[A/N: Any fanfic ideas? Anime based!]
Seeing that the Nomu had fully regained its footing, muscle knitting back into place as if nothing had happened, Izuku's smirk widened.
In the next instant—
He vanished.
The grass beneath his feet detonated as he dashed forward, the space between him and the Nomu collapsing to nothing. To an outside observer, it looked as though he simply appeared directly in front of it.
The Nomu barely had time to react.
"Serious Punch!!" Izuku shouted.
His right arm drew back for a fraction of a second—muscles coiling, power compressing impossibly tight—then his fist surged forward with terrifying speed.
B O O O O M
The punch connected squarely with the Nomu's chest.
There was no resistance.
No absorption.
The force didn't just hit—it overwhelmed.
In less than a second, the Nomu's body collapsed inward, its regeneration utterly erased as flesh, muscle, and bone were obliterated. It didn't explode—it was erased, reduced to dust, vaporized blood, and drifting fragments that scattered on the wind.
The ground didn't fare much better.
A devastating path of destruction tore through the field behind the impact point, earth splitting open like paper as the shockwave surged outward.
WOOOOOSH—!
The blast wave raced across the grasslands, flattening everything in its path—soil ripping up, debris flung skyward—until, far in the distance, it finally dissipated.
Then—
Silence.
The field stood ruined. The air vibrated faintly, dust settling slowly as if the world itself needed a moment to process what had just happened.
At the center of it all, Izuku stood alone.
He let out a slow breath—and smiled.
Glancing down, he noticed his right sleeve was gone, the fabric scorched and torn away, exposing skin marked with faint heat lines but otherwise unharmed.
"That felt great," he muttered to himself, flexing his fingers. "Can't wait to try out my other techniques."
His power had layers—tiers.
That punch? Tier One.
They climbed all the way to Tier Five… though anything above Tier Three came with unacceptable levels of destruction. He wasn't reckless enough to use those casually.
Not yet.
Turning back toward the USJ, Izuku began walking calmly, hands in his pockets, as if he hadn't just erased a bio-engineered monster from existence.
That was when—
CRASH!
The roof of the facility exploded inward.
A massive figure descended through the debris, landing with earth-shaking force as rubble scattered in every direction.
"I AM HERE!"
All Might stood tall, chest out, cape billowing—symbolic, powerful, unwavering.
He scanned the battlefield.
And paused.
Villains lay unconscious everywhere. The flood zone was wrecked. The Nomu was gone. Entire sections of the facility bore signs of overwhelming force.
Only two figures remained standing.
Shigaraki and Kurogiri.
Kurogiri had one arm wrapped around Shigaraki's shoulders, supporting him as the villain struggled to stay upright, his body still reeling from Izuku's backhand slap. Shigaraki's expression was twisted—not with fear, but with seething frustration.
He looked at All Might and let out a dry, broken chuckle.
"The Symbol of Peace…" Shigaraki rasped. "How nice of you to finally arrive."
Kurogiri adjusted his grip, his fog-like form swirling more aggressively.
"But unfortunately," Shigaraki continued, eyes flicking briefly toward Izuku before returning to All Might, "it's time for our early departure."
A dark portal began to bloom behind them.
"I brought a present for you," Shigaraki said mockingly, "but… unforeseen circumstances happened."
His grin widened.
"But next time," he promised, "I'll make sure you receive it—firsthand."
With a final swirl of black mist, the two vanished into the portal, leaving behind silence… and destruction.
All Might clenched his fists.
Izuku stood there quietly, eyes fixed on All Might as the dust settled around him. The massive hero remained in his transformed state, chest rising steadily, posture firm. No visible tremor, strain or any sign of exhaustion creeping in at the edges.
That alone made Izuku frown slightly.
'It doesn't seem to drain him much…' he thought. 'Does that mean he hasn't given his Quirk away yet?'
The question lingered, unanswered, as emergency personnel and teachers began securing the area.
Not long after, Shota Aizawa gathered the class together, his voice hoarse but firm.
"Alright. That's enough for today. We're leaving."
No one argued.
The class quietly filed back onto the bus, movements slower than before, adrenaline finally bleeding out of their systems. The ride back to U.A. was nothing like the ride there. No laughter. Just the low hum of the engine, the occasional cough, the soft shuffle of feet adjusting against the floor.
Everyone was lost in their own thoughts.
Izuku leaned against the cool window, forehead resting lightly against the glass as his eyes slipped shut.
'What am I even gonna do after this?' he wondered. 'It kinda went faster than I thought.'
He exhaled softly through his nose, the weight of the day pressing down on him in ways raw exhaustion couldn't explain.
A light nudge broke through his thoughts.
He blinked and turned his head, realizing Ochaco was sitting beside him—closer than he remembered her being.
"What's up?" he asked quietly, his voice gentle despite the fatigue.
She hesitated, fingers fidgeting together for a second before she looked up at him with a small, nervous smile.
"Um… are you free after this?"
"I think so," Izuku replied, returning her smile without even thinking about it.
Her shoulders relaxed just a little.
"Cool. Wanna walk home with me? Maybe grab some food on the way?"
There was a hopeful lilt in her voice, like she was bracing herself but refusing to back down.
"Sure," Izuku said easily. "I'd love that."
Ochaco's face lit up, brighter than the late-afternoon sunlight filtering through the bus windows. She nodded quickly, then turned forward, but the way her shoulders bounced gave away her excitement.
'I can't wait,' she thought, a small flutter blooming in her chest.
---
By the time the bus pulled up to U.A., it was almost completely silent.
Everyone moved slower than usual as they stepped off—shoulders heavy, expressions subdued. It wasn't just exhaustion weighing them down, but the sobering realization of how close they'd come to dying.
Izuku showered and changed, letting the hot water wash away sweat, grime, and the faint smell of ash still clinging to him. Even when his uniform was clean and his hair neatly combed, his thoughts refused to settle.
When he stepped back into the classroom, the atmosphere hit him immediately.
Heavy.
His classmates sat scattered across the room. Some stared blankly at their desks. Others clenched their knees or folded their arms tightly, as if holding themselves together. The silence was louder than any scream.
Izuku paused in the doorway, taking it all in.
'I guess now I've gotta give them words of inspiration or something,' he thought dryly.
'I really shouldn't have taken that position…'
And yet—
Almost instinctively, he walked to the front of the room. When he spoke, the words weren't rehearsed. They came out raw. Honest. Steady.
He spoke about fear—how real it was, and how none of them were weak for feeling it. He spoke about unity, about how they'd survived because they trusted each other. About how today hadn't proven they were powerless—but that they were becoming heroes.
His voice carried conviction, not volume. Belief, not bravado.
Even seasoned war generals might have struggled to say the right thing in that moment, but Izuku's sincerity grounded the room. Shoulders slowly straightened. Breathing steadied. Eyes lifted.
By the time he finished, the tension had loosened its grip.
Faint smiles appeared. Quiet nods followed. Determination rippled softly through Class 1-A.
Izuku exhaled, almost surprised at himself, and slumped back into his chair as the room gradually returned to life. Bags shuffled. Students whispered. The heavy fog of the day finally began to lift.
'Man… they really should've hired me in Attack on Titan,' he thought, lips twitching into a grin.
He shook his head at his own mental commentary just as Aizawa walked in.
The teacher looked like he'd crawled out of a grave—hair messier than usual, eyes sunken—but his presence alone commanded silence.
"You're getting tomorrow off," Aizawa announced flatly, hands in his pockets.
"Rest. You'll need it. We'll reconvene Friday for… bigger news."
The pause was deliberate.
The class erupted instantly.
"No school tomorrow?!"
"I can finally sleep!"
"Bigger news? What does that mean?"
The bell rang soon after, releasing them.
Chairs scraped. Bags zipped. Groups formed as Class 1-A poured out, already buzzing with plans and theories.
As Izuku gathered his things and moved toward the door, a hand caught his shoulder.
Aizawa.
"We need to talk," he said simply.
And just like that—
The day wasn't over yet.
TO BE CONTINUED