infinity?!” the class roared. “That’s amazing!”

“Alright, Midoriya. You’re up.” 

Aizawa tossed the ball to Izuku. 

Izuku caught it, stepping into the white circle. He felt the eyes of every single student burning into his back. He felt Kacchan’s murderous glare. He felt Aizawa’s cold, calculating stare. 

He looked down at the small, leather-bound ball in his normal, human hands. 

I scored average on the grip strength test, Izuku thought, doing the mental math. If I just throw it with my arm, I might hit sixty or seventy meters due to my weight training. But that won't be enough to secure a top spot. I need to use my Quirk. But how do I transfer the kinetic energy of a headbutt to a small, stationary object in my hand without obliterating it?

Izuku looked up at the sky. 

Wait. Uraraka nullified the gravity of the ball. I can't do that. But I can nullify gravity by making the ball weightless through momentum.

He realized what he had to do. It was risky. It required perfect timing. 

Izuku didn't wind up his arm like a baseball pitcher. Instead, he tossed the ball gently into the air directly above him. 

The class watched, confused. 

“Is he... juggling?” Kaminari whispered. 

As the ball reached the apex of its toss, about ten feet in the air, Izuku moved. 

He dropped into his coiled stance, his massive leg muscles bulging. He jumped straight up, intercepting the falling ball in mid-air. 

While suspended above the ground, Izuku spun his body horizontally, whipping his torso around to build maximum rotational torque. He spotted the small softball hovering in the air next to his face. 

Focus the vector. Concentrate the kinetic output to a point no larger than a coin. Ten percent power.

With a violent, twisting motion, Izuku swung his head, driving the very center of his hardened dome directly into the softball. 

KRA-KOOOOM!

The sonic boom was deafening. A ring of white, displaced air exploded from Izuku’s head in mid-air. 

The softball didn't just fly; it was violently evacuated from reality. The sheer concussive transfer of kinetic energy compressed the ball, shooting it forward so fast it left a visible mach cone in its wake. The wind pressure from the launch hit the observing students on the ground, blowing back their hair and forcing them to shield their eyes from the dust. 

Izuku landed perfectly on his feet, exhaling a sharp breath, his hair rustling from his own shockwave. 

The field was silent, save for the echo of the blast bouncing off the school buildings. 

Aizawa held up his smartphone device. It beeped. 

He turned the screen around without a word. 

The device, unable to track an object moving at hypersonic speeds that had completely exited the atmosphere's lower layers in seconds, simply read: Error / ∞ (Out of Bounds).

“Infinity?!” Sero screamed, clutching his head. “He basically fired it out of a railgun!”

“What the hell is this guy made of?!” Kirishima yelled, his eyes sparkling with manly admiration. “That was the most hardcore thing I’ve ever seen!”

Uraraka cheered, clapping her hands. Iida nodded approvingly, adjusting his glasses. 

Izuku let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, offering a small, relieved smile. He had done it. He had controlled the output perfectly, transferring the energy without destroying the ball or his surroundings. 

“Impressive control, Midoriya,” Aizawa’s dry voice cut through the cheering. 

The class quieted down as the homeroom teacher stepped forward, his capture scarf rippling slightly in the breeze. Aizawa’s eyes were narrowed, locking onto Izuku with a predator's intensity. 

“You’ve mastered your body’s mechanics,” Aizawa analyzed loudly, walking in a slow circle around the green-haired boy. “You use your legs to generate momentum, and your spine to vector the kinetic blasts. It’s highly efficient for destruction and propulsion. You scored perfectly.”

Izuku bowed slightly. “Thank you, Sensei.”

“Don't thank me yet,” Aizawa said, his voice hardening. “Because while your Quirk is powerful, your combat methodology is fatally flawed.”

Izuku blinked, standing up straight. “Flawed?”

Aizawa stopped in front of Izuku. He reached out and tapped a finger against Izuku’s forehead. 

“You lead with your head. Literally.”

The words hung in the air. 

“Your hands are normal,” Aizawa continued, his tone cold and clinical. “You just admitted it yourself. You have no offensive power in your arms. To deal significant damage, you must align your entire body into a straight, linear trajectory, utilizing a headbutt. Do you know what happens when an opponent knows exactly where the strike is coming from?”

Izuku’s eyes widened as Aizawa’s words sunk in. The analytical gears in his mind began to spin violently. 

“Linear trajectories are predictable,” Aizawa explained. “If you fight a villain with enhanced speed, or precognition, they will simply sidestep your charge. And what happens then? You go flying past them, exposing your unarmored back. Furthermore, if you fight a villain who possesses a shock-absorption Quirk, or a fluid body...”

Izuku immediately thought of the Sludge Villain. If he hadn't hit him perfectly with the recoil blast, he would have been absorbed. 

“...your headbutt will be nullified, and your head—the most vital part of your body—will be trapped within their defenses,” Aizawa finished. “You are a sitting duck against a tactical opponent. A cannonball is useless if the target moves, or if the target is made of mud.”

Aizawa shoved his hands into his pockets, turning away. “You rely entirely on the overwhelming force of your Quirk to solve problems. It worked on the entrance exam robots because they are mindless machines. It will not work on Pro Heroes, and it will get you killed against intelligent villains. If you want to survive my class, Midoriya, you need to learn how to fight with more than just a hard head. You need a martial art. You need unpredictability.”

Izuku stood completely still, staring at the ground. 

Aizawa wasn't just being cruel. He was entirely right. Izuku had spent ten months training his body to be a launching pad for a single, devastating attack. He had learned vector control, yes, but only for the shockwaves themselves. He had absolutely zero hand-to-hand combat skills. If he couldn't use his headbutt, he was just a muscular kid who threw average punches. 

He pulled out his invisible, mental notebook, furiously scribbling down Aizawa’s critique. He’s right. A linear attack is a telegraphed attack. I need to incorporate feints. I need to learn grappling, or boxing, to keep opponents off balance so I can land the kinetic strike when they are vulnerable. I can't just be a human missile.

“I understand, Aizawa-sensei,” Izuku said, bowing deeply, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. “Thank you for the guidance. I will improve.”

Aizawa sighed softly, a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touching the corner of his lips. He takes criticism well. He doesn't let his immense power inflate his ego. Good. There is hope for him yet.

“DEKUUUUUUUUUU!”

The sudden, ear-splitting scream shattered the quiet moment. 

Izuku snapped his head up just in time to see Katsuki Bakugo hurtling toward him. 

The blonde boy was completely unhinged. The veins in his forehead looked ready to burst, his eyes completely bloodshot. He propelled himself forward with a massive explosion, his hands outstretched, aiming directly for Izuku’s face. 

Katsuki’s mind had finally snapped. 

For ten years, he had told himself that Deku was just a defensive freak. A blockhead. A pebble in the road. Even after the Sludge Villain, Katsuki convinced himself it was a fluke. 

But watching Izuku break the sound barrier. Watching him score infinity. Watching him take advice from a Pro Hero with humble gratitude, while treating Katsuki like an afterthought. It was too much. 

You’ve been hiding this! Katsuki’s mind screamed, his palms flaring with white-hot heat. You’ve been looking down on me this whole time! You think you’re better than me?! I’ll kill you! I’LL KILL YOU!

“What the—?!” Kirishima yelled, stepping back. 

Izuku didn't brace for impact. He didn't lower his head to unleash a shockwave. He stood perfectly still, his eyes wide, watching his childhood friend descend upon him with lethal intent. 

Suddenly, a grey streak blurred through the air. 

Before Katsuki could reach Izuku, the long, durable cloth of Aizawa’s capture scarf lashed out like a striking viper. It wrapped tightly around Katsuki’s torso and arms, binding him completely. 

The momentum of his jump carried Katsuki forward, but Aizawa yanked the scarf backward, violently arresting his movement. Katsuki crashed into the dirt, struggling like a feral animal against the bindings. 

“Let me go!” Katsuki roared, trying to detonate explosions in his palms. But nothing happened. The sparks fizzled and died. 

“What the...? My Quirk...” Katsuki gasped, looking up. 

Aizawa stood a few feet away, his hair floating eerily in the air, his eyes glowing a bright, menacing red. The Erasure Quirk was active. 

“I told you, time is a limited resource,” Aizawa said coldly, his voice dripping with authority. “Stop making me use my Quirk. It gives me dry eye.”

Aizawa blinked, his hair falling back down. The bindings loosened slightly. 

“Bakugo,” Aizawa said, stepping over the seething boy. “This is a school. If you cannot control your temper, and if you attack your classmates, you will be expelled immediately. Is that clear?”

Katsuki glared at the dirt, his chest heaving, his teeth grinding so hard it sounded like bones snapping. He didn't say a word. He just slowly stood up, brushing the dirt off his knees. 

He didn't look at Aizawa. He looked at Izuku. 

The look in Katsuki’s eyes was no longer just childhood bullying or superiority. It was pure, unadulterated hatred. It was a declaration of war. 

You win today, Deku, Katsuki thought, his fists clenched so tight his nails dug into his palms, drawing tiny drops of blood. But I will tear your stupid, hard head off your shoulders. I will prove that I am the strongest.

Izuku met Katsuki’s gaze. He didn't flinch. He didn't look away. 

The shy, nervous demeanor was gone, replaced by the steadfast resolve of a boy who had moved mountains of trash and shattered a skyscraper-sized machine. 

Izuku knew what that look meant. Kacchan would never accept him. Kacchan would never stop coming for him. 

I won't hold back anymore, Kacchan, Izuku thought, his green eyes reflecting the morning sun. I can't. If I want to be a hero who saves everyone, I have to be strong enough to overcome you, too.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing his dry eyes. “Alright, that’s enough drama for one day. The test is over. Check your scores on the device and head back to class.”

The scores were projected holographically. 

Izuku Midoriya sat comfortably at Rank 1.

Momo Yaoyorozu was Rank 2.

Shoto Todoroki was Rank 3.

Katsuki Bakugo was Rank 4. 

At the very bottom, in Rank 20, was Minoru Mineta, who was currently weeping hysterically, clutching his purple hairballs. 

“Oh, by the way,” Aizawa said casually, turning to walk away. “I lied about the expulsion. It was a rational deception to draw out the upper limits of your Quirks.”

The class froze. 

“WHAAAAAAT?!” 

Yaoyorozu sighed, shaking her head. “Of course it was a lie. If you just thought about it logically, it was obvious.”

“I didn't think it was obvious!” Sero cried. 

As the class began to bicker and walk back toward the school building, Izuku lingered on the field. He looked down at his normal hands, and then up at the sky. 

He had survived his first day. He had proven his power. 

But Aizawa’s words echoed in his skull. You are a sitting duck.

Izuku tightened his backpack straps. He had a lot of work to do. He needed to learn how to fight, not just destroy. He needed to become a true martial artist, one who could integrate his devastating kinetic output flawlessly into close-quarters combat. 

Tomorrow was the Battle Trial. Heroics class with All Might. 

And Izuku knew exactly who he was going to be paired against. It was inevitable. The unstoppable force and the immovable object were on a collision course, and the collateral damage was going to be biblical. 

Izuku took a deep breath, cracked his thick neck, and jogged after his classmates, his heavy footsteps echoing across the empty field.

“I AM… COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!” 

The booming voice echoed down the hallways of U.A. High School well before the massive door to Class 1-A slid open. When it did, the sheer imposing presence of the Number One Hero, All Might, filled the threshold. He wore his Silver Age costume—a brilliant red, white, and blue spandex suit with a golden cape—and struck a pose so dynamic it seemed to warp the very air around him.

The classroom erupted into cheers. 

“It’s All Might!” Kaminari yelled, leaning over his desk. 

“Wow, he really is a teacher!” Kirishima beamed, his shark-like teeth on full display. “That’s a Silver Age costume, isn't it? So retro!”

Izuku Midoriya sat near the back, his heart hammering against his ribs. He had spent the last ten months with this man, hauling trash under his watchful, sunken eyes. But seeing him here, in his prime form, standing before the class as a teacher... it sent a thrill of pure adrenaline straight down Izuku’s hyper-dense spine. 

All Might marched to the podium, his smile radiant. “HERO BASIC TRAINING! The class that will put you through all sorts of special training to mold you into true heroes! No time to dally! Today’s activity is… BATTLE TRAINING!” 

He pointed a massive finger at the wall. “And to go with it, the gear requested to match your Quirk registrations!” 

Sections of the wall slid open, revealing numbered metal briefcases. 

“Change into your costumes and meet me at Ground Beta! Let us see what you are made of, embryos!” 

The locker room was a symphony of snapping latches, rustling fabric, and excited chatter. 

Izuku opened his briefcase, his hands trembling slightly. His mother had submitted his design ideas to the U.A. support company. He had requested something highly specific. He didn't need flash. He didn't need capes. He needed structural integrity and targeted armor. 

When he finally stepped out into the bright sunlight of Ground Beta, a mock cityscape almost identical to the one used in the entrance exam, he felt like a completely different person. 

His costume was a deep, muted forest green, far less vibrant than All Might’s primary colors. It was a heavy-duty, tactical brawler suit. Because his Quirk relied on explosive leg momentum and resulted in violent, sonic recoil, standard spandex would have been shredded in seconds. Instead, his pants were made of a highly elastic, carbon-fiber weave, reinforced at the thighs and calves to prevent ripping during his monstrous, hyper-accelerated sprints. 

His boots were incredibly heavy, featuring steel-toed grips and thick, shock-absorbing soles that locked his feet to the asphalt, preventing him from slipping when generating rotational torque. 

But the most prominent features were on his upper half. Because his arms were completely normal and lacked the prehistoric, shock-absorbing mutation of his skull, his forearms were encased in thick, heavily padded, heat-resistant gauntlets. They were designed specifically for guarding his eyes and face. Furthermore, a high, rigid collar wrapped around the back and sides of his incredibly thick neck. It wasn't to protect his neck—his cervical spine was practically unbreakable—it was an acoustic baffle, designed to muffle the deafening sonic booms he generated, protecting his own ears and reducing collateral hearing damage to allies behind him. 

His wild, bushy green hair remained completely uncovered. The U.A. designers had offered a helmet, but Izuku had specifically requested against it. A helmet would just shatter, he had noted in his submission. My skull is denser than any metal you could forge. I need the crown of my head completely exposed to the air for maximum kinetic transfer. 

“Whoa, Midoriya! You look like a tank!” 

Izuku turned to see Kirishima jogging over, clad in an open-chested martial arts gi with gear-like shoulder pads. 

“T-Thanks, Kirishima,” Izuku stuttered, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious. “Your costume is really cool, too. It fits your hardening Quirk perfectly.”

“Deku!” 

Izuku looked past Kirishima. Jogging toward him was Uraraka, wearing a skintight pink and black astronaut-style suit with bulky, rounded boots and wrist bracers. Her face was flushed, and she was pulling at her visor. 

“I should have written what I wanted more specifically,” she groaned, embarrassed. “It ended up being a skintight bodysuit! It’s totally embarrassing!”

“I-It looks great! Very aerodynamic!” Izuku squeaked, rigidly looking up at the sky to avoid staring. 

“Tch. Look at all these extras playing dress-up.” 

The temperature in the staging area seemed to drop. Katsuki Bakugo strode into the sunlight. His costume was aggressive and intimidating—a black, sleeveless V-neck tank top with an orange X across the center, a metallic neck brace, and heavy combat boots. But the most terrifying feature were the massive, grenade-shaped gauntlets strapped to his forearms. 

Katsuki locked eyes with Izuku. The blonde’s red eyes narrowed into violent slits. Izuku stood his ground, letting out a slow, measured breath. 

All Might stood before them, observing the tension. “THEY SAY THE CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN, YOUNG MEN AND WOMEN! BE AWARE, FROM NOW ON, YOU ARE HEROES! Now, let us begin!”

The rules of the Battle Trial were simple. Two-on-two indoor combat. The "Villains" would guard a papier-mâché nuclear weapon inside a multi-story building. The "Heroes" had to either capture the Villains with capture tape or touch the weapon within the time limit. 

All Might drew lots from two boxes. 

“TEAM A: IZUKU MIDORIYA AND OCHACO URARAKA!” 

Izuku and Uraraka high-fived. “We’re a team again! We’ve got this!” she cheered. 

“TEAM D: KATSUKI BAKUGO AND TENYA IIDA!” 

Silence fell over the two teams. 

Katsuki slowly turned his head, looking at Izuku. A dark, sadistic smile spread across his face, exposing his teeth. He cracked his knuckles, the grenade gauntlets clinking ominously. 

“Team A will be the Heroes!” All Might announced. “Team D will be the Villains! The Villains will go inside and set up! You have five minutes before the Heroes infiltrate!”

Inside the dimly lit, concrete building, Tenya Iida stood next to the faux nuclear weapon on the fifth floor. He was fully in character, his robotic armor clanking as he paced. 

“This is an excellent exercise in practical villainy!” Iida announced, pushing his glasses up his nose. “To truly understand the minds of evil-doers, we must immerse ourselves in their malice! Mwahaha! Now, Bakugo, we must formulate a defensive perimeter. If they approach from the stairwell—”

“Shut up, four-eyes,” Katsuki growled, walking toward the exit of the room. 

Iida stopped. “Where are you going? The weapon is here! Our objective is to guard it!”

Katsuki paused in the doorway. The shadows of the hallway obscured his face, but his glowing red eyes pierced the gloom. 

“You guard the stupid bomb. I don't care about the objective. I only care about him.”

“Bakugo, wait! We must work as a team! Going off alone is a tactical error!” Iida called out, but Katsuki was already gone, his heavy boots thudding down the stairs. 

Katsuki’s mind was a tempest of rage. The memory of the baseball flying into the stratosphere played on a loop in his mind. The memory of the Sludge Villain. The memory of a four-year-old Izuku shattering a brick wall just by tripping. 

You think you’re invincible, Deku? Katsuki thought, his palms sweating nitroglycerin in anticipation. You think just because you have a hard head and can run fast that you’re better than me? Aizawa was right. You’re a sitting duck. You only know how to charge in a straight line. I’m going to tear you apart, piece by piece, and prove that I am the only one worthy of being Number One.

Outside the building, Izuku was examining the architectural blueprint of the facility. 

“Okay, Uraraka,” Izuku said, his voice calm, suppressing his nerves. “I’ve memorized the floor plan. There are three stairwells and a central ventilation shaft. But honestly, the layout probably won't matter for the first few minutes.”

“Why not?” Uraraka asked, tapping her chin. “Shouldn't we sneak around and find the bomb?”

“Because Kacchan won't wait for us,” Izuku replied, looking up at the dark windows of the building. “I know him better than anyone. He’s prideful. He’s aggressive. And right now, he is incredibly angry at me. He won't stay with Iida to guard the weapon. He’ll come hunting for me the second we step through the door.”

Izuku tightened the straps of his heavy gauntlets. He remembered Aizawa’s critique from yesterday. Linear trajectories are predictable. 

“Uraraka, here is the plan,” Izuku said, turning to her with a serious expression. “When Kacchan attacks, I will draw his fire. I will engage him in a one-on-one fight. While I have him distracted, I need you to find the weapon and apprehend Iida.”

“What?! No!” Uraraka protested. “Bakugo is terrifying! And his explosions are so strong! I can't just leave you alone to fight him!”

“You have to,” Izuku insisted gently. “If we both fight him, my Quirk becomes a liability. If I unleash a kinetic shockwave in a narrow hallway, and you’re caught in the crossfire, the concussive force could rupture your eardrums or throw you through a wall. I have to fight him alone so I can control the vectors without worrying about your safety.”

Uraraka looked at the sheer determination in Izuku’s green eyes. She saw the heavy, dense muscle of his frame, built specifically to weather apocalyptic force. She nodded slowly. 

“Okay. I’ll find the weapon. You be careful, Midoriya.”

“HERO TEAM! INFILTRATE!” All Might’s voice blasted over the intercom. 

Izuku and Uraraka stepped through a ground-floor window, their boots silently touching the concrete. The interior of the building was dark, lit only by shafts of sunlight piercing through cracked windows. Dust motes danced in the air. 

Izuku took the lead, walking down the central corridor. His hyper-vigilant ears strained for any sound. He kept his center of gravity low, his knees slightly bent, ready to engage his explosive fast-twitch fibers at a moment's notice. 

They reached the intersection of the second floor. 

Silence.

Suddenly, the distinct smell of burnt sugar and ozone filled the air. 

Izuku’s eyes widened. Above!

“Uraraka, move!” 

From around the corner of the ceiling stairwell, Katsuki Bakugo launched himself like a rabid animal. He used a localized explosion from his left hand to propel himself around the corner at breakneck speed, his right hand pulled back, glowing with furious, sparking heat. 

“DEKUUUUU!”

Katsuki swung his right hand down in a devastating right hook, aiming a massive explosion directly at Izuku’s face. 

Izuku didn't have room to sprint. He didn't have room to build kinetic energy. But he remembered Aizawa’s words. You rely entirely on the overwhelming force of your Quirk to solve problems. You need unpredictability.

Izuku didn't try to headbutt the explosion. Instead, he shoved Uraraka backward, out of the blast radius, and crossed his heavily padded, heat-resistant gauntlets over his face in an X-block. 

BOOOOOOM!

The explosion engulfed the hallway in a blinding flash of orange fire and black smoke. The sheer concussive force of Katsuki’s blast shattered the windows on the second floor. 

Uraraka was thrown to the ground by the shockwave, coughing in the smoke. “Midoriya!”

The smoke began to clear. 

Katsuki landed softly on his feet, grinning savagely. “A sneak attack! A true villain strikes when—”

His voice died in his throat. 

Standing in the center of the scorched hallway, completely unbothered, was Izuku. The fabric of his gauntlets was slightly singed, smoking at the edges, but he hadn't moved an inch. His heavy boots had dug small grooves into the concrete, completely arresting Katsuki's kinetic momentum. 

Izuku slowly lowered his arms. His green eyes were locked onto Katsuki with a cold, analytical intensity. 

“A right hook, Kacchan,” Izuku noted, his voice perfectly even. “You always start with a big right hook to establish dominance. I’ve been watching you fight for ten years. Do you really think I haven't memorized your opening move?”

Katsuki’s eye twitched. The vein in his forehead pulsed. 

“Uraraka,” Izuku said, not taking his eyes off Katsuki. “Go.”

“R-Right!” Uraraka scrambled to her feet and sprinted down the opposite hallway, heading for the stairs to the upper floors. 

“Where do you think you’re going, round face?!” Katsuki roared, raising his palm to blast her. 

Before Katsuki could ignite his sweat, Izuku moved. 

He didn't run. He utilized a micro-vector. Izuku violently snapped his neck backward, unleashing a 1% kinetic shockwave into the air behind him. The recoil propelled his massive body forward instantaneously, closing the ten-foot gap between him and Katsuki in a fraction of a second. 

Izuku reached out with his normal, human hands. He grabbed Katsuki’s right arm, twisting his wrist, and stepped into Katsuki’s guard. With a flawless judo throw—a move he had practiced diligently over the last ten months, knowing his arms couldn't punch—he hoisted Katsuki over his shoulder and slammed him brutally into the concrete floor. 

SLAM!

The breath was knocked completely out of Katsuki’s lungs. He stared up at the ceiling, momentarily stunned. 

Izuku stepped back, dropping into a defensive martial arts stance. He kept his chin tucked, protecting his throat, and kept the crown of his skull angled forward, ready to act as an unbreakable shield. 

“I told you yesterday, Kacchan,” Izuku said, his voice echoing in the concrete hallway. “I don't just have a hard head. I am not the same defenseless kid you bullied. My name isn't Deku because I'm useless anymore.”

Izuku clenched his padded fists. “My Deku means... ‘You can do it!’”

Katsuki rolled over, hacking a cough. He slowly stood up. His pride was shattered, bleeding out onto the concrete. The nerd had predicted his move. The nerd had thrown him like a ragdoll. 

“You can do it?” Katsuki whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying, unhinged rage. He looked up, his red eyes burning like hellfire. 

“DON’T GET FULL OF YOURSELF JUST BECAUSE YOU READ MY DAMN NOTEBOOK!” 

Katsuki launched himself forward. He didn't use a straight line. Aizawa’s words applied to Katsuki as well, and the explosive boy was nothing if not a combat genius. 

Katsuki fired off rapid, small explosions behind his back, zig-zagging down the hallway like a pinball, ricocheting off the walls. He was too fast to track, a chaotic blur of orange flashes and smoke. 

Izuku’s eyes darted left and right. He’s using his blasts to change his trajectory mid-air! He’s trying to get around my front guard to hit my unarmored back!

Katsuki appeared directly behind Izuku, raising his palm toward the back of Izuku’s neck. “DIE!”

Izuku didn't turn around. Turning would take too long. Instead, he dropped his center of gravity and threw his head backward, arching his spine. 

CLANG!

Katsuki’s palm slammed directly into the solid, domed crown of Izuku’s skull. 

The nitroglycerin detonated. A massive explosion point-blank against Izuku’s head. 

But Izuku’s Cretaceous Crown activated. The kinetic energy of the explosion, the immense heat, the concussive shock... it hit the three inches of hyper-dense bone and simply stopped. The kinetic energy was absorbed, traveling down the reinforced lattice of Izuku’s cervical spine, dispersing harmlessly into the heavy muscles of his back and legs. 

Izuku didn't even flinch. He didn't get whiplash. The flames washed over his thick green hair without singeing his scalp. 

“My turn,” Izuku said softly. 

He violently whipped his head forward. He didn't use a sprint, so the power was minimal, but the rotational torque of his neck alone generated a 5% shockwave. 

BOOM!

The blast of compressed air shot backward, striking Katsuki square in the chest. It was like being hit by a flying battering ram. Katsuki was thrown backward, skidding violently across the concrete floor, tearing his pants and scraping his elbows. 

In the monitor room, the rest of Class 1-A watched in absolute awe. 

“Midoriya isn't even attacking him properly!” Kaminari yelled. “He’s just standing there, taking point-blank explosions to the face, and then swatting Bakugo away like a fly!”

“Look at his movements,” Aizawa noted from the back of the room, sipping from a juice pouch. “He’s intentionally not using his leg momentum. He knows that if he runs and headbutts Bakugo at full speed in that narrow corridor, the shockwave will crush the boy against the wall. He is holding back his offensive power and relying entirely on his mutation’s defensive capabilities and basic martial arts.”

All Might gripped the microphone, sweat beading on his forehead. Young Midoriya... you are fighting with such restraint. But Young Bakugo is a prideful beast. If he realizes normal attacks won't work, he will escalate.

Back in the hallway, Katsuki pushed himself up off the ground. His chest ached from the concussive blast. His hands were shaking, not from fear, but from a boiling, toxic cocktail of humiliation and fury. 

My explosions did nothing, Katsuki thought, staring at Izuku, who was still standing in his defensive stance, completely uninjured. I hit him point-blank in the back of the head. It should have knocked him out. It should have given him a concussion. Why is he so durable?! Why is he so strong?!

“Why didn't you use your Quirk when we were kids?!” Katsuki screamed, his voice cracking. “Why did you let me beat you up?! Were you laughing at me the whole time?! Did you think I was so weak I wasn't even worth fighting back against?!”

Izuku’s eyes softened, a flash of pity crossing his face. “No, Kacchan. I never thought you were weak. I thought you were amazing. But the doctor told me... my Quirk multiplies kinetic energy. If I headbutted you when we were kids, I couldn't control the vectors. I would have killed you. I was terrified of my own power.”

Izuku took a step forward, his heavy boots echoing. “But I’m not terrified anymore. All Might taught me how to control it. Aizawa-sensei told me how to apply it. And if I want to be a hero who stands on the same stage as you... I have to overcome you right here. So I won't hold back anymore.”

Katsuki’s vision went red. He held back because he was afraid of killing me. He thinks I’m fragile. He pities me.

“SHUT UP!” 

Katsuki backed away, moving into the larger, more open intersection of the hallway. He spread his legs wide, bracing himself. He raised his right arm, pointing the massive, grenade-shaped gauntlet directly at Izuku. 

He reached over with his left hand, grabbing the metal pin attached to the gauntlet. 

Izuku’s eyes narrowed. Those gauntlets aren't just for show. They’re storage tanks. Kacchan sweats nitroglycerin. If he's been storing it up in that gauntlet this whole time...

In the monitor room, All Might saw the design of the gauntlet and realized what was about to happen. He grabbed the comms microphone. 

“YOUNG BAKUGO! STOP! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL HIM?! IF YOU FIRE THAT IN A CLOSED SPACE, YOU WILL DESTROY THE BUILDING!” 

Katsuki’s smile was feral, utterly devoid of reason. 

“If he’s as tough as he says he is... he won't die if he dodges!” 

Katsuki pulled the pin. 

The mechanical lock disengaged. The stored nitroglycerin in the gauntlet flooded into the ignition chamber. 

Izuku saw the spark. 

Time seemed to slow down. Izuku’s analytical mind processed the variables in a microsecond. 

The corridor is ten feet wide. The blast radius of a full storage tank will encompass the entire hallway. There is no room to dodge. If I try to jump to the side, I’ll be caught in the heat wave and my unarmored body will be incinerated.

He couldn't dodge. He couldn't block it with his arms. 

I have to go through it.

Izuku dropped his center of gravity so low his knees almost touched the floor. He engaged every single fast-twitch muscle fiber in his monstrous thighs. The carbon-fiber weave of his pants groaned under the immense expansion of his muscles. He dug the steel grips of his boots into the concrete, shattering the floor to establish a perfect, immovable anchor. 

He didn't turn away from the blast. He faced it head-on, lowering his neck, aiming the dome of his skull directly at the barrel of Katsuki’s gauntlet. 

A monstrous pillar of white-hot fire and concussive energy erupted from Katsuki’s arm. The roar was deafening, melting the paint off the walls and incinerating the dust in the air. The explosion completely filled the hallway, a tidal wave of death barreling toward the green-haired boy. 

“MIDORIYA!” Kirishima screamed in the monitor room. 

Izuku didn't flinch. 

Kinetic energy equals one-half mass times velocity squared! I need maximum velocity! I need to pierce the explosion!

Izuku launched. 

The concrete beneath his feet didn't just crack; it vaporized under the sheer force of his push-off. He broke the sound barrier inside the hallway. He became a human bullet, a projectile of hyper-dense bone and muscle. 

He plunged directly into the center of the massive explosion. 

The heat was agonizing, searing through the padding of his gauntlets, but his head—the focal point of his movement—absorbed the kinetic resistance of the blast. 

As Izuku sprinted through the fire, the Cretaceous Crown began to multiply his momentum. He wasn't just running; he was generating a localized shockwave ahead of him, a bow wave of compressed air that began to push against the explosion. 

Through the roaring flames, Katsuki saw a silhouette rapidly approaching. His eyes widened in absolute horror. 

Deku wasn't dodging. Deku was running through the explosion, parting the flames around his body like Moses parting the Red Sea. The sheer concussive pressure radiating from Izuku’s domed skull was splitting the fire in two, sending the flames washing harmlessly down the sides of the hallway. 

Izuku emerged from the flames, his green costume smoking, his eyes burning with an emerald intensity. He was moving at hypersonic speeds, his head lowered, aiming directly for Katsuki’s chest. 

He’s going to hit me! Katsuki realized, his heart stopping. If that head hits my ribs at that speed, I’m dead!

Izuku knew it too. He couldn't make physical contact. The bone density of his skull moving at Mach 1 would liquefy Katsuki’s internal organs. 

So, Izuku utilized the ultimate vector control. 

A fraction of a microsecond before his domed skull impacted Katsuki’s chest, Izuku slammed his heavy boots into the concrete, engaging the brakes. 

He stopped his forward momentum entirely, leaving just an inch of space between his head and Katsuki’s chest. 

But kinetic energy cannot be destroyed. It can only be transferred. 

The massive buildup of velocity, the momentum of the sprint, the force of breaking the sound barrier—it all had to go somewhere. Since Izuku’s body stopped moving, the energy violently expelled itself from his skull as a pure, invisible wave of kinetic force. 

Izuku roared, his voice echoing over the dying flames of the explosion. 

“EXTINCTION ERA SMASH!”

BA-THOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The shockwave was localized, targeted precisely in a horizontal cone directly into Katsuki’s torso. It wasn't the bone that hit Katsuki; it was the sheer, unadulterated force of compressed air moving at the speed of sound. 

The impact sounded like a bomb going off inside a vault. 

Katsuki’s eyes rolled back in his head. The breath was violently evacuated from his lungs. The kinetic wave lifted him off his feet, propelling him backward with terrifying speed. 

He flew down the hallway, crashing through the drywall of an empty office space, shattering a wooden desk, and slamming into the far concrete wall of the building. The wall cracked in a massive spiderweb pattern, but didn't break. 

Katsuki slumped to the floor, completely unresponsive. The grenade gauntlet smoked uselessly on his arm. 

He was knocked out cold. 

Silence descended upon the mock facility. The flames died out. The smoke slowly drifted out through the shattered windows. 

Izuku stood in the hallway, steam rolling off his heated muscles. He was panting heavily, his chest heaving. The high-pitched whine of the sonic boom rang in his ears, muffled slightly by his padded collar. 

He tried to take a step forward to check on Katsuki. 

His legs gave out. 

The sheer force of braking at that speed, combined with the explosive launch, had pushed his leg muscles past their breaking point. His thighs cramped violently, locking up like rusted gears. Small trickles of blood seeped through the carbon-fiber weave of his pants where the fast-twitch fibers had micro-ruptured. 

Izuku collapsed to his knees, his heavy boots clanking against the scorched concrete. He braced himself on his normal, human hands, gasping for air. 

I controlled it, Izuku thought, a dizzy, exhausted smile spreading across his face. I stopped an inch away. I used the shockwave to incapacitate him without shattering his ribs. I fought... like a Pro.

“Midoriya!” 

The earpiece in Izuku’s ear crackled to life. It was Uraraka. 

“Midoriya, are you okay?! The whole building just shook! I heard a massive explosion!” 

Izuku tapped his earpiece with a trembling hand. “I’m... I’m okay, Uraraka. Kacchan is incapacitated. Did you... did you find the weapon?”

“I did!” she cheered, her voice filled with excitement. “Iida was giving this huge villain speech, so I used my Quirk to make a concrete pillar weightless, batted it at him as a distraction, and grabbed the bomb while he was dodging! We won!”

Over the PA system, All Might’s booming, slightly shaky voice echoed. 

“HERO TEAM... WINS!” 

In the monitor room, you could hear a pin drop. 

Class 1-A stared at the screens in complete, stunned silence. 

They had just witnessed two teenagers unleash enough destructive firepower to level a city block. But more than that, they had witnessed a terrifying display of tactical control. 

“Did you see what he did?” Yaoyorozu whispered, her hands covering her mouth. “Bakugo fired a lethal, wide-area attack. Midoriya couldn't dodge. So he used his own body as a wedge, generating a kinetic bow-wave to part the fire. It’s... it’s fluid dynamics, but applied to fire and shockwaves.”

“And he stopped right before hitting him!” Kirishima yelled, pumping his fist, tears in his eyes. “He pulled the punch! He hit him with the shockwave instead of his head so he wouldn't kill him! That’s so manly! What incredible control!”

Aizawa stood in the back, his arms crossed, his capture scarf hiding a genuine smile. 

He listened to me, Aizawa thought. He didn't just charge in blindly. He used a judo throw to establish close-quarters dominance. He baited Bakugo into a straight corridor, minimizing the boy’s aerial maneuverability. And when forced into a linear attack, he utilized pinpoint vector control to neutralize the threat non-lethally.

Aizawa uncrossed his arms and pulled out a fresh juice pouch. He still relies heavily on raw power when cornered, and the recoil crippled his legs. But his combat intelligence is staggering. He is not a sitting duck.

All Might, meanwhile, was wiping sweat from his brow. Good grief. These boys are going to give me a heart attack. 

He pressed the intercom button. “MEDICAL BOTS! PLEASE PROCEED TO THE SECOND FLOOR TO RETRIEVE YOUNG BAKUGO AND YOUNG MIDORIYA!” 

Izuku lay on his back in the hallway, waiting for the medical bots. The pain in his legs was excruciating, a deep, burning ache that radiated into his lower spine. But the pain in his heart—the anxiety, the fear of his own power, the shadow of his childhood bully—was gone. 

He turned his head slowly, looking at the hole in the wall where Katsuki lay unconscious. 

He didn't feel a sense of triumphant superiority. He didn't want to gloat. He just felt a profound sense of relief. 

Kacchan, Izuku thought, closing his eyes as the mechanical whir of the medical stretcher bots approached. You forced me to become stronger. You forced me to stop holding back. I hope... I hope you realize now that we are equals. I’m not following behind you anymore.

As the bots gently lifted Izuku onto a stretcher, he looked up at the ceiling of the mock facility. 

He had survived Aizawa’s test. He had survived the Battle Trial. He had proven his tactical worth. 

But Izuku Midoriya had no idea that the true test of his heroism was just around the corner. A test that wouldn't involve mock villains, papier-mâché bombs, or childhood rivalries. 

A test involving a man covered in hands, a creature bred to kill the Symbol of Peace, and the horrifying reality of what a 100% Cretaceous Crown shockwave was truly meant to shatter.