Izuku Midoriya has a problem.
It wasn't always like this. For most of his childhood, life had been a relentless storm of hardship and isolation.
Born quirkless in a world where superpowers defined your worth, Izuku had grown up feeling like a shadow in a sea of light. From the moment his doctor delivered the crushing diagnosis, no quirk, no hope of one emerging, he became an outlier, a target.
School was a battlefield. Whispers turned to taunts, taunts to shoves, and shoves to outright cruelty. Kids his age, empowered by their budding abilities, saw him as an easy mark, a reminder of what they could have been if fate had been unkind.
At the forefront of it all was Katsuki Bakugo, Kacchan, as Izuku had once called him with the naive affection of a childhood friend. What started as rough play evolved into something darker.
Bakugo's explosive quirk mirrored his temper, and he wielded both like weapons. "Deku," he'd sneer, the nickname twisting from "useless" into a brand. Explosions singed Izuku's clothes, blasts knocked him to the ground, and the laughter of their classmates echoed like thunder. It wasn't just physical; Bakugo's words burrowed deep:
"You're nothing. Why don't you just give up?" Suicide baiting became a casual game, suggestions to jump off roofs, to disappear. Izuku internalized it all, the pain festering like an open wound.
There were nights when the it all closed in on him, when he stood on the edge of despair, attempting to end the torment. Scars, both visible and hidden, marked those failures, reminders of how close he'd come to breaking.
His mother, had been his only saving grace, but even she couldn't shield him forever. One fateful evening, after a particularly brutal day, Izuku collapsed at home, his uniform torn, bruises blooming across his skin. Inko found him curled on the floor, sobbing silently. She pulled him into her arms, and as she tended to his wounds, she saw the truth: the faded scars on his wrists, the haunted look in his eyes.
Her heart shattered. "Izuku... my baby," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. That night, she made a vow. No more. They couldn't stay in Musutafu, where the shadows of his past loomed too large. Inko scraped together every yen she had, sold what they could, and arranged a move to Tokyo, a fresh start, far from the bullies and the memories.
Tokyo was a whirlwind of change. The bustling streets, the anonymity of the crowds, it was daunting at first, but it offered something precious: a clean slate. Izuku enrolled in a new school, one where quirklessness wasn't a spectacle. He kept his head down, studied heroes obsessively in notebooks filled with sketches and analyses, dreaming of a world where he could still make a difference.
Then, fate intervened in the form of a chance encounter. During a villain attack in a crowded plaza, Izuku, ever the reckless idealist, rushed in to help a trapped civilian. His body moved before his mind could catch up, drawing the attention of the Symbol of Peace himself: All Might.
The skeletal hero, in his true form, pulled Izuku aside afterward. "Young man, that was incredibly brave... but foolish. You could have been hurt."
What started as a scolding turned into a conversation, then mentorship. All Might saw something in Izuku, a pure heart, untainted by power. They grew close over the months, All Might becoming a father figure Izuku had never known. By the time Izuku was 13, All Might confided in him about One For All, the transferable quirk passed down through generations.
"It's not just power," All Might explained, his voice grave. "It's a responsibility. A symbol."
Izuku trained relentlessly under All Might's guidance, building his body and mind. The move to Tokyo had nurtured a more positive environment; Inko's unwavering support, All Might's encouragement, it all fostered a quieter confidence in Izuku. He wasn't the stuttering wreck of his early years anymore. By 15, just before applying to UA High School, All Might deemed him ready.
In a tearful ceremony on a secluded beach, Izuku ingested the strand of hair, inheriting One For All. The power surged through him, a stockpile of strength that he adapted to faster than expected in this version of his story.
Months of preparation paid off; he could channel 5-8% without shattering bones, his movements more fluid, his control sharper. UA accepted him, and now, in his second week, he was thriving, making friends like the cheerful Ochaco Uraraka and the steadfast Tenya Iida, pushing himself in classes under heroes like Aizawa and Present Mic.
They were heading to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, USJ, for rescue training. The bus ride was filled with chatter, classmates bonding over quirks and aspirations. Izuku sat quietly, notebook in hand, jotting observations about everyone's abilities. But that wasn't Izuku's problem.
His problem had started a week after inheriting One For All. At first, it was subtle, a faint pressure in his mind, like an echo in an empty room. Then came the dreams: dark, fragmented visions of a boy about his age, with skin a warm brown tone and hair styled in tight Bantu knots that framed a face etched with shadows. The boy never spoke in the dreams, just stared with eyes that held no light, no warmth.
A dark reflection, Izuku thought, like looking into a mirror warped by despair. He'd wake up sweating, heart pounding, but he'd brush it off. Just stress, he'd tell himself. The power's adjusting. But deep down, he knew it felt different, foreign, apathetic. He kept quiet about it, not wanting to worry All Might or his mom.
After all, admitting to hallucinations felt like inviting the old darkness back. He just hoped it was a bad dream, one that would fade with time.
But now, as the class stepped into the USJ, a massive dome simulating disaster zones, the dream became a nightmare in waking life.
Thirteen, the space hero, was midway through her orientation on rescue ethics when the lights flickered. A swirling purple mist erupted at the central plaza, and from it poured villains, dozens of them, ragged and menacing. At their head stood a lanky figure with pale blue hair, hands scratching at his neck obsessively, flanked by a hulking, bird-like monster with exposed brain and jagged teeth.
"Kurogiri," the leader rasped, "it's Thirteen and Eraser Head... according to the schedule we retrieved the other day, All Might should be here as well."
Aizawa, Eraser Head, leaped into action, his capture weapon unfurling. "Thirteen, protect the students! This is real, those are villains!"
The class panicked as the warp gate villain, Kurogiri, spread his mist, scattering students across the facility's zones: the shipwreck area, the landslide zone, the fire zone, the mountain zone, the downpour zone, the conflagration zone.
Izuku found himself teleported to the shipwreck zone, plunging into the water alongside Tsuyu Asui and Minoru Mineta. Villains swarmed the lake, their water-based quirks turning the waves into a deadly trap.
"Ribbit, we need to get to the ship," Tsuyu said calmly, her frog-like abilities propelling them upward. Mineta whimpered, flinging his sticky balls to create a makeshift ladder. Izuku activated One For All at 5%, his muscles humming with power, smashing through a few aquatic foes with controlled smashes.
They regrouped on the sinking ship, panting. "We have to warn the others, get back to the entrance!" Izuku urged, his mind racing with strategies.
Tsuyu nodded, her tongue extending to swing them across. But as they fought their way out, evading more villains, the real threat loomed at the plaza, Tomura Shigaraki, the hand-covered leader, directing his Nomu beast against Aizawa.
The scene unfolded just as fate had scripted in the annals of hero history. Aizawa erased quirks left and right, his goggles flashing, binding villains with his scarf. But Shigaraki closed in, his decay quirk grazing Aizawa's elbow, crumbling flesh. Nomu charged, its shock absorption and regeneration shrugging off blows.
Thirteen tried to intervene, but Kurogiri warped her black hole quirk back on herself, injuring her. Students like Todoroki froze the landslide zone villains, Kirishima and Bakugo blasted through the ruins, but the chaos mounted.
Izuku, Tsuyu carrying Mineta on her back, burst from the water zone just in time to see Shigaraki's hand clamp onto Tsuyu's face, only for Aizawa to erase the decay in a final act of heroism before Nomu shattered his arms.
"Ribbit... that was close," Tsuyu mumbled. Shigaraki laughed, a scratchy, manic cackle.
"Nomu, kill the frog girl and the grape kid. And then the green one."
Nomu lumbered forward, its massive fist swinging. Izuku leaped in, One For All surging to 8%, his Detroit Smash clashing against the beast's arm.
The impact rippled through the air, but Nomu barely flinched. Shigaraki's laughter echoed.
And then, inside Izuku's head, another laugh joined it, dark, low, and utterly devoid of joy. Let me through, the voice whispered, smooth and apathetic, like wind through an empty hall. This is pathetic.
Izuku's eyes widened. Not now... He ignored it, dodging Nomu's follow-up punch, grabbing Tsuyu and Mineta to pull them back.
"We have to hold until help arrives!" he shouted, his voice steady from years of All Might's training. But Nomu was relentless, its fist connecting with Izuku's side in a glancing blow that sent him skidding.
Let me through, the voice insisted, laughter fading into a bored sigh. Or you'll die here, hero.
Izuku gritted his teeth, channeling more power, but Nomu was faster this time. Its massive hand slammed into Izuku's head, the world exploding in stars and pain. Darkness swallowed him whole as he flew backward, crashing into the rubble.
In the void, the pain receded, replaced by an eerie calm. Izuku floated, disoriented, until a figure materialized, the boy from his dreams. Shrouded in swirling shadows, his Bantu knots framing a face that was handsome yet hollow, eyes like bottomless pits.
He smiled wickedly, a curve of lips without warmth, and waved a hand lazily, as if dismissing the universe.
"W-Who are you?" Izuku stammered, his voice echoing in the dark. He was shocked, he could speak here, interact. This wasn't a dream; it was something real, tangible.
The boy ignored the question, tilting his head. "You're going to die soon if you don't get back up."
Izuku's heart raced. "What? Die? No, I... I can't. What do you mean?"
The boy shrugged apathetically, his voice flat. "That beast hit you square in the head. Knocked you so far back you landed on a spike. Went right through your chest. You're bleeding out right now."
Izuku looked down instinctively, horror twisting his features. Though he couldn't see it here, the image flashed in his mind, jagged metal piercing flesh. Nausea surged.
"No... no, that can't be. I don't want to die! I have to help my friends... All Might, my mom... they're counting on me!" His breaths came in hyperventilated gasps, panic clawing at him. In this positive upbringing, death felt even more alien, a betrayal of the hope he'd built.
The boy laughed again, a cold, mocking sound that echoed like distant thunder. "No choice in the matter, kid. You can't get up. You're done. Pathetic, really."
Izuku's vision blurred with tears, his body trembling in the void. The boy's hand reached out, fingers brushing softly against Izuku's neck, gentle, almost tender, but laced with an unspoken threat.
"Let me through," he murmured, his grip tightening just enough to remind Izuku of vulnerability. "Let me take the reins."
Everything in Izuku screamed no, his instincts, honed by All Might's teachings, by his mother's love, by the positive world he'd fought to build. This was wrong, dangerous.
But the panic, the fear of leaving everything unfinished... For some reason, against all reason, he nodded. "Y-Yes," he whispered, voice breaking.
The boy smiled wider, shadows coiling. "Smart choice."
"What's... your name?" Izuku asked, one last grasp at understanding.
"Yoshi Abara."
___
Izuku Midoriya lay crumpled against the jagged rubble of the USJ plaza, a twisted spike of rebar protruding from his chest like a cruel afterthought. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and spreading, his breaths shallow and ragged.
The Nomu's blow had been merciless, sending him hurtling through the air before gravity and debris claimed him. His classmates, scattered and battered, froze in horror.
Eijiro Kirishima stared, his hardened skin cracking slightly under the strain of his quirk as his mind reeled. Izuku... no. The red-haired boy's thoughts spiraled inward, a whirlwind of doubt and memory. He'd always wanted to be a hero, not for glory, but for that unbreakable confidence he lacked in his younger days. Back then, he'd been the kid who froze up, who let fear win. But heroes like Crimson Riot had shown up for him, inspired him to man up, to be the shield others needed. That's why he pushed himself at UA, why he grinned through the pain, to pay it forward, to stand tall for people like Izuku, who radiated that quiet determination despite everything.
Now, staring at his friend's body, bloodied, impaled, eyes glazing over, Kirishima felt it all crumbling. This isn't heroic. This is just... death. The hulking Nomu turned toward them, its exposed brain pulsing, beak-like maw dripping with saliva.
Kirishima's breath came in heavy, panicked gasps, his heart hammering against his ribs. Fear clawed at him, raw and unfiltered. I don't want to be here. I can't... I can't do this. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his quirk flickering as terror threatened to overwhelm his resolve.
Katsuki Bakugo stood nearby, fists clenched, his usual explosive rage bottled up in a rare, seething silence. His eyes, wide with shock, locked on Izuku's form, a flicker of something unnameable crossing his face. Anger boiled beneath, but for once, it didn't erupt. He just... stared, the weight of their shared past hanging like smoke in the air.
Kirishima's face twisted in shock as the Nomu suddenly lurched backward, not from any attack they launched, but from an impossible force. A massive kick connected with the beast's midsection, the impact echoing like thunder, flinging the monstrous creation skyward in a blur of limbs and shadows. Kirishima's jaw dropped.
The one who delivered it... was Midoriya.
Izuku, somehow, impossibly, had risen. Blood still stained his uniform, but the spike was gone, the wound sealed as if it had never been. He stood tall, his posture unnaturally steady, but when Kirishima met his gaze, a chill raced down his spine. Those eyes, usually bright with enthusiasm, wide with wonder, were darker now, shadowed like storm clouds over a forgotten sea. A cold, apathetic stare that didn't belong on the bubbly, note-scribbling kid he'd come to know.
Kirishima felt spooked, a primal unease settling in his gut. And then, in a blink, Midoriya vanished, gone, as if the air itself had swallowed him whole.
Finally out, Yoshi Abara thought, the world sharpening into focus through eyes that weren't his. He didn't know the how or why, only that one moment he'd been adrift in darkness, a nameless void of apathy, and the next, he'd awakened seeing through this boy's gaze. Izuku Midoriya.
A wimp. A coward.
Yoshi knew he was his own person, separate, distinct, but trapped, fused to this vessel like a parasite in a reluctant host. Freedom tugged at him, a distant itch, but memories? Blank.
Nothing but his name, echoing faintly. He hated it, this confinement. And practically? He couldn't let the boy die. If Midoriya went, so did he. Simple math. So now, here he was, puppeteering the body in a den of shit, facing down a beast that reeked of wrongness.
His hand... Midroiya's hand, pressed against the chest, feeling the phantom throb of the wound. Ripple Effect, he knew instinctively, the quirk unfurling in his mind like an old, forgotten manual.
It let him manipulate distances, compressing or expanding the space between points.
Child's play. He willed it, shortening the gap between torn flesh and wholeness, cells knitting as if the spike had never pierced him.
Seamless. Healed.
The Nomu hung in the air, mid-arc from the kick, its regeneration kicking in with grotesque squelches. Yoshi's lips curved into a wicked smile, cold, predatory, devoid of joy.
This'll do. Adrenaline surged, not the frantic rush of fear, but a cool rejuvenation, like stepping into sunlight after eternal night. He knew the quirk's rhythms intuitively, as if he'd wielded it for years, even though this was his debut in the flesh. With a thought, he closed the distance between himself and the airborne monster, space folding like paper, propelling him upward in an instant.
The air whipped past, shouts rising from below: surprise, confusion, scream of "Deku!" He ignored it all, the noise irrelevant.
Yoshi collided with the Nomu mid-air, his fist driving forward. But as he swung, he added distance, expanding the space just before impact, turning a close-quarters punch into a devastating, elongated strike that slammed into the beast's torso like a meteor.
The Nomu roared, shockwaves rippling outward, but Yoshi was already twisting away. Adding space, he mused internally, the thought clinical amid the thrill. Distance makes the hit land harder, spreads the force like a wave crashing from afar.
The beast countered, its massive arm swinging in a blur, but Yoshi compressed the gap again, dodging effortlessly, reappearing behind it.
Tomura Shigaraki, scratching furiously at his neck below, let out a guttural shout of anger. "What the hell? Nomu, crush him! He's cheating the script!"
Yoshi's gaze flicked down for a split second. Is this all it has?
He grabbed the Nomu's flailing leg mid-swing, fingers like iron, and hurled it downward with amplified force, adding explosive distance to the throw. The beast plummeted like a comet, crashing into the shipwreck zone's water with a colossal splash, waves erupting in foaming fury.
Without hesitation, Yoshi dove after it, plunging into the depths, but not truly. He expanded the space around himself, a bubble of distance keeping the water at bay, like an invisible shield parting the liquid. Dry as bone, he descended.
The Nomu, regenerating furiously, swam upward in a frenzy of bubbles and rage, its eyes glowing with mindless fury.
Yoshi met it head-on, his body a streak of controlled power. He smashed downward with both fists, compressing distance to amplify the blow, impact like a depth charge, blasting water outward in a massive geyser that drenched the entire arena.
Villains and students alike staggered from the spray, the USJ shaking. The Nomu recoiled, sinking deeper, but Yoshi wasn't done. He rocketed after it, then reversed, smashing upward now, noticing how the creature absorbed the shock, its body quivering but unbroken.
Absorption, huh? A burst of speed followed, Yoshi's hands sharpening into knife-edge strikes, channeling a martial precision he didn't question.
He sliced forward, adding razor-thin distance expansions to turn his chops into cleaving forces.
The Nomu lunged, but Yoshi was faster, his hand pierced through, splitting the beast's torso in two with a wet, final crack. Blood and viscera bloomed in the water, the halves sinking lifelessly. Dead. Instantly.
A loud bang echoed, the entrance doors slamming open.
All Might burst in, his muscular form filling the frame, cape billowing. "Fear not, citizens! I am here!" His voice boomed, eyes scanning the chaos.
Spotting the soaked, hovering figure, he rushed forward. "Young Midoriya!"
Yoshi caught a glimpse of the Symbol of Peace, golden hair, unbreakable smile, and felt a inexplicable tug of anger, a faint echo in the void of his mind. Him.
But before he could process it, another tug came, stronger, internal. Control slipping, like sand through fingers. Surprise flickered in his core.
What...? Then, forcibly, he was shut out, yanked back into the darkness.
Izuku's body went limp, fainting mid-air, plummeting toward the water below.