"I think you're using your Quirk wrong."

Izuku looked up from his sandwich and over his shoulder, to look where Miruku was standing with arms folded and eyes narrowed. She wasn't actually looking at him; her gaze was set on the middle distance, straight ahead. He'd learned from the last few days that this was simply how she acted when she was thinking; he noted the way her ears were turned forward, her chin down slightly.

"And you think there's a right way I could use it, as an alternative?" he asked.

She nodded.

"So… your legs start burning after a while," she noted. "I don't have that problem. Because my Quirk is a Mutation, so it's omni-present. My legs, back, hips, arms, all of them have the same detailing that makes me able to do the things I do. You don't have that, because you only channel into one leg or the other."

Izuku took another bite of his sandwich, nodding slowly. He'd thought about this before; Thunderstruck enabled him to use One For All's significant power in a more controlled manner, but he still couldn't rely on it for long-term use. He was still trying to figure out how he'd do that, when Miruko spoke again.

"But that's your issue, isn't it?" she said. "You've only got one leg or the other. I've got my whole body backing up my legs."

She ran her hands down her hips, and Izuku looked back at his sandwich in a hurry. She shifted her stance, steel-capped shoes scraping at the gravel on which they were standing. Izuku spent a lot of time these days trying not to stare at Miruko, and he was starting to get suspicious she'd noticed.

"So you can channel that Thunderstruck thing into your arms, your legs…" she said. "Why not just channel it all over, at once? Fill your whole body with it, like my Quirk affects all of me."

Izuku blinked, twice, then swallowed his mouthful of sandwich. He stared down at the street far below, thinking hard. He hadn't… well, he had sort of… no, he hadn't really tried that, had he? It seemed so obvious when she just said it out loud. He set his sandwich down and reached one arm out in front of him, willing Thunderstruck to trigger. His arm was engulfed in the green light, the after-image of D4C's stitched leather, now smoother, glossier. He could feel the strength, where it began… and also where it ended, at his shoulder.

He reached out with his other arm, and focused hard. After a moment, he felt the surge, the snapping into place as the power reached Thunderstruck's innate limit, and let out a breath. He used his arms to pop himself up off the ledge, landing back beside Miruko. He focused his breathing, felt it in his chest, felt the power in his arms and slowly he willed it all to become one.

Miruko was watching him, biting the inside of her cheek as he felt it connect. Another thrum of energy, another snap, and he opened his eyes to see D4C overlaying his chest, his shoulders and back. He could feel it, his heartbeat echoing in tiny pulses of green that washed over the breastplate of the ghostly armour. He willed it downward, toward his stomach, where it sheathed him more of itself, and then over each leg. It was a familiar feeling by now, the ghost of the usual ache sympathetically sounding off as if to remind him of the price he was paying.

But he felt it there, in his thighs, down his calves, in his ankles and then over his feet. He steadied his breathing, as it snapped and clicked and then… power, a wash of it over himself. He felt it all across his body, in his bones, warm in his blood and steady pounding in tune with his heart. He drew a leg back, felt his entire body move in perfect harmony, and then he willed the power up.

Up his neck with a warm tingling, like stepping into a hot bath, dancing along the spine with tiny sparks of energy. He closed his eyes again as the power washed over them, and then…

Conclusion. Relief. Release. Izuku opened his eyes, and he felt invigorated. He took a step, muscles and tendons in harmony. Miruko was grinning at him, and he nodded to her as he drew in another breath. Everything was moving, everything was turning and twisting… D4C was a power unlike any he'd felt before. Thunderstruck all over, and he felt like it, almost stunned by the rushing sense of strength, the clarity of his own ability.

"Ready to run?" Miruko asked him, and he smiled at her confidently. "Good. Keep up!"

Then she was gone, bounding away across the rooftops. Izuku took one more breath, and then took off after her.

He made it seven steps. The first three were perfect, each drumming the perfect tattoo beat along the roof. He leapt, and his whole body leapt at once, back arching, legs propelling him upward, arms outstretched for balance. He was airborne, higher than he'd ever been before…

And then he started to descend. The fourth step was contact with the rooftop opposite, about ten feet further in than he'd intended. The fifth and sixth were an attempt to catch his balance as his feet lost track of their own momentum, and his upper spilled forward. The seventh hit the ledge at the roof's edge, and he tumbled over into the adjacent alleyway with an undignified squawk.

Fortunately, he had the self control to trigger D4C, disappearing in a flash and reappearing on ground level, rolling to a stop after shooting out from behind a dumpster. He sat on the dirty pavement for a moment, staring up at the sky above.

"That was embarrassing," he said, to nobody in particular. "Ugh… at least nobody saw."

"Bar one, of course," Valentine said, appearing in a puddle beside Izuku. "Really, Izuku. Whatever made you think your first usage of this new power should be to run across rooftops? Caution, please. I understand drive, but it must be measured, lest you overflow and… spill into the alley."

A white-gloved hand covered the President's mouth as he snickered, and Izuku frowned at him. Then, he spread his legs and arms, letting Thunderstruck flow over him again. It was faster this time, but it still took a few moments of stillness before he was fully mantled in D4C's power. That would need to change, he figured; he couldn't drop the power halfway through a fight and then beg a recess to reapply it.

"I just need practice," he said. "This is the next step, I can feel it."

"Caution," Valentine repeated. "As always, young Izuku."

"I know." Izuku looked up at the alley mouth above, again, and then squatted down.

He jumped toward the wall opposite, then kicked off it, back toward the first. Two times, and he was back over the ledge and scanning for Miruko even as he continued his run. This time he was more cautious, checking his steps, making sure he didn't overshoot. He nearly took a spill after his next jump, but managed to maintain his balance and gait, running ever on.

He ran, and ran, until the sun was dipping low in the sky. This full-body Thunderstruck (he resolved to name it better, at some point) was a revelation. He'd known power ever since receiving One For All, and even greater power since D4C was bestowed upon him. But now they were together, and he was able to exploit them. The purple coat his mother had made out of Valentine's own pink ensemble fluttered in the air behind him as he leapt and dove through the air, bouncing between buildings. Now and then his glowing green shape drew the eyes of the people below, and infrequently he heard people cheer at his passing.

It felt incredible. Power, adoration… he felt, at last, like the way ahead was clear. If he could strengthen this, focus and refine it, he could truly come to match All-Might; even perhaps surpass him, one day. That day was a way's away. For now, he needed to focus on each step as it came. This was serious business, after all.

That didn't stop him from from whooping with glee as he leapt from the roof of an apartment block, feeling the wind beneath him, touching down across the street and taking off at a sprint.

He was still only fifteen, after all. He was entitled to some fun to go along with his work.

The fun lasted until the sun concluded it's afternoon journey downward, and the sky took on its warm purple hues as dusk arrived. Izuku came to a stop atop a familiar convenience store, the one supposedly serving as a drug front. He let Thunderstruck vanish, leaning forward with a satisfied smile on his face as he braced his hands on his knees and drew in long, deep breaths. It wasn't as draining on individual parts of his body as the partial Thunderstruck channeling he'd used before, but it still took its tool on his overall stamina.

Finally, he straightened up, walking toward the edge of the building to hop down and perhaps pick up another soda. He halted, however, when his phone began to buzz. He smiled when he saw Blackmore's number, and raised it to his ear.

"Blackmore!" he said, smiling. "How are you? Is that arm feeling better?"

"Sir," said Blackmore, sounding much more serious than Izuku had. "Hosu City is under attack. Creatures alike to those at the USJ, warped in by an unknown enemy. They're attacking at random. Tenya Iida has also disappeared. I cannot reach him on our communication channels."

Izuku froze, then cursed.

"I'm going to find Miruko," he said. "Send me a picture of the site, and…"

An idea came over him, and he grinned.

"Look for Iida," he said. "I'm going to fetch us some backup."

Blackmore hung up, a first for the typically servile boy. Izuku put his phone back in his pocket, zipping it up, and then pulled his coat around himself, disappearing in a swirl of emerald light. Destination? U.A. He had three men in the wings; it was time to see what they could do.

—-

"You are not a hero."

The world was beginning to darken around him, even though the sun had only just begun its final arcing descent past the horizon. It was a bruised and darkening sky above, purple and red and encroaching black. Native drew a rasping breath, his hands squeezing tight together at his breast where the jagged blade had so recently been torn from his flesh. He was weeping blood all over the ground, soaking the yellow-brown fabric of his jumpsuit. He was sat in a pool of his own vital essence, his whole body on fire with the pain of dozen lacerations and bruises.

Slowly he forced his head up, to look at the stooped figure of the man above him. He gazed upon the masked face of his killer, pale white eyes peering down at him, thin lips twisted in a disdainful sneer. In his left hand he carried a katana with a jagged edge, in his right a black-handled knife. Native could see his own blood dripping down the shirt of armoured plates the man wore, darkened steel glistening with spots of red.

"I…" Any other words he may have spoken escaped him in a wet, ragged cough, as the Hero-Killer leaned toward him.

"Don't." Stain spoke plainly, his voice a rasping snarl. "Don't… justify. Don't excuse. You know what you did. What you are."

Native coughed again, his chin damp with a pink slurry of spittle and blood. He felt cold.

"The girl deserved to live, whore or no," Stain said. "But you… you hesitated. Was it shame? Fear of being found out? Or was she beneath you?"

Native scowled up at him.

"It's nothing… to do with me…" he managed, and then he felt a blazing pain as Stain kicked him in the stomach with a steel-toe boot capped with spikes.

"It's everything!" Stain almost screamed the words. "It should always be everything! Hero, hero, save the weak, but you walked away! You did nothing! Fake!"

He kicked him again, and Native coughed up another wad of bloody mucous. It splashed onto Stain's boots, but the man didn't even seem to notice. He whirled about and began stalking back and forth, pacing with an animal aggression, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

"You all deserve to die," said Stain. "You and Endeavour, and Mountain Lady, and all the rest. Nothing but fakes, frauds, money-worshipping power-hungry sycophants. You've turned the name hero inside out!"

Native reached weakly for one of his axes, discarded at his side, but he couldn't even tighten his fingers around the handle before Stain turned and, dismissively, threw the knife in his hand. It slammed into Native's hand, impaling him through the back of his palm. As Native curled up, gasping in anguish, Stain snarled again.

"You aren't the end," he said. "But you… without you, the name Hero will have a little more meaning again."

Anything else he might have wanted to say in regards to his mad creed would wait. The ground shook, and both men gazed skyward. Billowing black smoke was building in the distance, as the sound of explosions and sirens filled the air.

"So… that brat wasn't lying," Stain said, before looking down at Native. "Had you been worthy of the name Hero, you would be able to go out there and fight."

Native could only stare in horror at the hazy sky above, until his reverie was again broken by the sound of engines roaring. He looked to the mouth of the alleyway, hopeful against hope that someone was coming. When a gleaming figure clad all in steely armour rounded the corner, he squinted and stared. Stain started, taking an involuntary step back for a moment as he brandished his blade.

"Impossible," he spat. "You… I already dealt with you!"

"Ingenium…" Native breathed.

Then the armoured man took a step forward, and spoke, and Native's heart dropped into his stomach when he realized what was happening.

"Step away from him," a stern voice demanded, but it sounded far too young to be Tensei Iida. "And face justice, Stain."

"You aren't Ingenium," Stain spat. "Who are you supposed to be, then?"

"My name is Tenya Iida!" The figure stepped forward, the engines in his calves sparking and roaring. "My brother is Tensei Iida! You… you crippled him, and for that…"

The white eyepieces of Iida's helmet glinted in the fiery light of the sky above, even as he lowered himself into a sprinter's stance. Stain's foot slid back as he raised his sword, holding it in both hands, a vicious grin on his face.

"You will die!"

Tenya Iida surged forward, and Native watched in horror as Stain effortlessly jumped over the young man's charge, twisting in the air to slash at the back of his helmet with his sword. Iida powered past, coming to a skidding halt and twisting, but Stain was already upon him from behind like a savage dog. The sword came down and Iida barely deflected it with a hastily raised arm, the sword sparking off his bracer. Stain was fast, frightfully so, and even as his sword slid off the armour he brought a hand down to his belt. Native tried to cry a warning, but before he could say anything Iida brought a foot up, trying to kick Stain in the shin.

Stain stepped back, then forward again, driving the knife he'd taken from around his waist into a gap between the plates of Iida's armour. There was a sickening sound as the blade pierced flesh, and Iida cried out before Stain ripped the blade free. He brought it to his mouth, Iida stumbling backward and clutching his wounded shoulder, and his slimy pink tongue lapped the blood free of the blade. Iida froze mid-stumbling stride, falling to his knees.

Stain reached down and tore the helmet from his head. The boy was young, red eyes full of hate behind his square-framed glasses. But Native had felt Stain's Quirk before; it froze the blood and paralyzed the body, leaving you helpless. He watched as Stain raised the younger Iida's chin with his hand, staring down into his face.

"Blind revenge is not a goal befitting a hero," he rasped. "You should not have come here."

"You crippled Tensei," the young Iida said. "I had to."

"Then you are another false hero." Stain shook his head, even as he stepped back and drew up his sword. "This wretched society corrupts even the youngest of your kind, it seems. But no more. I will free you from that burden."

"Stop…" Native gasped. "You… you can't…"

But Stain was beyond the reach of words. He raised his sword high, clutching it in both hands, and with a final snarl brought it down toward the young Iida's exposed head. Native closed his eyes, unable to watch any more.

There was a sound like rushing water, and a resounding clang. Native's eyes flew open, and he saw a slim figure in a strange dark-purple coat and a white mask painted with a rainbow just over the mouthpiece, standing over Iida with an umbrella held in both hands. He had halted Stain's blade, and Native watched as he pushed back against the Hero-Killer's strength, shoving the sword to the side and slamming the pointed end of the umbrella into the larger man's stomach, shoving him backward. Stain leapt away, and the man in the mask took up a ready position, holding the umbrella up like a sword in front of him.

"Another one?" Stain sounded frustrated, confused even. "And who are you? Another false hero? Another of society's diseased dogs?"

"I am Raymond Blackmore, servant to Izuku Midoriya," the man in the mask said, and Native's heart sank again when he heard how young he sounded. "Tenya Iida is one of Master Midoriya's constituents in Class 1-A. I will not allow you to harm him."

Stain snarled, leaning forward, sword in his hands again.

"Not even a hero!" he snapped. "But what, you'll fight me, for his sake?"

"I…" the boy in the mask hesitated a moment, before his posture stiffened, his grip on the umbrella's handle tightening. "I will. You will not kill Tenya Iida this night; this I vow."

"Then you'll have to die first," Stain said. "Fight for your life, dog."

And then the time for words was over, and the clash of weapons began again.