A/N: Word Count - 9121. All Chapters will be 7-10k words, so a slower update will be necessary. Probably once a week upload. Currently, writing it, I'm just finishing up the Hosu Incident. That's where things are about to take a major turn in canon. The Next Chapter will be uploaded tomorrow to reach 15k wordcount. Get ready for Vigilante Deku xd.
The world smelled like polished wood and old smoke.
Izuku blinked, groggy and disoriented, as his vision cleared. A bar counter stretched before him—dark lacquered oak, glowing faintly despite the dim lighting. Rows of bottles lined the shelves behind it, each containing swirling, otherworldly liquids that whispered rather than sloshed.
"Where… where am I?"His voice sounded small, even to himself.
A figure stood behind the counter, wiping a pair of glasses with a cloth made of shadows. His outline was nothing but darkness—until the shadows tightened, condensing into the shape of a man.
A very specific man.
"Hiroyuki Sanada…? Sir, what am I doing here…?" Izuku asked, baffled. The resemblance was uncanny—the stance, the sharp presence, the subtly amused expression. All the tell-tale signs of an actor he'd only seen on TV.
The figure chuckled. "If that helps you feel comfortable, you may call me that. Forms are… flexible here."
Izuku's heart hammered. "Here? Where is here?"
The man placed the glass down. The sound echoed strangely, as a bell struck underwater.
"This place is called many things," he said. "The Interstice. The Bar Between Worlds. The Hub. But for you… This is where your life changes."
Izuku swallowed. "I don't understand."
"This version of you was never going to get a quirk," the man said gently, as though breaking news to a child. "Your path was always meant to be different. And fortunately for you, fate and chaos run closer together than most realize."
A card appeared between his fingers—black, shimmering, unstable. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
"This," the man declared, "is your admission ticket into the Chaos Gacha."
The teenage Izuku stared. "Gacha? Like… like games?"
"In concept, yes. But with stakes far beyond any game."
The man gestured, and behind him reality rippled open—revealing a floating interface of glowing tickets, spinning roulettes, and categories labeled Abilities, Traits, Items, Skills, Familiars.
Izuku's breath hitched. "Is this… a Quirk?"
"No. And it will not behave like one." The man smiled faintly. "But it is power. The kind that responds to your feats. The more impressive your actions—the more impossible your triumphs—the greater the reward."
The interface shifted, displaying the Feat categories and examples, the colors of Bronze through Divine shining like stars.
Izuku read them with widening eyes.
"So… if I do something heroic… or impossible… I get tickets that can give me power?"
"Yes. Power, allies, skills, artifacts—anything from the mundane to the transcendent. But remember, child."
The man leaned forward, shadows coiling like serpents behind him.
"Nothing is free. Every choice you make, every feat you earn, shapes the path of chaos. And chaos never forgets."
Izuku trembled—but he didn't look away.
"For someone quirkless… do I have a chance?"
The figure's expression softened minutely.
"My boy, chaos adores underdogs."
The cards in his hand floated toward Izuku.
Two Gold Random Gacha Tickets shimmered into existence.
"Your journey begins with a roll. Not a small one, either. Consider it your… welcome gift. Although I have used up the platinum ticket of your rolls to grant you something that will get you out of your current predicament."
Izuku swallowed, hands shaking as he accepted it.
It felt warm—alive.
"Wh-What do you mean?"
"Well, that jump would have killed you. Technically... it has. You're currently alive between your final breath and your end."
Izuku swallowed deeply.
"You mean... I would be dead already?"
He nodded.
"But enough of that, you have two remaining rolls."
"H-How do I use them?"
"Simply speak or think your wish." The man spread his arms.
Izuku hesitated.
Then, his voice barely above a whisper—
"Roll them all."
Everything exploded into light before a screen appeared in Izuku's vision, displaying his current abilities.
* [Inventory]
|Rare Ability|
You have access to an inventory subspace that you can store inanimate targets inside in a statis. By default, you can store 100 tons inside of it, the maximum weight of what your inventory can hold scales with your physical stats. To store something inside of the inventory, you must will it inside while touching the target. Any stored target can be retrieved from storage within 1 meter of your body.
* [Super Regeneration]
|Epic Ability|
Gives you an unimaginable Healing Factor on par with someone like Wolverine, minus the immortality. As long as it doesn't instantly kill you, chances are you will survive, as long as you have energy that is. You can further speed up healing by expending energy.
* [Boundless Stamina]
|Elite Trait|
Your stamina is boundless; even a regular person with this trait would be able to run a marathon with ease and only need a minute's rest afterward. Your stamina recovers incredibly and exhaustion fades from your body much faster.
[Would you like to activate the Trait? Which Ability would you like to put in your active slot?
'Yeah, activate the trait and erm....I guess Super Regeneration for my qui- ability. I'm going to need it after...that.' Izuku thought.
The older japanese man just smiled, as if able to read his mind.
"Well then, child, It seems its time for you to be on your way."
"Err, Sir, what if I still have questions?" The green-haired kid asked.
He simply smiled,
"The interface of the chaos gacha that you have will answer any questions, within reason."
"So what am I meant to do with it?"
The man grinned,
"Farm....Farm tickets like crazy."
Izuku nodded before the place before him began vanishing into a white light.
....
Crack.
Swish.
The world returned in fragments.
First came sound—wind scraping concrete, the hum of distant traffic, the faint chatter of students leaving the school grounds.
Then sensation—cold pavement beneath him, the thick metallic smell of blood, and the pulse of something rebuilding him from the inside out.
The corpse on the ground shuddered.
Muscles reknit.
Bone grew back with soft snapping sounds.
Skin sealed in smooth, rippling waves.
It hurt—blinding, electric—but only for a heartbeat.
Then the pain vanished.
Izuku gasped, lungs filling sharply.
He blinked upward at the familiar grey sky, chest rising and falling in shock. His fingers curled against the pavement to make sure he was really there.
Alive.
The memory of the fall slammed into him.
The wind was screaming past his ears.
The pavement rushing up.
The moment his heart stopped.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
No comforting system voice spoke to him.
No tutorial appeared.
Just his own breath and the faint hum of borrowed power moving under his skin.
Izuku swallowed hard, steadying himself.
"…I need to understand this. I need to test it. And I need to not die again."
....
At home,
Izuku sat in his room, deep in thought.
Izuku sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at his hands.
Clean. Steady. Alive.
He turned them over slowly, palms up, palms down, flexing his fingers as if they might suddenly break again… or dissolve… or stop working. As if any second, the miracle that held him together might vanish.
But nothing happened.
His hands moved like they always had—
Except they didn't.
They were too steady.
Too light.
Too ready.
His whole body hummed with quiet, alien strength, as though someone had taken the weight of exhaustion and fear and hopelessness that had always clung to him… and just removed it.
He swallowed hard.
"…I really came back," he whispered to himself. "I died. And I came back."
The room felt too small, too quiet, too familiar for a truth that big.
He pressed both palms to his face.
"Okay. Okay, Izuku. Think."
The bar.
The tickets.
The Gacha.
The abilities he'd rolled.
Inventory.
Super Regeneration.
Boundless Stamina.
None of it was a dream.
He could still feel that boundless energy in his muscles—no fatigue at all, even after everything that had happened. He should have been shaking, exhausted, traumatized. He should have passed out the moment he got home.
Instead, he felt like he could go for a run.
Or a fight.
Or both.
He lowered his hands.
"So… what do I do now?"
The question felt huge in the small room.
He had power. Not the flashy kind. Not a quirk. Not something he could show off.
But something that could change everything.
He had ten months.
Ten months until the UA entrance exam.
Ten months to become someone worthy of applying to the greatest hero academy in the world.
Ten months to turn being quirkless—a death sentence for his dreams—into the greatest advantage he had.
But power alone wasn't enough.
Heroes trained.
Heroes pushed themselves.
Heroes did things—dangerous things, risky things, meaningful things—and those were exactly the kinds of things that could give him Feats.
Feats meant tickets.
Tickets meant more abilities, more traits, more skills, more everything.
"I can get stronger. I will get stronger."
He stood suddenly, pacing the room.
"I need to train every day. Not like before. Real training. Real martial arts. Conditioning. Strength. Endurance. I can handle it now—my body can do it."
He clenched a fist.
"And Feats… I need Feats. Good ones. Ones that give decent tickets."
He couldn't just rely on hoping.
He had to earn his power.
Which meant he had to do things that were actually impressive.
Not homework.
Not note-taking.
Not dreaming.
Real feats.
"If I train hard enough… if I find real challenges… if I help people… if I push myself…"
Each thought built on the last, stronger and steadier.
"I can get abilities before the exam. Maybe even strong ones."
He stopped pacing and looked at the notebook on his desk—hero analysis notes, doodles, dreams he once believed were permanently unreachable.
"…I can do this.... Fuck what Bakugou said."
Not because he finally got a Quirk.
But because he had something else.
Something stranger.
Something unpredictable.
Something dangerous.
Something that rewarded effort, courage, and ambition.
Izuku took a long breath.
"Ten months," he whispered.
Ten months to reshape his body.
Ten months to collect Feats and abilities.
Ten months to climb from the lowest point of his life to the gates of UA.
His fingers curled tightly at his sides.
"I'm not going to waste this chance. Not again."
He sat down at his desk, flipped open his notebook, and began writing:
Plan for UA Entrance Exam:
Step 1 — Find a Gym and Train. Every day. Hard.
Step 2 — Earn Feats. Any way possible.
Step 3 — Get stronger.
Step 4 — Roll more abilities.
Step 5 — Become a hero.
Simple. But grounding.
.....
Izuku stood in the kitchen doorway, wringing his hands together. Inko hummed softly as she packed leftovers into containers for tomorrow's lunch. The warm smell of dinner still lingered, comforting and familiar.
"Mom?" Izuku said, voice quieter than he intended.
Inko turned immediately. "Yes, sweetie?"
He swallowed.
This shouldn't have been scary.
He wasn't lying — just… leaving out details.
"I… wanted to talk to you about something important."
Her expression shifted into soft concern. "Of course. What's on your mind?"
Izuku stepped inside. His heart pounded. He forced his shoulders to stop trembling.
"I want to join a gym," he said. "A combat gym. Or maybe a dojo. Something with real training."
Inko blinked, clearly surprised.
"A… combat gym?" she echoed. "Izuku, why? Did something happen at school? Is someone bullying you again?"
"No!" he said quickly. "It's not that. I just—"
He stopped.
He needed to phrase this right.
He couldn't scare her.
He couldn't make her think he was chasing impossible dreams without reason.
He took a breath.
"I want to get stronger," he said simply. "Even if I'm… quirkless. Even if the hero course seems impossible. I don't want to be helpless anymore. I want to learn how to defend myself. How to move better. How to… be strong. I could always get onto the general course if things go awry."
Inko's brows furrowed. Her eyes softened with a mix of worry and pride.
"Oh, Izuku…" she murmured. "You've always wanted to be a hero."
"I still do," he admitted quietly. "But… even if that doesn't happen, I don't want to spend my life afraid or useless. I want to do something for myself. Something real."
Inko covered her mouth with her hand.
He continued, voice trembling but determined:
"I'll be careful. I'll listen to the instructors. I won't pick fights. I just… I need this. I want to feel like I'm moving forward, not just dreaming."
A long silence followed.
Inko walked over to him, cupped his cheeks in her hands, and looked at him with shimmering eyes.
"You've grown so much," she whispered. "And you're asking so responsibly… My sweet boy…"
Her voice broke.
"I don't want you to get hurt. But I also… I can't keep you wrapped up forever. If this is something you truly want—if it helps you—then…"
She took a trembling breath, then smiled through her tears.
"Then yes, Izuku. You can join a gym. We'll find a safe, reputable place. Not some underground fight club, okay?"
Izuku let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and nodded quickly.
"O-Of course! Thank you, Mom! Really!"
Inko hugged him tightly, squeezing him as if he might vanish.
"Just promise me you'll come home safe every day," she whispered. "That's all I ask."
Izuku hugged back, eyes closing.
"I promise."
'It's not like I can even show injury anymore,' Izuku thought, a wry smile forming on his face.
"We can go and search for one tomorrow if you'd like?" Inko said.
Izuku nodded before going back to his room,
"Goodnight, Mom."
She smiled as she wished him a good night back.
....
In his room, Izuku was on the floor doing pushups,
"999....1000," He groaned before relaxing on the floor.
'That felt like...a light jog, like I was some unathletic guy doing about fifty pushups. Straining, but not tiring,' he concluded before thinking about what he needed to do now. Glancing at his window, a strange thought emerged in his mind.
'What if I go out now...'
The thought didn't leave his mind; in fact, he began thinking about the potential consequences and how he'd do it.
Izuku stared at the window.
The city beyond it glowed faintly, neon bleeding into the night sky. Streetlights cast long shadows across empty sidewalks. Somewhere far away, a siren wailed, then faded.
His heart thudded a little faster.
'If I go out now…'
He pushed himself up from the floor and sat there, legs crossed, breathing slowly.
He snorted quietly.
"Yeah, getting hurt isn't really the problem anymore…"
He raised his hand, flexing it. The memory of bone knitting itself back together sent a shiver down his spine. Super Regeneration wasn't something he wanted to rely on casually, but knowing it was there changed everything. It removed the paralyzing fear that had always held him back.
Still, he couldn't be stupid.
This wasn't about fighting villains or chasing danger.
Not yet.
This was reconnaissance.
Testing.
Learning.
"I'll just… go out for a bit," he whispered. "Run. Climb. See what I can do."
Decision made, the nervous energy transformed into excitement.
Izuku quietly changed into dark workout clothes, slipping on his worn sneakers, wrapping a scarf around his mouth. He grabbed his phone and hesitated before reaching toward his desk.
The notebook stayed where it was.
"This isn't a hero thing," he murmured. "This is a me thing."
He eased the window open inch by inch, wincing at every tiny sound. The cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of asphalt and rain from earlier that evening.
He climbed out carefully, feet finding the familiar ledge.
Three stories down.
Before, the thought alone would have made his legs shake.
Now?
He crouched, putting his hoodie up, heart racing, and jumped.
The fall rushed past him. Wind tugged at his clothes.
He hit the ground in a roll, exactly like he'd seen in videos a hundred times. It still jarred his bones, still sent a sharp spike of pain up his legs-
And then it was gone.
Izuku froze, half-expecting something to snap back into place.
Nothing did.
He stood slowly.
"…I did it."
Not perfectly. Not gracefully.
But he landed. He was fine.
His chest tightened with a mix of disbelief and exhilaration.
"That would've been a Feat… right?" he whispered.
No screen appeared.
No notification chimed.
He frowned, then nodded to himself.
"Okay. Maybe not enough."
He started jogging.
At first, he held back, waiting for the burn in his lungs, the ache in his legs. It never came. His breathing stayed even. His stride felt light, almost springy.
He picked up speed.
Faster.
Faster.
The city blurred slightly around him as he ran down empty streets, past shuttered shops and quiet apartment buildings. His shoes slapped against the pavement in a steady rhythm, but even then he felt like he was barely trying.
Minutes passed.
Then more.
He should have been drenched in sweat.
He should have been gasping.
Instead, he felt… warmed up.
Izuku laughed softly, breathless with excitement rather than exertion.
"This is insane…"
He veered into a small park, hopping a low fence without slowing. His feet barely touched the ground as he vaulted a bench, then another.
An idea sparked.
He approached a concrete wall bordering the park, about two and a half meters tall. He placed a hand against it, testing the rough surface.
Before, this would have been impossible.
Now?
He jumped.
His fingers caught the edge. His arms strained as he pulled, muscles screaming for half a second before adapting. He hauled himself up and over, landing on the other side with a soft thud.
Izuku stared at his hands.
"They're shaking," he muttered.
But not from exhaustion.
From adrenaline.
"I'm actually doing it."
He climbed again.
And again.
Walls.
Railings.
Playground equipment.
Each movement taught him something new. How much force he could use, how quickly his body recovered. How mistakes barely slowed him down.
At one point, he misjudged a landing and slammed his shin against metal hard enough to make him hiss.
He bent over instinctively, clutching his leg.
The pain vanished almost immediately.
He blinked.
"…That's dangerous," he whispered, more to himself than anything else.
Not the injury.
The temptation.
If pain stopped being a warning, he'd have to be careful not to push too far without thinking. Heroes needed judgment as much as strength.
He straightened, forcing himself to slow down.
"Okay. That's enough for tonight."
As if responding to his restraint, something flickered at the edge of his vision.
A translucent screen slid into place, quiet and unobtrusive.
[Feat Registered]
Bronze Feat Achieved.
Description: You tested your new power alone, without guidance, without witnesses, and without turning back.
Reward: 1 Bronze Ticket.
Izuku's breath caught.
"…It worked."
The ticket icon shimmered briefly before settling into some unseen counter.
He smiled.
Not wide.
Not manic.
Just steady.
"This is only the beginning."
'System, roll the gacha.'
[Congratulations on getting:
* [Super Jump]
|Common Ability|
Allows you to jump great distances that you would otherwise be unable to. Even a regular person could leap over a normal residential home with this. And you are also immune to falling damage as a bonus.]
Izuku stared at the words hovering in front of him.
Super Jump.
Common Ability.
"…Common?" he echoed quietly, then snorted under his breath.
He didn't feel disappointed.
If anything, he felt relieved.
A common ability meant simple. Direct. Useful.
"Jump over a house…" he muttered.
He glanced around the empty side street. No people. No cars. Just concrete, chain-link fences, and the dark silhouettes of low buildings under streetlights.
His instincts screamed don't be stupid.
So he compromised.
'System, switch out Super Regeneration for Super Jump.'
[Confirmed.]
Izuku crouched slightly and jumped.
Not hard.
Not with everything he had.
The world dropped away.
His stomach lurched as the ground vanished beneath him far faster than it should have. He shot upward, clearing the streetlight with meters to spare, coat snapping in the air as he instinctively flailed—
Then gravity remembered him.
He came down fast.
Too fast.
His eyes widened.
Then he hit the ground.
No pain.
No jolt.
No bone-rattling impact.
He landed in a rough crouch, sneakers scraping concrete as the force dispersed through his legs and spine like it had been planned that way all along.
Izuku froze.
Slowly, he straightened.
"…No fall damage," he whispered.
He stomped one foot experimentally. Nothing. Not even soreness.
A shaky laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it.
"Okay. Okay, wow."
He pressed a hand to his chest, heart hammering now, adrenaline finally catching up.
This was dangerous.
Not because it hurt him.
Because it didn't.
He looked up at the rooftops lining the street. With Super Jump and immunity to fall damage, vertical space wasn't an obstacle anymore. Buildings weren't barriers. Height wasn't scary.
"I could maneuver anywhere," he murmured.
The thought was intoxicating.
And terrifying.
He clenched his fists.
"No. Not yet. Control first. Always control."
Heroes didn't survive by having power.
They survived by knowing when not to use it.
Izuku took a long breath, grounding himself, and checked his surroundings one last time before heading home properly this time—using stairs, doors, and sidewalks like a normal person.
His body still hummed.
His mind raced.
Inventory.
Super Regeneration.
Boundless Stamina.
Super Jump.
Four pieces.
All are small on their own.
Together?
"…I'm starting to look less like a victim," he whispered. He waited another few minutes before switching back to Super Regeneration.
'Time to head back,' he thought before making his way back, 'Two more abilities and I'll have another ability slot open.'
He jogged past a dark alleyway before he heard screams down it.
Izuku slowed.
Not stopped.
Slowed.
The scream echoed down the alley again—raw, cracked, desperate.
His stomach dropped.
He edged closer to the mouth of the alley, pulse steady but loud in his ears. The shadows were thick, clinging to brick and rusted metal. A flickering streetlight buzzed overhead, as if unsure it wanted to keep working.
Another scream.
He leaned just enough to look.
Two men. One woman.
One attacker had her pinned against a chain-link fence, forearm jammed across her collarbone. The other was digging through her bag, laughing under his breath.
"Please—please—" she sobbed.
Izuku's hands trembled.
'Think. Don't freeze.'
He scanned fast.
Knife.
The second man had one. Short blade, ugly and practical, already out.
Izuku swallowed.
'I don't know how to fight.'
That thought hit him harder than the fear.
But he couldn't walk away.
He grabbed a loose chunk of concrete near his foot and hurled it down the alley.
It smashed against a dumpster with a deafening clang.
"Hey—!" one of them snapped, turning.
Izuku ran.
Not smart.
Not clean.
Just fast enough.
He slammed into the man without the knife, shoulder-first, driving him back into the wall. The impact knocked the air out of both of them. The attacker crumpled with a wheeze.
The woman screamed again.
The knife man moved instantly.
Too fast.
Izuku barely registered the motion before white-hot pain exploded in his side.
Something punched into him.
Deep.
Wet.
Sharp.
His legs almost buckled.
"Oh—!" Izuku gasped, looking down.
The knife was inside him.
Buried just below his ribs.
For half a second, his brain shut down.
'I've been stabbed.'
Then his body did something else.
Heat flooded outward from the wound, drowning the pain before it could fully register. Flesh clenched. Blood slowed. Something inside him pulled itself together.
Izuku's eyes widened.
"…I'm not dead," he breathed.
The attacker froze.
"W-What the hell—?"
Izuku moved.
Not because he knew how.
Because fear flipped into fury.
He grabbed the man's wrist with both hands and slammed it into the wall again and again until the knife clattered to the ground. The man screamed as something cracked.
Izuku headbutted him—badly, sloppily—then shoved him backward with everything he had.
The attacker fell, tripped over his partner, and hit the ground hard.
Izuku staggered back a step, one hand pressed to his side.
The wound itching now.
Healing.
He stared as skin crawled, knitting together around the blade still stuck in him.
"…That's messed up," he whispered.
The woman was staring at him in horror.
"R-Run," Izuku said, voice rough. "Go. Now."
She didn't hesitate.
She ran.
Izuku turned back just in time for the knife man to try to scramble up.
Izuku kicked him.
Not a technique.
Not a combo.
Just a raw, angry kick to the ribs.
The man collapsed, gasping.
Izuku backed away, heart pounding so hard it hurt more than the wound ever had.
'Leave. Now.'
He turned and ran.
Three blocks away, he collapsed against a wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the cold pavement.
His hands shook violently now.
The adrenaline faded.
The realization hit.
"I could've died," he whispered. "I should have died."
He pulled his shirt aside.
The knife slid out of his skin with a soft, wet sound and clattered to the ground.
No blood.
No hole.
Just smooth skin and a faint warmth.
Izuku stared at it.
"…That hurt," he said quietly.
Not physically.
Mentally.
A screen shimmered into existence.
[Feat Registered]
Silver Feat Achieved.
Description: You intervened in your first violent crime despite lacking combat training, survived a lethal injury through sheer resilience, and continued fighting to protect a civilian.
Reward: 1 Silver Ticket.
Izuku didn't smile.
He wrapped his arms around himself, breathing slowly, grounding himself.
"That was reckless," he said out loud. "That was stupid."
He looked down at his hands.
"I survived because I got lucky… and because I had regeneration."
His jaw tightened.
"That won't be enough next time."
He stood shakily and started home.
Tomorrow morning, first thing—
"I'm signing up for combat classes," he muttered. "No excuses."
Chaos had rewarded him.
But the knife had taught him something far more important.
Power without skill wasn't heroism.
It was a gamble.
And he'd already pushed his luck once tonight.
Once he got back home, he crashed on his bed and took a deep breath.
'System roll the gacha.'
[Congratulations, the user has gained:
* [Conjure Ice]
|Uncommon Ability|
Allows you to create constructs of ice out of your own energy, you do not have control over the ice beyond creating it, and you cannot freeze objects, just create objects out of ice. Such as walls of ice, ice weapons, ice blocks, ice boulders, etc. You can also dispel the Ice.]
"…Hah."
A quiet laugh slipped out of him, breathy and tired but real.
"That's a Hero Quirk if I've ever seen it," he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Not flashy like Bakugou's explosions.
Not world-ending.
But solid. Literal. Practical.
Walls.
Weapons.
Cover.
Rescue tools.
His hero-analysis brain immediately spun up despite the exhaustion.
"Ice ramps for evacuation… barriers for crowd control… restraining blocks…" he muttered, eyes unfocused as ideas spilled out. "Non-lethal by default. Public-friendly. That's huge."
Then reality tapped him on the shoulder.
He sat up slowly and raised a hand, switching Super Regen for the new ability.
"…Okay. Small test. Very small."
He focused.
Not freezing.
Not on cold.
Just on creating.
Energy gathered in his palm, strange and cool-but-not-cold, like the memory of winter rather than the thing itself.
With a soft crack, a chunk of translucent ice formed in his hand.
It was imperfect. Rough-edged. Already starting to mist as ambient heat gnawed at it.
Izuku blinked.
"…I just made ice. In my bedroom."
He gently set it on his desk. It didn't melt instantly, but it did start to soften, water beading along the edges.
"So it's not permanent," he noted. "Construct durability probably scales with energy or control… maybe stats too."
He glanced at the door, half-expecting his mom to knock.
No alarms.
No screaming.
Good.
He dispelled the ice with a thought, letting it crumble into harmless vapor-like frost that faded into nothing.
Then he flopped back onto his bed, hands behind his head.
Inventory. Regeneration. Jump. Ice.
"…That's four," he whispered.
His smile faded into something thoughtful.
"Conjure Ice without control… that's dangerous if I'm sloppy," he admitted. "If I panic, I could hurt someone."
The alley replayed in his mind.
The knife.
The heat.
The fear.
"I need training," he said firmly. "Real training. Not just muscles."
"…Start practicing ice in controlled environments," he added. "Out of sight. Out of trouble."
UA wasn't just about passing an exam.
It was about not becoming a liability.
His eyes grew heavy, exhaustion finally catching up now that his body had nothing left to fix.
As sleep pulled him under, one last thought drifted through his mind.
'If this is only Uncommon… what do the higher ranks look like?'
Chaos didn't answer.
But it waited.
And Izuku Midoriya slept, unknowingly closer to a hero than he'd ever been before.
....
"So when can I start?" Izuku asked with a serious expression.
"If you can pay for your lesson, madam, your son can start immediately. A class with kids around his age starts in about fifteen minutes," The tall man with darker features explained.
Inko nodded before handing over some money.
"Son, do you want me to wait for you?" Inko fussed over Izuku for a bit. He shook his head,
"It's okay, Mom, I know my way back, I'll head over immediately after my lesson," Her son responded.
Inko hesitated, hands lingering on Izuku's shoulders like she was afraid he might slip through her fingers if she let go.
"Be careful," she said softly. "And listen to the instructor, okay?"
"I will," Izuku promised, meeting her eyes. "I really will."
That seemed to reassure her. She smiled, squeezed his arm once more, then turned and headed for the door, glancing back twice before finally leaving.
The tall man watched her go before turning his attention fully to Izuku.
"Izuku Midoriya, right?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Good." The instructor crossed his arms, posture relaxed but alert. "Name's Takeda. I teach MMA fundamentals. I've had all types of champions come out of my gym. That means balance, footwork, control, and how not to get yourself killed."
Izuku straightened. "Yes, sir."
Takeda raised an eyebrow at the immediate seriousness, then gestured toward the training floor. Mats covered most of the room, scuffed and worn. A few kids around his age were already warming up, stretching, and jogging in loose circles.
"Before you join them," Takeda said, "I need to see where you're at."
Izuku swallowed. "Okay."
"Show me a punch."
Just one.
Izuku stepped forward, planted his feet as he'd seen in videos, and threw a straight punch.
It was… not good.
His shoulder lifted too high. His hips didn't turn enough. His balance shifted forward just a bit too much.
Takeda caught his wrist easily and gently redirected the punch past him.
"Stop," he said calmly.
Izuku froze, heart pounding.
"You've got enthusiasm," Takeda continued, releasing him. "And you're not weak. But you don't know how to move yet."
Izuku nodded quickly. "I know. That's why I'm here."
That earned him a brief, approving hum.
"Good answer." Takeda clapped his hands once. "Go join the warm-up. Today you're not learning how to fight."
Izuku blinked. "I'm not?"
"You're learning how to stand."
The next fifteen minutes were humbling.
Stance drills. Weight shifting. Simple steps forward and back. Over and over again.
Izuku followed along carefully, copying the others. His body wanted to do more. Jump higher. Move faster.
He didn't.
He remembered the knife.
He remembered the heat.
He remembered how close he'd come to dying.
So he slowed down.
Takeda paced among them, correcting posture with light taps, nudging feet into better positions, adjusting shoulders and hips.
When he stopped in front of Izuku again, he studied him for a long second.
"You heal fast?" Takeda asked casually.
Izuku's heart skipped.
"I… recover quickly," he said carefully.
Takeda snorted. "Figures."
Izuku blinked. "Sir?"
"You move like someone who's been hurt recently but isn't afraid of it anymore," Takeda said. "That's dangerous if you don't learn control."
Izuku bowed deeply. "Please teach me."
The instructor stared at him, then smiled slightly.
"All right, Midoriya. Let's start with the basics."
As Izuku settled back into his stance, sweat starting to bead on his brow despite his boundless stamina, one thought echoed clearly in his mind:
This is it.
No shortcuts.
No reckless leaps.
The final part of the lesson was the most fun.
"Now show me," Takeda spoke.
Izuku dropped into a stance and threw a jab.
Izuku dropped into his stance and threw a jab.
It wasn't fast.
It wasn't powerful.
But it was correct.
His feet were planted, knees slightly bent. His shoulder rolled forward just enough to protect his jaw. His fist snapped out and back instead of lingering in the air.
Takeda's eyes narrowed.
"Again."
Izuku did.
Jab. Reset. Jab.
Each one was a little cleaner than the last.
"Don't lean," Takeda said, tapping Izuku's shoulder lightly with two fingers.
Izuku corrected immediately.
"Breathe."
Exhale on the strike.
Jab.
Takeda nodded once. "Good. Now add the step."
Izuku slid his lead foot forward as he punched, weight transferring smoothly instead of tipping him off balance.
The instructor caught the punch this time, redirecting it with his palm.
"You're thinking," Takeda said. "That's good. But now you're hesitating."
Izuku swallowed and went again.
Jab.
Takeda let it land—lightly—on a padded mitt.
Pop.
The sound made Izuku's eyes widen.
"That felt… right," he said before he could stop himself.
Takeda smirked. "Because it was."
They moved on.
Simple combinations.
Jab–cross.
Step back.
Guard up.
Nothing flashy. Nothing cinematic.
But by the end of it, Izuku's shirt clung to him with sweat, his arms trembling—not from fatigue, but from unfamiliar movement being drilled into his muscles.
Takeda called a halt.
"That's enough for today."
The other kids groaned. Izuku just nodded, breathing hard.
Takeda walked over and crouched slightly so they were eye level.
"Listen carefully," he said. "You learn fast. Faster than normal. But speed doesn't mean anything if your habits are bad."
Izuku bowed. "I understand."
"You want to be strong," Takeda continued. "That's obvious. But strength without restraint gets people hurt. Including you."
Izuku's jaw tightened.
"Yes, sir."
Takeda straightened. "Come back tomorrow. Same time. Wear something you don't mind ruining."
Izuku blinked. "Tomorrow?"
Takeda smiled faintly. "If you're willing to pay and willing to learn, I don't see why not."
A warmth spread through Izuku's chest.
"I'll be here," he said without hesitation.
As he changed back into his clothes, another familiar shimmer appeared at the edge of his vision.
[Feat Registered]
Bronze Feat Achieved.
Title: First Lesson.
Description: You sought proper instruction, accepted correction, and began replacing recklessness with discipline.
Reward: 1 Bronze Chaos Ticket.
Izuku didn't even grin this time.
He simply clenched his fist once, feeling the difference in how his body moved.
This is it, he thought again as he grabbed his training bag and left the gym. It was in Musutafu and was only a half-hour walk from his house.
'System, roll the gacha.'
[Congratulations, the user has gained:
* [Healthy]
|Common Trait|
You are very healthy for your body, granting you slightly increased vitality and virility. In addition, any previous natural health complications you had before getting this trait are fixed.]
Izuku stopped mid-step.
"…Huh?"
Warmth spread through him—not the sharp, aggressive heat of regeneration, but something deeper and steadier. Like the background noise of his body had been tuned down, static removed.
His breathing deepened.
His posture straightened.
A faint tightness in his chest he'd carried for as long as he could remember simply… wasn't there anymore.
Izuku swallowed and experimentally took a deep breath.
It felt easy.
"…I didn't even know something was wrong," he murmured.
Memories surfaced—getting sick more often as a kid, lingering colds, that constant feeling of being just a bit behind everyone else physically. Nothing dramatic. Nothing diagnosable.
Just… fragile.
Not anymore.
He rolled his shoulders, then laughed softly under his breath.
"Okay, that's actually unfair."
A trait, too.
Always on.
No slots.
No effort.
Boundless Stamina.
Healthy.
Two quiet advantages that didn't scream power—but made everything else stronger, safer, more sustainable.
Izuku resumed walking, steps lighter than before.
"So now I recover faster, don't get sick as easily, and don't burn out," he muttered, half in disbelief. "If I mess this up now, it's definitely on me."
His grip tightened on the bag strap.
"No shortcuts," he reminded himself. "No gambling."
The alley knife flashed in his mind.
Takeda's corrections echoed in his ears.
Power didn't make a hero.
Consistency did.
By the time Izuku reached his neighborhood, the sun was beginning to dip, painting the sky in orange and gold. He felt… good. Not hyped. Not reckless.
Just solid.
As he turned onto his street, another thought settled firmly into place.
If common traits can do this…
He exhaled slowly, eyes bright with resolve.
Then I'm going to earn every single one I can.
....
Glancing at the window again, Izuku sighed.
Izuku paused with one shoe in his hand, staring at his reflection in the darkened window.
The city beyond it pulsed softly with nightlife. Lights. Movement. Possibility.
He sighed.
"I really should be responsible," he muttered.
He knew the right answer. School tomorrow. Classes. Notes. Teachers who would absolutely notice if he nodded off.
Except…
He rolled his shoulders.
His body felt fine. Better than fine. Clear. Light. Awake in a way he'd never been before.
Five hours of sleep should have wrecked him.
Instead, it barely registered.
'Not to put myself at risk,' he reminded himself. 'Just to test myself. Keep earning tickets. Learn where my limits actually are.'
That thought felt… reasonable. Dangerous, but reasonable.
He finished changing, slipping into the same dark clothes as last night.
He knew, though, if someone needed his help... he'd intervene.
Izuku paused with one hand on the window frame.
He knew himself well enough to be honest about it.
"No heroics," he'd said.
"No chasing danger."
But that was only true up to a point.
He exhaled slowly.
"If someone needs help…" he murmured, eyes hardening just a little, "…I'm not turning away."
That wasn't recklessness.
That was who he was.
He slipped out into the night again, landing lightly and moving off at an easy jog. Not fast. Not slow. A pace he could hold forever if he wanted to.
Musutafu breathed around him.
Late-night convenience stores glowed softly. A pair of pro heroes flew overhead in the distance, silhouettes against the clouds. Somewhere, laughter spilled out of an open apartment window.
Normal. Peaceful.
Izuku stayed to the edges. Side streets. Back roads. Places where trouble might happen but wasn't guaranteed.
He kept his senses open, heart steady, mind calm.
Observe. Move. Don't escalate.
Takeda's words echoed faintly in his head, even if the instructor didn't know he'd said them.
Minutes passed.
Then—
A crash.
Metal on metal. A trash can was knocked over somewhere ahead, followed by raised voices.
Izuku slowed instantly, melting into shadow near a vending machine. He didn't rush in. He listened.
"…told you not to mouth off—"
"Hey, back off!"
Two voices. Young. Male. No panic yet, but tension rising.
Izuku edged closer, peering around the corner.
A scuffle between two older teens near a bike rack. One shoved the other hard; the second stumbled but didn't fall.
No weapons.
No bystanders.
No one helpless.
Izuku stayed put.
'Not my fight,' he told himself firmly.
The shove turned into shouting, then fizzled as one of them backed off, swearing under his breath before storming away.
Izuku relaxed.
"Good," he whispered. "That's good."
He moved on.
Another ten minutes. Then twenty.
He practiced quiet jumps between low walls. Controlled drops. Short sprints followed by sudden stops, testing how fast he could go from motion to stillness. He even pulled a small chunk of broken concrete into his Inventory and released it again, just to confirm the feel.
Everything responded cleanly.
No strain.
No wobble.
No pain.
Then he heard it.
Not a scream.
A whimper.
Soft. Broken. Wrong.
Izuku stopped dead.
It came from a narrow side street ahead, barely lit, the sound of someone crying and trying very hard not to be heard.
His jaw tightened.
"…Damn it."
He didn't rush.
He didn't leap.
He moved quietly, heart steady, thoughts sharp.
Assess first.
He leaned just enough to see.
A girl a little younger than him, maybe sixteen or so.
"Hey," he said gently, keeping his voice low. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."
She flinched hard, head snapping up. Her eyes were red and glassy, pupils blown wide like a cornered animal's.
"Don't come closer," she snapped. "Stay away."
Izuku stopped immediately.
"Okay," he said, hands lifting slightly, palms open. "I'll stay right here."
The distance remained.
She hugged herself tighter, breathing shallow and uneven. Under the streetlight, Izuku noticed dark stains on her sleeves. Not dirt.
Something darker.
Izuku swallowed.
"It's all going to be alright," he said quietly. "I promise."
She shook her head, short and sharp.
"No. It's not. I'm a monster." Her voice cracked on the word. "Ma and Pa don't even want me anymore."
That hit him harder than the alley knife had.
Izuku exhaled slowly and did the one thing he knew wouldn't make it worse.
He sat down.
Not beside her. Not close. Just… down on the pavement, putting himself lower instead of towering.
"I don't think monsters worry about being monsters," he said.
She let out a weak, broken laugh. "That's what everyone says. Right before they look at me like I'm disgusting."
"I'm not," Izuku replied immediately.
She stared at him, suspicious.
"You don't even know what I did."
"I don't need to," he said. "I know what it feels like to be told you're wrong just for existing."
Her fingers twitched.
Izuku noticed something then—the way her gaze kept flicking to his hands. His neck. Anywhere skin was visible.
Hungry.
Ashamed.
Afraid.
"…It's blood," she said suddenly, words spilling out like she'd been holding them back for years. "That's my Quirk. I like blood. The smell. The warmth. When I see it, I feel… happy."
Her nails dug into her arms.
"They said that I was sick. That I was broken. That if I didn't stop smiling, I'd hurt someone."
Her breath hitched.
"So they told me to leave."
Silence stretched between them.
Izuku didn't recoil.
Didn't scold.
Didn't flinch.
"That sounds terrifying," he said instead. "Being told your feelings makes you dangerous."
Her head snapped up. "You're not scared?"
"I am," Izuku admitted. "But not of you."
That stunned her.
He continued, voice steady. "I'm scared of what happens when people are abandoned instead of helped."
For a long moment, she just stared at him.
Then, slowly, she relaxed a fraction.
"…You're strange," she murmured.
He smiled faintly. "I've been told."
She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, smearing the stains further. "What's your name?"
"Izuku," he said. "Izuku Midoriya."
She tasted it, smiling faintly.
"Himiko," she replied. "Himiko Toga."
The name lingered in the air, sharp and light at the same time.
Izuku nodded. "Himiko."
Something in her expression softened—just a little.
"…Will you stay?" she asked quietly. "Just until I stop shaking?"
Izuku didn't hesitate as the idea came to his mind.
"I think Himiko... That you've found the perfect person for your problem,"
She looked at him strangely,
"What do you mean?"
Izuku smiled as he looked her in the eyes.
"My Quirk. I regenerate quickly... extremely quickly," He explained.
Himiko stared at him.
Not blinking.
Not smiling.
Not afraid.
Just… intensely focused.
"…You regenerate," she repeated slowly.
Izuku nodded, still keeping his voice calm, measured. "Yeah. If I get hurt, it heals. Fast. Faster than normal people."
Her head tilted, a familiar motion now, curiosity sharpening her features.
"…How fast?" she asked.
Izuku hesitated for half a second.
This was the dangerous part.
"Fast enough that it doesn't leave scars," he said. "Fast enough that I don't stay injured."
He made sure to add, immediately, firmly:
"But only if I choose to. And only if it helps you feel safe. Not because you're 'a monster' or because you 'need' it."
The words mattered.
Himiko's fingers trembled slightly in her sleeves.
"You're not scared of bleeding," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I am," Izuku replied honestly. "But I'm more scared of people getting hurt because no one helped when they could."
That earned him a quiet, breathy laugh from her. Not sharp. Not mocking.
"…You really are strange, Midoriya-kun."
She looked down at her hands, then back up at him, eyes bright in the streetlight.
"If I say yes," she said carefully, "you won't look at me differently?"
Izuku met her gaze without flinching.
"I already decided how I see you," he said. "That won't change."
A long silence followed.
Then Himiko scooted a little closer—still cautious, still tense, but no longer recoiling.
"…Just a little," she whispered. "To stop the shaking."
Izuku's heart pounded, but he kept his movements slow and deliberate.
"Okay," he said. "You tell me when to stop. Immediately."
He rolled up his sleeve just enough to expose his forearm.
No dramatic gestures.
No theatrics.
Just trust.
"If at any point you feel overwhelmed," he added, "we stop. Deal?"
She nodded.
Slowly, like she was afraid the moment might shatter.
Her fingers brushed his skin first—hesitant, almost reverent. He felt her flinch at the warmth, then relax when nothing bad happened.
Then—very lightly—she pressed a small blade she'd been hiding against his arm.
Izuku sucked in a breath as it bit into his skin.
Pain flared.
Sharp. Clean.
And then—
Heat.
The wound knit together almost instantly, blood welling for barely a second before the skin sealed itself, smooth and unbroken.
Himiko gasped.
Her pupils dilated.
"…It's gone," she whispered.
Izuku nodded, jaw tight. "Yeah."
She stared at his arm, then at her shaking hands.
The tremors were already fading.
Her breathing slowed.
"…It doesn't hurt you," she said, wonder creeping into her voice. "Not really."
"It does," Izuku replied. "But it passes."
She laughed softly, almost dazed.
"…So I'm not hurting you."
"No," he said gently. "You're not."
Izuku didn't pull his sleeve back down.
Instead, he took a slow breath and thought it through.
Quirks affect the mind.
Izuku knew that, even if no one liked to say it out loud.
Bakugou sweated nitroglycerin because his body wanted to explode.
People with strength quirks were restless when idle.
Fire quirks ran hot-blooded.
And Himiko?
She wasn't smiling because she was broken.
She was starving.
Izuku looked back at her, really looked this time.
The tremors.
The dilated pupils.
The way her gaze kept drifting, involuntarily, to his skin.
Not hunger like greed.
Hunger like oxygen.
"Himiko," he said quietly.
She stiffened at her name.
"…Yeah?"
"I think your Quirk needs blood," he said plainly. "Not emotionally. Biologically."
Her breath hitched.
"No," she said automatically. "They said I just liked it. That I was sick."
Izuku shook his head. "People say that when they don't want to deal with complicated truths."
He rolled his sleeve up again, higher this time, exposing his forearm fully.
"I regenerate," he repeated. "That means I can replace what you take. And it means—" he met her eyes, serious, steady "—you won't be hurting me."
Her hands shook harder now.
"You're… offering?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm saying," Izuku replied, choosing his words carefully, "that if this is something your body needs, then denying it completely is only going to make things worse. Like telling someone to just stop breathing."
Her eyes shone.
"I don't want to hurt you," she said desperately. "Every time before, they screamed."
"I know," Izuku said. "That's why we do this right."
He sat down fully on the pavement, grounding himself.
"Rules," he said calmly. "We agree on them first."
She blinked. "…Rules?"
"Yes," he nodded. "One: you ask, every time. Two: you stop the moment I say stop. Three: This doesn't mean you're bad or wrong. It just means your Quirk has needs."
Her lips parted slightly.
"…And if I follow them?"
"Then you're not a monster," Izuku said simply. "You're a person managing a condition."
Something in her face cracked.
"…No one's ever said that."
He extended his arm toward her, slow, deliberate.
"You don't have to," he added. "This is your choice."
Himiko stared at his arm like it was unreal.
Then she nodded.
Once.
"…Okay."
She moved closer on shaky legs, kneeling in front of him but not touching yet. Her breathing was shallow, like she was afraid the moment would vanish if she rushed it.
"May I?" she asked.
Izuku swallowed, nerves finally catching up.
"…Yes."
She leaned in.
Not fast.
Not wild.
Careful.
Her teeth pricked his skin.
Pain flared — sharp, immediate — and he hissed softly, fingers curling against the pavement.
Blood welled.
Himiko froze for a split second, eyes snapping to his face.
"You okay?" she asked quickly.
Izuku nodded, jaw tight. "Yeah. Keep going."
She drank.
Not much.
Not frenzied.
Just enough.
Izuku felt it — warmth leaving him, then heat rushing back as his regeneration kicked in, flesh knitting, blood replenishing as fast as it was taken.
Himiko shuddered.
A full-body tremor ran through her, then—
She exhaled.
Long. Slow.
Like someone finally getting air after being underwater too long.
"…Oh," she whispered.
The change was immediate.
The tension drained from her shoulders.
Her hands stopped shaking.
Her eyes cleared, pupils shrinking back to normal.
She pulled back instantly, wiping her mouth with her sleeve, horrified.
"I— I didn't take too much, did I—?"
Izuku flexed his arm.
The wound sealed smoothly, skin unbroken.
"Not at all," he said. "You did exactly what you needed to."
She stared at him.
Then at herself.
"…It's quiet," she said softly. "My head. It's… quiet."
Tears welled up, but these were different.
Relief.
"I wasn't crazy," she whispered as she gave him a hug. "I was just hungry."
Izuku nodded. "Yeah."
She laughed weakly, wiping her eyes.
"…You're unbelievable, Midoriya-kun."
He let out a shaky breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"At least now," he said, "you know you're not broken."
At the edge of his vision, the system shimmered—slow, heavy, deliberate.
[Feat Registered]
Silver Feat Achieved
Description: You recognized the biological and psychological truth of a dangerous Quirk, offering informed consent and compassion where repression would have created a villain.
Reward: 1 silver Ticket.
Izuku didn't look at the reward.
Himiko sat back on her heels, calmer than she'd been all night, looking at him like he'd just rewritten her world.
"…Will you stay?" she asked again. "Just until I know this feeling won't go away?"
Izuku nodded, heart still racing.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll stay."
And for the first time in her life—
Himiko Toga didn't feel like a monster.
She felt normal.
...
The night thinned around them.
Traffic sounds softened. The streetlight stopped flickering and settled into a steady glow. Somewhere far away, a train passed, the sound long and low, like the city exhaling.
Himiko leaned back against the lamppost, calmer now than she'd been all night. Not euphoric. Not wired.
Just… balanced.
Izuku sat a short distance away, arms resting on his knees, keeping things normal. Grounded.
"…It's still there," she said quietly after a while. "The quiet. It didn't disappear."
Izuku nodded. "That's good. It means it wasn't just adrenaline."
She glanced at him sideways, then smiled faintly. Not sharp. Not manic.
"…You really thought this through."
"I had to," he replied. "If I didn't, I could've made things worse. For both of us."
She hummed, considering that.
Another minute passed.
Then she spoke again, more hesitant this time.
"What happens tomorrow?"
Izuku had been thinking about that too.
"You shouldn't be alone," he said carefully. "And this isn't something you can just… ignore. But it also can't turn into something dangerous or uncontrolled. I assume that's already what the adults are treating you as?"
She nodded slowly. "I don't want it to."
He met her eyes. "Then let's not make it that."
Izuku pulled out his phone.
"We take this one step at a time," he continued. "Once a day. Same place if possible. We keep it routine, not desperate. You tell me how you're feeling beforehand. We stop the moment something feels off."
Himiko stared at the phone as it might vanish.
"…You'd really do that?"
"Yes," Izuku said simply. "Because if your Quirk has needs, then managing them responsibly is better than pretending they don't exist. Also, I might be the only one in the local area who could help you."
Her fingers curled into her sleeves.
"…And you won't disappear?"
Izuku hesitated just long enough to be honest.
"I can't promise forever," he said. "But I can promise I won't vanish without telling you. And I won't abandon you."
That mattered more than forever.
She took the phone with slightly unsteady hands and typed in her number. The contact name she saved for him made his eyebrows lift when he saw it.
Midoriya-kun (Safe)
"…I'll text you," she said quickly, suddenly embarrassed. "Just… once a day. If that's okay."
"That's the plan," Izuku replied, saving her contact. Himiko T.
They exchanged phones back.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Himiko stood, brushing off her skirt, movements lighter now.
"…I should go home," she said. "Before they worry. Or before they decide not to."
Izuku stood as well. "Do you know the way?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I do."
She paused, then looked at him again, eyes searching his face.
"You didn't just save me," she said quietly.
Izuku blinked.
"You didn't treat me like something to fix," she continued. "You just… listened."
He smiled, small and tired. "Sometimes that's enough to start."
Himiko smiled back.
This one was real.
"…See you tomorrow, Midoriya-kun."
"See you tomorrow, Himiko."
She turned and walked away, not looking back this time. Her steps were steady. Purposeful.
Izuku watched until she disappeared around the corner.
Only then did he let out a long breath and lean back against the lamppost.
"…That was intense," he murmured.
The system shimmered softly into view, quieter than usual.
Izuku dismissed it without reading further.
He checked the time, then started home, muscles relaxed, mind heavy but clear.
Tonight hadn't been about tickets.
It hadn't even been about power.
It had been about choosing to stay.
And as Izuku Midoriya walked back through the quiet streets of Musutafu, phone warm in his pocket with a new contact saved—
The night finally, gently, came to an end.
....