Izuku strolled away from the underpass, hands in his pockets, the weight of All Might's gaze on his back. He didn't turn around—showing too much interest would ruin his exit. Rule number one from the Hano playbook: "Always leave them wanting more."
A train rumbled past on the elevated tracks overhead. Izuku paused at a vending machine, buying a cold coffee before continuing his journey home. The cityscape of Musutafu sprawled around him, bathed in the orange glow of sunset. His mind wandered back to the sludge villain.
Hmm. First official villain takedown. Not bad for a warmup.
His phone vibrated in his pocket again. This time, the caller ID read "MA."
Izuku answered immediately. "Hey, Mom. Yeah, I'll be home soon. No, I didn't get into any trouble. Just ran into a situation. Tell you when I get home."
He disconnected the call with a sigh.
If she finds out I fought a villain without backup, she'll murder me. Then resurrect me just to kill me again.
Fifteen minutes later, Izuku stood outside his apartment door. He took a deep breath, smoothing down his uniform and checking his reflection in his phone. No visible injuries. Good.
The front door slid open. Instantly, the chaotic sounds of the city vanished, replaced by the rich aroma of dashi, soy sauce, and frying pork. The scent wrapped around him like a warm blanket.
Home sweet home. The only place in this world where I can actually relax.
Inko Midoriya stood in the kitchen, her back to him. A chic apron hugged her slim waist, her forest-green hair tied in a loose bun. The rhythmic tap of her knife against the cutting board filled the apartment as she diced green onions. From behind, she looked more like his impossibly beautiful older sister than his mother.
Izuku kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag by the entrance. "I'm home. Smells like victory."
"You're late, baby," Inko called without turning around, her voice musical and sweet. "Dinner's almost ready. Oh, and by the way, your sensei called."
Izuku froze mid-stride.
Inko finally turned, a beatific smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Such a thoughtful man, Hano-sensei. He was so concerned about your... 'sedentary lifestyle.' He said he wants to meet you for a sunrise chat. At Takoba Municipal Beach. 4:30 AM."
He called my MOTHER. The old man used the nuclear option!
"Mom, you know he's crazy, right?" Izuku tried, summoning his most charming smile. "The man throws rocks at me and calls it training. Last time we had a 'sunrise chat,' I ended up running laps in the forest. With bears."
"Mmm," Inko hummed, turning back to her cooking. "Such dedication to your growth. You're lucky to have a sensei who cares so much."
My own mother.
Izuku slumped onto the couch, accepting his fate. "I think I liked it better when you used to cry all the time."
"What was that, dear?"
"Nothing. Love you, Mom."
"I know. Now go wash up for dinner."
Twenty minutes later, they sat at the dining table. Inko placed a bowl of steaming katsudon before him—the pork crispy on the outside, tender within; the egg fluffy; the sauce glistening over perfectly cooked rice. Izuku's stomach growled in anticipation.
Mom's katsudon. The one thing in this world worth dying for.
They ate in comfortable silence for a moment. Izuku savored each bite, momentarily forgetting the 4:30 AM death sentence awaiting him.
"So," Inko began casually, "what made my darling son so late today? You didn't get held up trying to talk to that cute waitress again, did you? She's nice, but her chin is a bit weak. Not good for strong grandchildren."
Izuku nearly choked on his food. "Mom, please. I'm fifteen. Can we not talk about my future children while I'm eating?"
"I'm just saying. A mother worries." She tilted her head, eyes bright with curiosity. "So? What happened?"
Time for some creative truth-telling.
"Ah, that." Izuku waved his chopsticks dismissively. "There was a minor villain incident in the underpass near the station. Caused a bit of a traffic jam. It was nothing, though. All Might showed up almost immediately and handled it like the pro he is. I was just an innocent bystander caught in the splash zone." He took a large bite of katsudon, the picture of nonchalance.
Inko stopped eating. She put down her chopsticks. Her smile remained, but the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. She leaned forward slightly, her green eyes pinning him to his seat.
"Is that so? And this 'splash zone'... it didn't splash on you, did it? Because you know how I feel about you getting your uniform dirty."
Translation: Don't you dare lie to me, and don't you dare get yourself killed.
Izuku raised his hands in surrender, a charming, apologetic smile on his face. This was a battle he couldn't win.
"Crystal clear, Ma. Not a scratch. All Might is just as impressive up close as they say. Totally had it under control."
"Oh?" Her eyes lit up at the mention of All Might. "You actually saw him? The real All Might?"
Success. Redirect achieved.
"Yep. Bigger in person. Laughs a lot. Very... muscular." Izuku took another bite. "He seems nice, I guess."
"Well, I think it's wonderful," Inko said, her interrogation mode fading. "A true hero, always there when people need him. Unlike some who seem to think heroism is about looking cool and breaking things." She gave him a pointed look.
"No idea who you could be referring to," Izuku muttered into his bowl.
Inko sighed, her expression softening. "Just promise me you'll be careful, Izuku. The entrance exam is in ten months. I want you to make it there in one piece."
"I promise, Mom. No unnecessary risks." Just the necessary ones.
After dinner, Izuku helped clear the table, then retreated to the sanctuary of his room. Unlike the All Might shrine it might have been in another life, his room was clean, spartan, and functional. A simple bed, a desk with a high-end laptop, and a single, heavy punching bag in the corner. The walls were bare, save for a corkboard covered in complex diagrams of human anatomy and martial arts stances.
He locked the door and pulled a book from his desk drawer. Not a flimsy, school-issue notebook but a thick, black leather-bound journal. He opened it. The title page, in crisp, analytical handwriting, read: "Combat & Quirk Analysis - Subject: Midoriya, Izuku. Vol. 14."
Izuku flipped to a fresh page and began to write, his pen scratching across the paper as he muttered to himself.
"Sludge Villain encounter. Threat level: D-minus. Annoyance level: C-plus. Initial assessment confirmed: fluid body vulnerable to shockwave-based strikes. Hano-Style 'Ripple Punch' was highly effective, parted mass instantly. Point Strike to central nerve cluster resulted in immediate incapacitation. Note for future encounters: acquisition of villain's personal effects post-subdual may be legally gray. Must research hero bylaws on spoils of war..."
He paused, tapping his pen against his chin.
"All Might arrival: unexpected variable. First in-person observation. Larger than TV footage suggests. No visible weak points or limitations observed. Attitude: excessively cheerful, borderline cartoonish. Potential psychological tactic to put civilians at ease? Or genuine personality? Further observation required."
He flipped to the back of the journal, to a page that served as his personal stat tracker.
Time Remaining Until U.A. Entrance Exam: 10 Months.
Sparring Record vs. T. Hano: 0 Wins, 540 Losses, 0 Draws.
Official Villain Combat Record: 1 Win, 0 Losses.
His phone vibrated with a text from Tatsuo:
"Bring a change of clothes. You'll need it after I'm done with you."
Izuku groaned, flopping back on his bed. He grabbed his phone and set an alarm for 3:45 AM.
"Izuku-chan?" His mother's voice came through the door. "I made you a lunch for tomorrow. I'm leaving it in the fridge."
"Thanks, Mom."
"And Izuku?"
"Yeah?"
"I put some bandages and antiseptic in your bag. Just in case Hano-sensei gets... enthusiastic."
Izuku laughed despite himself. "You're the best, Mom."
"I know. Goodnight, dear."
"Night, Mom."
As her footsteps faded down the hall, Izuku returned to his journal, flipping to a new section. At the top of the page, he wrote: "U.A. Hero Course - Entrance Strategy."
Geezer wants me to suffer? Fine. I'll suffer. But in ten months, the world's going to learn what happens when you push a "Quirkless nobody" past his limits.
He worked for another hour, meticulously documenting every aspect of his training regimen, every potential opponent, every strategy he might need.
When exhaustion finally claimed him, Izuku's last conscious thought was of the sludge villain, of All Might's stunned expression, and of his own hands—powerful, calloused, and undeniably human—that had accomplished what most thought impossible.
One win, zero losses.
It wasn't much of a record yet. But it was a start.