First off, let's take a second to say Alhamdulillah. We thank Allah for the strength to beat back the laziness and find the time to get these words on the page. Don't take this for granted—the WiFi, the internet, the fact that people are out here allocating their time to write for you for free... it's a blessing. Say Alhamdulillah. And please, send prayers and blessings upon our beloved Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). If I ever lag on the updates, here is a secret: make ten thousand salutations to the Prophet with the intent that I finish these chapters, and I'll be practically forced to write them! Even if I don't feel like it, that is the power of the Salawat. Anything you want—halal, of course—you will get it.
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The Next Day, Sunday, Adam Estate, 5:45 AM
"I AM HERE! I AM HERE! I AM HERE! I AM HERE!"
The silence of the sprawling Adam Estate didn't just break, it was obliterated. The legendary, booming voice of the Symbol of Peace erupted from the smartphone on the nightstand, echoing through the empty, high-ceilinged rooms like a declaration of war.
Inside the master bedroom, Adam Al Hantakour-less (for the ignorant, Hantakour is an arabic title reserved for the most titanic of male physiological "swords") was currently a casualty of deep sleep. He was face-down, his limbs splayed out like a chalk outline at a crime scene. His mouth was a leaky faucet, contributing a steady, shimmering stream of drool to the expensive silk pillowcase.
However, his lower half was occupied with a much more "energetic" task. His butt was perched high in the air, rhythmic and twitching, moving with a frantic, upward-downward momentum. It was as if some invisible, malevolent Diddy Spirit had possessed his glutes and was using them to drill for oil in the mattress.
Deep within the dark theater of his subconscious, Adam was trapped in a 4K psychological horror.
In the dream, a colossal, muscular All Might, wearing nothing but skin-tight All Might-themed boxers, was pinning him to the floor. The Hero's smile was too wide, too bright, shining with a predatory benevolence. With a single, mountain-shattering finger, he held Adam's face down while his other hand systematically began peeling Adam's clothes away like an orange.
"I'M HERE! I'M HERE! I'M HERE!" the titan bellowed, his voice vibrating Adam's very soul.
Meanwhile Adam's in reality, His brows knitted into a single line of despair, his lips bitten white as muffled, desperate screams clawed at his throat.
"Yameroo... Yamete Kudasai... Oh NIGGA AYY (Onegai)... All Might-ooo... please... stop..."
It was the Jathom (sleep paralysis). His body was lead. His Negation power, usually his ultimate shield against the world's bullshit, had utterly betrayed him. It sat on the sidelines, eating popcorn while the Boxer-Clad Legend closed in for the final "Smash."
"OH NIGGA AYYY... ALLAHU AKBAR!!!!"
The Takbir exploded from Adam's lungs in the real world. The dream shattered like a mirror struck by a sledgehammer. Adam executed a violent, desperate tactical roll, leaping off the bed and landing in a defensive crouch, his hands frantically shielding his "forbidden zone."
"A nightmare??" He panted, his chest heaving as he scanned the shadows of the room. "That... that lustful demon tried to plunder my dignity! He knew! He knew I'd sealed my Dragon-Slaying Heaven-Sealing Sword, so he decided to run rampant! Just you wait, I'll exorcise your soul with Surah Al-Baqara later! But for now..."
He grabbed the vibrating phone. All Might had been spamming him since 5:30 AM.
"Willi willi willi (oh no, oh no, oh no!)..." Adam hissed, "I'm going to be late! Wait..."
He froze, his hand halfway to his messy hair. The way that "Willi willi" had just escaped his throat, high-pitched, frantic, and suspiciously melodic, echoed in the quiet room. He looked at his reflection in the window, his eyes narrowing in judgment.
"I sounded... suspiciously gay for a second there. Whatever! No time for a sexuality crisis, I have to move!"
(How Adam sounded : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gmMyIbOihlo)
Little did he knows, The first petal of the sunflower had begin to bloom.
He checked the math. It was 5:55 AM. The meeting at the beach was at 6:00 AM. Even if he moved with the speed of a Shonen protagonist in a filler episode, he wouldn't be out of the house until 6:05.
As he reached for his clothes, the phone screamed again. It was the Legend himself. Adam swiped "Answer" and immediately began miming a heavy, rhythmic panting.
"Adam-shonen! You finally picked up!" All Might's voice was a mixture of heroic concern and "I've-been-waiting-in-the-cold" irritation. "I've called you six times! Where are you?"
Adam's pupils dilated as he pivoted into "Keyboard Warrior Mode." He let out a calculated, ragged breath into the mic.
"Uncle Yagi... huff... I'm on the way!" The lie slid out of his mouth with the smoothness of a greased lightning bolt. "I'm coming on foot! I'll be there in twenty minutes or less. Just... huff... do the warm-ups without me! I'm doing my cardio on the way to the spot!"
"Eh? Adam-kun, you already left UA?" All Might sounded genuinely confused. He was currently standing at the UA main gate, wearing an oversized black tracksuit, an electric scooter parked beside him. "I didn't send you the location for Takoba Seaside Park yet! I came here to guide you!"
Cough! Cough! Gag!
Adam nearly choked on his own saliva. His face turned a shade of crimson that rivaled a ripe tomato.
"Ah... thank you, Uncle, for the sentiment! I really didn't know the way," Adam pivoted the ship of lies with master-class precision. "But you misunderstood, Uncle Yagi! I'm on my way from the fake city area to the UA main entrance! I haven't left the grounds yet because... because that gigantic gate! It's so huge I couldn't figure out how to open it, I've been running in circles!"
One lie requires a thousand more to fortify it. Adam stood there in his messy room, gesturing wildly with his free hand as if All Might could see his "struggle."
All Might paused, his intuition tingling, his years of work as a pro hero made him sensitive to unusual vibes, but he brushed it off.
"Oh! Is That So?...Alright, Please, hurry, Adam-shonen! Young Midoriya is already at the beach. He arrived thirty minutes ago! That is the fire, the enthusiasm I want to see from you!"
"Ten minutes! Ten minutes to reach the gate, Uncle Yagi! You know how vast UA is... I don't want to burn all my energy running before the actual training starts!"
"Fine, just hurry up."
"Understood!"
The call ended. Adam didn't waste a heartbeat. He bolted for the bathroom. Even though Frikholito had been banished to the void, his biological motherboard still needed to discharge some impurities.
He stood over the toilet and closed his eyes, focusing on the emptiness between dimensions.
"Negation... Release."
With a subtle, spatial pop—the sound of reality reclaiming its lost property—Frikholito returned from the abyss.
"Welcome back, Aibou. You seem... energetic. I can feel the draconic fire rising already." Adam smirked, though his eyes were frantic. "Don't get comfortable. Make it quick, the void is waiting for you."
After a record-breaking, high-pressure discharge, he swiped his hand through the air. Voom. The "One-Eyed Black Dragon" was banished once more.
"Good work. See you after I drink too much tea."
He performed a lightning-speed Wudu, the cold water snapping his brain into high gear. Fajr was at 6:30 AM; he'd rather do it here than try to do wudu on a beach covered in rusty fridges and old tires.
He threw on his new gear, black performance joggers, a crisp white tee, and his freshest sneakers. He sprinted to the kitchen, raided the dates box, and stuffed a handful into his pockets like he was loading ammunition.
"6:05 AM... exactly ten minutes, just like I told Uncle Yagi..."
He paused at the front door of Adam's Estate, a devious, "villainous" grin stretching across his face.
If All Might knew that "ten minutes to the gate" actually meant "ten minutes to leave my house which is miles away from The Main UA campus Gate," he'd probably get hit with a "United States of Discipline Smash." But as long as the lies held firm, nothing bad will happen!
(lying is haram, you will know why soon!)
Adam burst out of his estate and sprinted toward the perimeter of Ground Beta, his sneakers slapping the pavement with a frantic, desperate rhythm. It didn't even take him ten minutes, panic is a hell of a pre-workout. But as he skidded to a halt, his heart sank.
Standing before him was the gate. It wasn't just a gate, it was a towering, monolithic slab of reinforced steel that looked like it could withstand a direct hit from a nuclear warhead. Adam walked up to it, his chest heaving, and gave it a tentative push.
Clink.
The sound of his hand hitting the metal was the sound of total, unyielding rejection. He scrambled along the frame, his fingers dancing over the smooth surface searching for a keypad, a hidden button, a fingerprint scanner... anything!!!
"Clean... it's too clean!" Adam hissed, his eyes wide as he looked up at the sheer height of it. "No way... the lies are becoming a prophecy! How am I supposed to bypass this? Do I destroy it? If I blast a hole through this thing, Nezu will skin me alive and turn my hide into a fashionable vest! My only option... is the skies."
Adam didn't have a second to waste on hesitation. He could feel the minutes ticking away, All Might's disappointment looming like a shadow. He closed his eyes and reached deep into the core of his being, channeling the Negation power that sat within him like a coiled snake.
The goal: Flight. Or at least, a very stylish imitation of it.
I need to coat the negation energy around my body, he coached himself, his brow furrowed in intense concentration.
Negate the weight until I'm as light as a dandelion seed. Once I'm weightless, I can float up just like Uraraka-shwan's quirk, crest the gate, and then—gravity on! Fast fall! Negate the impact before I hit the pavement and turn into Adam-paste! Easy!
With the blueprint etched in his mind, Adam willed the energy to move. He visualized it enveloping him like a living shadow, like the iconic, symbiotic black suit of Venom. The ink-black energy responded, surging out of his pores and shrouding him in a thick, light-devouring mist. It crept up his legs, over his torso, and wrapped around his head, leaving only two fierce, glowing gaps for his eyes and a slit for his mouth.
He stood there, a silhouette cut out of the world itself. He looked like the legendary "Shadowy Criminal" from Detective Conan, the unidentified silhouette of a killer. Or perhaps like Kuroiro from Class 1-B.
But before he could delete his weight, he had to truly feel it.
He stood perfectly still, grounding himself. He felt the heavy, invisible pull of the world tugging at his soles, anchoring him to the concrete.
Weight... he mused, his internal monologue shifting into a philosophical gear. Gravity and weight... they're the same thing, aren't they? like weight had no meaning without gravity and gravity had no meaning without weight, yin yang type shit... alright i don't understand this deep shit, let me simplify it, so We were created from the soil, so technically, Mother Earth is our Mamita. But she's the toxic type of mom, the one who doesn't want her kids to ever leave the house. That's what gravity is: the clingy, morbid love of Mamita Earth. Weight is just that heavy, annoying pressure in my boots saying 'You belong to me.' It's the shackles that keep me from soaring like the King I am.
He could feel it now—the stubborn grip of the planet holding his molecules hostage.
"Sorry, Mamita Earth," he whispered, a sharp, white-toothed grin cutting through his black shroud. "Excuse me for a second. I'm just gonna fly over this gate and then I'll come right back to your embrace. Don't miss me too much."
The black negation energy flared. It thickened, becoming more viscous, more absolute. He felt the power peak, and in that moment, the Chuunibyou soul residing in his heart demanded tribute. He threw his head back, his voice dropping into a dramatic, gravelly baritone that echoed off the high walls of the gate.
"The chains of the terrestrial womb are severed! My soul is no longer weighed down by the shackles of the mundane! Rise, O' King of the Void—Absolute Negation: Astral Drifter!"
It was, without question, the most badass thing he had ever said till now. For three glorious seconds, Adam felt like the final boss of a world-ending RPG. The black energy flared like a dark supernova, and his boots suddenly lost their grip on the concrete.
A sickening, hollow tug pulled at the pit of his stomach—the familiar, draining sensation of overextending his power, like the exhaustion of beating Frikholito five times in a row.
Then, he was up.
He drifted upward with a ghostly silence. He felt light. Too light. The usual heaviness of his muscles, the ache in his shoulders, the very feeling of being contained—it all vanished. He felt like Gojo Satoru after achieving enlightenment, a being of pure, untethered power.
He threw his head back, one hand gripping his face in a classic pose of "madness," while the other reached out as if to grasp the very sky. A low, vibrating chuckle began in his chest and erupted into a full-blown, theatrical villain laugh.
"Hah... Hahaha! AHAHAHA! I can feel it! The Aura Debt I've accumulated from all those awkward moments... it's being paid back in full!"
If there had been an audience, they would have wept at the sheer, unadulterated "cool" radiating from his silhouette. But as his soles left the ground fully, the universe decided to remind Adam that he had skipped physics class.
Wait. Why is the gate tilted?
The horizon suddenly lurched thirty degrees to the left. Then the sky was under his feet. Then the gate was upside down.
A slight, almost imperceptible morning breeze brushed against his black-shrouded chest. To a normal person, it was a "refreshing wind." To a man with zero weight, it was a giant's hand shoving a feather. Without weight to provide friction or a center of gravity to anchor him, Adam's stability had effectively ceased to exist.
"Wait—whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa!"
The majestic 'Astral Drifter' immediately devolved into a disaster. Without an anchor, he began to tip. Then he began to tilt. Within seconds, Adam was spinning like a discarded candy wrapper trapped in a hurricane.
He wasn't flying; he was rotating on a horizontal axis at high speed, his limbs flailing wildly as he drifted upward. He bypassed the top of the gate not with a heroic leap, but as a frantically rotating, screaming human Beyblade.
"I'M SPINNING! WHY AM I SPINNING?! EARTH, I TAKE IT BACK! MAMITA, TAKE ME BACK!"
He cleared the massive structure in seconds, but he wasn't stopping. The momentum of his "ascension" was carrying him higher and higher. The Ground Beta buildings began to shrink, looking like Lego sets for toddlers. The main UA campus became a distant toy in a sandbox.
I'm going to space. Oh my god, I'm actually going to space! I didn't pack a suit! I don't have a helmet! No oxygen! I'm going to become a frozen Adam-sicle in the vacuum of the void just because I wanted to look cool!
He looked up—or down, he couldn't tell because the world was a dizzying blur of blue and green—and saw the sky deepening into a darker shade. Every time he flailed his arms to stop the spinning, the lack of air resistance caused his body to whip around even faster. He was a black blur of panic, ascending toward the stratosphere.
Think, Adam! Think! Use that big, beautiful, delusional brain of yours!
In the grip of life-and-death terror, Adam's mind finally hit a gear it had never touched before.
The air was thinning. Every breath Adam took felt like trying to drink through a clogged straw. If he lifted the negation now, he'd plummet like a meteor.
If I drop now, I'll hit terminal velocity in seconds, his brain screamed, the survival instinct finally over-clocking his common sense. I'll black out. And if I lose consciousness before I can reactivate the negation near the ground, I'm not just dead—I'm a splash of red paint on the sidewalk. Instant death. Game over. No respawn.
His only hope was the skeletal legend below.
"KYAAA! ALL MIGHTooo-SAMA! SAVE MEEEEEE!"
The scream was a masterpiece of desperation, a pure, high-pitched, damsel-in-distress shriek that would have made a Victorian noblewoman proud.
Below, in front of the massive UA entrance, Toshinori Yagi was leaning against his electric scooter, peacefully sipping a cup coffee. In his skeletal form, without the power of One For All coursing through his veins, the former Number One Hero just had normal, middle-aged ears. He was blissfully oblivious to the fact that his prize student was currently becoming a low-orbit satellite. He just watched a stray leaf tumble by, thinking about how quiet the morning was.
Adam wailed again, his voice cracking against the wind. Nothing. Toshinori just took another sip.
Tears began to prick at the corners of Adam's eyes—half from the biting, sub-zero chill of the high altitude, half from the sheer, unadulterated terror of his situation. His "Venom" shroud flickered as his concentration wavered. The wind was a physical weight now, distorting the skin on his face, flapping his cheeks like a bulldog in a hurricane.
"YA RAB! HELP ME! I DON'T WANT TO DIE YET!" Adam sobbed into the void. "I haven't even seen Momo-shwan in person! I haven't even started my harem arc! I swear, if I survive this, I'll make Mineta and Kaminari eunuchs! I'll bring them to the Deen myself! Just let me live!"
A flock of seagulls drifted past him, their wings flapping in a lazy, confused rhythm. They hovered near the black, spinning mass for a few seconds, tilted their heads, and let out a series of inquisitive squawks. To them, this was a strange, new, featherless bird, possibly a potential mate? But after hearing Adam's pathetic, high-pitched wails, the lead seagull let out a disgusted screech and banked left. They couldn't afford to dilute their bloodline with such a crybaby.
"Even the birds are judging me?!" Adam's eyes snapped open, a spark of defiant, unyielding Moroccan fire igniting in his chest. "Fine! If the sky won't have me, and the Earth wants to kill me, I'll carve my own path!"
He wouldn't give up. Not like this. He was Adam Al Hantakour, the man who negated reality itself!
Mustering every ounce of his willpower, he fought the spinning momentum. He visualized his body not as a leaf, but as a rudder. Slowly, agonizingly, he forced his limbs to stop flailing and locked them into a horizontal, "airplane" position—arms wide, legs spread.
The moment he hit the pose, the chaotic rotation stopped. The upward airflow, which had been launching him toward space, suddenly hit his flat chest and suspended him.
He was... stable. He was floating!
He didn't dare look down. If he saw the sheer drop, his heart would probably jump out of his mouth and leave the rest of him behind. His pulse was a frantic drumbeat against his ribs—the thrill of escaping the vacuum of space clashing with the terror of the impending fall.
"I have to move forward," he wheezed, the cold air stinging his lungs. "I need to reach the main gate. If I drop directly over All Might, even if I faint, he'll have to catch me! It's the perfect, foolproof plan!"
But how do you move in the sky without spinning again? He tried flapping his hands like a bird.
Whoosh. He lifted another three meters.
"NO! Wrong! Flapping creates lift! I don't need lift, I have too much lift! I need thrust!"
He looked at the air ahead of him. It was thick, resisting him. If gravity was Mamita Earth, then the air was just a very thin, very cold ocean.
"Swimming... I have to swim through the sky!"
It was the most ridiculous, undignified sight in the history of UA High. A boy clad in a black, inky shroud, performing a frantic, wide-eyed breaststroke through the clouds. His hands cupped the air, "scooping" the currents and shoving them behind him. His legs kicked with the desperation of a man fleeing a shark.
And it worked.
"I'm doing it... I'm actually doing it! Fear me, Michael Phelps! I am the Shark of the Stratosphere! The Predator of the Blue!"
He rowed with Herculean effort, his muscles screaming under the strain of pushing against the high-altitude resistance. He kept his gaze locked forward, refusing to acknowledge the abyss below.
"I believe I can SWIM! I believe I can touch the GROUND!~~ Mamita Earth, I love you! I finally get it! I know why you keep us down! It's scary up here! I'm sorry I called you toxic!"
The rooftops of UA began to crawl beneath him. Finally, the iconic "H" shaped main building and the front gate appeared in his periphery. He was still thousands of feet up, his arms burning as if they'd been dipped in acid.
"Okay... Mamita... I'm coming home. Don't drop me too hard."
He squinted his eyes, bracing his soul. This was the moment of truth. If he timed it wrong, he'd transform from Adam Al Hantakour into Adam Al Kabab—a flattened skewer of meat on the asphalt.
"One... two... THREE!"
He ruthlessly cut the power. The negation vanished.
In a heartbeat, the "chains of the terrestrial womb" slammed back into place. Gravity didn't just pull him; it yanked him. The weight of his own body returned with the force of a freight train, and the world began to rush upward at a terrifying velocity.
"LA ILLAHA ILA ALLAH!!"
He screamed the Tawhid at the top of his lungs, a final insurance policy for his soul. He was a black streak of terror, falling from the heavens like a meteor, straight toward the unsuspecting, coffee-sipping Symbol of Peace.
...
UA Main Entrance.
Uncle Yagi was taking a slow, methodical sip of his coffee, his sunken eyes staring blankly at the asphalt.
"Adam-shonen is far too undisciplined," he muttered into the rim of the plastic cup, his voice a dry rasp. "Laziness is a weed that chokes the heart of a hero. I need to find a spark—a way to make him love the grind, not just the glory. He has the spirit, but his legs are stuck in the mud. He won't stay committed unless something truly... pushes him."
"LA ILLAHA ILA ALLAH!!!"
A jagged, vibrating scream tore through the morning silence, echoing off the glass towers of the UA main building.
Toshinori paused, the coffee halfway to his lips. He let out a long, weary sigh. "It seems I need to rest. Dealing with that boy is giving me auditory hallucinations. I'm starting to hear his unexpected shouts in my very soul. Perhaps a trip to a hot spring will help me relax? My spirit is tired..."
"LA ILLAHA ILA ALLAH!!!"
"LA ILLAHA ILA ALLAH!!!"
"LA ILLAHA ILA ALLAH!!!"
Uncle Yagi froze. That wasn't his imagination. The scream was getting clearer, louder. It sounded like it was coming from... above?
He slowly tilted his head back, his neck vertebrae popping in the silence.
"PUFFFF—!!"
A literal fountain of blood erupted from Toshinori's mouth, spraying the windshield of his scooter. In his shock, his hand spasmed, crushing the plastic coffee cup into a mangled, dripping wreck.
"ADAM-SHONEN?!"
High above, a black, blurred shape was plummeting through the sky.
Adam was currently experiencing a biological system failure. The moment he had cut his weight negation, the sheer, visceral terror of the drop had overwhelmed his nervous system. He was flickering—fainting for a second, waking up to scream, then blacking out again.
As he cleared the height of the H-shaped main building, the sight of the approaching pavement acted like a shot of adrenaline to his heart.
I'm going to become Kafta!
(For those unaware, Kafta is ground meat).
With a final, desperate roar of "NIGGAAA-!!!" he dumped every remaining drop of his energy into one last weight-negation burst.
The drain was catastrophic. It felt like "slaying the flood dragon" ten times in a row without a break—a feat synonymous with spiritual and physical suicide. His limbs turned to jelly, his eyelids grew heavy, and his brain felt like it was being scrubbed with sandpaper.
The power held. His momentum screeched to a halt, his body bobbing in the air about forty meters above the ground. He was a limp, black-shrouded ragdoll, slowly drifting upward again because he was too exhausted to maintain his "airplane" posture.
He looked down through half-closed eyes and saw the tiny, skeletal figure of All Might staring up in pure, unadulterated disbelief. Adam channeled the last of his life force into his vocal cords.
"ALL MIGHT WA AATQ AATQ!! (SAVE ME! SAVE ME!)"
The desperation in the boy's voice snapped Toshinori out of his trance. He didn't think; he acted.
"PUFFF!"
A massive cloud of steam exploded from his frame as he forced his body into its muscular Golden Age form. The Symbol of Peace stood tall, his cape, if he were wearing one, would have billowed majestically.
"MY TRUMP CARD! Ahem... MY NEPHEW!"
With a thunderous BOOM, All Might launched himself into the sky, leaving a spiderweb of shattered concrete in his wake. He soared through the air, his massive arms reaching out to catch the floating, starving boy.
He scooped Adam up in a perfect, textbook princess carry and glided back down, landing with the grace of a falling leaf despite his massive weight.
"ADAM-SHONEN! DO NOT FRET... FOR I AM HERE!"
Adam's eyes snapped wide open. The hero's face was inches from his own, the same face from the nightmare. The same jawline. The same overwhelming "presence." Adam felt a wave of goosebumps ripple across his skin; his "sunflower" tightened instinctively. He desperately wanted to squirm away, but his body was a useless husk. He settled for a weak, trembling nod as he looked up at his savior.
"Uncle... Yagi..." he croaked. "Arrigato... very much. I thought I was meeting the Angel of Death."
"What happened?!" All Might's voice boomed with genuine panic. His heart was hammering against his ribs. His Ex-Rank secret weapon—the boy meant to negate All For One—had almost been reduced to a stain on the sidewalk. "Were you kidnapped? Did a villain launch you into the stratosphere? Explain yourself!"
Adam didn't answer. The spinning, the sky-swimming, and the "suicidal" energy dump had bottomed out his stamina. He was currently using bits of his own lifespan just to keep his eyes open.
"Uncle Yagi," he muttered, his head lolling against All Might's bicep. "Let me eat... I'm dying. My stomach is eating my spine. I can't... think straight..."
"Eat? Eat what?" All Might asked, his brow furrowed as he gently set Adam down on the grass.
Adam couldn't move a finger. His arms felt like heavy bags of wet sand. "Uncle Yagi... dates. In my pockets. Feed me... Ohniggai-Shitmasu..."
Despite the gravity of the situation, All Might's lip twitched. He decided not to correct Adam's Japanese at a time like this. He reached into the bulging cargo pockets of Adam's pants.
He pulled out a handful of dates that had been crushed into a singular, sticky mass. They were covered in lint and threads from the fabric of his pants, looking like something salvaged from a shipwreck. All Might didn't hesitate; he began peeling them off the mass and feeding them to the boy like a mother bird.
Adam swallowed them greedily, spitting the pits onto the grass with rhythmic precision. After the tenth date, All Might stopped.
"Adam-shonen, you should save some for after the workout."
"Uncle... add... one more," Adam gasped, his eyes pleading. "I must follow the Sunnah. We don't eat even numbers... only odd. 1, 3, 5, 7, 11... I need the eleventh."
"Are you kidding me?" All Might stared at him. "Even now? In this state?"
"Uncle Yagi," Adam whispered, "Our religion covers all aspects. Literally. All. Of. Them."
All Might sighed, defeated by the boy's piety, and popped the eleventh date into Adam's mouth.
Cough! CHOKE!
In his delirious hunger, Adam got distracted from speaking to All Might. He forgot to spit. He swallowed the date whole—pit and all.
Cough! HACK!
"Uncle! Give me WATAR PLIZ! PLIZ WATAR!" Adam's voice rose into a panicked, water-starved rasp. He sounded exactly like a man who hadn't seen a drop of liquid in forty years. "WATAR PLIZ!"
(Give Me WATAR PLIZ : https://www.youtube.com/shorts/AIQFqZxBLX0 )
The hard, jagged core of the date was lodged horizontally in his throat. His face began to turn a terrifying shade of purple.
"Adam-shonen!" All Might panicked. My AFO-negating weapon is choking on a piece of fruit! He didn't have water, but he had the ultimate emergency protocol. "DETROIT... SMACK!"
He delivered a controlled, open-palmed strike to Adam's back, just enough force to shatter a brick wall, but hopefully not Adam's spine.
"POUHH!"
The effect was instantaneous. The date pit flew out of Adam's mouth like a 50-caliber bullet, whistling through the air and embedding itself in a nearby tree trunk.
"HUF—HAF—HUF—HAF!"
Adam sucked in the morning air as if it were pure gold. The purple tint faded, replaced by a flushed, healthy red. Then, the pain hit.
"AY AY AY! MY BACK!"
( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVkaR8X3_K4 )
Adam's voice didn't just crack; it transformed. It was a high-pitched, heavily feminine wail of pure agony, the kind of sound a magical girl makes when she hurt her finger.
All Might froze. He stood there, hand still raised, unable to process the sound that had just come out of his student. This wasn't the loud, harsh, ear-grinding voice of Adam Al Hantakour. This was... something else.
They say behind every great man is a great woman, All Might thought, his brain short-circuiting. But for Adam-shonen... it seems she is living inside his throat. Could it be the trauma? Falling from the sky, choking on a pit... poor boy. He's been through a spiritual meat-grinder today.
All Might shook his head, finally remembering the most important mystery of the morning.
"Adam-shonen... I have to know. Why, in the name of all that is holy... were you falling from the sky?"
Adam regulated his breathing, his hand surreptitiously massaging the spot on his back where All Might's "Detroit Smack" had nearly sent his soul to the afterlife. He took a moment to recalibrate, carefully filtering his thoughts. He needed to rephrase the disaster in a way that wouldn't cost him any more Aura. In the presence of the Symbol of Peace, image was everything.
He looked All Might dead in the eye—straight face, no blush, no tremor. The lie was forged in the fires of a thousand keyboard battles. It was fluid. It was airtight.
"Uncle," Adam began, his voice dropping into a tone of quiet, heroic resignation. "It was that damned gate. It's a difficult obstacle, and I didn't want to mar its surface with my power. So, I innovated. I coated my body in Negation, erasing the very concept of weight. Gravity lost its jurisdiction over me. I soared, Uncle. Gracefully. Like a man of steel, superman-ish flight, I was immersed in the thrill of the heavens, maneuvering through the clouds like a raptor."
He paused for dramatic effect, looking wistfully at the sky.
"It was a dream achieved. But alas, even a King has his limits. My stamina flickered, and the earth reclaimed me. Fortunately, I managed to arrest my momentum just before impact, and you were there to anchor me."
Ya Rab, forgive me for this fiction, but my Aura is in the red! I can't afford a bankruptcy!
All Might's eyes widened, "You can fly, Adam-shonen? That is a remarkable application of your quirk! Flight is a rare and prestigious ability. Your potential truly is a bottomless well; we just need to keep digging." He beamed, his skeletal face cracking into a wide, heartfelt smile. "We'll have to incorporate aerial maneuvers into your regime. Perhaps I can call in a favor from Hawks, he'd be the perfect mentor to sharpen your mobility."
Adam's face went from "Heroic Legend" to "Victorian Ghost" in a fraction of a second.
Please, spare me! I never want to leave the ground again! I'm a creature of the soil! A son of Mamita Earth!
"Anyway," All Might continued, oblivious to Adam's internal screaming. "We must hurry. Young Midoriya has been waiting at the beach for nearly an hour. Can you walk? The scooter is a solo vehicle, I'm afraid I can't give you a lift."
Adam's eyes lit up. A localized lightning bolt of inspiration struck his brain. This was it, the perfect opportunity to farm massive amounts of Aura from Midoriya.
I can't arrive running like a drenched dog, he thought, his mind racing at overclocked speeds. If I show up panting and covered in sweat, my 'Overpowered Senior Brother' persona will crumble. I need a grand entrance. I need to look like a senior immortal cultivator descending from the mountain... wait.
He looked at the electric scooter. He looked at All Might's broad shoulders.
If I make myself weightless and hitch a ride... I can float behind him like a Taoist immortal! No sweat, no effort, just pure, unadulterated coolness. I'll sit cross-legged in the air, shrouded in the black void... it's peak aesthetic!
Adam stood up, his exhaustion replaced by the thrill of a new delusion. "Uncle! Uncle, I have a vision!"
"What is it now?" All Might asked, his voice laced with the caution of a man who knew Adam's ideas usually ended in property damage or public indecency. He felt like the boy carried a localized curse, possibly from a disgruntled aunt—that turned every cool moment into a tragedy.
"I'll negate my weight again," Adam explained, gesturing wildly. "I'll just grab your shoulders while you drive. You won't even feel me! I'll save my energy for the actual training, and we'll arrive twice as fast. It's the ultimate tactical maneuver!"
All Might pondered this. "It sounds... plausible. But doesn't the negation still drain you? And if you're going to float, why not just fly there?"
"Swimming—I mean, flying—is a high-level art I haven't mastered yet," Adam corrected quickly, a cold sweat breaking out at the thought of the stratosphere. "This is much more efficient. Trust me."
"Fine. Let's not waste another second."
All Might mounted the small electric scooter. Adam moved into position behind him, his eyes narrowing as he summoned the abyss. The ink-black energy surged forth, thicker and darker than before, wrapping around him until he was a silhouette that seemed to swallow the morning light.
All Might glanced back, noting that in this form, Adam's "blackness" was absolute—a void that went beyond skin tone. The boy truly held the ultimate "N-word Pass."
"ABSOLUTE NIGGATION: Supreme Lotus of Effortless Transportation!" Adam bellowed.
All Might, having learned his lesson, had already braced his eardrums. He felt the boy's grip on his shoulders suddenly become iron-tight. Despite being "weightless," Adam was clinging to the hero's trapezius muscles with the strength of a man who feared the sky was a hungry mouth.
Adam floated upward, crossing his legs in a perfect meditative lotus position mid-air. To any observer, he looked like a dark, floating monk being towed by a skeletal man on a scooter.
All Might: 😐
Adam: 😌
"Uncle, let us depart," Adam said, his voice reaching a new level of pretentious calm. "Junior Apprentice Brother Mi-Duo-Li-Ya awaits our arrival."
"Adam-shonen, his name is Midoriya..." All Might sighed, kicking the scooter into gear.
"Uncle Ya-Ji Tian-Shen-No-Li (Yagi Toshinori), from this moment on, I am the Eldest Disciple Ah Dao Mo Han-Ta-Kou-Er ," Adam declared, his eyes closed as the wind began to whip his shroud. "We are bound by the ancient laws of Master and Student. Let us not dally; every second we are late is a drop of Aura lost in the eyes of the Junior Disciple."
All Might let out a long, weary breath that seemed to carry the weight of the entire world. He didn't have the energy to argue with the "Chinese Cultivator" delusions currently cooking in Adam's brain. He just twisted the throttle.
The scooter hummed to life, accelerating down the road toward Takoba Beach, with the Shadow Monk of UA trailing behind like a very intense, very delusional kite.
...
The morning air at Takoba Beach didn't offer the refreshing, briny kiss of the Pacific, instead, it slapped the lungs with the scent of sun-rotted cabbage, rusted refrigerators, and the fermented, shattered dreams of a thousand illegal dumpers.
Standing near the stairs leading down to this towering monument of urban neglect was Izuku Midoriya. Clad in a cyan tracksuit a size too large and his signature, clunky red shoes, he looked like a jittery neon sign blinking in the dawn. His feet weren't just tapping, they were performing a high-speed, anxiety-driven percussion solo on the cracked pavement. Every ten seconds, his thumb spasmed against his phone screen, a reflexive twitch to check the time.
His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with dark, bruised circles. Sleep? Sleep was for people who weren't about to inherit the spark of the world's greatest hero. To Izuku, this morning wasn't just a training session, it was a new beginning after the end, the first chapter in his story to become the greatest hero!
It was like knowing that tomorrow you were finally going to marry your life-long crush, the one and only Meryem, achieving a salvation you'd sought for fifteen years. It was the promise of Nirvana, the definitive end of the "root of all problems." A normal human would likely expire from heart failure before the sun even rose from the sheer, agonizing weight of the anticipation.
(To my future wife: I'm documenting this now so I can act like a mastermind at our wedding, pretending every detail was part of a grand design. Worried your name isn't Meryem? Relax. Ctrl+H is my love language. One quick find-and-replace and you're officially my soulmate. You married a genius fu fu fu...)
"All Might called at 5:25... He said he was coming with the black-haired boy. The one with that darkness power," Izuku whispered, his voice cracking like dry parchment.
"It's 6:35. The sun is going to breach the horizon in forty minutes. Why are they late? Why..."
His mind, a runaway freight train of over-analysis, immediately veered into the dark tunnels of self-doubt.
Logically... All Might is a man of his word. But logic also says I'm a Quirkless nobody. Did he realize it? Did he talk to that other boy and realize he is a much better vessel for One For All than 'Nothing'? Is this a test of my patience? Is he watching me from that pile of old tires to see if I'll crumble? Yes... a hero must endure the unendurable! I will stand here until I turn into a statue of resolve!
The poor kid had no idea that his "test of resolve" was actually just the result of a Moroccan teenager's complete lack of consideration.
Adam had grown up in a culture where appointments and rendez-vous was a mere suggestion.
To Adam, arriving late was more than a habit, it was a defensive mechanism, a trauma-coping strategy, and a way to ensure he was the one being waited for. In his mind, the one who arrives last holds the most Aura.
To the Japanese mind, time was sacred. To Izuku, this delay was a full-blown existential crisis.
Twitch.
Izuku's ears, sharpened by years of listening for Bakugo's impending explosions, caught a high-pitched hum. The whir of an electric motor. He spun around, his green eyes shimmering with unshed tears of relief.
"ALL MIGHT!!"
The skeletal, hunched figure of Toshinori Yagi puttered into view on his tiny, one-person electric scooter. Izuku's heart soared. Yokatta! He wasn't replaced! He wasn't a prank victim! The dream was still alive!
But as the scooter drew closer, Izuku's joyous shout died in his throat. His jaw hit his chest with an audible click.
"All Might-ooo... huh?!"
Only now, as the vehicle slowed to a crawl, did he see the anomaly. Floating directly behind All Might was a figure of pure, light-absorbing darkness. It was a silhouette that seemed to have been cut out of the world with a pair of jagged scissors.
It was Adam Al Hantakour.
(Adam: NO! It's Ah-Dao-Mo Han-Ta-Kou-Er! Respect the vibes I'm working my ass off to create!)
He was floating cross-legged in a meditative lotus position, his eyes closed in a mask of serene, "enlightened" arrogance. He looked like an ominous, dark spirit tethered to the back of the skinny Number One Hero.
Midoriya wouldn't have doubted it for a second if someone told him this cursed entity was the very thing devouring All Might's vitality.
Adam's fingers were subtly, secretly hooked into the back of All Might's shirt, gripping the fabric with the white-knuckled intensity of a man who absolutely did not trust his own flight.
(Adam: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on you. Fool me thrice, stop fooling me! shame on you!... Fool me the Nth time? damn you, Still shame on you! I'm not falling again!)
"Midoriya-shonen," All Might wheezed, stepping off the scooter. Adam remained suspended in the air beside him, drifting slightly like a sinister balloon.
"Forgive the delay. We... encountered some complications."
Izuku didn't even hear the apology. His "Quirk-Nerd" brain had just hit a 1000% overclock.
He's floating. He's actually floating without any visible propulsion! Is it telekinesis? Is his power not 'Shattering' as I deduced? Is that black energy the medium for his flight? Destruction, flight... such a powerful quirk. I'm envious. If I were All Might, I'd definitely consider him the primary successor. With this quirk plus One For All, he'd be Number one in the world! A quirkless person like me... stand no chance.. i should just give up...
Midoriya's thoughts drifted from the excitement of discovery back into the abyss of pessimism, doubting his worthiness for the mantle.
"No problem, All Might!" Izuku blurted out, his hands waving frantically to hide the worries buried in the deepest part of his heart.
"I was... I was just enjoying the sea breeze! It's very... um... refreshing! Um... All Might... who is?.."
He pointed a trembling finger at the floating dark monk. He recognized Adam from the Sludge Villain incident, but the two were still strangers. He wanted to bridge the gap, but also to probe All Might on why this "rival" was here.
"Oh, this is A—"
All Might's attempt at a normal introduction was cut off by Adam slowly raising a single, dark-shrouded finger. The movement was agonizingly slow, calculated to maximize the Aura being projected.
Adam didn't just "get off" the scooter. He drifted.
With a subtle push of his finger, he released his grip on All Might's sweat-soaked shirt and floated forward. He uncrossed his legs with the grace of a slow-motion cinematic and landed with an agonizingly deliberate softness. He manually shut down the Niggation power the second his soles touched the sand, he didn't want the "Junior Apprentice Brother Mi-Duo-Li-Ya" to see him accidentally soar into the immortal realm during their first meeting.
His eyes remained half-closed, mimicking the squint of a dangerous anime villain. It was the "danger squint", designed to look cool, but also to help him concentrate on not letting his energy spiral out of control.
Sigh, All Might thought, shielding his eyes from the sheer second-hand embarrassment. He shot Midoriya a look that was 50% apology and 50% pure pity.
Here it comes. The spiritual meat-grinder is starting. Midoriya-shonen, please bear with me... it'll be over eventually.
Adam's internal visualization was hitting Level 999. To maintain the shroud, he had to squeeze his glutes with enough force to crush a walnut, preventing the energy from receding back into his pores.
The black inky substance began to ripple. it was reacting to his "will." He visualized the malicious, overwhelming Nen of the Like Illumi Zoldyck in angry mode, mixed with the aura of a Demon Lord. The shroud expanded, thinning out into a jagged, smoky "Outer Glow" that danced around him like dark flames.
Young Midoriya's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.
Sugoi! Midoriya's brain was already filling three mental notebooks. He can manipulate the density! It's like a dark, sentient flame... but why are the vibes suddenly turning so... funerary? Why isn't he speaking? And why—
Izuku's eyes darted to All Might. The Symbol of Peace was looking at him with an expression of profound, soul-crushing pity. To All Might, it was the look you give a puppy about to be barked at by a very loud, very stupid dog. But to Izuku, it was the look an executioner gives a prisoner before pulling the lever.
Why is he looking at me like I'm about to suffer a terrible fate?! Izuku's breath hitched. And why is the black energy getting thicker? He hasn't looked at me once... he's still got his eyes squeezed shut like he's trying to avoid looking at me... why am I sweating hard?! Gulp.
In the crushing silence of the garbage-filled beach, Izuku's trauma-response brain did what it did best: it reached the most catastrophic conclusion possible. He suddenly recalled the Sludge Villain incident. He remembered the way that inky, black energy had swallowed the villain whole, followed by that horrifying POP, the sound of the villain being shattered into pieces.
A cold, icy realization doused Midoriya's soul. A possibility surfaced in his mind.
'They... they've brought me here to silence me!'
The thought hit him like a Detroit Smash to the gut.
'No, Izuku, stop! Don't wrong him! All Might is the Symbol of Peace! He's a hero! He wouldn't...' His eyes scanned the environment with frantic, paranoid precision.
'...But this is the perfect spot for a body disposal. There are thousands of tons of metal to hide a corpse under. And this boy... his power is literally tailored for a clean-up! No blood, no traces, just... destruction. Total molecular destruction! It makes sense! I'm a Quirkless nobody with a weak heart. I'm a liability for the greatest secret in hero history! I know about One For All... I know about his injury... I know about that villain All For One... I KNOW TOO MUCH! I'M THE LOOSE END!'
He looked at All Might again. The hero had now covered his ears—
'He doesn't want to hear my screams!'—and closed his eyes—'He can't bear to watch his fanboy die!'
Then he looked at Adam. The boy's face was a mask of cold, bloodshot determination. He looked like an assassin who had just been told his target was a small, green-haired child and had decided to do it against his will.
'But... but... but... I DON'T WANT TO DIE! I HAVEN'T EVEN HAD BREAKFAST!'
Adam's eyes suddenly snapped wide open. They were bloodshot and blazing with a terrifying, delusional excitement.
The black shroud surged forward like a tidal wave of ink. Izuku's knees turned into cooked noodles. He saw his future: a headline in the morning paper about a "missing Quirkless boy" while All Might and the boy trained in peace.
'OKA-SAAAAAN! I'M SORRY!!!'
Adam willed the Niggation energy to pounce forward like a dark tide. He was trying to mimic Hisoka's "Ren" from Hunter x Hunter, a baptism of aura to let the "Junior Apprentice" know exactly who the Eldest Brother was.
Feel my Aura, Mi-Duo-Li-Ya! Feel my love! Respect me! I have been face-slapped since I arrived in this world! Help me regain my Face, PLIZZZZ!!!
All Might's pro-hero instincts flared. OH NO. NOT THE SCREAM. With the speed of a man avoiding a detonation, All Might channeled One For All into his arms just to slam his palms over his ears.
"W-WAIT, ALL MIGHTOOO!!" Midoriya shrieked, taking a step back. The bloody red eyes, filled with the "killing intent," and the sight of All Might cowering in a "bracing for impact" pose confirmed his fears.
He doesn't want to see me disintegrate!!! MOM, SAVE ME!
"HAKAIIII!!!"
Hearing that word, Midoriya saw his entire life flash before his eyes. He saw his body shrouded in black energy, turned into tiny pieces scattered across the trash, destined to be eaten by seagulls.
Goodbye, Oka-san. I'll never disobey you again.
The image of his mother crying over an empty grave flooded his mind. He closed his eyes and accepted the sweet release of death.
The shout didn't just vibrate the air, it shattered the morning peace like a sledgehammer to a glass window.
The Negation power flared outward in a two-meter radius of pure, swirling darkness. Adam looked like the protagonist of a dark shonen at the peak of a mental breakdown, pure Gon-versus-Pitou energy.
The roar echoed through the residential district nearby. Retirees fell out of their beds. Dogs began to howl. Somewhere, a car alarm went off.
As for Izuku, the boy simply ceased to function. The color drained from his face, leaving him a pale, vibrating statue. His heartbeat skipped a beat, then two. His soul left his body to seek asylum in a different dimension.
He stood there, eyes wide and hollow, before his knees buckled and he started falling backward.
"Midoriya-shonen! Hold on to your consciousness!" All Might coughed up a spray of blood, rushing forward to catch the stunned youth before he toppled into the trash.
Adam stood in the center of his dark whirlwind, a smug, lopsided smile on his face. He looked at the unconscious Izuku and nodded to himself in triumph.
The Eldest Brother persona is established, Adam thought. Look at him. Paralyzed by my sheer presence. He couldn't handle the Aura. As expected of Hantakour-sama... I see now. My previous failures were just bad targeting. My true audience is the 15-and-under demographic!
"I see, I see..." Adam stroked his non-existent beard in a gesture of profound enlightenment.
...
A Note from the Author :
Alright, family, let's keep it real for a second. Ramadan is approaching, and my spiritual stamina needs a serious buff. I can't guarantee a consistent update schedule during the holy month because the focus shifts to dhikr, worship, and trying to level up my Taqwa.
Beyond that, your brother is out here in the trenches of the real-world grind. Financial stability has been a bit of a "Final Boss" lately. I'll work a solid week and then hit a dry spell for months—Alhamdulillah for everything, but the hustle is real.
If you or anyone you know is looking for high-quality, halal-compliant services (no music, no haram content), I'm your guy. Let's help each other farm some real-life Aura:
Work with Me:
Video Editing: I specialize in clean, engaging edits (strictly halal, no music).
E-commerce Creatives: Need high-converting ads for your Dropify or YouCan stores? I've got you covered.
Photography: shoots for halal products/brands (Limited to the Rabat-Temara region).
If you're interested or have a lead, just drop a comment! I feel the breakthrough coming, t's closer than it's ever been, Insha'Allah. We don't fold, we don't quit.
"TATAKAE! (Fight! Fight!)" ---
And most importantly: Don't ever forget sending salutations to our Prophet (PBUH). I want you to flood the comments here with Salawat to our beloved Prophet. Spam it as much as you can. Show me your spirit!