The change wasn't subtle. There were no flashing lights or sound effects. The black darkness and lack of gravity simply turned off like someone unplugging a TV.
The first thing Izuku noticed was the cold. Damp, dirty air hit his bare skin. The second thing was the rough texture under the soles of his feet.
"Ouch!"
Melissa's scream was high-pitched. Izuku opened his eyes, blinking to adjust his vision to the grayish surroundings. They were no longer floating. They were standing on cracked asphalt full of potholes and puddles of murky water.
Melissa was hopping on one foot while rubbing the sole of the other.
"Gravel! There's gravel!" she complained.
She tried to keep her balance without letting go of Izuku's arm, which remained her only connection to reality and, unfortunately, her only visual shield.
"Why is there gravel? We were in space two seconds ago."
"It wasn't space," Izuku corrected automatically, although his brain was working at top speed to process the new environment.
He looked around.
"And this... this isn't U.A."
They were in a narrow street. The buildings around them weren't the glass and steel skyscrapers of Musutafu. They were red brick structures with rusty fire escapes hanging from the facades and laundry hanging out to dry. The sky was a mass of low clouds, a leaden gray that threatened rain.
"Where are we?" Melissa asked, lowering her voice to a fearful whisper.
She pressed herself tighter against Izuku's back, using his body as a visual barrier.
"And more importantly... Izuku, please tell me you see clothes somewhere. I'm freezing."
"I'm sorry," he said, keeping his eyes strictly forward. "I only see... an old city. And him."
Kenta walked a few steps ahead. His feet, clad in worn leather boots, made no noise as they stepped in the puddles. He stopped and turned, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers made of dark smoke.
"There are no clothes, girl," Kenta said with a smile that was half apology, half amusement. "This is a memory. You can't interact with physical objects, only with the ground you walk on. The gravel you feel is the memory of discomfort, not a real stone."
Melissa poked her head over Izuku's shoulder, squinting.
"A memory? Whose memory? Yours?"
"Ours," Kenta corrected.
He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, encompassing the dirty street.
"Welcome to the Era of Chaos. Or as the history books call it nowadays: The Dawn of Quirks."
Izuku took a step forward, forgetting his nakedness for a second in the face of the magnitude of the information.
"Are we in the past? Literally?"
"No. There is no time travel, Izuku. That is science fiction," Kenta said, walking backward while motioning for them to follow.
He pointed at Melissa.
"This is pure synchronization. Your blood and hers contain fragments of me. When your Quirks collided a moment ago, they created a projector. You are seeing my life because your bodies are looking for answers."
"Answers," Melissa repeated, walking carefully behind Izuku to avoid the illusory puddles. "Great. And do the answers include pants?"
Kenta let out a dry laugh.
"You have character, kid. I like that. All Might chose well."
The scenery changed suddenly. In the blink of an eye, the street vanished and they found themselves inside a large, dimly lit building.
It was a gym, but not a modern one. The weights were metal blocks welded together poorly and the punching bags were canvas sacks patched with duct tape. The place was full of people.
But they weren't normal people.
"My God," Melissa whispered.
She forgot to cover herself for a second upon seeing a man with four arms trying to lift a barbell while crying in pain.
There was a woman whose skin looked like tree bark sitting on a bench, trying to bend her stiff knees. A young boy vomited fire in a corner while coughing up black smoke.
"They were the first ones," Izuku said, suddenly understanding the situation. "The people whose bodies weren't adapted to their Quirks."
"Exactly," said the voice of Kenta's ghost beside them.
Although the ghost was next to them, there was another Kenta in the center of the room.
This Kenta was solid. He was alive. He was sweating. He had black hair plastered to his forehead and wore an oil-stained tank top. He moved among the people with confidence.
"That's you," Izuku said, pointing at the living man.
"Many years ago," the ghost nodded. "Watch closely."
The Kenta from the past approached the man with four arms. The subject was screaming with muscles suffering spasms.
"I can't! It hurts! I feel like my shoulders are going to break!" the man shouted.
Young Kenta simply placed a hand on the center of the man's back, right between the upper shoulder blades.
There was an almost invisible flash.
"Breathe," ordered young Kenta. "Your bone structure is trying to support the weight as if you had two arms. You have four. Shift your center of gravity. Use your lower lats. Now."
It was an absolute order.
The four-armed man stopped screaming. His eyes snapped open. His posture corrected itself as if an invisible thread had pulled him. The spasms ceased. With a grunt of effort, but without pain, he lifted the bar over his head.
"I did it!" the man exclaimed, dropping the weight with a crash. "Kenta, it doesn't hurt anymore!"
"Of course it doesn't hurt. You were using the wrong muscle," said young Kenta.
He wiped his hands on a rag and walked toward the tree woman.
"Next."
Melissa watched the scene with her mouth open. Her scientific mind was processing what she saw at breakneck speed.
"You aren't giving them strength," she murmured, taking a step toward the memory without realizing it. "It's not an energy enhancer. You are... editing them."
Kenta's ghost smiled.
"Good eye, Shield. Yes. My Quirk was called 'Stockpile'."
"Stockpile?" Izuku asked, turning to his great-grandfather. "Like a warehouse?"
"Something like that. I could touch someone and... read them," Kenta explained, moving his ghostly fingers in the air.
"I could see their biology, their flaws, their excesses. I could take that excess and store it in me. If someone had too much energy and was burning out, I took it. If someone had a weak muscle structure, I used the energy I had stored from someone else to reinforce them."
He pointed to himself, to the young Kenta who was now helping the tree woman flex a knee that looked like solid wood.
"I accumulated and distributed. It was a biological power bank. But for it to work, I had to understand the other person's body better than they did. I had to teach them to use what they had."
"Training," Izuku said, connecting the dots. "That's what I do. When I touch someone... I feel what they need."
"You feel the potential," Kenta corrected. "I felt the raw material. But the principle is the same. Optimization through direct contact."
"It was incredible," Melissa said, looking around the illusory gym.
She saw dozens of people practicing, moving with a grace they shouldn't have.
"You were helping them adapt. In a time when doctors didn't know what to do with them, you were their solution."
"I was their mechanic," Kenta said with a grimace. "And business was good. Until the competition arrived."
The atmosphere in the gym changed. The light coming through the high windows turned gray. The sound of weights and laughter died out, replaced by the patter of rain against the tin roof.
The main door of the gym burst open. The wind blew dry leaves and water into the enclosure.
A silhouette stood in the doorway. The posture, the arrogance in the way he stood, the impeccable suit amidst the dirt...
"The Thief," Kenta said without humor.
The All For One of the memory was young. He had a face. And it was a beautiful and terrible face. He smiled as if he owned the building, the street, and the entire world.
He walked in slowly. Behind him entered two huge men, bodyguards with empty stares.
Young Kenta stopped in the middle of the gym. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and stood before the intruder.
"I don't remember inviting you," said young Kenta.
His voice didn't tremble, but Izuku could see how he tensed his leg muscles, preparing to run or fight.
"I've heard a lot about you, Kenta Midoriya," said All For One.
His voice was soft and cultured, a horrible contrast to the latent violence in the air.
"They say you are the man who fixes what is broken. They say you have a unique gift."
"I help people not die because of their own bodies. If you're looking for steroids, you've come to the wrong place," young Kenta replied.
All For One laughed. It was a brief, dry sound.
"I'm not looking for steroids. I'm looking for... capacity."
All For One took another step. The gym students backed away, terrified by the newcomer's aura.
"I have many gifts, Kenta," the villain continued, looking at his gloved hands. "Hundreds. Maybe thousands soon. But my body... has limits. It is a finite container. I'm starting to feel the strain. The voices of the gifts fighting inside me. I need space. I need... a stockpile."
He looked at Kenta with hunger.
"You are the temporary solution, at least until I find a permanent one. I need your Quirk."
Young Kenta launched himself into the attack. He was fast, much faster than Izuku expected. He moved with brutal efficiency, seeking to touch All For One, perhaps to try to use his own Quirk against him.
But it was useless.
All For One didn't even raise his hands. Black and red tendrils sprouted from his back, fast as whips, and sliced through the air.
Kenta was hit in mid-jump. He was thrown backward and smashed against a concrete column with a crack that made Melissa cover her mouth.
He fell to the floor, coughing up blood. He tried to get up, but All For One was already on top of him. The villain placed a boot on his chest to pin him down and crouched.
"Brave," said All For One, pulling off a glove with his teeth. "Stupid, but brave."
He placed his bare hand on Kenta's face.
Red light began to glow under All For One's palm.
"No!" Melissa screamed, looking away.
"Look," Kenta's ghost ordered harshly. "You have to see this. You have to understand what happened."
Izuku forced himself to look. He watched as his great-grandfather's body arched in a spasm of silent agony. He watched as the veins in his neck turned dark.
"He tried to take it all," the ghost narrated, walking around the torture. "He tried to rip my Quirk out by the roots. But he made a mistake. He was greedy. He only cared about the power. The energy. The capacity to store strength."
The ghost leaned over his past self and shouted in his ear, though no one in the memory could hear him.
"Don't give it to him! Split it! Give him the shell and keep the seed!"
On the floor, young Kenta opened his bloodshot eyes. There was a spark of defiance in them.
There was a blinding flash. All For One staggered back as if he had been shocked. He looked at his hand, laughing with triumph.
"Fascinating," murmured the villain, feeling the new power. "Infinite space. Accumulable strength. It's perfect."
He looked at Kenta's motionless body on the floor.
"Thanks for your donation," he said with disdain.
He turned and walked out into the rain, leaving young Kenta for dead among the rubble.
The scenery dissolved again.
Now they were in an alley. It was pouring rain and black water ran along the ground. Kenta was lying against some trash cans, pale as a corpse and shaking violently.
"I tricked him," said Kenta's ghost, smiling with grim satisfaction. "He took the engine. The 'Accumulation'. The capacity to store raw energy. He left thinking he had the complete package."
He looked at Melissa.
"He gave that engine to his little brother because he thought it was useless without energy to store. He discarded my Gift as trash. But the brother had his own gift, the one to transfer power. The two merged. Thus was born One For All. An engine that passes from hand to hand and accumulates strength with every step."
Melissa looked at her hands.
"So... my power... is the engine of your Quirk?"
"Exactly. You have the infinite battery. The raw strength that destroys buildings."
Kenta pointed at Izuku.
"But I kept the steering wheel. The control system. The cognitive part of the Quirk that allowed me to analyze, understand, and optimize."
In the memory alley, a figure appeared running in the rain. She wore a mud-stained nurse uniform and had soaked green hair stuck to her face.
The woman threw herself to the ground next to Kenta's dying body, checked his pulse, and slapped his face.
"Don't die! Damn it, don't die on my shift!" she shouted.
"I was dying," the ghost explained. "Splitting my own Quirk destroyed my DNA. My body was collapsing. I needed someone who could stabilize my nervous system from the outside."
Akira did something strange. She took off her gloves and put her bare hands on Kenta's chest, skin to skin. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.
Suddenly, she screamed in pain. Her body jerked as if she were the one dying.
"What is she doing?" Melissa asked, alarmed. "Is he hurting her?"
"The opposite," Izuku said, stepping closer to the memory.
He could see a faint glow, green, passing from Kenta to the woman.
"She... she is taking his pain."
"Her Quirk was 'Sensory Contagion'," Kenta said softly. "She could transfer sensations. Pain, pleasure, fatigue, cold. She took the shock of my death and distributed it throughout her own body to keep me alive. She became my external life support."
The ghost looked at Izuku with a raised eyebrow.
"That's where you come in, kid. That night, while she saved my life and I used what was left of my gift to cling to her... our Quirks mixed. The fragment of 'Control' I had left fused with her 'Sensory Contagion'."
Kenta walked over to Izuku and tapped him on the forehead.
"Your Quirk, 'Train', is the child of that union. You have my ability to see potential and optimize it... but you can only transmit it through your great-grandmother's channel. Through touch. Through sensation. Through physical connection. Did you think the need for trust was a coincidence?"
Izuku stood paralyzed. His analytical mind was rewriting everything he knew about himself.
"That's why it works better with strong emotions," Izuku murmured. "That's why it worked with Yu when she was scared. That's why it worked with Nemuri when she was stressed. I'm using Grandma Akira's sensory channel to inject them with Grandpa Kenta's optimization code."
"Exactly," Kenta said. "You aren't just a trainer. You are capable of rewriting gifts through sensation."
Melissa let out a nervous giggle.
"That explains a lot. And it explains why your teaching method is so... tactile."
"And it explains why you two are here," Kenta said, getting serious.
He stood between Izuku and Melissa, looking at one and then the other.
"You," he pointed at Melissa, "have the accumulated energy of eight generations. A power capable of changing the weather, but it breaks your bones because you don't have the instruction manual."
"And you," he pointed at Izuku, "have the original control system designed to handle that specific energy."
Kenta brought their hands together. Even though he was a ghost, Izuku felt an electric shock when touching Melissa's skin. It wasn't static. It was like two powerful magnets meeting.
"You are made for each other," Kenta stated. "It's not romantic destiny, it's Quirk compatibility. Izuku, your Quirk is desperate to connect with One For All because it is its lost other half. Melissa, your power reacts to him because it recognizes its original owner."
Melissa looked at Izuku. She was naked, dirty from the dust of the memory, and scared. But in that moment, she only saw the crushing logic of what Kenta was saying.
"I'm the battery," she whispered. "And you're the cable."
"That's a terrible analogy," Izuku said, though he didn't let go of her hand.
He interlaced his fingers with hers.
"I prefer to think you are the force and I am the direction."
"Whatever," Kenta interrupted.
His image started to flicker like an old TV.
"Time is running out. This memory can't hold much longer. You have to go back."
The alley scenery began to crumble. The bricks turned to smoke and the rain stopped in mid-air.
"Wait," Kenta said hurriedly. "One more thing. All For One is still alive. And if he finds out you've found each other again... he will come for both of you. Izuku, you have to train her. You have to complete her. If she learns to use One For All with your help... she will be unstoppable. Make her stronger and you will make yourself stronger. Whoever you train will become your strength, don't forget that."
The darkness of the void began to return, swallowing the old city.
"Great-Grandpa!" Izuku shouted as he felt gravity pulling him upward, toward reality. "How do we control this? How do we avoid coming back here every time we touch?"
Kenta was almost transparent now. Only his smile remained floating in the darkness.
"Ah, that's easy," Kenta's voice said, echoing in their heads. "You just have to..."
The voice cut off.
"You just have to what?" Melissa screamed. "Don't leave us like this!"
"...learn to enjoy it!" finished Kenta's voice, followed by a laugh that sounded suspiciously like that of a dirty old man. "And for God's sake, Izuku, take the girl out to dinner before undressing her again. Have some class!"
"THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR JOKES!" Izuku and Melissa shouted in unison.
But the void swallowed them. The sensation of falling upward was nauseating. The darkness turned white, then gray, then took on colors and shapes.
Suddenly, the weight of reality crushed them. The hum of the air conditioner returned.
Izuku opened his eyes. He was on his knees on the floor of Classroom 1-A. Melissa was in front of him, also on her knees.
Their hands remained interlaced, squeezed tight, as if they were the only thing keeping them anchored to the world.
******
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