The question hung in the workshop air, heavier than any prototype.
"Would you accept the burden of One For All and become the ninth user?"
Melissa Shield looked at her Uncle Might, the living legend, and then at her father. For an instant, the hum of the monitors and the smell of oil and metal vanished. The world shrank to their two faces and the enormity of what they were offering. Tears welled up without permission, carving hot tracks down her cheeks. They were tears of shock, of a breathtaking disbelief, and of a painful dream she had learned to bury under layers of science and pragmatism.
"But…" her voice was a broken whisper. "I don't understand. This has to be a joke."
Toshinori's gaunt face remained serious. "It is not, young Melissa."
"I'm Quirkless," she managed to say, the phrase that had defined her entire life now sounding like an insurmountable barrier. "How could I…? Why me? There are hundreds of pro heroes, experienced people who were born for this."
David Shield, her father, took a step forward. "Melissa, honey, you don't have to… No one is forcing you to accept this burden. It's too much. Toshinori, do you see what you're asking of her? It's not an honor, it's a target on her back for the rest of her life."
"I know that better than anyone, David," Toshinori replied, his gaze never leaving his niece. "And I know the fear you feel. But I am not blind."
He turned back to Melissa, and his calm, firm tone anchored her in the storm of her thoughts. "I am not offering you this because of what you could do with a Quirk, Melissa," he said, his gaze unwavering. "I am offering it to you because of who you already are without one."
He paused, letting the words sink in. "Your entire life, you have fought to help others. Not on the front lines, not in the spotlight, but here. In the shadows. You've used your mind, your heart, and your tireless work to support heroes, to give them the tools they need. How many people are safe because of a device you designed? Because of an improvement you implemented? You have never sought glory. You have only sought to help."
He leaned forward slightly, his skeletal frame seeming to emanate a strength that was not physical. "One For All is not a prize for those who are already strong. It is a tool for those with an unbreakable spirit, for those who would get up again and again, even without power, to protect someone. And your spirit, my dear Melissa, is more heroic than most of the professionals I have ever known."
She looked at him, his words dissolving her doubts, corroding the feeling of inadequacy that had followed her since childhood. She saw the history in his sunken eyes, the absolute faith he was placing in her. She saw her father, terrified of what might happen to her, yet with an undeniable pride shining in his eyes.
She understood. This was not a gift. It was a duty. The duty she had always longed for, but never believed was possible for someone like her.
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, a rough and practical gesture, and stood up. Her posture changed. The uncertainty that had made her slouch vanished, replaced by a resolve that made her seem taller.
"Ever since I was a little girl," she began, her voice trembling at first but steadying with each word, "all I've ever wanted was to be by your side. Not behind you, not cheering from a distance. By your side. Fighting with you."
She looked at her own hands, an inventor's hands, stained with grease and accustomed to precision tools, not combat. "I always thought my place was here, building the shield so others could be the sword. But if this torch can make that possible… if it will allow me to protect people the way you've protected me…"
She took a deep breath, her gaze meeting Toshinori's, a connection forged over a lifetime. "Yes. Yes, Uncle Might. I accept. I accept the burden of One For All."
A solemn silence filled the workshop. David Shield shut his eyes tightly as a single tear escaped, sliding down his cheek. He said nothing, but the gesture said everything. Toshinori smiled, a genuine grin filled with a relief so profound it seemed to take years off his age.
"I knew you would," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.
With an almost ceremonial movement, he plucked a single blond hair from his head. "Now… eat this."
Melissa blinked. The epic moment shattered. She stared at him, then at the hair, and then back at him. "Excuse me?"
"Ah, yes. I forgot to mention that part," All Might said with an embarrassed casualness that contrasted sharply with the solemnity of a few seconds prior. "To transfer the power, you have to ingest my DNA. It's a bit anticlimactic, I know. And pretty weird."
"Ingest your DNA?" she repeated, the scientist in her battling the absurdity of the situation. "You mean I have to eat your hair?"
"Basically. It's the simplest and least invasive way, believe me."
Melissa looked to her father for some kind of logical explanation, but he just shrugged with an expression that clearly said, he's the legend, not me.
With a final glance at Toshinori, who offered her an encouraging smile, Melissa took the thin hair. She held it for a second between her fingers, observing it as if it were a strange component for a new invention. Then, with the solemnity of an oath, she brought it to her mouth and swallowed.
It tasted, predictably, like nothing. But the weight of what she had just done settled in her stomach.
*****
The next day in Musutafu, the atmosphere in the Gamma Field observation room was one of intense analysis. Ibara had already left to rest, exhausted but satisfied. Nezu, Nemuri, Mirko, Yu, and Izuku remained, reviewing the recording of the demonstration for a third time. On the giant screen, a tangle of vines as thick as tree trunks twisted and crushed combat robots as if they were soda cans.
"The raw power is undeniable," Nezu said, sipping his tea without taking his eyes off the screen. "The growth speed and strength of the vines have exceeded all projections by seventeen percent. A resounding success on that front, Mr. Midoriya."
"Success, he says! You've created a monster!" Mirko exclaimed, slamming the armrest of her chair. There was no criticism in her voice, only pure excitement. "Look at that! That garden could stop an army! I want to fight it right now!"
"Control yourself a little, Rumi," Nemuri said, rewinding a section. "But the principal is right. Uncontrolled power is just destruction, Izuku. And heroism is control, it's precision. You've created a massive area denial weapon. Now you have to teach her how to aim. Look here."
She pointed to a spot on the screen where a vine had crushed a robot but had also demolished a car that was being used for cover. "That's my main concern," Yu intervened, standing next to Izuku with her arms crossed. "It was incredible, Izuku. Really. But if there had been a civilian trapped in one of those cars, the vines would have crushed them along with the robots without a second thought. Target discrimination is zero."
They all turned to Izuku, who had been silent, watching the replay not with pride, but with total concentration.
"So, what's the plan?" Mirko asked, leaning forward impatiently. "How do you teach a plant not to crush the innocent while hunting the bad guys?"
Izuku shook his head and turned off the replay with a click on his tablet. The room fell silent. "She doesn't need more robots," he said, his voice calm and confident. "Robots are predictable. That's not enough. She needs a real scenario."
He turned to face the committee. "This isn't a problem of power or technique. It's a problem of trust and perception. Her Quirk, in attack mode, responds to her protective instinct. Anything that moves at high speed in her territory is a threat. It's a binary system: friend or foe. She needs to learn to override that instinct for specific targets. She needs a third category. She needs a reason."
"A reason?" Yu repeated, confused. "What kind of reason?"
"Someone in the middle of the chaos," Izuku explained. "Someone she can absolutely trust. A familiar presence that her Quirk, on a subconscious level, will recognize and actively avoid. Someone whose presence screams 'do not attack' no matter how much they move, how much noise they make, or how close they get to the enemies."
Nemuri smiled slyly. "A fascinating proposal. Instinctive conditioning through an emotional reference point. And who might this special person be, Izuku?"
Izuku looked at each of them, one by one, with his characteristic sincerity. "Me, of course. I'll stand in the center of her garden during the next attack simulation."
The reaction was instantaneous. "ARE YOU CRAZY?!" Yu shouted, jumping to her feet. "Absolutely not! You've lost your mind! One of those vines split a steel robot in half! It's going to crush you!"
Izuku didn't flinch.
Mirko, however, laughed with savage joy. She shot up from her seat and clapped Izuku on the back so hard he nearly fell over. "HA! Now you're speaking my language, kid! Putting your own skin on the line! That's confidence! I want a front row seat!"
"It is the ultimate test of trust," Nemuri said with scientific interest. "The analyst becomes the variable. Fascinating."
"A bold proposal, Mr. Midoriya," Nezu said, the only one who was completely calm. "Very well. Approved."
"Principal!" Yu protested, desperate. "You can't be serious! It's suicide! The risk is unacceptable!"
"Trust is the cornerstone of any great team, Mt. Lady," Nezu replied calmly. "If Mr. Midoriya trusts his student to this extent, and if she succeeds, the bond they form will be unbreakable. The control she will gain over her Quirk will be absolute. It is a calculated risk."
The decision was made. Yu looked at Izuku with a mixture of terror and fury. He met her gaze, calm.
They left the room in a tense silence. Yu walked with long strides, her fists clenched. Izuku effortlessly kept pace. After fifty yards, she stopped short.
"You can't be serious, Izuku," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "Tell me you have a plan B."
"There is no plan B, Yu. I am completely serious."
"You can't do this! It's too dangerous! What if she gets distracted? What if she loses focus for a fraction of a second?"
"That won't happen."
"You can't know that!" she shot back, her voice rising. "You're not invincible! One of those things hits you by accident and it's over!"
He turned to face her, and the confidence in his eyes left her speechless. "I trust her."
"Well, I don't!" she snapped. "I trust you, but she's a student! Students make mistakes! And a mistake here will cost you your life!"
He stepped a little closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Ever since I met you, I've asked you to trust me. My analysis, my strategies, my judgment. Always based on data and probabilities."
He looked directly into her eyes. "Now, I'm just asking you for one more thing. It's not about data anymore. It's about this."
The phrase, the foundation of their relationship, hit her hard. She wanted to scream at him, shake him, lock him in a room until it was all over. But seeing the unwavering faith he had in his student, her anger faded, leaving only a deep fear behind.
She said nothing. She simply nodded, a single, tense jerk of her head.
Izuku gave her a small, tired smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Good. Now, let's go home. I need to design the safety protocol for the simulation. And I'm hungry."