In the central office building of UA, designed in the shape of a large "H" as a tribute to the word "Hero," the soft scent of brewing tea filled the air. The principal's office, nestled at the heart of this unique structure, faced east, offering a serene view of the carefully tended gardens stretching to the front gate. As the first golden rays of dawn poured into the room, they enhanced the calming atmosphere, warming the scars on Nezu's face and casting a gentle glow over his chimeric features—a bittersweet reminder of his inhumanity and unnatural origins.

It was still early; classes were yet to start, and only a few students trickled through the gates. Nezu took a slow sip of his custom tea blend, savoring the stillness of his morning ritual before the demands of the day began. Thanks to his High Spec quirk, he could make out the features of the tiny ant-like figures of each student, despite the distance, allowing him to identify them one by one. UA currently held 368 students, and Nezu knew each by name, as well as their social and academic standings.

He smiled as he noticed the early arrival of one Mawata Fuwa. The first year heroics student was unfortunately the only notable powerhouse of her year group, with no true rivals to truly push her to improve herself. She had gotten quite the tongue lashing from her homeroom teacher, Eraserhead, thanks to the lax attitude she had taken on as a result. Hound Dog and Midnight had both privately expressed concern that she might become despondent, so Nezu opted to have a conversation with her himself.

It appears that his conversation had lit a fire under her, as the usually late arrival marched straight for the training grounds. Unfortunately it seemed that in her enthusiasm she had neglected to inform herself on the rules of the training grounds, and so would likely discover she had to book a time after school hours to use the training ground while under supervision from a staff member or appointed 3rd year.

Still, ignorant enthusiasm was far healthier for growth than either laziness or apathy.

Some might call him obsessive, but his sense of duty went beyond academic oversight. Though he couldn't connect with the students as humans would, he felt a deep instinct to guide and protect them, they were a part of his fold. This sentiment, though irrational, was something he had been unable to alleviate himself of despite his broader dislike for humanity, and it made him keenly aware of his dissatisfaction with UA's limitations.

The school's methods, rigidly held in place by government oversight and HPSC regulation, often obstructed his vision. He longed to reshape UA's system, molding it into a school that truly nurtured students' unique potentials. He saw the potential for UA to influence the nation's approach to heroism—but only if he could break free of the constraints imposed on him and his team.

The HPSC had been a brick wall to him every time he tested his luck, but he had a plan—one that would topple that wall by pulling its cornerstone out from under it. And today, for a reason he couldn't quite explain, he felt as though the tide would finally turn in his favor.

In the distance, a little girl jumps up and down, her excitement contagious as she shows off her glowing fingernails to her parents. You watch, longing in your heart.

Oh, how I wish I had that quirk...

Nearby, a loving parent reaches for your binky, her hand outstretched as it floats gently towards her with every subtle pull of her hand.

I wish I had that quirk...

A little boy raises his palms, tiny explosions sparking energy that dances across his hands. Each spark grows, his grin widening until it twists into a scowl as his gaze locks onto you, filled with hatred.

I WANT THAT QUIRK!

A towering man pulls a civilian from the flaming wreckage, his booming laughter and radiant grin bringing hope to everyone—everyone except you...

YOU BASTARD! MY QUIRK! GIVE IT TO ME!

Suddenly, a door slams in your face. Your desperate cries for someone who left echo into the void, unheard.

I just want my quirk...

The feelings of betrayal, loss, and hurt spurred the green-haired teen awake.

His memories of what woke him fading too fast to recall most of it—except for that last, painful image of his father walking away. Tears stung his eyes, not so much from the dream's contents as from the mere fact of having it. It made him feel childish, still having bad dreams about his father. Logically, he knew they hadn't been abandoned—money kept arriving in the mail—but the truth of his father's absence hurt just the same. The only reason he knew what his father looked like was a framed picture in his mother's room.

Wiping his eyes, he glanced at the mechanical alarm clock. It was a full hour before it was supposed to go off. He knew there was no point in trying to reclaim that extra hour of sleep, so he rolled onto his back and sleepily reached for the string of his bed lamp. With a tug, the dark room exploded into a riot of red, yellow, and blue. The All Might themed lamp illuminated an All Might themed room, but he was so used to the visual clutter of heroic memorabilia that he didn't so much as squint as the bright colors barraged his waking eyeballs.

Sitting up, he grabbed his black, red and yellow alarm clock and found the off switch placed between two long yellow pieces of plastic. They were meant to resemble All Might's iconic tufts of hair, but held a closer resemblance to rabbit ears after decades of smoothing. He gently placed the chunky device back on his bedside table, careful to not let it pick up any more dents and scratches. He had inherited from his mom, who herself had gotten it as a child, he couldn't bare the thought of it picking up more abuse.

It was a shame she didn't take care of it then, bronze age All Might merchandise is extremely valuable... if it was in good condition.

Standing up, he moved to his cupboard, opening it up to search for his clothing for the day. Since it was a Friday, he'd typically have to wear his school uniform, but today his hand skipped over the dull dark grey gakuran, and went straight for the lighter dull grey tank top, black tracksuit and shorts. Tossing them on his bed, he ducked down to the bottom shelf where he kept his shoes, where he found his favorite pair of sneakers waiting for him.

Their bright red color stood out amongst the neutral tones of his wardrobe. Since he never cared much for fashion, the shoes were often the statement maker of his outfits.

Having chosen his outfit for the day, he continued to move through his usual morning routine, showering, getting dressed and then trying in vain to tame the mess of hair that refused to listen to him. Although this time, he paused before he opened the hair gel he typically used. He remembered one of the girls mentioning they liked it when a guy's hair looked a bit scruffy and natural.

Feeling his cheeks heat as he clicked the cabinet shut, he headed back to his room with a slight spring in his step. Leaving his hair untouched.

Once ready, he double-checked his equipment, ensuring everything was in his bag. Tiptoeing down the hallway to avoid waking his mother, he was surprised to find her already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Her tired eyes met his, hinting that she'd likely been up long before him despite her late work hours. She was already assembling their packed lunches.

"Morning, Izuku," she greeted softly, as if someone else in the house might wake up if she spoke too loudly. "You're up early."

"Yeah, I had a dream that woke me up before my alarm," he said, walking past her to a cupboard and taking out the new Fatgum-sponsored Cereal-Os they bought last week on special.

"Was it a good dream?" she asked, her hands still busy assembling the ham and cheese sandwiches she insisted on packing as extra treats for him, even years after they became a strain on the food budget.

"I can't really remember anything from it," he half-lied, feeling slightly guilty about how proficient he'd become at telling half-truths to his mother. After finding a bowl, he began pouring the oversized O's into it, trying to focus on something else.

Inko hummed in acknowledgment, finishing the last of the ingredients for her own salad. She had started a new diet recently, growing increasingly self-conscious about her health. She also knew, though she kept this to herself, that homemade salads were one of the more affordable food options given how expensive groceries had become.

She paused her preparations when she noticed his outfit, taking a moment to process it.

"You're dressed in your sports uniform again. Don't you usually have P.E. on Thursdays?" she inquired, her tone shifting slightly. "That was yesterday. Is it clean?" Mother mode fully activated as she unashamedly gripped his shirt and pulled it closer to sniff it, bracing herself for the smell of teenage boy sweat...

...but instead finding the clean scent of soap and flowers.

"I-I took the opportunity to wash it yesterday since you were coming home late," he stammered, gently prying his shirt free from her grasp, which she released after a little effort.

"Wait, is today that pre-quirk era sports event? What was it called again? The Olympics?"

"Athletics." He corrected but didn't bother explaining further, knowing full well she didn't care about specifics.

"Right, that." She said as she continued making her salad, placing a lid on the bowl before shaking it. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she went through a mental checklist.

"What time should you be there?" she asked.

"It starts at 10, but I want to be there by 9 to hang out with Tsubasa and Katchan." Another half-lie.

"Do you have sunscreen?"

"Yes."

"What if you get hungry?"

"I saved up some money for lunch today."

"Is your phone charged?"

He held up his bulky flip-phone. "Yes, it's at 100%. I also have its protective casing."

Phones like these, bulkier with extra casing, had replaced the sleeker designs such as smart screens for many people. As quirks grew more common, so did unpredictable incidents—stray EMPs, sudden blasts, and blunt impacts all took their toll on electronics, and while some extra padding could reduce the risk of irreparable damage, few could afford the extremely expensive quirk-proofing materials used in high grade support gear.

As such, buying an expensive smart phone was seen as a luxury few could afford, considering how often such devices could end up needing to be replaced.

"How are you getting there, and how are you getting back?"

"I'm meeting Katchan at the old train station to the south. It'll take us to a stops two blocks from the venue. After the event, about 30 minutes later, there's a train that connects to a bus route that can take us home, also going through the old part of town." Another lie.

"If there's a villain attack?"

"Don't panic, don't fight, don't approach, just wait and trust the heroes nearby," he recited, the line ingrained in him from years of drills in Japanese primary school. A small part of him was relieved that, being quirkless, he wasn't expected to recite the rest of the lines.

"Good, and if anything looks dangerous?"

"Stand behind Katchan, but make sure he doesn't get carried away." Izuku suppressed an eye roll, his mother wouldn't be this fussy if he had a quirk.

(I want a quirk.)

His brain suddenly narrowed in on the idea, accompanied by vivid images of how different—how happier—his life could be if he had one. He snapped out of it when he realized his mother hadn't said anything in a while. Looking at her, he saw the tears welling in her eyes and immediately felt guilty. But this time, her tears seemed different, softer somehow.

"Mom?" he asked quietly, his voice tinged with concern.

"Oh, Izuku," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "you're so prepared… I'm so proud of you." The tears began to flow uncontrollably, her family's "Water Works" mutation kicking in, causing an alarming amount of tears to stream down her face and onto the counter.

"Mo-om!" Izuku exclaimed, half-embarrassed, half-touched. He wanted to help her stop crying, but his own tear ducts betrayed him. He felt a swell of happiness at hearing his mom's words, and as anyone who knew the Midoriya family could tell you, the tears really did run in the family.

Once Izuku left the apartment, he turned left, heading south to the end of the block, but instead of crossing to the street, he stopped, peering back to check if is mother was watching. Noticing she wasn't, he turned left once more, then left again when presented with the opportunity, and continued north.

He'd promised his mom he'd take the old train station, but that was more to ease her worries. Realistically, the route he had planned was faster—and much more interesting.

Musutafu held a unique history. For years, it was just an unassuming town, slightly larger than average. But once All Might returned to Japan, rising to fame, Musutafu gained new significance as the home of UA and the birthplace of the world's greatest hero. Tourist interest surged, and through joint initiatives between UA and the local municipality, the town grew into a small city and cultural hub.

However, many long-time residents resisted these changes, pushing for the preservation of the town's original infrastructure even amid expansion. This opposition created a distinct boundary between old and new Musutafu.

As Izuku walked northward, the warm, quiet charm of handcrafted houses, winding roads, and cozy suburban vibes gradually gave way to newer, blocky structures. The sleek, hastily built high rises stood along wide, straight avenues, each building a piece of a sprawling urban development plan achieved in record time, thanks to quirk-aided construction. It was functional, yet the uniform, brutalist aesthetic felt almost impersonal—a stark contrast to the older parts of town.

By heading north, he would pass through one of the local business districts on foot. Most people would advise quirkless people to avoid areas like that due to the rush of commuters possibly causing a situation where someone in a hurry could injure them by mistake. It was surprisingly common. However, Izuku had left early enough that he would be avoiding the rush hour, instead the sidewalks were filled with only a handful of early morning commuters. Still, even a barely awake new Musutafu was far more lively than old Musutafu at its most active, and Izuku was starting to feel the bustle of the city.

One big reason for choosing this route was the chance to people-watch. As he walked, people moved around him in every direction, each one with quirks he could barely imagine for himself. Many quirks were unnoticeable at a glance, but for others, subtle details gave hints: faintly scaled skin, unusually colored hair, or the occasional figure with a change as drastic as a third arm or extra set of eyes. While he was intrigued by the quirks that altered people's appearances, Izuku took care not to stare. He knew how easily that could be misinterpreted as quirkist.

Another reason he liked this path was that high-traffic areas often attracted more heroes on patrol. Izuku always hoped to catch glimpses of their quirks in action. But today, the area seemed quieter than expected, with only one small-time hero spotted a few blocks back. Still, he kept his eyes open, ready to catch sight of another if he got lucky.

A sudden, pained yell ahead snapped him out of his thoughts. His eyes widened as he saw a large man with a bald, rat-like face and long, matted brown hair shove an elderly businessman to the ground before darting into a nearby alleyway, a large briefcase in hand.

"Someone call for help!" Izuku shouted, his voice breaking the startled silence that had fallen over the street largely due to people avoiding the scene, at most casting concerned glances. Not one to be ruled by the bystander effect, he quickened his pace, jogging over to the elderly man who was struggling to get up.

"Are you alright, sir?" Izuku asked, extending a hand to help. He got his first good look at the man—a bald head with three fork-shaped, skin-covered growths protruding from his scalp.

(I want a quirk)

Izuku's mind instinctively began analyzing the mutation, wondering what quirk it could be related to, but he quickly pulled himself back to the moment. Taking a little bit of effort.

The old man hesitated, eyeing Izuku's outstretched hand with suspicion. Izuku remembered that the older folk in the area were typically wary of quirks, especially from someone they didn't know. "My quirk has nothing to do with my hands, sir," Izuku reassured him, offering a warm, reassuring smile, the kind he imagined All Might would give.

With a surprisingly firm grip, he accepted Izuku's hand and pulled himself up with a bit of assistance. The man brushed off his clothes before turning to Izuku, a warm, grandfatherly smile spreading across his wrinkled features. "Thank you, young man. I apologize if I offended you with my distrust. It wasn't wise or fair of me to judge you so quickly," he said, his tone sincere. Glancing down the alleyway, his expression darkened as he searched in vain for any sign of the thief. "Even after just being robbed by someone."

"N-no worries, sir. I'm not offended," Izuku replied quickly. "I understand why your generation might be cautious of strangers."

The old man paused, his eyes studying Izuku's face, and for a moment, Izuku worried he'd said the wrong thing. But then the man chuckled, a dry sound that held a surprising warmth. "And here I thought your generation didn't care about the past. You're a good one, kid."

"Thank you, sir…?" Izuku began, unsure how to respond.

"No, I should be thanking you," the old man replied. "Now, you should be on your way. Wouldn't want your principle to be angry that you didn't show up in time." He pointed to the Aldera Junior High emblem on Izuku's chest.

"Yes, sir!" Izuku responded, realizing he might be late meeting Tsubasa. He darted down the pavement, turning back briefly to call out, "Goodbye, sir!" before continuing on his way.

As Izuku kept his pace, he soon crossed into the most recently developed areas of Musutafu. If the city could be divided into "old" and "new" Musutafu, then this was the latest extension—a place where significant money and effort had transformed the utilitarian structures into something more visually pleasing. Here, while the buildings still retained the practical aesthetic of previous expansions, their designs felt thoughtfully crafted, as if aiming to harmonize functionality with beauty.

The sidewalks broadened, accommodating rows of greenery that softened the concrete landscape. Narrow avenues widened into airy boulevards lined with young trees and carefully landscaped flowerbeds.

Izuku's pace quickened as the venue came into view. While it wasn't a monumental structure, it certainly stood out in the neighborhood, exuding a sense of grandeur. For many athletes in the past, it might even have been considered a prime location. Some questioned the wisdom of allocating so many resources to what was now a rapidly dying form of entertainment, but Izuku understood the reasoning. Despite the decline in mainstream popularity due to quirks, athletics and other sports still played a crucial role in promoting physical health and capability among the younger generation, which had led to renewed interest in several countries, including Japan.

This particular venue was built as part of an initiative spearheaded by Yoroi Musha and a handful of other heroes. The goal was to rekindle interest in sports, thereby reducing the burden on hero schools to bring their students up to standard in terms of physical education. As part of the initiative, smaller venues were constructed in each prefecture, with nine larger ones like this one spread across the main regions of Japan.

As Izuku approached on foot, he had to cross a street and then walk a long path along the chain-link fence to reach the main gate. This gave him plenty of time, and so he began to admire the venue's architecture, its sleek yet fortlike structure catching his eye, it closely resembled the large quirk training domes built by many affluent heroes in America. The almost utilitarian structure, while not an eyesore, didn't have much going on, so he spent the rest of his walk keeping an eye out for any familiar faces wandering the parking lot, hoping to spot Tsubasa.

Just as Izuku spotted a familiar set of dark-red draconic wings, his attention snapped to the violent crack of cement splitting—a sound that echoed from less than a block away. His eyes darted toward the source, a rising cloud of dust above the rooftops giving away the location. The roar that followed, guttural and feral, sent a shiver down his spine.

The dust slowly settled, revealing a towering figure—an enormous man who loomed above the surrounding buildings, the tallest of them barely reaching to his waist. Izuku's heart skipped a beat as recognition set in. It was the same criminal who had assaulted the elderly man earlier, only now, Izuku could make out more details, like the scraggly ginger goatee dangling from his chin.

(I want that quirk.)

Izuku's mind almost immediately flipped through all the different ways he could use a quirk like that. Petty thievery seemed a waste.

"You foul villain!" An almost comically self righteous yell rang out throughout the streets. All present turned to the lone figure perched gracefully upon a lamp-post, pointing accusingly at the towering man, who almost fearfully looks back towards the voice. "Committing quirk assisted robbery, assault and destruction of property is bad enough as it is, but doing so during rush hour does untold amounts of damage to the local economy!"

Izuku squinted, already half-certain who it was. The dark, skin-tight suit with wooden accents confirmed it. "Kamui Woods!" he exclaimed, his excitement drawing a few curious glances from the gathering crowd.

"I HEREBY VOW, YOU WRETCHED VILLAIN, YOU WILL RUE THIS DAY!" The wooden man bellows, before leaping surprisingly high, performing a well executed front flip, and diving headfirst to the pavement. Just as a handful of people begin to gasp at the idea of him hitting the ground, he reveals his ability to stretch his tree-like limbs, grappling the railing at the top of one building, causing his freefall to turn into a swing that propels him forward towards the villain. Said villain, recognizing his situation, chooses to fight, letting out a challenging roar of his own.

"Who?" Tsubasa's voice interrupted Izuku's reverie as the dragon-winged teen joined him, his large frame and dragon-like wings making several people give way.

"Kamui Woods," Izuku explained, not taking his eyes off the battle. "He did his internships and work studies under Edge Shot. He debuted in Saitama last week—stopped a runaway train but got pretty badly injured."

They watched as Kamui Woods narrowly dodged a clumsy swipe from the giant, using the villain's momentary imbalance as an opportunity for a counterattack. He expands wooden fist to a size similar to that of the giant's own, before delivering an inertia powered haymaker. "Nature's Fist!" That sends the rat-like man reeling, nearly stumbling into the building behind him.

"Looks like he recovered fast," Tsubasa whistles in admiration. "Healing factor?"

Izuku winces as the giant manages to grab the extended left arm of the hero, snapping it in two like a twig. The hero, barely grunting at all despite the severe injury, retreats to a nearby rooftop. As he lands, he retracts it to it's normal length, and they could see that it was already beginning to reshape itself, little tendrils at the end of his stub shaking as it slowly heals.

"Probably." He says jokingly, and they both chuckle.

The villain seemed somewhat emboldened now that he had landed a hit. The taunting smile he threw at Kamui Woods was accompanied by an improvement in his posture, reminding those watching that he was a human and not a wild animal. For Kamui, the taunting only emboldened his righteous anger, raising his healthy arm and pointing at his opponent with outstretched fingers.

"Oh, he's going to do it!" While Tsubasa didn't know what Izuku meant, it was clear that we was nearly jumping in place from excitement.

"Do what now?"

"He's going to use his ultimate move! He used it to reach the finals in his 3rd year at the UA sport festival, it's called-"

"Lacquered Chain Prison!" Izuku shouted as in tandem with the hero as Kamui's wooden hand exploded into a web of tendrils that shot toward the villain, wrapping around him and holding him tight. The crowd erupted into cheers, delighted that the villain would soon be apprehended.

"Tch, dumbass extras, it's not over."

Nearly snapping around at the voice of his childhood friend, "Oh, hi Katchan! I didn't see you!" Izuku greeted with a nervous smile.

Bakugo barely even acknowledged Izuku in return, which gave Tsubasa his chance to talk.

"Explain." he demanded, turning to Bakugo, who regarded the larger boy's attitude with a snarl. "Huh!?"

"You said it's not over, what do you mean by that?" Tsubasa proded, Bakugo rolled his eyes.

"It's a good thing you're not going into the hero business, Tsubasa. Anyone who can't see what I see shouldn't even try." Izuku clenched his fist, ignoring the sting of Bakugo's words.

"If you use your eyes," he points to the gaint, "You'll see he's brought his arms up in a boxer-like defense, Kamui's trying to use his freaky wooden fingers to choke him out but his fat arms are in the way, and he's still got a lot of fight in him."

"Kamui Wood might not have fully recovered from his debut, and his ultimate move drains a lot of his energy." Izuku continues. "That means this is a battle of attrition that Kamui is going to loose, unless he can overpower the villain in time."

"But he's only using one hand." Tsubasa points out.

Izuku looks over at Kamui, realizing for the first time he's no longer looking at the giant, but down at his arm, the little tendrills at the end where it was snapped of moving much more rapidly than before.

"He's trying to buy time for his arm to regrow." Izuku concludes, it wasn't a battle of attrition in the usual sense, it was a race to see if Kamui's healing factor could outpace the strain of his ultimate ability and the increasingly violent thrashing of the captive giant. A race he's losing.

"Bingo." Bakugo comments sarcastically.

A new voice cut through the tension of the group, accompanied by thunderous footsteps. "Thanks for holding him still for me, toothpick! I got it from here! CANYON CANNON!"

A powerful dropkick slams into the villain's side, sending shockwaves through the ground below the spectator's feet. The sound of wood splintering, and possibly a giant-sized rib cracking, echoes across the space as the much larger hero effectively punts the villain straight into the pavement.

For a moment, everything was still. Then, the hero stood up, towering over the scene. Where the tallest buildings had barely reached the villain's waist, they now came up only to her thigh. After surveying the area, she flashed a confident smile at the crowd and struck a pose, clearly designed for the cameras. "Hi there~ The name is Mount Lady. I'm glad I could help with your mischievous little troublemaker~" She winked playfully.

(I want THAT quirk.)

Izuku's hand moved so fast it was a blur, whipping out his notebook to document Mount Lady's quirk. Tsubasa did a double take, then chuckled at his friend's reaction. He gently nudged Izuku towards the venue, realizing how it might look—a teenage boy furiously sketching in his notebook right after such a suggestive display.