Chapter 4 Breaking the Chains
Izuku pulled up his system stats, examining the screen in front of him. His physical and body stats were both at 45, while his mind stat had reached an impressive 50. With his recent choice of psychic powers, a new range of abilities was now available to him.
He held out his hand, concentrating. A faint green glow surrounded his palm as he focused on a nearby chair. It trembled slightly before wobbling an inch off the ground, then dropping back down with a soft thud. Izuku wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, sighing.
"Guess this is just the beginning," he muttered to himself. His powers were still in their infancy, but the system had provided him with four core abilities:
Psychic Enhancement: A boost to his melee attacks, adding 100 damage with every strike enhanced by his psychic energy.
Telepathy: The ability to communicate mentally within a range of one mile per point in his mind stat, giving him a vast communication radius of 50 miles.
Telekinesis: The power to lift and manipulate objects with his mind, though it was clear he'd need practice to master it.
Magic Cantrips: Utility spells that were simple but useful. He could clean his room with a flick of his wrist, summon small lights, create minor illusions, or even conjure a spectral hand for assistance. Though not useful for combat, they added convenience to his everyday life.
He clenched his glowing fist, determination flickering in his eyes. "Tomorrow, I'll head into a dungeon and start testing these properly."
For now, he decided to rest.
The next morning, Izuku woke to a quiet house. He got dressed quickly, the cold air matching the atmosphere in the home. His mother had made breakfast, but the tension between them was palpable. It wasn't the food that felt cold—it was the unspoken barrier that had risen between them.
Izuku sat at the table, poking at his meal. His mother sat across from him, her smile warm but her eyes betraying a hint of worry. "Izuku," she said softly, breaking the silence, "it's going to be all right."
He looked up at her, surprised by the sudden reassurance. "What do you mean?"
She hesitated, then continued. "We have an appointment today. With a therapist."
Izuku frowned, confused. "How did you… get an appointment so fast?"
Inko's smile wavered, and she clasped her hands together. "Well… given what the school said you wrote in that journal, they bumped you up the list. But it's a good thing, Izuku. It means you'll get help sooner."
Izuku froze for a moment, then nodded, trying to push down the resentment bubbling in his chest. "Right," he said curtly, picking at his food again. "Let's just… get this over with."
His mother reached out as if to touch his hand but stopped midway, retreating awkwardly. The tension only thickened. Izuku quickly finished his meal, grabbed his bag, and followed her out the door.
The therapy office was a modest building tucked into a quiet street corner. Inside, the faint smell of lavender and coffee lingered, and the warm tones of the decor made the place feel inviting—at least to anyone who wasn't Izuku.
He and his mother sat in the waiting area, his foot tapping impatiently against the floor. Across the room, a young boy was playing with a therapy dog, whose wagging tail matched the soothing presence of its owner—a woman who emerged from an adjacent office. She had a dog Quirk that gave her a golden retriever's ears and tail, along with a friendly demeanor that was practically impossible to dislike.
"She's your therapist," his mom whispered, pointing to the woman as she smiled and called another patient into her office. "Her name is Dr. Kinoshita. She's very kind, and I already told her everything, so you don't have to explain."
"Great," Izuku muttered under his breath, his tone edged with sarcasm.
His mother placed a hand on his knee. "Izuku," she said softly, "I know you're upset, but this is a good thing. I just… I want you to have someone to talk to."
Izuku stared at her for a moment, then nodded stiffly. "Fine."
When his name was called, his mom gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You've got this," she said with a smile.
Izuku walked into the office, his stomach twisting. The room was cozy, with plush chairs and walls decorated with calming landscapes. Dr. Kinoshita greeted him warmly, her tail wagging slightly as she motioned for him to sit.
"Hi, Izuku," she said, her voice gentle. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Kinoshita."
He sank into the chair, arms crossed, his expression wary. "Yeah… hi."
She didn't seem bothered by his tone, her golden eyes studying him thoughtfully. "Your mom told me a little about what's been going on. I know this probably feels like a lot, but I'm here to help. Whatever you're feeling—angry, upset, confused—you can tell me. This is a safe space."
Izuku raised an eyebrow. "You already know the situation, right? So… why do I have to explain it again?"
Dr. Kinoshita leaned back in her chair, nodding. "You don't have to explain if you don't want to. But sometimes, saying things out loud can help. And I want to hear your side of it—not just what others have told me."
Izuku sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked at the wall, avoiding her gaze. "Fine. I'll… play along."
Izuku shifted in his seat, his arms crossed defensively, as he reluctantly began to recount the events that had led him to this office. He avoided Dr. Kinoshita's kind, patient gaze, instead staring at the corner of the room as he spoke.
"I don't even know where to start," he muttered. "Everything's just… been too much. At school, I've been bullied for years. I've had my notebooks destroyed, my face shoved into the dirt, explosions blasted into me, and no one's ever stepped in to help. Then… after everything that happened, my mom threw away all my hero stuff. All of it. Years of work—gone. She thinks I'm a psycho now because of what the principal said. I feel like… I don't know. Like everything is just falling apart."
Dr. Kinoshita leaned forward slightly, her notepad balanced delicately on her lap. "That's a lot to deal with," she said gently. "I can tell how much all of this is weighing on you. But let me ask you this: what do you want to gain out of our sessions together? What's your goal, so we can work toward it together?"
Izuku paused, his fingers twitching slightly as he considered her question. "I…" He hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to be a different person. Honestly, most of my life, I've been a doormat. I let people walk all over me. But then… I finally stood up for myself. Just once. Well, maybe a couple of times—with my mom too—but now I don't even know if I'm going down the right path or if I'm making a huge mistake."
Dr. Kinoshita nodded thoughtfully. "Change can be scary, Izuku," she said. "But it's also a natural part of life. We grow, we learn, and sometimes we become entirely different people from who we were just a few years ago. Even your best friend—well, former best friend—changed, didn't he?"
Izuku scoffed. "Yeah. Kacchan used to be nice… kind of. But the moment he got his Quirk, he turned into a jerk."
Dr. Kinoshita jotted something down in her notepad before continuing. "Let's talk about Quirks for a moment. Your mom mentioned that you've had… an obsession with them. Why do you think that is?"
Izuku let out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair. "Wouldn't anyone? I mean, we live in a world where Quirks are everything. They decide who's strong, who's respected… who matters. Being Quirkless is like carrying a constant burden. Every time someone asks me, 'What's your Quirk?' and I have to tell them I don't have one, they look at me like I'm broken. Like I don't belong. I've always wanted one because it feels like… if I had a Quirk, I'd finally be a part of something. I'd finally be normal."
Dr. Kinoshita's pen moved swiftly over the page. "So you feel like having a Quirk would allow you to fit into society? To be treated with respect?"
"Yes!" Izuku said, his voice rising slightly. "That's exactly it. People wouldn't look down on me anymore. They wouldn't see me as the weak, powerless kid who can't do anything."
She nodded again, her expression calm and understanding. "I see. And this mindset of harming others with Quirks… would you say that's a recent development?"
Izuku froze, his breath hitching. "I didn't want to harm anyone," he said defensively. "That… that wasn't me. I didn't write those things. But no one believes me, so what's the point of explaining?"
"I believe you," Dr. Kinoshita said firmly, her gaze steady. "Your mother sent me your notebooks. Most of them seemed perfectly normal, full of detailed hero analysis, impressive for someone your age. But the last one…that one was different. I suspect it wasn't yours. Stress, anger, and frustration can cause people to snap, but your history doesn't align with what was in that journal. So let's talk about what caused all this. What led to that 'snap,' and how do we work to prevent it from happening again?"
Izuku's shoulders slumped as he exhaled deeply. "I've been bullied my whole life," he admitted. "When you're Quirkless, you're the easiest target. The odd one out. The black sheep. I told the principal about it, but he didn't do anything. He was… he was a snake, just like the bullies. I should've gone to the police."
Dr. Kinoshita tilted her head. "What about your mother? Did you ever talk to her about the bullying?"
He shook his head, guilt flickering across his face. "No. I didn't want to add to her stress. She already worries about me enough because I don't have a Quirk. She's always on edge, thinking something's going to happen to me. And I… I love her. I just… I don't know how I feel about her right now. I'm angry. She took away everything I cared about. I forgave her yesterday, but… I don't know if I really meant it. This morning felt so cold between us. Like there's this huge wall I can't get over."
Dr. Kinoshita smiled gently. "It sounds like you're still trying to sort through those feelings. That's okay. It's not easy to forgive someone, especially when the wound is still fresh. What's important is that you're thinking about it and working through it."
Izuku nodded slowly, his voice quieter now. "I want to change. I want to be more assertive. But… I don't want to turn into him. I don't want to be like Kacchan. I don't want to hurt people just to feel strong."
"That's a good start," Dr. Kinoshita said, closing her notepad. "You're opening up more than most people do in their first session, Izuku. Becoming the person you want to be takes time. It doesn't happen overnight. But what if we start small? Make a list of goals for yourself. Write down what you want to achieve and the steps you'll take to get there. At our next session, we'll talk about what you were able to accomplish and how it made you feel."
Izuku nodded, his posture relaxing slightly. "I can do that," he said.
Dr. Kinoshita smiled warmly. "Good. For now, I'll recommend your mother start the paperwork to transfer you to a new school. A fresh start might be exactly what you need."
For the first time that day, Izuku felt a spark of hope. "Thank you," he said quietly.
"You're welcome," she replied. "Remember, Izuku, you're not a danger to anyone. You're just a boy trying to find his way. And I'm here to help you."
The task seemed simple—write down a list of goals. But the more he thought about it, the harder it felt. Finally, he picked up the pen and began writing.
Izuku's Goals:
Become more confident.
Stand up for myself more.
Stop letting people walk all over me.
Prove I can be strong in my own way.
Start fresh at a new school and make at least one friend.
He stared at the list, chewing on the cap of the pen as he reread it. The goals felt simple on paper, but achieving them seemed like a mountain he wasn't sure he could climb. His thoughts were interrupted by Dr. Kinoshita's soft voice.
"That's a great start, Izuku," she said, glancing over the list with an encouraging smile. "You're already taking the first steps toward becoming the person you want to be."
Izuku shrugged, fiddling with the edge of the paper. "I just… I don't know if I can actually do it."
Dr. Kinoshita leaned forward, her golden retriever-like ears twitching slightly. "It's okay to feel that way. Change is hard, and it doesn't happen overnight. But the fact that you're here, talking about it and setting goals, shows how much you want this. I know you can do it."
Her words struck a chord in him, and for the first time in days, he felt a small flicker of hope. He folded the paper carefully and slipped it into his pocket. "Thanks," he said, standing up. "I'll… try my best."
"That's all I ask," Dr. Kinoshita said with a warm smile. "Take it one step at a time. You've got this, Izuku."
He nodded and left the room, feeling a little lighter. But as he stepped into the lobby and saw his mother waiting for him, the weight returned. She was sitting with her hands clasped tightly, her expression hopeful but cautious. When she noticed him, she stood up quickly, her smile almost too bright.
"How did it go?" she asked eagerly.
Izuku hesitated, his thoughts swirling. He felt better after the session, but there was still a part of him that felt distant, like there was a wall between them he couldn't climb over. "It was… fine," he said, his tone neutral. "Let's just go."
Inko's face fell slightly at his indifference, but she quickly recovered, smiling as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so proud of you," she said softly. "I know this is hard, but I can see you're making progress already."
Izuku nodded, not trusting himself to say anything more. They walked home in silence, the tension between them unspoken but heavy. Inko tried to make small talk, but Izuku's short replies made it clear he wasn't in the mood. He couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that still lingered in his chest. He wanted to forgive her—he really did—but something inside him held him back.
When they got home, Izuku dropped his bag by the door and turned to his mother. "I'm… going out for a walk," he said, avoiding her gaze. "I just need to clear my head."
Inko frowned but nodded. "Okay. Just be safe, Izuku. And… I love you."
He froze for a moment before nodding stiffly. "I know."
The cool evening air brushed against his face as Izuku walked, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His feet carried him automatically toward a familiar destination: Mei Hatsume's shack. As he approached, he heard faint clinking and the occasional muffled bang, signs that she was hard at work as always. He pushed open the door without knocking, stepping inside.
Mei didn't even look up from her workbench. "Well, if it isn't Lab Rat Daddy!" she said cheerfully, adjusting her goggles. "What's up, broccoli boy? Miss me already?"
Izuku let out a tired laugh, shaking his head. "I just… needed to get out of the house."
She finally looked at him, tilting her head. "Hmm… you look like you've been through it. Therapist didn't strap you to a chair and zap you, did they?"
Izuku smirked despite himself. "No. It wasn't that bad, actually. She was nice. It's just…" He trailed off, leaning against the wall. "Things with my mom are… complicated."
Mei wiped her hands on a rag, setting down the contraption she'd been working on. "Complicated how?" she asked, hopping onto the edge of her workbench and swinging her legs.
Izuku hesitated before answering. "She says she's proud of me. That she loves me. And I know she means it, but…" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I can't shake the feeling that she doesn't really get it. Like, she's trying, but there's this… distance between us. And I don't know if I can close it."
Mei nodded, listening intently. "Moms can be tough sometimes. Mine's always telling me to 'stop blowing things up in the house' or 'don't strap jetpacks to the cat.' Like, where's the support, you know?"
Izuku snorted, shaking his head. "That's… not exactly the same."
"Eh, close enough," Mei said, grinning. "Anyway, you came to the right place. Wanna blow something up to feel better? Nothing clears your head like a good explosion."
Izuku rolled his eyes. "I don't think that's exactly what I need right now."
"Fine, fine," Mei said, hopping down from the bench. "How about this instead: you sit your broccoli butt down, and I'll start working on something awesome to distract you. Sound good?"
Izuku smiled faintly, sitting down on the beanbag chair in the corner. "Yeah. That sounds… good."
Mei turned back to her workbench, grabbing a handful of wires and a soldering iron. "Good. Now, just sit back, relax, and let the genius of Pink-Haired Mommy Inventor do its thing."
Izuku leaned back on the beanbag chair, his arms folded as he let out a long sigh. He had been recounting his day, trying to vent to Mei about his therapy session and the tension with his mom. But something didn't sit right with him—Mei seemed way too knowledgeable about what had happened.
"Wait…" Izuku said, narrowing his eyes as he outstretched a hand toward her. "How did you know about therapy? I didn't text you or tell you anything about it."
Mei grinned sheepishly, pulling her goggles up to her forehead. "Oh, because of this!" she said cheerfully, reaching over and tugging a small, inconspicuous clip from his hair.
Izuku froze, his heart dropping. "What… is that?"
"It's a GPS microphone!" Mei said proudly, holding it up as if it were a trophy. "Tiny, right? It's one of my babies! It tracks your location and transmits audio to my computer. I've been monitoring your adventures!"
Izuku's face turned bright red, both from embarrassment and outrage. "What?! You've been… stalking me?!"
Mei rolled her eyes, waving him off. "Stalking? No, no, no! I've just been listening to you! It's what friends do. You know, like keeping tabs on each other! Totally normal."
"This is not normal!" Izuku exclaimed, standing up quickly. "This is against every concept of privacy! Mei, promise me you'll delete it—now."
She tilted her head, looking unbothered. "Relax, broccoli boy. It doesn't record anything—well, okay, technically it does. But it's like a live stream! No visuals, just audio. So I don't have a permanent record… kind of."
Izuku groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "A live stream is still recording!"
Mei waved a screwdriver at him. "Think of it as, like, a template for knowing what you're up to! Plus, I found out you snore in your sleep. Adorable, by the way."
Izuku stared at her in horror, taking a deep breath before straightening his posture. "Delete. It. Now."
Mei's eyes sparkled as she leaned forward with a teasing grin. "Ohhh, look at you! Standing tall, using that big broccoli voice. You're trying out your list, huh? Being more confident? I like it!" She clapped mockingly. "Go, Lab Rat Daddy!"
Izuku's attempt at assertiveness deflated under her teasing, his shoulders sagging. "This is impossible," he muttered. "I'm going for a walk. Again."
"Suit yourself!" Mei called after him as he stormed out of the shack. "Don't forget, though—you technically made a friend already! That's one goal down!"
Izuku let out a groan of frustration as he stepped into the cool evening air. "How did I end up with her as my first friend…" he muttered, pulling up his system screen to distract himself.
System Notification:Dungeon Availability:
Current active dungeons: Level 10 (High Risk).
Level 1 dungeons unavailable.
Note: Dungeons reset every 24 hours with randomized levels.
Izuku frowned as the notification popped up. "A level 10 dungeon… That's way above me," he muttered, scanning the options. "I swear there was a level 1 dungeon here yesterday."
Another notification appeared:
Warning: A level 10 dungeon is possible at your level but carries a high risk of death. Best to avoid. Wait until tomorrow's reset for safer options.
"Great," Izuku muttered, dismissing the notification. "Guess I'll stick to side quests."
Scrolling through the available quests, most of them seemed mundane—helping people find lost items, cleaning trash, or saving stray cats. He sighed and accepted a few, figuring he'd at least earn some easy XP.
Side Quest: Save the Stray CatsReward: 50 XP per cat rescued.
After saving three cats and earning a modest reward, his eyes caught on a new quest that looked far more interesting:
Challenge Quest: Prove Your Martial Arts SkillsObjective: Challenge a dojo and defeat 10 students using only martial arts (no skills).
Reward: 2,000 XP and 1 Class Level Up.
Izuku raised an eyebrow. "This is perfect," he said, a small grin forming. "A chance to test my training."
Another notification suddenly popped up:
Personal Quest: Self-Improvement Goals
Tasks:
Become more confident.
Stand up for yourself more.
Stop letting people walk all over you.
Prove you can be strong in your own way.
Start fresh at a new school and make at least one friend.
Progress Update:Tasks Completed:
Make a friend.
Reward for completing all tasks before next week's therapist appointment:
1 Class Level Up
10,000 XP
Izuku stared at the screen, his determination reigniting. "I'm making progress," he muttered, his hand clenching into a fist. "If I can beat this dojo challenge, that's one step closer to proving I'm not a pushover anymore."
He quickly accepted the dojo quest, his excitement building as he made his way toward the location marked on his map. This wasn't just about XP or rewards—it was about showing himself that he could change.
Izuku stepped into the dojo, the faint scent of sweat and wood varnish filling the air. The polished floor reflected the dim overhead lights, and rows of students were practicing their stances and strikes. He felt the weight of their eyes on him, but he straightened his posture and cracked his knuckles, reminding himself of his goal. He had to be more confident. He had to stand tall.
Crossing his arms, Izuku took a deep breath and called out, "I'm here to challenge your dojo. I want to test my martial arts skills."
The room fell silent. Students paused mid-punch to stare at him, their eyes narrowing as they took in his wiry frame and scrawny build. A few exchanged glances before snickering, their whispers not even subtle.
"Who does this guy think he is?"
"He doesn't even look like he trains. Bet he's one of those Quirkless weirdos."
Izuku clenched his fists at the last comment but forced himself to stay calm. One of the students, a tall boy with broad shoulders, stepped forward, crossing his arms. "Hey, kid. You got a Quirk, or are you just here to embarrass yourself?"
"I don't have a Quirk," Izuku said evenly. "But I'm here to fight and prove my skills."
The laughter erupted immediately, echoing through the room.
"No Quirk? Seriously?"
"He's joking, right?"
"Guy must have a death wish."
Before Izuku could respond, one of the instructors approached. The man was middle-aged, with a sharp gaze and a body that spoke of years of disciplined training. He looked Izuku up and down, unimpressed. "You want to fight my students?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "What dojo do you hail from?"
Izuku shook his head. "I'm not from a dojo. I'm self-taught."
The instructor's lips twitched into a smirk. "Self-taught? And no Quirk? Kid, you'd better leave before you get yourself hurt."
Izuku took a step forward, planting his feet firmly. "No," he said, his voice steady. "I came here to fight. I'll defeat your students. Unless…" He paused, a small smirk of his own forming. "You're too scared to let me try."
The room fell silent again, the laughter quickly replaced by murmurs of surprise at his boldness. A notification popped up in Izuku's vision: "Quest Progress: Be more confident – Complete."
The instructor's smirk widened, his gaze sharpening. "Alright, kid. You've got guts. Let's see if you've got skills to back it up." He clapped his hands, and the students quickly lined up. "First five fights. One-on-one. First one to land a hit wins. No Quirks. Just technique."
Izuku nodded, stepping into the center of the room as the students circled around him, forming an impromptu arena. His heart pounded, but he forced himself to focus. This was his chance to prove himself.
Fight OneThe first student was a wiry boy with quick feet and a cocky grin. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he approached Izuku. "You're gonna regret coming here, buddy," he said, cracking his neck.
The moment the instructor gave the signal, the boy darted forward, his fists flying. Izuku's eyes tracked the boy's movements, and he shifted his weight, narrowly avoiding the first punch. The boy's fist grazed past his cheek, and Izuku countered with a sharp sidestep, making the boy overextend.
Using the opening, Izuku spun, planting a quick jab to the boy's ribs. The sound of the hit echoed through the dojo, and the boy stumbled back, clutching his side.
"Point!" the instructor called, raising a hand.
Izuku stepped back, his breathing steady. One down.
Fight TwoThe next student was a larger boy, built like a tank. He smirked down at Izuku, cracking his knuckles. "I'm not as easy to knock around as the last guy," he said. "Let's see if your 'self-taught' moves work on me."
As soon as the signal was given, the larger boy charged, aiming a heavy punch straight at Izuku's head. Izuku ducked low, feeling the rush of air as the fist missed him by inches. Pivoting on his heel, he sidestepped again, forcing the larger boy to stumble forward.
The student growled, swinging another punch, but Izuku bobbed under it effortlessly. "You're too slow," Izuku said, his voice calm.
Frustrated, the boy lunged, leaving himself wide open. Izuku stepped inside his guard and delivered a clean, sharp strike to his solar plexus. The boy gasped, doubling over as he dropped to one knee.
"Point!" the instructor called again, his expression now showing a hint of curiosity. "Two for the new guy."
Fight ThreeThis student was a girl with sharp eyes and quick movements. She didn't waste time with banter, instead circling Izuku cautiously.
The signal was given, and she darted forward, feinting a punch before attempting a low sweep at Izuku's legs. He saw the move coming and leapt over the kick, spinning in mid-air to land behind her. She whirled around, aiming a punch at his chest, but he deflected it with his forearm.
Using her momentum against her, Izuku grabbed her wrist and twisted, forcing her to stumble off-balance. Before she could recover, he tapped her shoulder with his knuckles, signaling a hit.
"Point!" the instructor said, now watching Izuku closely. The students around them were no longer laughing, their expressions turning serious.
Fight FourThe fourth student was visibly nervous, his confidence shaken by Izuku's previous victories. "Don't hold back," Izuku said, stepping into his stance. "Come at me."
The student hesitated before throwing a wild punch, his form sloppy. Izuku sidestepped easily, shaking his head. "Too predictable," he muttered, slipping past the boy's guard and tapping his chest lightly with his fist.
"Point!" the instructor called. The students murmured, impressed despite themselves.
Fight FiveThe fifth opponent was taller and more disciplined than the others, his stance solid. Izuku felt a surge of excitement—finally, a real challenge.
The fight began, and the boy moved quickly, testing Izuku's defenses with calculated jabs. Izuku bobbed and weaved, dodging each strike with precision. The boy feinted left before throwing a right hook, but Izuku caught the motion, blocking with his forearm.
"Not bad," Izuku said, smiling faintly. He retaliated with a low kick, forcing the boy to step back. Seizing the moment, Izuku stepped in and aimed a punch at the boy's chest, landing the hit cleanly.
"Point!" the instructor called, his voice louder this time. He stepped forward, clapping his hands. "That's five."
The students murmured amongst themselves, their earlier mocking replaced by awe. Izuku straightened, his breathing steady as he looked at the instructor.
"Well?" Izuku asked, his voice steady. "Was that good enough for you?"
The instructor smirked. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."
Izuku stood in the center of the dojo, his confidence growing after defeating the first five students. Sweat trickled down his forehead, but his breathing was steady, his stance firm. Around him, the murmurs of the other students had shifted from mockery to intrigue.
The instructor clapped his hands sharply. "Alright, enough chatter. Let's see how he handles the next group." He gestured to the back of the room, and five older, more experienced students stepped forward. Their expressions were serious, their movements deliberate. It was clear they were not taking Izuku lightly.
Izuku swallowed hard, adjusting his stance. Stay calm, focus, and don't let them rattle you, he reminded himself. He was here to prove his skills, and nothing—not even tougher opponents—would stop him.
Fight SixThe first of the advanced students stepped forward, a tall boy with lean muscle and sharp, calculating eyes. He bowed slightly, his movements precise, before taking his stance. Unlike the others, this opponent didn't taunt or mock Izuku. His focus was intense, and that made him far more dangerous.
The instructor raised his hand. "Begin!"
The boy moved instantly, his speed surprising. He lunged with a high kick aimed at Izuku's head. Izuku barely ducked in time, feeling the rush of air as the kick sailed past. The boy followed up with a spinning kick, forcing Izuku to backpedal quickly.
Izuku's mind raced. He's fast, but his strikes leave him slightly open. I just need to time it right.
The boy feinted another high kick, and this time Izuku anticipated it. Instead of retreating, he stepped forward, closing the distance between them. The boy's eyes widened slightly as Izuku pivoted on his heel and delivered a clean elbow strike to his ribs.
"Point!" the instructor called.
The boy stepped back, holding his side and bowing slightly. "Well done," he said quietly before returning to the line.
Fight SevenThe next student was a stocky girl with a solid stance and arms that looked like they could break bricks. She cracked her knuckles, her grin confident. "Don't think I'll be as easy as the others," she said.
Izuku nodded, his focus sharpening. He shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, preparing for her approach.
"Begin!" the instructor barked.
She came at him like a freight train, her movements heavy and forceful. She threw a powerful punch, and Izuku barely managed to sidestep, feeling the gust of wind as her fist sliced through the air. Her punches were wild but relentless, each one forcing Izuku to dodge faster and faster.
"You're just running away!" she taunted, throwing another heavy punch.
Izuku smirked, his confidence rising. "Am I?"
He ducked low, sweeping her leg with a quick kick. She stumbled but didn't fall, recovering with surprising agility. She came at him again, this time feinting a punch before aiming a low kick at his knee. Izuku shifted his weight and jumped, her kick grazing the bottom of his shoe.
Before she could recover, Izuku spun mid-air and landed a precise kick to her shoulder, forcing her back.
"Point!" the instructor called.
The girl groaned, rubbing her shoulder as she returned to the line. "Not bad, broccoli boy."
Fight EightThe third opponent stepped forward, a lanky boy with a relaxed posture but sharp, predatory eyes. He didn't say a word, his focus entirely on Izuku. There was a stillness about him that made Izuku uneasy.
"Begin!"
The boy moved fluidly, his strikes almost lazy but impossibly fast. He jabbed at Izuku, forcing him to block and dodge in rapid succession. Each movement felt calculated, testing Izuku's reflexes.
He's baiting me, Izuku realized, noticing the subtle shifts in the boy's stance. He's waiting for me to overcommit.
Izuku decided to flip the script. He feigned a low punch, drawing the boy's guard downward, before pivoting and aiming a kick at his midsection. The boy blocked it, but Izuku used the momentum to spin and deliver a quick jab to his shoulder.
The boy stumbled back slightly, his expression unreadable. He nodded once, stepping back. "Point," the instructor announced.
Fight NineThe next opponent was a muscular boy with a cocky grin. He flexed his arms as he approached, cracking his neck. "I hope you've got some stamina left, kid. You'll need it."
Izuku didn't respond, his focus locked on the boy's movements.
"Begin!"
The boy came at him with a flurry of punches, each one powerful enough to knock the wind out of him if it connected. Izuku ducked and weaved, his heart pounding as he narrowly avoided each strike.
The boy's attacks were strong but lacked precision. Izuku spotted an opening as the boy overextended on a punch and quickly stepped inside his guard. Using his elbow, Izuku struck the boy's sternum with enough force to make him stumble back, gasping for air.
"Point!" the instructor called, his voice sharper now. He was clearly impressed.
Fight TenThe final opponent stepped forward, a girl with a disciplined stance and eyes that burned with intensity. She bowed slightly before settling into her position. "You've done well so far," she said, her tone even. "But let's see how you handle someone who doesn't hold back."
Izuku nodded, his muscles tensing. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
"Begin!"
She was fast—faster than anyone else he'd faced. She darted toward him, her movements fluid and precise. Izuku barely managed to block her first strike, a lightning-fast jab aimed at his jaw. She followed up with a spinning kick, forcing him to duck low.
She's relentless, Izuku thought, his breath coming in short bursts as he dodged her strikes. But he refused to back down.
When she feinted a punch, Izuku caught the slight hesitation in her stance. He moved instantly, slipping past her guard and aiming a low kick at her ankle. She stumbled but quickly recovered, spinning to face him.
She lunged again, aiming a high kick, but Izuku anticipated the move. He stepped inside her guard, using his forearm to deflect her strike before delivering a clean palm strike to her chest.
The impact made her stagger back, and she froze, her eyes wide. The dojo fell silent for a moment before the instructor called, "Point!"
Izuku straightened, his chest heaving as he looked around the room. The students stared at him, their earlier mockery replaced with respect. Even the instructor seemed impressed, his arms crossed as he studied Izuku.
"Well done, kid," the instructor said, stepping forward. "You've got skill. You might just have something to prove after all."
Izuku smiled faintly, a small spark of pride igniting in his chest. One step closer.
Quest complete Reward: 2000 points level up.
He felt the familiar surge as his stats increased.
As the instructor approached Izuku, his stern expression softened into an approving nod. "Kid," he said, his voice steady but warm, "you've got some real skill. I've seen a lot of students walk through these doors, but very few of them show the kind of determination and precision you just demonstrated."
Izuku straightened, blinking in surprise at the unexpected praise. "Thank you, sir," he said, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. His heart was still pounding from the intense fights, but the instructor's words felt… good.
The instructor folded his arms, tilting his head as he studied Izuku. "Tell me, what are your plans? Do you train regularly? Join tournaments?"
Izuku shook his head. "I'm self-taught. I just… wanted to test myself. I don't belong to a dojo or anything."
"That's impressive," the instructor said, raising an eyebrow. "Self-taught, and you just wiped out ten of my students. You ever thought about joining a dojo? Or competing in martial arts tournaments?"
Izuku hesitated. "Tournaments?"
The instructor nodded. "There are always martial arts tournaments happening around the city. Some of them allow guest participants—people who aren't officially tied to a dojo. If you're interested, I'd like to invite you to observe or even join as a guest student. It'd be a great opportunity to sharpen your skills."
Izuku blinked, processing the offer. "I'll… think about it," he said cautiously.
The instructor nodded approvingly, pulling out a notepad and pen. "Here, write down your contact information. I'll let you know about upcoming events."
Izuku hesitated for a moment, then scribbled down his name and phone number. "Thanks," he said, handing the paper back.
The instructor gave him a faint smile. "No, thank you.Seeing raw talent like yours is rare. Keep training, kid."
As Izuku left the dojo and stepped onto the street, the cool evening breeze greeted him. He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his system notifications and contemplating his next move. What's next? he thought, trying to organize the day in his head.
Before he could decide, someone crashed into him from the side, nearly knocking him off balance. Startled, Izuku reacted on instinct. He grabbed the person by the waist and steadied them, his body shifting to regain his footing.
"Whoa!" he exclaimed, looking down at the girl he'd caught.
She had orange hair tied back into a neat ponytail and wore a gym bag slung over her shoulder. Her wide eyes blinked up at him in surprise as she realized she was practically being held in his arms.
"I—I'm so sorry!" she stammered, straightening up quickly as he let her go. "I wasn't looking where I was going! I'm super late!"
Izuku sighed, brushing off his sleeves. "You should really watch where you're going," he said, his tone exasperated but calm. "It's dangerous to run around like that."
She nodded rapidly, bowing slightly. "Right! Sorry! I'm just… in a rush! I have to get to my dojo."
Izuku paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he took her in. Something about her demeanor struck him as oddly familiar, but he shook the thought away. "Just be careful next time," he said, waving her off as he continued walking. Maybe discounts as stop letting people walk all over you,he thought. But when he glanced at his system screen, there was no notification of progress. He sighed. "Guess not… but maybe it's a start."
The girl watched him leave, tilting her head slightly. "Weird," she muttered, brushing herself off. "Nice reflexes, though."
Itsuka Kendo burst into her dojo a few minutes later, panting as she slid the door open. Inside, the air was heavy with tension. Ten students were lined up, their faces pale and their bodies drenched in sweat as they performed grueling exercises. The dojo's head sensei paced in front of them, his voice sharp as a whip.
"You've brought shame to this dojo," the sensei barked, his stern face lined with disapproval. "Ten of you. Ten of you couldn't stop a single boy. A self-taught, Quirkless boy. What does that say about your training? About your discipline?"
The students, still performing push-ups, gasped out apologies in unison. "We're sorry, Sensei!"
Itsuka froze, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Wait… what happened?" she asked, stepping further into the room.
One of the students, a stocky boy with a bruised shoulder, glanced up at her from his position on the floor. "Some green-haired kid came in earlier," he muttered between labored breaths. "Wanted to test his martial arts skills. Took out ten of us… and then just left."
"What?" Itsuka said, her eyes widening. "A green-haired boy? What did he look like?"
Another student, a girl with a bandage on her arm, chimed in. "He was small—kind of scrawny. But he was fast. And precise. He didn't even have a Quirk, but he wiped the floor with us."
Itsuka frowned, her mind immediately flashing to the boy she'd run into on the street. It couldn't be him, could it?she thought, replaying the moment in her mind. The boy had seemed small and unassuming—hardly the type to take down ten trained martial artists. But then again… his reflexes had been sharp. Too sharp.
The sensei's voice cut through her thoughts. "If you had been here, Kendo," he said, his tone sharp but laced with disappointment, "perhaps the dojo wouldn't have been humiliated."
Itsuka straightened, her jaw tightening. "I'll make it right," she said firmly. "If he comes back, I'll fight him myself."
The sensei nodded, his stern gaze softening slightly. "See that you do."
As she turned to join her classmates, Itsuka's mind lingered on the green-haired boy. If that really was him… then I guess I owe him a proper fight. A faint smile tugged at her lips. Next time, broccoli boy. Next time.
Izuku wandered through the city streets, the cool evening air brushing against his face as he tried to steady his nerves. His system reminder had been nagging at him all day: "Task: Stand up for yourself. Progress: 0%." He knew exactly who he needed to face to complete the task—those two jerks who always hung around Katsuki. The boy with the stone fist and the muscle-bound lackey. They weren't just bullies; they were the kind of guys who took joy in making his life miserable.
Izuku clenched his fists as he walked, following their usual haunts. He'd observed them enough over the years to know their patterns. They always broke away from Katsuki to do their own thing, either trying to pick up girls with sleazy lines or convincing someone to buy them alcohol. Katsuki, for all his faults, had his sights set on U.A. and refused to get caught up in their nonsense.
Tonight was no different. Izuku spotted them in a dimly lit alley, near the convenience store they frequent, leaning against a graffiti-covered wall as they badgered an older man.
"Come on, dude," the muscle-bound one said, a cocky grin plastered across his face. "Just grab us a six-pack. We'll make it worth your time!"
The older man looked nervous, shifting from foot to foot. "I… I don't know, guys. This could get me into a lot of trouble—"
"Hey!" Izuku's voice rang out, louder and firmer than he expected. He stepped into the alley, his heart pounding but his determination unwavering. "Leave him alone!"
The older man turned, relief flashing across his face before he quickly scurried away, leaving the two bullies standing there, stunned.
It didn't take long for recognition to dawn on their faces.
"Well, well," the stone-fisted boy sneered, cracking his knuckles. "If it isn't our favorite punching bag. What's the matter, Deku? Lost again?"
The muscle-bound one laughed, his bulky arms crossing over his chest. "What're you doing here, huh? You lose your way to the pity parade?"
Izuku stood his ground, his fists clenching at his sides. "I'm here for revenge," he said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.
Both of them froze for a moment before bursting into laughter.
"Revenge?" the stone-fisted boy wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "You? What are you gonna do, Deku? Lecture us to death?"
The muscle-bound one stepped forward, towering over Izuku with a smug grin. "You're still Quirkless, right? What's the plan? Gonna cry at us until we feel bad?"
Izuku's jaw tightened, but he didn't move.
"You're still a loser, Deku," the muscle-bound one sneered, shoving Izuku's shoulder with one meaty hand. "Nothing's changed."
But Izuku didn't budge. Not this time. He wasn't going to back down, and he definitely wasn't going to let them push him around anymore.
The muscle-bound bully's grin faltered slightly as he pushed harder, trying to force Izuku to stumble. "What's the matter? Too scared to—"
Izuku moved before he could finish, throwing a sharp right hook that connected squarely with the bully's jaw. The impact sent the larger boy stumbling back, his eyes wide with shock.
"Wha—what the hell?!" the muscle-bound boy stammered, clutching his face.
Izuku stepped forward, his stance steady as he raised his fists. "Come on, you two," he said, his voice filled with a newfound confidence. "Let's see who the real weakling is."
The stone-fisted boy's expression darkened as he cracked his knuckles, his Quirk activating and turning his hands into jagged chunks of rock. "Oh, you've done it now, Deku. You're gonna wish you never showed up here."
The muscle-bound boy shook off his shock, his face twisting into a furious snarl. "You're dead meat, Quirkless freak!"
Izuku's heart was pounding in his chest, but he didn't let it show. He raised his fists higher, planting his feet firmly on the ground. For the first time, he felt like he was in control.
"Anytime you're ready," Izuku said calmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
Both bullies lunged at him, their rage palpable. The fight was about to begin, and Izuku knew this was his moment to prove he wasn't the same weakling they thought he was.
Izuku stood his ground as the two bullies charged at him, their faces twisted with rage. His heart pounded in his chest, but his mind was sharp. This wasn't the time to hesitate. I have to end this, once and for all.
The stone-fisted boy reached him first, swinging a rocky hand toward Izuku's head with the force of a sledgehammer. Izuku ducked low, the air above him slicing as the fist slammed into the wall behind him, leaving a jagged dent. He's slower when he uses that Quirk, Izuku realized, pivoting to the side.
He didn't have time to process further as the muscle-bound lackey lunged at him, his massive arms reaching out to grab him. Izuku sidestepped just in time, slamming his knee into the lackey's ribs. The sound of the impact echoed in the alley, and the larger boy grunted, stumbling back a step.
"You little freak!" the muscle-bound boy roared, charging again. This time, Izuku crouched, spinning on his heel to deliver a sweeping kick to the boy's shins. The larger boy lost his balance and toppled forward, slamming onto the hard pavement with a grunt. Before he could recover, Izuku jumped up, driving his elbow down into the boy's back.
"Argh!" the lackey cried out, rolling over and clutching his side. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
The stone-fisted boy wasn't far behind. "You're dead, Deku!" he shouted, slamming his fist into a nearby trash can and hurling it toward Izuku.
Izuku darted to the side as the trash can flew past him, clanging against the wall. He grabbed the dented can, his fingers curling around the rim, and with a grunt, hurled it back at his attacker. The stone-fisted boy raised an arm to block it, but the impact still made him stagger.
"Too slow," Izuku muttered under his breath as he closed the distance. Using the wall for leverage, he jumped up, planting one foot against the brick and twisting mid-air to deliver a spinning back kick. His foot connected with the side of the stone-fisted boy's face, snapping his head to the side.
The boy stumbled, his nose bursting with blood. "You little—" He didn't finish as Izuku landed, following up with a quick series of punches to his midsection. The stone fists offered no protection to his torso, and Izuku made sure to make every hit count. His knuckles ached from the force of his strikes, but he didn't let up.
The muscle-bound boy had recovered by then, his face red with fury. He charged again, this time managing to grab Izuku by the shirt. "Gotcha now!" he growled, lifting Izuku off the ground and slamming him into the wall. The impact sent a sharp pain shooting through Izuku's back, and he gasped, feeling the wind knocked out of him.
The larger boy reared back to punch, but Izuku reacted quickly, bringing his knee up into the boy's groin with all the force he could muster. The muscle-bound boy's eyes bulged as he let out a high-pitched yelp, stumbling back and clutching himself.
"Not so tough now, huh?" Izuku spat, dropping to the ground and sweeping the boy's legs out from under him. The larger boy hit the pavement hard, his head bouncing off the concrete.
Izuku turned back to the stone-fisted boy, who was wiping blood from his face, his expression livid. "You're gonna pay for that, Deku!" he shouted, swinging a wild haymaker.
Izuku ducked under the punch, grabbing a loose sewer grate from the ground. With a grunt, he swung it upward, catching the stone-fisted boy under the jaw. The clang of metal against bone echoed in the alley as the boy reeled back, his jaw hanging at an awkward angle.
The stone-fisted boy roared, swinging both of his rocky hands down like hammers. Izuku barely dodged in time, rolling to the side as the ground cracked where the fists landed. He pushed off the wall, using the momentum to drive his shoulder into the boy's midsection, slamming him against the alley wall.
The muscle-bound boy was back on his feet now, his face twisted in anger despite the tears in his eyes from the earlier groin hit. "You're gonna wish you never showed up!" he shouted, charging again. This time, he managed to land a solid punch to Izuku's stomach, sending him stumbling back. Pain shot through Izuku's abdomen as he doubled over, coughing.
"Not bad," Izuku muttered through gritted teeth, wiping blood from his lip. "But I'm not done yet."
The muscle-bound boy came at him again, but Izuku ducked low and delivered a devastating uppercut to his chin. The boy's head snapped back, and he staggered, his mouth now bleeding profusely.
The stone-fisted boy tried to grab Izuku from behind, but Izuku twisted sharply, grabbing the boy's wrist and yanking it downward. The sound of bones cracking filled the air as the boy screamed, clutching his now-broken arm.
Izuku didn't let up. He spun on his heel, driving his elbow into the boy's already bloodied nose. The stone-fisted boy fell to the ground, groaning as blood poured freely from his face.
The muscle-bound boy was the last one standing, his breathing ragged as he clutched his ribs. "You're… you're gonna regret this," he wheezed, his eyes filled with fear.
Izuku stepped forward, his expression cold. "Not as much as you'll regret ever messing with me." He grabbed a loose piece of pipe from the ground, spinning it in his hand.
"Come on," he said, his voice steady but dripping with menace. "Let's finish this."
The pipe spun through the air as Izuku hurled it at the muscle-bound boy. The larger boy raised his arms just in time to block it, the metallic clang echoing in the alley. But Izuku was already moving, closing the distance in a flash. As the boy's arms dropped, Izuku launched a brutal uppercut straight into his groin. The larger boy let out a strangled scream, his face contorting in pain as he staggered back.
Before the boy could recover, Izuku darted around him, grabbing him by the waist. With a surge of strength and adrenaline, Izuku lifted the boy high into the air, arching his back and slamming him headfirst into the ground with a devastating suplex. The muscle-bound boy crumpled to the pavement, groaning and clutching his head.
Izuku stood, his breath coming in short bursts as he turned to face the stone-fisted boy. The other bully had managed to get back to his feet, his broken arm hanging limp at his side. His face was pale, and sweat dripped down his forehead, but his eyes burned with fury.
"You're dead, Deku," the stone-fisted boy growled, his voice shaking with anger and pain. "You think this changes anything?"
Izuku didn't respond. He bent down, grabbing the heavy sewer drain cover with both hands. The stone-fisted boy's eyes widened as Izuku hurled it at the ground with precision, causing it to bounce upward and slam directly into his groin. The bully let out a guttural scream, dropping to his knees.
Izuku didn't let up. He sprinted forward, leaping into the air and driving his knee into the bully's face with enough force to send a sickening crack through the alley. Blood spattered as the boy's head snapped back, a few of his teeth flying loose before he collapsed onto his back, unconscious.
Panting, Izuku stood over the two beaten bullies, his fists clenched and his chest heaving. He raised his head and let out a primal roar, the sound echoing through the narrow alley. It wasn't just a shout of victory—it was a declaration of freedom. For the first time, he wasn't just fighting back; he was winning.
"You listen to me!" Izuku shouted, his voice steady despite the exhaustion setting in. "If I ever hear about you bullying anyone again, I'm coming for you. This ends now. Your terror is over!" He stepped closer, his glare like fire. "And if you've got a problem with that? Tell your boss. Send him after me. I'll break him too."
The two bullies lay sprawled on the ground, groaning and wheezing. The muscle-bound boy coughed, blood trickling from his mouth as he muttered, "H-he's not even… a Quirk…" He trailed off, his body convulsing slightly as pain overtook him.
The stone-fisted boy whimpered, his broken arm cradled against his chest. How…how did this happen? he thought. We got beaten… by someone Quirkless. We're supposed to be the strong ones…
"Task: Stand up for yourself. Progress: 100%."
Izuku turned and walked away, his own body aching from the hits he'd taken. His ribs throbbed, his knuckles stung, and he could feel the bruises forming along his sides. But none of that mattered. The pain was a badge of honor. He had done it—he had stood up for himself, not with skills or powers, but with sheer determination and martial arts. They would never forget this.
"Hey, broccoli boy," she said casually, not even glancing up. "Perfect timing."
Izuku, still catching his breath, frowned. "What are you watching?" His eyes moved to the screen—and froze. The image was unmistakable. It was him. The fight in the alley. Every punch, every kick—it was all there, captured from a hidden angle like a scene out of an action movie.
"What the—?!" Izuku exclaimed, stepping forward. "Where did you get that?"
Mei pointed vaguely toward the corner of the shack with her chopsticks, her mouth still full of noodles. "Over there," she said, gesturing toward the snack shelf.
Izuku blinked, confused. "The snack shelf? What does ramen have to do with—"
"No, no, not the ramen!" Mei finally looked up, her grin widening. "The video. One of my babies caught it. Been experimenting with portable surveillance tech, and turns out you're a pretty fun test subject. Nice moves, by the way."
Izuku's jaw dropped, his face a mix of disbelief and irritation. "Wait—you've been spying on me?!"
Mei waved him off with a laugh. "Spying is such a harsh word. I prefer monitoring. It's not like you're doing anything boring. Come on, it's for science!"
Izuku groaned, rubbing his temples as he tried to process her nonchalance. "You're impossible."
"Thanks!" Mei chirped, turning back to her laptop. "But forget about that. You're gonna love this next one." She clicked on another file, her excitement practically radiating off her. "Just finished editing this one. Don't judge me—it's my best work yet."
The screen flickered, and the image shifted to a familiar face. Izuku's eyes widened as the video began to play, showing the stone-fisted boy slouched in a chair inside an office. It didn't take long for Izuku to recognize the other person in the frame—the principal. His heart sank as the conversation unfolded.
"Listen," the principal said, his voice low and sharp. "You need to stop bragging about how we got rid of the Quirkless kid. If anyone hears about this and it gets back to us, we're finished."
The stone-fisted boy chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Relax, old man. Nobody's gonna care. Besides, Deku's useless. I doubt he's even capable of figuring out what's going on. He's probably rotting in a mental asylum or jail by now."
The principal leaned back with a dry laugh. "You're probably right. Still, don't let this slip again. Keep your mouth shut, understand?"
"Fine, fine," the boy said with a dismissive wave. "But hey, it was a good way to pick up girls at school, right?"
The video ended abruptly, and Izuku stared at the screen, his hands curling into fists. His whole body trembled, not from fear, but from the overwhelming mix of anger and vindication surging through him. "This… this is proof," he said, his voice shaking.
Mei spun her chair to face him, her grin as mischievous as ever. "Yup. Mama's got your back, Daddy."
Izuku blinked, his frustration momentarily derailed. "Stop calling me that!"
Mei rolled her eyes playfully, spinning back toward her screen. "Fine, fine. But seriously, what's the plan? This video's dynamite. We could hand it over to the police. Or—oh, oh!—what if we sent it to a news outlet? I bet they'd love a juicy scandal like this." She turned back to him with a devilish gleam in her eye. "So, broccoli boy… what's your move?"
Izuku stared at the screen, his mind racing as he tried to process everything. The truth was finally within reach. He just had to decide what to do next.
"Send the video to the police and a news organization," Izuku said, holding his phone out toward Mei. "And send me a copy too. I need to show my mom."
Mei saluted with a grin. "Yes, sir, Daddy," she teased, her fingers flying across her keyboard as she uploaded the files and set up the transfers.
Izuku groaned, rubbing his temples. "You've got to stop calling me that."
"But it's fun," Mei replied, flashing him an unapologetic smile as she hit the final send button. "Done! Files sent to the police, the press, and your phone. Now it's out there. Mama did her job."
Izuku's phone buzzed with the incoming file. "Thanks, Mei," he said earnestly. "This is… more than I could've asked for."
"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome," Mei said, waving him off. "But you owe me now, broccoli boy. I did a big favor for you, so now it's time for a favor for me."
Izuku narrowed his eyes. "What kind of favor?"
Mei grinned mischievously, leaning back in her chair. "Test ten of my babies. That's it. Super easy."
"That's it?" Izuku asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yup! Not much for someone like you," she replied, kicking her feet up onto her desk. "Besides, I've been having so much fun doing things with you. Inventing, blowing stuff up, watching your reactions—it's been nice. And…" She hesitated, her grin softening slightly. "You keep me warm at night."
Izuku blinked, caught off guard. "Uh… thanks, I guess? Being compared to a light bulb in a lizard tank is… something."
Mei laughed, waving him toward the door. "Go on, show your mom the video. I'll have everything ready when you come back. We'll start on the inventions in the morning."
Izuku nodded, walking over to her. He paused for a moment, then gave her a gentle hug. "Thanks for everything, Mei."
Mei stiffened slightly, her face turning red as she awkwardly returned the hug. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Go now! Mama's got work to do."
Izuku chuckled as he pulled back and headed out the door. Mei watched him go, a hand drifting to her neck as she felt her pulse racing. "Weird," she muttered, brushing it off. "Probably just tired."
Izuku returned to his apartment, his footsteps lighter thanks to his leveling nimbleness skill. When he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment before knocking. His mother opened it almost immediately, her face lined with worry.
"Izuku?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he replied, stepping inside. "But I need you to sit down on the couch."
She hesitated, her eyes searching his face for any signs of trouble. "O-okay," she said, sitting as he instructed. "What's this about?"
Izuku sat beside her, pulling out his phone. "I need you to see this." He played the video, holding the phone where she could see it clearly. Her face changed rapidly as she watched—the initial confusion quickly giving way to fury and then to tears.
"They… they did this to you?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Izuku, I'm so sorry. I didn't know…"
"It's okay, Mom," Izuku said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I have proof now. They can't get away with it. We've already sent it to the police and the press."
Inko broke down, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I should have believed you. I should have done more to protect you."
"Mom," Izuku said softly, pulling her into a hug. "It's fine. It's over now."
As they pulled apart, she wiped her eyes and smiled shakily. "I promise I'll replace all your merch, Izuku. Everything I threw away—I'll make it right."
He shook his head. "It's fine. I don't need the merch right now. If you really want to pay me back, just give me the money instead. I need to focus on… other things."
Inko frowned slightly, confused. "What other things?"
"Something private," Izuku said, avoiding her gaze. "I promise I'll tell you when the time is right."
She studied him for a moment, then sighed and nodded. "Alright, Izuku. I'll trust you."
"Thank you," he said, standing up. "I still want to go to therapy, by the way. Even if I'm not a danger to anyone, I think it's helping."
Inko's smile softened. "Of course. I'll make sure you can keep going."
She handed him some of the money she owed, and he bowed slightly. "Thanks, Mom," he said. "I've got to head out for a bit, but I'll be back later."
"It's late, Izuku," she said, her voice tinged with concern.
"I'll be fine," he reassured her, heading out the door.
Izuku returned to Mei's shack, his movements smoother and faster thanks to his leveled-up skills. When he opened the door, he found her curled up in her beanbag chair, fast asleep. Her laptop was still open, the faint glow illuminating her peaceful face.
He walked over and poked her cheek gently. "Hey, Mei," he said softly. "Wake up."
She yawned, stretching and blinking groggily at him. "What do you want, broccoli boy?" she muttered, rubbing her eyes.
He pulled out the cash from his pocket. "I got funds for our next project—or, uh, baby."
Mei's eyes lit up as she saw the money. She grinned, throwing her arms around his neck. "You're the best, sugar daddy!"
"Stop calling me that!" Izuku protested, his face turning red as she pulled him toward the beanbag chair. She flopped back, dragging him with her and flipping a blanket over them.
"Thanks for everything," she said, her voice softer than usual. "Now let's get some rest. We've got work to do in the morning. Or in two hours. That's basically the same thing."
Izuku sighed, but a small smile tugged at his lips. "Alright. Let's rest, then."
He pulled out his phone, quickly texting his mom that he was staying at a friend's place, before settling down beside Mei. As his eyes grew heavy, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of comfort. For the first time, everything feels like it's falling into place.