"Tell me what you think," Nezu said, nodding to the tablets in the hands of his two employees. They were in the support lab, a space far more conducive to open dialogue than the stuffiness of a meeting room. He found it curious how humans created designated spaces for innovation only to weigh them down with bureaucracy, draining productivity from the very environment meant to foster it.
Power Loader, shorter than most students, sat hunched on the edge of his chair, his wild ginger hair obscuring his face, though the frown was clear. To an outsider, his goblin-like posture and scruffy look might suggest incompetence, but Nezu knew better—Higari Maijima was a brilliant engineer, even if rough around the edges.
His quirk had replaced his fingertips with metallic claws, unsuited for modern touchscreens. Instead, he deftly handled a pen, tapping the tablet with unexpected finesse. "It's good," Power Loader muttered, eyes fixed on the screen. "Very thorough for a first draft that took..."
"A week," Nezu supplied.
Power Loader snorted, almost envious. "A week," he echoed.
"I agree," came a gravelly voice. Cementoss, with his stony frame and neckless, block-like body, shifted slightly, causing his stone joints to groan. "It's solid, mostly. A few kinks, maybe, but nothing serious. It's just… a bit ambitious."
"Understatement of the year," Power Loader quipped. Cementoss nodded. "Just the stadium alone pushed us to request double funding from the HPSC. This plan would burn through that in less than five months."
"So, you're saying it's possible then?" Nezu asked, his voice calm yet curious.
Power Loader exchanged a glance with Cementoss. "I don't think you're getting what we mean," Cementoss said, slightly sheepish.
"Oh, I think I do," Nezu replied, his smile widening. "You're saying the only real barrier here is funding."
"Well... yes, but..." Cementoss hesitated, searching for the right words.
Power Loader frowned, crossing his arms. "You're acting like that's a minor issue. Spill the beans, what's your plan?"
Nezu's eyes sparkled. "Private sponsorships."
"But we're at the limit the HPSC will allow," Cementoss pointed out.
Nezu leaned forward, his tone even. "And what if there was no limit?"
A heavy silence fell over the room.
"You can't be serious," Power Loader groaned. "You want to break away from the HPSC."
"What!?" The typically composed Cementoss nearly shouted, his stony voice reverberating. "Nezu, you can't seriously consider that."
"Only if my plan proves feasible," Nezu reassured him, his calm expression unwavering. "But yes, I am."
Cementoss took a moment, his voice dropping to as near a whisper as his rocky anatomy would allow. "That's political suicide. Sure, you've pushed back on them before, even won a few big battles. But breaking free entirely? You'd be stripping them of one of their most prized assets in terms of public trust. They aren't going to take that lying down."
Power Loader clicked his metal claws against the lab's table, his eyes narrowing. "Nezu, if you go through with this and it fails, you'll lose your job. After that, it's only a matter of time before they force out all the people you fought to keep here."
"You know how they feel about mutants," he added, his gaze darkening. "Hound Dog, Electoplasm, Cementoss here, all gone on day one. Hell, they've been pressuring you to get rid of Midnight for years. As for the others such as Eraserhead and me—they'd just wait for an excuse. Everything we've built together, gone."
Nezu's eyes softened slightly. "I'm aware."
"Then why are you so adamant about this?" Power Loader demanded, a trace of desperation in his voice.
"Furasu Maina, Masu Komako and Kogai Ginjiro." Nezu replied.
"What does Ginjiro Kogai have to do with this? He'll suffer too if we're gone." Cementoss pointed out, somewhat fumed. "The kids one of five mutants in the hero course, without us he loses the adults he can look up to."
Though Power Loader seemed to consider it.
"Though, if this did work, they'd flourish." He said, drawing a disbelieving look from Cementoss.
"There is no way you're okay with this."
"I'm not." Power Loader replied. "But, I'm starting to get what he's saying. I don't know about the other kids, but Furasu, she's got serious talent. The type of talent that makes we wish she went somewhere else to study because here, I can't give her half the resources she needs to flourish."
"And Masu Komako is strangled by our schools focus on heroics. She's a highly ambitous, too ambitious for the meager attempt a management course the HPSC forces us to give her." Nezu answered. "All three students I mentioned, if we had already managed to cut off the HPSC's influence, and were making it on our own. We could have given them what they needed."
"You're saying Ginjiro wouldn't have to feel so isolated in his class, because the HPSC wouldn't be restricting the number of mutants who can enter." Cementoss concluded. "But even so, where would you even get the finances to make up for the lost HPSC funds? Not to mention all the funds needed for all...this." He gestured towards the tablet.
"I'm still working on that." Nezu admitted. "I first wanted to make sure the plans were at least practically achievable if I had the money."
"And getting the HPSC off our asses?"
"Oh, I have a solution to that." Nezu smiled mischeviously. "It's called—"
"Mr. Yagi?"
Izuku nearly dropped his phone as someone bumped into him from behind. Stumbling, he fumbled to catch it before it hit the ground. He glanced back, stammering, "S-sorry!" The other student shot him a glare but kept walking, blending into the stream of classmates evacuating Aldera Junior High.
Flustered, Izuku hurried to the side of the school's gateway, pressing the phone back to his ear. "H-hello?"
"Ah, Young Midoriya," came the familiar voice of Yagi, warm and calm on the other end. "Is the connection alright?"
"Yes, sir! Sorry, someone bumped into me just now," Izuku replied, still catching his breath.
"I see. Well, situational awareness—it seems we'll need to work on that," Yagi joked, his tone light.
Izuku chuckled nervously. "Y-yeah, I guess so."
"But never mind that. I wanted to ask if you could come down to Might Tower."
"W-wait, REALLY?!" Izuku yelped, earning a few curious glances from nearby students. He hunched his shoulders, lowering his voice. "You mean it?"
"Of course," Yagi said with a chuckle. "The only issue is figuring out how you'll get here."
"I can get there!" Izuku said quickly, his excitement bubbling over.
"By yourself?" Yagi asked, a touch of concern in his voice.
"Yes! I've practically memorized where it is."
"Oh? You've been here before?"
"Ah-ha… not exactly," Izuku admitted, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm just a big fan of All Might, so… I've looked it up a lot."
"Ha! A big fan, eh?" Yagi laughed. "Well then, I trust you'll find your way soon."
"Yes, sir! I'll hurry over!" Izuku promised, gripping his phone tightly as a determined grin spread across his face.
Izuku hung up the call, his thumb hovering over the phone's buttons for a moment before noticing a missed call and a new message from Tsubasa. His chest tightened as he sees the call happened in the middle of class time—he'd been trying to call Tsubasa the whole week and the one time his friend calls back, he misses it.
He pressed play, his eyebrows furrowing as his friend's familiar voice crackled through the phone's speaker, tinged with hoarseness and interrupted by coughing.
"Heyyy, Izukuuu," Tsubasa slurred, his voice thick with fatigue. "S-sorry I missed your calls. Gr-Grandpa's been keeping me really busy, and I'm… really tired. Please don't stop calling, though. There's always a small chance I'm availab-bbble. Oh, and don't worry about me, I just have a really bad cold."
The message ended with a faint click, leaving Izuku staring at the phone in his hand. He flipped it shut and tucked it into his backpack, picking his pace up as he started walking toward the nearest train station that could take him where he wanted. Luckily the closest station wasn't too far away, though when he got there he saw he'd have to wait a few minutes for the next train to Tokyo City. Forcing him to sit on a bench and wait.
Something wasn't right. This wasn't the first time Tsubasa had mentioned something unusual. First, the motion sickness—how could someone with a flying quirk get motion sickness from regular transportation? Now, it was a cold.
People with fire-adjacent quirks just didn't get sick easily. Their elevated body temperatures burned off most bacteria and viruses before they could take hold. While Tsubasa's quirk wasn't fire-based, it did make him naturally heat-resistant, with internal temperatures high enough to ward off most illnesses.
(I want that quirk)
If Izuku had to imagine himself with a quirk, it would probably be something like Tsubasa's. He could see it now: soaring through the skies, diving into burning buildings, impervious to the heat. It was such a shame Tsubasa wasn't interested in heroics—his quirk would allow him to shine in the field. It belonged to that rare category of mutant quirks that would likely boost popularity rather than hinder it, like Mirko or Hawks.
Well, Hawks' quirk was a little different. It had elements of an Orchestrator quirk, with how he could control his feathers independently, and maybe a bit of Alteration since he could harden and soften them as well. But since his feathers were part of his body, did that make it Transformation instead?
Izuku bit his lip, the rumble of the train breaking his train of thought. He sighed. He'd gotten sidetracked with quirks again.
As he stepped onto the train, his thoughts drifted back to Tsubasa. Maybe his friend really was fine, and Izuku was just overthinking things. Tsubasa would tell him if something was wrong… wouldn't he?
He shook his head, gripping the strap above him as the train began to move. All he could do now was hope Tsubasa had been telling the truth.
Tokyo City was a fascinating blend of history and progress.
During the chaos that followed the emergence of quirks, major cities bore the brunt of the destruction. High population densities made conflict inevitable, driving many to flee to rural areas. This mass migration, coupled with widespread devastation, left cities deeply scarred—both physically and socially.
As the third-largest city in the world at the time, Tokyo endured some of the worst of it. Despite the exodus, many stayed behind, forming communes focused on survival. These groups often devolved into political and territorial disputes, further ravaging the cityscape. Entire districts were reduced to ruins, while only a few areas remained as safe havens.
When the chaos finally subsided, Japan prioritized rebuilding its iconic cities, starting with Tokyo. Today, it stands as an odd mix of cutting-edge infrastructure, miraculously preserved and undamaged historic buildings, and vast stretches of abandoned ruins. While central districts like Shibuya, Shinjuku, and Minato were the focus of redevelopment, the outskirts remain a haunting reminder of the past.
From the train window, Izuku marveled at Minato's skyline, dominated by the towering Might Tower. Its sleek silhouette easily twice the height of any of the surrounding skyscrapers..
Despite its name, All Might had insisted the tower represent something greater than himself. Adorned with the iconography of the World Heroes Association, its design was as symbolic as it was modern: a massive globe crowned its peak, encircled by twin intersecting rings. Not a display of wealth, as many had criticized certain top heroes in America, but a monument to the ideal all heroes strived for—using their powers to protect the world.
Pictures of the tower on the internet had never done it justice. Even from afar, it was awe-inspiring. By the time Izuku arrived within a block of it, its sheer scale was overwhelming.
The surrounding plaza was equally impressive, a sprawling blend of public park and memorial. Since Tokyo Tower had been destroyed during the dark age, Might Tower was constructed in its place, with the plaza serving as both a gateway and a tribute. Izuku walked past exhibits dedicated to heroes of the past, each one tugging at his curiosity. He longed to stop and explore, but his destination lay ahead.
Hurrying across the plaza, Izuku's excitement built as he approached the towering entrance. The front doors were immense, designed to accommodate even those with gigantification quirks. Their sheer scale was a testament to the inclusivity and ambition of the tower itself.
"Ahem." A polite cough snapped Izuku out of his thoughts. He looked up, his eyes widening as he recognized the figure standing in front of him.
"Bubble Girl?!" he blurted, unable to hide his astonishment. In hindsight, he shouldn't have been considering he knew she worked there.
The sidekick of All Might's sidekick grinned at his outburst, the smile visible through her face visor. Her short dark blue hair framed her face, adding to her confident, approachable aura. She wore a sleek white-and-black zip-up crop top with long sleeves that stopped just above her midriff, paired with low-waisted white-and-gold shorts over black leggings. Her iconic, oversized white-and-gold space boots completed the look.
"You're Midoriya, right?" she asked, her tone casual but friendly.
"Yes! I'm here to see Mr.—"
"Recovery Girl, right?" she interrupted, her smile widening as she grabbed his arm. "I know all about it. Just follow me."
Bubble Girl led him briskly through the grand ground floor of Might Tower, heading straight for the sweeping dual staircases flanking the main reception area. The few receptionists not preoccupied with guests glanced at them with bemused expressions as they passed. Izuku's gaze darted around, taking in the towering ceilings and hero themed decorations of the ground floor. He'd been very interested in some of the areas that looked like they were dedicated to All Might, but Bubble Girl's firm grip kept him moving.
At the top of the stairs, they entered a hallway lined with elevators on either side. One at the far end stood out—larger and more ornate than the others—but instead of heading for it, Bubble Girl veered left toward one of the smaller elevators.
Inside, the doors slid shut, and she finally released his arm.
"Sorry about that," she said, pressing a button on the panel. "I just needed to make sure no one overheard you're meeting with Mr. Yagi."
Izuku blinked, tilting his head. "Why?"
She offered an apologetic smile. "I'm not sure how much I can say, but I'm sure he'll explain if you ask. What I do know is that you really are meeting Recovery Girl too."
Questions bubbled up in Izuku's mind, but before he could ask them, the elevator dinged. The doors opened, revealing a hallway that felt oddly clinical, like it belonged in a hospital.
Bubble Girl stepped out, calling, "He's here!" Her voice echoed faintly in the sterile corridor before she gently nudged Izuku forward.
"Goodbye, Midoriya," she said, stepping back into the elevator. "Hopefully, I'll see you around."
The doors slid shut, leaving Izuku alone in the hallway. He stood there for a second, wondering what he had gotten himself into.
Feeling a bit unsure, he took a hesitant step forward, wondering what awaited him.
At the end of the corridor, he entered a reception room resembling a typical doctor's office—except it was eerily empty. Before he could dwell on it, a familiar figure appeared from one of the side doors.
"Young Midoriya!" Mr. Yagi waved him over with a warm smile.
"Mr. Yagi," Izuku greeted, walking quickly to him.
"Thank you for coming," Mr. Yagi said as he gestured down a hallway. "I'm sure you have questions, but for now, I want to introduce you to someone."
As they walked past several closed doors, Izuku couldn't help but ask, "Recovery Girl, right?"
"Indeed. Are you a fan?" Mr. Yagi replied, smiling as Izuku's face lit up.
"She's amazing! The longest active hero in the country aside from Yoroi Musha, and she's saved so many lives with her quirk—"
(I want that quirk.)
"—and it's so cool because it's one of the few major healing quirks that can target others without major restrictions, and—"
"My, you are a wordy one," a gentle voice interrupted his rambling. "I promise you my quirk isn't as miraculous as you seem to think it is."
Izuku froze mid-sentence, his face heating up as he realized who had caught him rambling. Standing before him was Recovery Girl herself, her kind eyes twinkling with amusement.
His flustered expression must have been priceless, as both Mr. Yagi and Recovery Girl chuckled softly.
"Young Midoriya, meet the resident doctor at Might Tower," Mr. Yagi said, steering the conversation forward. "Recovery Girl, this is Izuku Midoriya."
Izuku's attention shifted fully to the elderly woman before him. She was short—barely taller than his hip—but exuded an undeniable presence. Her hero outfit was a blend of practicality and charm: a crisp lab coat over a red-and-white dress with yellow lines separating the colors, the hem stopping just above her ankles. A small belt adorned with a pink "R" buckle cinched her waist, and her gray hair was tied into a nearly perfect round bun.
Notably, she lacked her usual visor, and instead of her iconic syringe-shaped cane, she leaned on a simple wooden one.
"Hi-i," Izuku stammered, bowing slightly, his nerves making his voice crack.
"Hello, young man," Recovery Girl said warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Mr. Yagi has spoken highly of you, so I'm looking forward to working with you."
"Working with me?" Izuku blinked, glancing at Mr. Yagi for an explanation.
Recovery Girl answered instead. "Mr. Yagi here is a bit too high-profile for setting up meetings with prospective hero students—not without starting rumors, at least. So, you're officially part of my new research project."
"Research project?"
"Yes," she continued, tapping her cane lightly. "We're studying how the absence or presence of a quirk factor affects the outcomes of intense training. You'll be part of the control group." She winked. "But really, it's just a cover for your regular visits to the tower for checkups."
"So… I'm not here for training?"
"Not today," Mr. Yagi clarified. "Your training will happen at a beach near your home. Today, Recovery Girl is establishing a baseline for your physical condition."
"But if you're avoiding rumors, won't you training me at the beach draw attention too?" Izuku asked, frowning.
Mr. Yagi chuckled. "That's why I won't be training you."
"What?"
"Someone else will. Are you familiar with the name Gran Torino?"
"Not really," Izuku admitted.
Recovery Girl rapped her cane sharply. "Enough theatrics. Gran Torino is All Might's former teacher."
Izuku's jaw dropped. "H-heh?"
"Get used to surprises, kid," Recovery Girl said, tugging his sleeve and pulling him forward. "You have no idea how well-connected your sponsor is. Now, come along. We need to get you fitted for a sensor suit."
After some effort finding a sensor suit that fit Midoriya, the tests were finally completed. They included all the assessments needed to maintain the cover story, and Izuku was sent on his way with instructions to be at Takoba Municipal Beach the following afternoon.
The elevator doors had barely closed behind him when Recovery Girl turned to All Might, her sharp gaze narrowing.
"You didn't tell him, did you?"
"About One for All? No," All Might admitted. "I'm still not certain if I want to pass it on yet. If I do, I need to be sure I'm making the best possible choice. Nezu's list of candidates he gave to me in the letter is extensive, and he knows exactly what I value in a successor. They all look promising."
Whack!
"Ouch! What was that for?" All Might yelped, rubbing his shin more out of habit than pain.
"You know what!" Recovery Girl snapped. "You're feeding that boy's pipe dream of becoming a quirkless hero. Do you realize how much it'll crush him if you don't choose him? To have this level of support and still not make the cut?"
All Might winced, his expression conflicted. "I see your point. Believe me, I want to give it to him. I was tempted the moment we met, but..." He trailed off, unable to finish.
Recovery Girl's stern expression softened. "But you hesitated because you understand how important One for All is. I get it. I do. But playing with that boy's future because you're uncertain? That's not fair to him. Especially considering we don't even know for certain if he'll be able to handle it."
All Might frowned. "I was able to handle it."
She snorted, tapping her cane against the floor for emphasis. "Barely. One for All has grown exponentially stronger in the past four decades, especially the last decade where you haven't been spending as much energy running around fighting the schemes of that man. This is a completely different story."
"What about the test results?" All Might countered.
Recovery Girl sighed, conceding the point with a nod. "He's exceptional compared to other quirkless kids his age, no doubt about it. But that's the key issue—he's quirkless. By comparison, he's still below average for kids with quirks. It'll shred him to pieces if he doesn't get significantly tougher."
"Do you think Gran Torino can fix that?" All Might asked, a hint of hope in his voice.
"I don't think he can work magic," she replied, her tone pragmatic but not dismissive. "But if there's anyone who can push that kid past his limits, it's him. You know as well as I do what Torino's capable of."
All Might shivered, a wry smile creeping onto his face. "I do."